Adventures in Reading
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(In this challenge, we were supposed to write about antagonists getting together.) “Miss Trapini.” “Lieutenant Molony.” Most people said her last name like it was a curse. Conall didn’t, even though his family had been on the side of the law since they arrived on U.S. soil. Hers…hadn’t. They probably couldn’t find it with a map. Not that she’d ever been able to find any meaning in the way he said her name. Heaven knew she’d tried. She’d been in love with Conall since the first grade, but Romeo and Juliet, or a Hatfield and McCoy, had a better chance of getting together than a Molony and a Trapini. Her mind knew this. Her heart didn’t give a crap. Her heart made her eyes study Conall for changes since the last time he’d hauled her butt in for questioning. They soaked him up, knowing it would be long, lonely months before she saw him again. He was still tall, dark, and depressingly good-looking, his eyes still a cool, Irish blue. She’d never see them warm for her, didn’t want to see them warm for anyone else. Was he still going out with Lisa Stevens? She’d been a brat in school but had turned out nice. Part of her wanted him to find someone nice. The rest of her wanted to die at the thought. So she pushed it away. Her gaze found his mouth—not wise when he studied her as intently as she studied him. “You cut your hair.” She fingered the shortened strands around her face. Did he like it? His tone told her nothing, but then it never did. “Yes.” The air felt thick with her longing. Only bright spot, he didn’t seem to notice. She was sure he’d use it against her if he ever found out. When he finished laughing his butt off. As usual, she felt the urge to get things moving. She might not be in the family business, but she was a Trapini, so she fought it back. Conall threw a folder on the table, the contents spilling part way across the scarred surface. No surprise they’d put Conall on the Scarlini murder. He was the top cop in homicide. She didn’t flinch. She might have blinked. What she didn’t do was feel sorry for the man. He was worse than her father. “Have a seat.” He didn’t pull out a chair for her, didn’t sit until she did. Anna kept her body relaxed, indifferent, but her heart pulsed with pain—and pleasure. How sick was that? Something rose inside her, threatening the barriers she’d kept in place for too long. She wanted to crawl across the table and wrap herself around him— Someone knocked at the door, pulling him from the room, leaving her hovering somewhere between sorry and relieved... **** Conall reentered, hoping Anna couldn’t hear his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest. Why did he do this to himself? He tried to keep away from her. He fought it with the ferocity he brought to his cases—and lost again and again and again… Anna didn’t know anything about this case, or any of the others. If she was involved in her father’s business, she did a better job of hiding it than her old man did. It had taken him a long time—and plenty of failed dates—to realize why he kept yanking her back into his life. The new look suited her, though he’d probably miss the longer hair. He’d fantasized about running his fingers through the dark strands as he pulled her closer… His body heated and he dropped quickly into the chair across from her. He wanted to reach for her, to yank her body against his, to cover her lush mouth with his, and erase the cool from her brown eyes until she felt what he did, until she understood that they belonged together. A Molony and a Trapini belonged together. Right. Both their ancestors must be rolling their eyes—not to mention rolling over their in their graves. He’d planned some questions to ask her. They’d sounded good at the time. Now his brain was slush. All he could do was stare at her mouth and wonder how she’d taste. Couldn’t be as good as he’d imagined. He cleared his throat. “I’d like you to look at some pictures—” “No.” She looked as surprised as he felt. “What?” She shoved her chair back so hard it hit the wall behind her. “I can’t do this, Conall.” His name coming out of her mouth erased any pretense this was official business. And lit a fire in his gut. She started to turn toward the door. “Anna.” He erased the physical distance between them, his patience snapping as completely as hers. Her lashes were down, but a pulse beat wildly at her neck. He touched the spot, the feel of her skin everything he’d thought it would be. And more. “Anna…” The husky growl lifted her lashes, giving him access to brown eyes that had lost their cool, but were still afraid to hope… “Conall?” The uncertainty in her voice tore through him. He found her mouth, felt it tremble then soften…and finally respond. It was better, she was better than he’d imagined. He pulled her hard against him. The world rocked…but didn’t end. At least not yet. Conall lifted his head. He wanted to say something, maybe to ask her when, how long, how much, but the words clogged his thickened throat. So he kissed her again. It was even better than the last one. When he had to pull back and breathe, Anna Trapini’s legs were wrapped around his waist, her hands deep in his hair. The fire in her eyes, the tender curve of her mouth rocked his world again. He grinned, but his hand shook as he smoothed her hair back from her flushed face. The door opened, his partner spoke. “It’s about damn time.” Conall’s thumb stroked across Anna’s kiss-swollen mouth. “No kidding.” © 2008 Pauline Baird Jones. All rights reserved.
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