Do You Hear What I Hear?
Sergeant Osbourne Decker suspects pet psychic Marci Churchill is barking mad, but she’s also a knockout. And when she’s accused of stealing a donkey from the local nativity scene, he can’t stop thinking about frisking her.
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Do You Hear What I Hear?
Working night shift meant that Ozzie seldom saw daylight during the winter. It was dark when he went to bed and dark when he got up. He missed the sunlight. But at least the bitter cold of December helped him keep a clear head while he pondered the ramifications of getting close to Marci again.
Oh, he saw her often enough, Bethany dragged her around all the time, and Bethany and Lucius were nauseating in their marital ecstasy. That meant whenever the team got together after work, the twins were there.
And give what the twins looked like, no doubt more than one fantasy took placed in their honor. But for Ozzie, he only fantasized over one twin: the cracked one.
He saw her at picnics, at a local bar where they all hung out, at parties, and sometimes in the station, waiting for Lucius to get off work.
Marci fit right in, laughing with the men, joking, and turning down offers. Sometimes she watched him, and sometimes she pretended he wasn’t in the room.
But no matter what she did, the chemistry between them was enough to choke a bear.
As Ozzie’s truck cut through the snow and sludge clogging the streets, he absently took in the multitude of lights decorating houses and businesses. He liked this time of year. It was pretty. But this would be his first Christmas without Granny Decker and he already missed her so much it was nearly unbearable.
He was thinking of warm Christmas cookies, songs on the piano, and strings of popcorn, when he spotted the confusion in front of the funeral home. Lights from a police car flashed blue and red and an elderly couple, bundled in coats over pajamas gestured with excitement.
Ozzie pulled up behind the cruiser and parked. It took him only moments to identify himself to the officer and to find out that someone had stolen a donkey from the Nativity scene erected on the funeral home’s lawn.
Marci. Somehow, he just knew she was behind this. She’d probably claim the damned donkey was shy, or that he didn’t like the colored lights, or God-knew-what. But Ozzie’s instincts screamed, and so with a few more words to the officer, he gave up on the idea of sleep and instead headed to Marci’s apartment.
Lucius used to live in the apartment across from Marci but, thankfully, he’d recently moved out – so Ozzie didn’t have to worry about Lucius finding him at Marci’s door. He and Bethany had purchased a home of their own. Lucius still owned the apartment building, but he left Marci in charge of it.
Not a good idea, in Ozzie’s opinion, given that Marcia was a kook. But far be it for him to tell Lucius how to run his business.
When he parked out front of the building, Ozzie looked toward Marci’s porch window and, sure enough, her inside lights were on. Okay, so it was seven-thirty and she was maybe getting ready for work.
Or hiding a donkey.
Ozzie slammed his truck door, trudged through the crunchy snow and ice, and went up the walk, inside and up to Marci’s door. He knocked twice.
Breathless, Marci yelled, “Just a moment!”
His body twitched. More specifically, his cock sat up and took notice of her proximity. Damn it.
A full minute later, Marci opened the door. A look of pleasure replaced her formal politeness. “Osbourne. What a surprise.”
He stared down at her and thought, if she’d just not talk about animals, if she’d just smile at him like that, he’d be happy to ravish her for, oh…a few hours maybe.
When he said nothing, her smile widened, affecting him like a hot lick. She wore a soft pink chenille robe, belted tight around her tiny waist. Her small feet were bare, crossed one over the other to ward off the chill. Her baby-fine, straight brown hair had the mussed look of a woman fresh out of bed – or fresh inside from the blustery outdoors.
Shaking out of his stupor, Ozzie looked beyond her. He saw nothing out of the ordinary in her tiny apartment, but that didn’t clear her.
She took a step closer to him, staring up in what seemed like provocation to him, a heated come-on, a…
She tilted her head and said, “Osbourne?”
Lust tied knots in his muscles. He cleared his throat. “Busy?”
Big blue eyes blinked at him, eyes so soft, and with such thick, long lashes she didn’t need makeup. “I just got out of the shower, actually.” She patted back a delicate yawn. “It’s early. Would you like some coffee?”
He’d like her.
Flat on her back.
His nostrils flared, but not from the scent of brewing coffee. “All right.” Yet he stood there. He knew that once he stepped over the threshold, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. Damn Lucius for putting him in this torturous position. And damn his weakness for wanting her. He knew, absolutely knew, that off-kilter broads not based in reality were a complete and total pain in the ass.
Yet he trembled with the need to gather her near and devour her. Marci got to him in a big way and he hated it. With most women, he enjoyed himself, and he made sure they got enjoyment, too. Mutual enjoyment, yeah, that’s what he liked.
Not this insane torment and out-of-control craving. Not this trembling lust and gut-twisting need.
He stepped in and demanded. “Where’s the donkey?’’
End of Excerpt
Do You Hear What I Hear?
is available in the following editions:
Out of Print Editions
September 29, 2015
October 1, 2010
October 1, 2009
October 1, 2007
October 1, 2006