Lynne Marshall - Her Perfect Proposal

Well, she wouldn’t find out from him, that was for sure, no matter how great she kissed.

“For one thing, the newspaper is right across the hall from the police department and Bjork has a big mouth. For another, you’re the nosiest lady I’ve ever met. I put two and two together.”

As if she’d been outed, she went brazen-faced. “The thing is, I want to make a big impression with a breaking story. I feel like I’m on the scent of something.”

She was, and it was his obligation to stop her.

“Stop trying so hard. Take some time to get a feel for Heartlandia first. You’ll figure out some angle. It may not be a big splashy lead story, but you’ll find a way to capture your audience. Maybe even the heart of the town.” He could think of a few ways she’d already captured his attention, but he was starting to sound like a big boring town guardian and needed to back off.

She nodded infinitesimally. “You’re probably right. I try too hard.” For an instant she changed into a self-doubter, but before his eyes, she switched back to the overconfident woman from the first day he’d met her. “Well, thanks again for the ride. I’ll catch a cab to my car in the morning. See you around.”

All business. Any possibility of her kissing him again had been taken off the table, which probably meant there wouldn’t be an offer to come inside, either. Funny how he had to keep reminding himself it wasn’t going to happen.

Okay. He could deal with that. But she’d knocked him off balance enough to hesitate asking for her phone number, and he didn’t want to ruin the memory of that perfect kiss if she didn’t give her number to him. So, out of character, he let things lie and took a step toward the curb and his bike.

One thing he’d already learned—Lilly liked to be the leader.

Problem was so did he. But not today.

“Don’t be a stranger. I work right across the hall from you,” he said, doing his best to forget the mind-boggling kiss and sound nonchalant.

She nodded. “Okay. Good night. I had fun.” With that she headed for the entrance, waved goodbye and disappeared into the revolving door.

He started the bike and revved the engine. Forgetting his new resolve to quit playing the field, he’d wait for her to make the next move.

And if history repeated itself, the ladies always did.

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