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Especially since Amanda wasn’t supposed to be driving in the first place.
She’d promised him she wouldn’t do anything that might get her pulled over by one of his deputies. No speeding. No rolling through stop signs. Nothing that would force Grady to explain why the county sheriff had knowingly let a woman with a temporarily limited-use license get behind the wheel when she wasn’t supposed to. Technically, she was breaking the law to be with him tonight. And he was letting it slide because he wanted her here that damn badly.
Tires crunched over the gravel outside. Grady opened the door just as Willow's truck pulled up near the cottage. Amanda climbed out, and the sight of her sent a shiver through him. He was halfway across the yard before she'd shut the driver's door.
“Any problems?”
“Not one.” She met him halfway. “Our decoy team pulled it off.”
Good. Because right then, he didn’t give a damn what Fen and Willow were doing with the paparazzi.
Amanda was there. They were alone. And he’d been waiting more than a week to get his hands on her.
For several seconds, neither spoke. They stood there, taking each other in, the hunger in her eyes mirroring his own.
“Hi,” she finally said.
He smiled. “Hi.”
Her overnight bag slipped from her shoulder as he closed the distance between them. He caught her around the waist and kissed her before the bag reached the ground. Her arms went around his neck, and the first taste of her nearly destroyed whatever patience he'd managed to maintain. She smelled faintly of whatever shampoo or perfume she used, mixed with the clean outdoor air she'd brought with her. Her body pressed against his, familiar despite the single night they'd spent together, and Grady tightened his arms around her as eleven days of frustration came roaring back.
There was no reason to stop. No cameras nearby, reporters across the street, or teenagers or deputies likely to walk through a door. He’d even told the undersheriff—his second-in-command—to handle anything that came up tonight unless it was akin to the apocalypse.
Amanda drew back first, her lips still close to his. “I think Fen’s plan worked.”
“Don’t say his name while I’m kissing you.”
Her laugh brushed against his mouth. “Are you jealous of my very gay assistant?”
“Not remotely. I just don’t want to think about him right now. I don’t want you to think about anyone else but me for the rest of the night.”
“Fair enough.”
That was exactly what Grady needed to hear.
His hand slid around the back of her neck, and he kissed her again, savoring something they hadn’t had in over a week—the luxury of time. Hell, they had the whole damn night.
The thought made it difficult to pull away, but eventually he did. Keeping one arm around her, Grady bent to retrieve her overnight bag with the other, then led her toward the cottage.
Once inside, Amanda took in the small living room and kitchen while Grady carried her bag into the bedroom. Seeing hers beside his did something strange to him. For one night, they weren’t squeezing each other into the cracks between the rest of their lives. They were here together, and nothing outside the cottage needed either of them until morning.
He was still thinking about that when he returned to find her attention fixed on the kitchen counter.
Giggling, she picked up the note. “I see the ‘Romantic-Ops Squad’ left their calling card.”
“Apparently, helping us sneak around required branding.”
Unfortunately, their friends left behind more than the card and dinner. Amanda spotted the basket with red ribbon and tissue paper sitting near the bedroom and wandered over to investigate. Grady had noticed it earlier but chose ignorance. Considering Fen and Willow were involved, he doubted its contents were innocent.
“Amanda.”
“Hmm?”
“Whatever’s in there, I had nothing to do with it.”
The first thing she pulled out was a box of condoms.
Of course.
