Sun Kissed Read Online Free
the poster bad-boy-turned-good from Dawson’s Creek , onto her bedroom mirror frame and had practiced writing Lani Jackson in her journal. Over and over again.
But a crush on a TV character was a whole lot safer than the way Donovan Quinn had made her feel. Just looking at him in that blue uniform with the big, dangerous gun strapped to his hip had taught her what actual, real life lust felt like. In a desperate attempt to hide her tangled, confused teenage emotions, she’d hidden them behind a mask of petulant hostility.
Proving current appearances deceiving, according to her brother, Donovan was on the fast track. Whether he ended up in the FBI, on some Homeland Security task force, or even, as she could easily see him, Portland Chief of Police, the chances of him staying on the island were about the same as the volcanic Mt. Waipanukai erupting on Christmas Eve.
As were the chances of her ever moving off island again.
So, the question was…now that Nate had thrown them together again, did she follow her heart (which had apparently hung on to that long-ago crush as if it were a virus it hadn’t quite shaken off) and those awakened body parts?
Or her head, which was sternly reminding her that any chance of a long-term relationship was slim-to-none?
Fortunately, Lani decided, unless a crime spree needing Detective Donovan Quinn’s attention suddenly broke out in Oregon, the man wasn’t going anywhere right away. And neither was she.
* * *
Although his body felt as if it had just finished a triathlon, and his ankle was throbbing, Donovan took the time to hang up his clothes before taking a shower and shaving. The shave might have been a mistake, since getting rid of the dark stubble revealed a pallor that reminded him of the faces of lifers he’d sent off to the Oregon State Penitentiary.
The bathroom had come equipped with shampoo, body and face soap, along with toothpaste and extra brushes. Making a mental note to pay Lani back for whatever she’d spent on the bath and well-stocked kitchen, he debated taking a nap and knew from experience the buzzing, like a hive of angry wasps, would start up in his brain again, the same way it did whenever he tried to sleep.
Churned up and edgy, he wandered outdoors. Unable to sit down, he stood on the beach and watched the wavelets rolling in to kiss the sand. As the setting sun turned the sky to apricot and the sea to beaten gold, he tried to remember the last time he’d allowed himself to relax and came up blank.
There’d been a helluva lot to deal with the past few years. A divorce, hunting down the Cascades Killer, investigating Tess’s money-laundering case, along with the legal appeal of the Russian mobster she’d been determined to keep in prison, not to mention trying to uncover her stalker. Add in being hit by the driver of that SUV who’d tried to kill him, leaving him with this damn gimpy ankle, and it was no wonder he’d been walking a very thin razor’s edge.
Then, just when he could see a light at the end of the criminal tunnel, he’d shown up at his partner’s apartment with a six-pack and plans to watch the Seahawks-Forty Niners’ game only to find the dull beige wall behind the ratty, thrift store recliner splattered with blood and brains.
Donovan didn’t give a flying fuck what his chief, the department shrink, and the chaplain said. Matt Osborne, who, next to Nate, had been the closest thing he’d had to a brother, had been wallowing in a world of pain, and Donovan hadn’t recognized how bad the problem had become.
Whenever he and Matt would talk about the Cascades Killer case, their conversations had revolved around the investigation, then working with the district attorney’s office to prepare a slam-dunk case for trial. They’d never talked about the victims. The fathers, the mothers, and, God help them, those poor innocent kids who hadn’t done anything but gone on a family camping trip. Something his late
But a crush on a TV character was a whole lot safer than the way Donovan Quinn had made her feel. Just looking at him in that blue uniform with the big, dangerous gun strapped to his hip had taught her what actual, real life lust felt like. In a desperate attempt to hide her tangled, confused teenage emotions, she’d hidden them behind a mask of petulant hostility.
Proving current appearances deceiving, according to her brother, Donovan was on the fast track. Whether he ended up in the FBI, on some Homeland Security task force, or even, as she could easily see him, Portland Chief of Police, the chances of him staying on the island were about the same as the volcanic Mt. Waipanukai erupting on Christmas Eve.
As were the chances of her ever moving off island again.
So, the question was…now that Nate had thrown them together again, did she follow her heart (which had apparently hung on to that long-ago crush as if it were a virus it hadn’t quite shaken off) and those awakened body parts?
Or her head, which was sternly reminding her that any chance of a long-term relationship was slim-to-none?
Fortunately, Lani decided, unless a crime spree needing Detective Donovan Quinn’s attention suddenly broke out in Oregon, the man wasn’t going anywhere right away. And neither was she.
* * *
Although his body felt as if it had just finished a triathlon, and his ankle was throbbing, Donovan took the time to hang up his clothes before taking a shower and shaving. The shave might have been a mistake, since getting rid of the dark stubble revealed a pallor that reminded him of the faces of lifers he’d sent off to the Oregon State Penitentiary.
The bathroom had come equipped with shampoo, body and face soap, along with toothpaste and extra brushes. Making a mental note to pay Lani back for whatever she’d spent on the bath and well-stocked kitchen, he debated taking a nap and knew from experience the buzzing, like a hive of angry wasps, would start up in his brain again, the same way it did whenever he tried to sleep.
Churned up and edgy, he wandered outdoors. Unable to sit down, he stood on the beach and watched the wavelets rolling in to kiss the sand. As the setting sun turned the sky to apricot and the sea to beaten gold, he tried to remember the last time he’d allowed himself to relax and came up blank.
There’d been a helluva lot to deal with the past few years. A divorce, hunting down the Cascades Killer, investigating Tess’s money-laundering case, along with the legal appeal of the Russian mobster she’d been determined to keep in prison, not to mention trying to uncover her stalker. Add in being hit by the driver of that SUV who’d tried to kill him, leaving him with this damn gimpy ankle, and it was no wonder he’d been walking a very thin razor’s edge.
Then, just when he could see a light at the end of the criminal tunnel, he’d shown up at his partner’s apartment with a six-pack and plans to watch the Seahawks-Forty Niners’ game only to find the dull beige wall behind the ratty, thrift store recliner splattered with blood and brains.
Donovan didn’t give a flying fuck what his chief, the department shrink, and the chaplain said. Matt Osborne, who, next to Nate, had been the closest thing he’d had to a brother, had been wallowing in a world of pain, and Donovan hadn’t recognized how bad the problem had become.
Whenever he and Matt would talk about the Cascades Killer case, their conversations had revolved around the investigation, then working with the district attorney’s office to prepare a slam-dunk case for trial. They’d never talked about the victims. The fathers, the mothers, and, God help them, those poor innocent kids who hadn’t done anything but gone on a family camping trip. Something his late
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