Tasty Morsel :-)

Rick Mateo Cruz grew up on the poor side of the tracks, but he’s made good as the sheriff of a small town. He loves his culture, his family, and a woman who isn’t afraid to give up control. Delaney’s voluptuous figure begs for his attentions, but her whiter-than-white upbringing gives him pause.

Her willingness to submit and his desire to dominate bring them closer together than either could ever have dreamed. They’ll have to find that same synergy between their cultural differences for Delaney to get a sheriff in her stocking.

Unsnapping her seatbelt, she slumped back in the seat and heaved a deep breath, thankful the airbag hadn’t deployed. The windscreen wipers futilely beat in a steady thump, thump against the rapidly building snow. “Great. It’s almost Christmas, you’ve been dumped by your two-timing boyfriend, and now you’re stuck in the middle of this frozen wasteland.” She spied the pieces of broken cookie on the dash and shrugged. “Might as well eat.”

Resigned to her situation, she grabbed one, popped it into her mouth and angrily chewed. “To hell with what’s-his-name; he can just get screwed.” She shook her head. The rat fink bastard was probably doing just that right now with his skinny new girlfriend.

Delaney wiped some crumbs from around her mouth, leaned over, and reached into her large, hobo-style purse sitting on the floor on the passenger’s side. She pulled out her cell phone. Pushing the power button, she waited, but the small screen flashed a message indicating no service. She turned off the phone and tossed the useless piece of metal and plastic back into her bag. Gazing through the windscreen, she could see snow sifting down in dense, white sheets through the beams of the car’s headlights. What the hell was she going to do?

A flicker of light in the rearview mirror snagged her attention. Relief washed through her. Thank goodness. The police. The strobe light on the roof flashed bright red and blue in the steadily falling snow. The Jeep pulled to the side of the road and stopped. She watched as the officer climbed out. He looked huge, kind of like Batman emerging from the fog. Seeing him walking toward her comforted her until she remembered an episode from a crime show she’d seen recently. Her sense of ease morphed into trepidation. The episode was about a crazed killer impersonating a police officer in order to lure unsuspecting women into his sinister web.

The officer stepped beside the driver’s door, shined a flashlight’s beam into her face, and tapped on the window. For a moment, she considered not opening it. Get a grip, Delaney. Crazed killers don’t lurk in snowstorms. Or do they? Taking a deep breath to calm her rising nerves, Delaney rolled the window down an inch. Icy wind and snowflakes dashed against her face, nearly taking her breath away.

“You okay?” His voice was deep and concerned even as he shouted the words above the howling wind.

She wished she could see his face clearly but between the darkness and his plastic-covered hat, it was impossible to get a good look at him. “I am, but my car isn’t.”

“I’m Sheriff Rick Cruz from Avery. You won’t be able to get a tow this late because of the storm. I’d be glad to give you a lift into town.”

Delaney thought about her cell phone sitting in her purse. If only she could call the town and verify his identity. “Could I see your badge, please?”

He reached inside the lapel of his coat, withdrew his badge, and slipped it through the crack in the window.

Delaney studied it for a moment before handing it back to him. It looked real enough. “Thank you. I just needed to make sure.”

“No problem. It’s a smart thing to do.”

Delaney put on her coat, grabbed her purse from the floorboard, stuffed the bag of cookies inside, and flipped the lock switch. She glanced down at her clothes. Why did I wear a skirt today? At least she had on boots. As Delaney started to climb out of the car with her hand gripping the handle for balance, Officer Cruz swung the door open.

He stepped around the door until he faced her and held it open with one hand. “Be careful, it’s icy.”

Just as her boot-clad feet touched the ground, a gust of wind slammed into her. Her feet slipped on the ice. “Oh, no!”

She jerked her head toward the officer, kept one hand on the door handle, and grabbed the lapel of his coat with the other in an attempt to steady herself. Her mid-length skirt billowed up in the wind, exposing the lower half of her body, chilling her to the bone.

The officer let go of the door and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him, but trapping the skirt between them. “Easy, I’ve got you.”

Unable to get her feet back under her, Delaney started to fall, pulling the officer with her. Her purse flew up into the air, dislodging the bag of cookies. Double chocolate chip cookies scattered in all directions as they fell in a tangle of arms and legs into a snowdrift.

Dazed from the fall, Delaney didn’t move for a moment with her skirt twisted around her upper body. The officer lay half on top of her with one of his knees pressed against her femininity, his right arm wrapped firmly around her waist, his left palm lying on her right breast. Every inch of him touching her felt firm and corded with muscle. His face pressed into the side of her neck while his warm, ragged breath wafted over her skin.

Despite the blessed heat from his body, Delaney felt immersed in ice water and as if the air had been suctioned from her lungs. Snow pushed into places snow wasn’t meant to go. She inhaled a deep breath of frigid air as a shudder racked her body. Snow covered her left arm while the other was sandwiched beneath the officer’s body. She moved her fingers and they closed around a warm, hard bulge. Delaney’s eyes widened.

At that moment, Officer Cruz shifted his hand from her breast, lifted his head and propped himself up with one arm.

Delaney pulled her hand from his crotch and attempted a smile. “Sorry.”

The headlights from his vehicle illuminated the officer’s face. His hat had been knocked off during the fall. Snowflakes coated his long, thick lashes and black, wavy hair. A corner of his firm, sensual mouth kicked up. One word popped into her mind. Gorgeous.

His chocolate-brown gaze skimmed her face. “Are you okay, Miss …?”

“Delaney Moore.” She nodded. “I think so.”

The officer rolled off her and climbed to his feet. He leaned over and held his glove-covered hands out toward her. “Grab hold, I’ll help you up.”