The Detective's 8 Lb, 10 Oz Surprise. Meg Maxwell
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God, he was handsome.
And shirtless.
He wore a pair of dark blue sweatpants and nothing else. She could barely take her eyes off his chest.
Memories came over her. The two of them sitting on the couch in her living room in her Houston condo. Talking. The tall, dark and incredibly hot cop making her feel safe, making her dream of a way out, making her want him like she’d never wanted a man before. One minute he’d been telling her about his cat, Mr. Whiskers, and the next, he’d reached his hands up to her face and looked at her, then leaned in to kiss her, possessively and passionately, and she’d responded. Within minutes they’d been naked and on the soft shag rug.
From the way he was looking at her now, she had a feeling he was remembering, too.
“Well,” he said, glancing away. “If you’re both all right, I guess I’ll leave you alone.” He turned to go, but Georgia sensed he wanted to stay, wanted a reason to stay.
She would give him one. And give Operation Dad more time to work.
* * *
Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen:
There’s nothing more delicious than falling in love …
The Detective’s 8 lb, 10 oz Surprise
Meg Maxwell
MEG MAXWELL lives on the coast of Maine with her teenage son, their beagle and their black-and-white cat. When she’s not writing, Meg is either reading, at the movies or thinking up new story ideas on her favourite little beach (even in winter) just minutes from her house. Interesting fact: Meg Maxwell is a pseudonym for author Melissa Senate, whose women’s fiction titles have been published in over twenty-five countries.
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For my dear friend Julia Munroe Martin. Lucky me to have a great friend and a great writer friend in one.
Contents
In the fifteen minutes it had taken detective Nick Slater to go down the street to Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen to pick up his lunch order of a roast beef po’boy with a side of spicy slaw, someone had left an infant in a blue-and-white baby carrier on his desk.
Nick froze in the back doorway of the otherwise empty Blue Gulch Police Station, staring at the baby and mentally taking stats.
Newborn, one month, maybe six weeks old. Boy, according to all the blue. Healthy, from the peaches-and-cream big cheeks and the rosy bow-shaped lips, slightly quirking. Cared for, given the cap and clean outfit, the hand-knit blanket tucked around him in the sturdy, padded carrier. Sleeping—for now.
All that had been on his desk when he left were his frustrating notes on the Jergen burglary case, half-finished paperwork for Farley Melton’s seventh disorderly conduct arrest of the year, a “just because” card with two folded twenties and a ten that he was going to send to his sister at Dallas City College, and a scrawled note from himself that he was running out to pick up lunch, back in ten.
Now there was a baby.
“Hello?” he called out, expecting the parent or caregiver or someone, anyone to appear. The Blue Gulch Police Station wasn’t very big. Aside from the main room with the long reception desk, and Nick’s and the other two officers’ desks, the chief had a private office next to the two jail cells and a break room that served as conference room, interrogation room and lunchroom.