Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,1

hell broke loose. She rose, her usual graceful movements awkward. “Sorry, I’m distracted this morning. I forgot you like to sit where you can see the door.”

As she passed, he breathed in her scent. Rose petals and peppermint. Warmth curled through him. “No biggie.” He slid into the seat across from her and brought her hand to his lips. Her deathly cold fingers quivered. Not passion. Distress. What was up with that? “What’s got you so upset, sweetheart?”

Before she could reply, the stocky, gray-haired waitress moseyed over with coffee for him and requested their orders. Con looked at Bailey. She nodded, and he ordered their usual breakfasts.

The waitress sauntered toward the kitchen and Con turned back to Bailey. The silver hummingbird charm he’d bought her on their first date nestled in the hollow of her throat. Right above where her pulse throbbed a shade too fast. The charm dangled from a black ribbon she’d tied around her neck. She never took off the trinket.

The pink ruffled blouse she wore normally complemented her creamy complexion. Today, her face was a wan contrast to her shoulder-length strawberry-blond curls. A barely touched mug of peppermint tea sat on the tabletop. That wasn’t like her at all; his girl loved her tea. Something was wrong.

She tugged her hand free, and his muscles tensed in apprehension. “Bailey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Exactly.” She shifted. Scrubbed her palms on her gray wool slacks. Wouldn’t meet his eyes. All the nervous tells he’d seen in suspects sweating out an interrogation. His own tungsten nerves were taking a beating. If she didn’t get to the point soon, he was going to start twitching.

“No, everything’s wrong.” Her teeth bit into her bottom lip. Last night, his teeth had teased and tempted that lush bottom lip until they’d both been gasping for breath. “I’ve agonized for a long time, and finally made a decision.”

He relaxed. She’d had problems with her job for weeks and struggled with the options. Bailey gave every decision careful consideration. Loyalty to her customers and co-workers warred with her desire to escape an obnoxious boss. “Finally decided to tell Mole Man to stuff it, and take that management position in the other store, huh?” He lifted his mug in a salute before gulping the hot, rich coffee. “Way to go.”

“This isn’t about work.” She absently sipped her peppermint tea. “Things nearly got out of control between us last night.”

He switched gears without effort. Ah. Like him, she’d reached her sexual frustration limit. Unlike him, she was shy talking about it. They’d have as much rapport in the bedroom as they did elsewhere. “Now, darlin’, just because I scorched your sofa…”

“If you hadn’t been called up, we’d have ended up in bed.”

He shook his head. “I was pretty far gone, but not out of control.” Perilously close, he’d clung to the razor’s edge. She’d want commitment first, because that’s the woman she was. Her utter commitment was one of the qualities he admired about her. But asking him for it had her tied up in knots. She was probably afraid he’d run—the typical male response.

He’d never been typical. Falling in love with quiet, intense Bailey was a prime example. His previous women had been blatant extroverts. Good-time girls. Fun, but as shallow as a politician’s promise. He hadn’t known he was missing a soul-deep emotional connection until he’d met Bailey Chambers.

Con again brushed his fingers over the velvet ring box. Hoo boy, was she in for a surprise. “Baby, I wouldn’t have taken you any farther than you wanted to go.”

“That’s the problem. I wanted to go farther—” She swallowed hard. “My decision is about us.”

He grinned, deciding to end her misery. Give her the commitment she needed to take the next step. What the hell. In his line of work, he’d learned to improvise when things changed without warning. He’d propose now and they’d celebrate later.

“What a coincidence. I’ve also made a decision about us.” In spite of himself, nerves jittered up his spine. Damn, this was more intimidating than eating bullets. His mom would call it a “life-defining moment” and caution him to remember it. He would. Every detail. Someday, he’d tell their children the story, and if he was very lucky, their grandchildren.

The atmosphere wasn’t moonlight and roses like he’d planned, but at least he would go down on one knee and do that part right. Con slid toward the edge of the seat. “Bailey—”

She stopped him with a shaky grip on his arm. “Please let