“Do you go everywhere with sixteen vibrators?” he asked, lowering his voice as he fell under her spell.
“Not usually,” she replied, her eyelids fluttering closed.
The light came and went, illuminating her face, then casting her in darkness as the squad car wove its way through the city streets. One second, he could only make out the curve of her neck and the apples of her cheeks. The next, he saw everything. The brush of dark hair across her forehead, the plump set of her lips, the slight upturn on her button nose. She was a bloody stunner, even if she was the craziest woman he’d ever met. “Libby Lamb,” he whispered, not knowing why, at that very instant, he wanted, no, needed to speak her name.
And then he got his answer.
The beginning of a smile tipped the edges of her lips, and bloody hell, watching her reaction to him simply saying her name sent the same jolt of victory through his veins as flattening an opponent in the ring. The ghost of a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as his lips dusted hers—touching but not quite meeting. It had been ages since he’d savored the seconds before he kissed someone. But he could live here, in this blue violet-hued sacred space, anticipation tingling from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes.
Libby inhaled a slow, steady breath, melting into the moment with him. Could an almost-kiss border on erotic? The thought barely had a chance to bloom when one of the police officers cleared his throat—loudly. In the blink of an eye, the calming glow that had engulfed them evaporated as they pulled apart, their legs squeaking as they slid across the slick faux-leather seat—each to their own side.
“How about you cool it down and refrain from engaging in another lewd act in the back of a squad car,” the tall cop barked over his shoulder.
Good bloody advice. What the hell did he think he was doing?
They rode the rest of the way in silence. He stared ahead, and reality set in. How many cameras had caught their vibrator-laden brawl? Twenty, thirty, forty? It could be streaming to a billion mobiles at this very moment. He could see the headlines.
British Beast Enjoys American Kink.
The Lion Wanted Victory, Got Vibrators.
The police station came into view. In one of the cones of light cast by the lampposts illuminating the front walk, he would have sworn he saw a flash of red entering the precinct. He shook his head. Red, blue, violet. What was next? Would a conga line of dancing rainbow vibrators shimmy across the street?
Get your head on straight, man.
The officers exited the car when another cop walked up to them. The three men chatted, glancing back at them, still safely restrained in the police cruiser.
“What do you think happens next?” Libby asked with a shake to her voice.
He sighed and stared at the roof of the car. “I don’t know, plum. We wait.”
“I messaged my friends,” she offered.
“Penny, Charlotte, and Harper, right?”
She nodded. “Hopefully, they’ll know what to do.”
“What about your parents, plum? Will this throw them for a loop? Their perfect little yoga daughter getting pinched?”
She looked away, then swallowed hard. “I don’t—” she began when the back doors of the vehicle swung open.
“Let’s go,” the shorter cop said, waving them out. The man had Libby’s bag in his hands.
Ah, evidence.
“Are we getting booked?” he asked, maneuvering his large frame out of the car.
“I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you. It’s bizarre,” the man answered. “I’ve never had anything like this happen before.”
“What does that mean?” Libby asked from the other side of the car as the taller officer unlocked her cuffs. She rubbed her wrist. “Can we go home?”
“No, the chief wants to see you,” the shorter officer answered.
“The police chief wants to see us? Why would he want to do that?” Raz pressed as the cop uncuffed him. He couldn’t make heads or tails about what was happening. Had Briggs come through? Had Rowen preemptively searched the police database for their arrest and overturned it?
“The chief is a she. And why do people feel the need to hurl sex toys at each other in front of an audience? Your guess is as good as mine, buddy,” the taller cop answered, then gestured for them to enter the precinct.
They walked into the bustling station, and the shorter cop gestured to a bench, then handed Libby her bag. “Have a seat. You can put on your shoes while you wait.”
That’s right. She’d been barefoot this entire time.
She unzipped her bag, then removed her trainers. He leaned back and ran his hands down his face when that flash of red returned.
But this wasn’t a magical hue. No, it was bloody Madelyn Malone. She tossed the scarlet scarf over her shoulder as amusement glittered in her eyes.
What was there to be amused about?
The matchmaker glanced between himself and Libby, busy tying her shoes.
“Erasmus Cress,” Madelyn said, her rich Eastern European accent massaging each syllable of his name. “You’ve beaten me to the punch.”
Libby looked up from tying her laces. “Madelyn?” she uttered, bewilderment woven into the word.
“What do you mean, I’ve beaten you to the punch?”
“I had planned on introducing you to your nanny candidate tomorrow morning,” she replied smoothly.
Did she track him down to a police station to discuss nanny business?
No, there was more to it. There always was with this woman.
“And?” he pressed as electricity thrummed in his veins.
A slow smirk bloomed on Madelyn’s lips. “She’s seated right next to you.”
Five
Erasmus
“Libby Lamb is the nanny candidate?” he shrieked like a schoolgirl.
No way. No bloody way.
He turned to Libby and watched the color drain from her cheeks.
“I don’t know anything about this, Raz. I never agreed to nanny for you.” She flicked her gaze to the nanny matchmaker. “This is the first I’m hearing about it. You never even spoke to me, Madelyn.”
Unbothered, Madelyn smoothed the lone lock of silver that cut through the maze of her dark tumbling curls. “But I did. I emailed you both a few hours ago and proposed the nanny match.”
“You sent us an email? That’s it?” he asked, his tone taking on an accusatory bend.
“You sent Penny to Gale Gaming, not knowing anything about the guy,” Libby chimed.
He nodded. “And with Mitch, you had him searching for a golden key that led to Charlotte thinking that he’d kidnapped her.”
“Very true,” Madelyn agreed, looking bloody pleased with herself.
“You’re saying all you did for us was bang out an email?” He had to check. After what Rowen and Mitch went through, he’d expected his nanny introduction would be a little more involved than a simple correspondence.
“Look for yourself,” Madelyn suggested.
He removed his mobile from his pocket as Libby did the same. And there it was. Sent two hours ago, before Libby threw a screaming wobbly outside the gym, an email from Madelyn Malone sat unopened in his inbox, sandwiched between emails from his sisters and Granny Fin.