Sun Kissed Read Online Free Page A

partner had been deprived of when his ex-wife had returned to her hometown in North Carolina with their children.
    Like most police departments, the Portland Police Bureau was populated with men and women who fit into the tough-guy mold that had existed long before Donovan had been born. Cops don’t cry. That was the unspoken code. Which ignored the unsavory fact that as many, if not more, cops died by their own gun as they did in the line of duty.
    Although many cities, including his own, were getting better about tackling that outwardly strong, silent culture, the truth remained that suicide had long been the black sheep in the blue police family.
    Donovan was back to beating himself up over the fact that despite being a hot shot detective, he hadn’t caught the clues of his own partner’s downward spiral when Lani came around the cove, appearing like something from a fairy tale.
    Her hair, gilded by the last rays of the sun and fanned by the soft trade winds, was adorned with a bright yellow blossom. A strapless dress covered with bright tropical flowers bared her sun-kissed shoulders and skimmed her body enticingly, the full skirt billowing around her legs as she walked toward him, a pair of red sandals in her hand.
    Revealing he wasn’t quite dead yet himself, a spark of heat inside Donovan flickered. When she reached the bottom of the steps, stopped, and smiled, the flicker flamed up. Which was definitely problematic. Because after months of living like a monk, the female who’d started his juices flowing again was the wrong damn woman. Seducing the sister of his best friend was absolutely against the Bro Code.
    Lani didn’t need to be a detective to catch that spark of interest. One he’d quickly and rigidly banked. Too tense, she thought. And too sad. And once again, dressed as grimly as his expression. Granted, he’d changed out of the charcoal-gray business suit, but the tan slacks and black silk T-shirt were still a far cry from appropriate beach attire. As her eyes moved to his feet, she supposed the supple Italian loafers were his attempt at informality and wondered what had happened to those raggedy old Nikes he’d practically lived in while off duty.
    “Don’t you own anything casual?”
    He lifted a brow. “What’s wrong with this?”
    “In the first place, those shoes have to go. No one, I repeat, no one , wears leather shoes on Orchid Island.”
    “I’m not accustomed to running with the pack.”
    His words fit that young cop she’d crushed on. Even as Lani wondered if it were possible to remain independent while rising within such a structured, military-based law-enforcement system, she had to give him credit for the way he avoided sounding unbearably egocentric, the way most men of his accomplishments invariably would.
    “That’s undoubtedly true. And what you’re wearing is a huge improvement over your earlier suit. But you still need work. What time tomorrow do you want to go shopping?”
    “Shopping?”
    “For clothes. Honestly, Donovan, you can’t possibly hope to enjoy yourself dressed like an FBI special agent.”
    “I’m not a special agent. Yet,” he qualified. “I also learned early in my career that the proper clothing encourages respect.”
    “If you need to dress like a Wall Street trader in order to earn respect, you’re probably in trouble.”
    “Want to guess how far I’d get questioning the business partner of a billionaire commercial real estate developer I know beyond a doubt killed his wife, but can’t yet prove it, while wearing a hoodie, torn jeans, and Chucks?” he countered.
    “Point taken,” she allowed. “But you can’t deny that the Italian suit you showed up in looks a lot better on television than the T-shirt and faded jeans I remember you wearing.”
    His dark blue eyes became as shuttered as windows painted black. Lani supposed he’d developed that distant, detached expression in order to keep suspects from reading his thoughts. In a way,