Lovers and Madmen(Sasha McCandless 4.5) (7 page)

She trudged into the building and plodded up the
stairs to her condo. Each step seemed heavier than the last. She had broken her
New Year’s resolution
and
ruined Valentine’s Day in one swoop. Maybe she
really was a danger magnet.

She turned the key in the door and wondered if
she'd find Connelly inside or just a charred chicken.

She inhaled deeply and opened the door.

Connelly was there. He stood in front of the open
refrigerator, bent at the waist, checking something inside. No burnt chicken
adorned her counter. The classic rock Connelly favored was blasting from her
laptop’s speaker. Two glasses of wine, the lilies, and a candle sat on the
dining room table.

She exhaled shakily and shut the door.

He turned from the refrigerator already smiling,
his eyes doing that crinkling at the corners thing she loved.

“I made your chocolate pots for you,” he said,
pointing a thumb at the refrigerator. Then his smile faded as he took in her
swollen cheek and bandaged arm.

He crossed the room in an instant and was holding
her wrist tenderly before she could blink.

“What happened?”

She sighed. “I forgot the chocolate at my office.
I went back for it. Nick thought I was Kathryn and he attacked me.” She
repeated the facts numbly.

He unzipped the jacket and pushed it off her
shoulders to the floor. Then he pulled her into his chest and held her, smoothing
her hair with one hand.

She listened to his heart tick against her cheek.

“I tried to call you,” she said into his chest.

“I’m sorry. My phone’s dead,” he said with a touch
of embarrassment.

“It doesn’t matter. I was just worried you’d think
I stood you up or something.”

He kissed her forehead.

“When I saw your dessert recipe and the
ingredients all spread out, I figured you ran to the store to get chocolate.
Pro tip: you can substitute cocoa powder and butter for chocolate in baking. We
have a container of dark chocolate cocoa powder.
Voila
.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “You mean the
stuff we use to make hot chocolate?”

“That’s the stuff.”

He led her to the couch and pressed a glass of
wine into her hands. He considered her face for a moment then asked, “How badly
did you hurt him?”

She found herself smiling at the question—Not how
badly are you hurt? Not did you hurt him? But how badly did you hurt him? Well,
if nothing else, Connelly knew her.

“Nothing permanent. He’s gonna pee sitting down
for a while.”

Connelly smiled back, and she sipped the wine.

“He’ll be peeing in the corner of a cell, right?”

She nodded. “He’s being charged with the attack on
Kathryn as well as the attack on me. He also slashed her tires, so there’s a
vandalism charge, too. He’ll be going away for a while.”

Connelly looked like he was choosing his words
with care.

“It’s too bad they can’t reopen the murder
investigation.”

She chose her response with equal care. “I
suggested that they look into his background and interview Kathryn’s friends. I
explained to the arresting officer that I couldn’t say more because I
represented him on charges that he murdered his wife. Judging by the light in
his eye, he understood what I meant.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Sasha took
another sip of wine.

He cleared his throat. “Was the meal your gift to
me?”

“It was supposed to be. Is it ruined?” she asked
miserably.

“No,” he answered immediately. “I’m holding the
chicken in the oven to keep it warm, the salad is assembled, and your sides are
fine. The dessert’s going to take a while to firm up, but dinner’s the opposite
of ruined.”

He’d salvaged dinner. The thought made her
ridiculously happy.

“Awesome.”

He looked at her curiously. “Tell the truth—did
you really make that all by yourself? Your mom didn’t come over and help?”

She gave him a level gaze. “I’ve been taking
cooking lessons. I wanted to do something for you. That meal was made with
love—and a minimum of panic.”

He cupped her chin in his hands and softly kissed
her swollen cheek.

“Cooking isn’t supposed to be a contact sport.
But, thank you.”

She pressed her mouth against his and said, “You
might want to taste it before you thank me.”

Connelly meowed faintly in response—or so she
thought.

She cocked her head.

“Did you just hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?” he said as another meow sounded.

“Meowing,” she put her glass down and stood.

He jumped up and pulled her back to the couch.

“Wait here,” he ordered. She arched a brow at the
command, but he was already heading for the stairs.

He disappeared into the bedroom and returned a
moment later holding the gray kitten like a football.

“I thought you took it to a foster home.”

He smiled. “Couldn’t do it. It’s a he, by the way.
The foster lady checked.”

Sasha opened her arms for the kitten, but Connelly
pulled him out of her reach.

“Wait.”

He sat next to her, holding the kitten in his lap
and swallowed hard. Then he looked into her eyes and said, “This kitten is commitment,
Sasha. He’ll need care and attention, even when you have a big case. Are you
sure you’re ready to take that on?”

“I’m ready. Give me the cat already.”

Connelly placed the kitten in her outstretch
hands. The kitten’s hazel eyes were enormous. He began to purr instantly and
nuzzled his nose against her palm.

She scratched him under the chin, and that’s when
she noticed the ring.

The ruby and diamond ring Connelly had sort of
given her back in the fall wasn’t secure in its box on her shelf. It was dangling
from the kitten’s collar.

She pushed the ring with her finger and it swung
gently, picking up the light in dozens of brilliant sparkles.

“What’s this?”

Connelly removed the kitten’s collar and dropped
the ring into his hand. Then he reached for Sasha’s left hand, realized it was
covered with a bandage, and took her right.

“I want to do this again, but do it right this
time. Sasha, I love you. I want to spend eternity with you—apparently, we’ll
spend it dodging death and disaster, but there’s no one I’d rather do that
with. Will you marry me?”

A slow smile spread across her lips and a warmth radiated
from her chest out through her body to her ears and her toes. She tingled.

“Yes.”

He turned the ring over and said, “I had it
engraved this time.”

She squinted at the minute lettering:

To my little but fierce SMcC. I love you.
Always. LC

“It’s perfect,” she said, hoping she wasn’t
shouting but unable to tell over the blood rushing in her ears.

He slipped it on her right ring finger. The kitten
swatted at his hand.

Sasha held her hand up to the light and turned it
each way.

“I guess he needs a name,” Connelly said, petting
the kitten, who had nestled into the crook of his arm.

“Smoky?” Sasha proposed.

“Sebastian,” Connelly countered.

“Hmm, Cupid?”

“No. Cashmere?”

She shook her head. “Justice.”

“How about Trouble?”

“Griggs?”

“Geoff.”

“What kind of name is Geoff? Maybe White
Lightning?”

He rolled his eyes. “Wilson. No, Mr. Fluffles.”

Sasha appraised the kitten—his gray fur, the white
stripe down his nose, and his friendly demeanor. He was perfect. He made
everything better. And, suddenly, she knew.

“Java,” she declared.

Java mewed in approval. Connelly laughed, and the
noise startled Java, who jumped off the couch and landed gracefully. He
wandered away to sit in front of the oven and sniff at the chicken inside.

“We should eat,” Connelly said.

“Mmm. You said it’ll keep?”

“Sure, a little while longer, at least.”

She raised a brow and pushed him back against the
couch.

“I have a better idea,” she breathed. She wrapped
her arms around his neck and covered his mouth with hers.

He mumbled something against her lips.

“What?” she asked.

“I said, whatever you say, Mrs. Connelly.”

He put a hand behind her neck and gently turned
her so she was leaning against the arm of the couch. He kissed her neck and ran
his hands down to her boots.

She let him unzip them and toss them on the floor.

Then she swung her legs over his waist and
straddled him, trapping him against the couch.

“What exactly did you have in mind,
Mr. McCandless
?”
she teased, pushing lightly against his chest with her good hand.

He made a sound that was somewhere between a growl
and a purr and pulled her off the couch to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

THANK YOU

Thank you for reading
Lovers and Madmen
; I
sincerely hope you enjoyed this peek at Sasha and Leo’s private life. I’m hard
at work on the next novel in the series—Book No. 5 in the series will be
available in the Spring of 2013. Here are some suggestions to keep you busy
while you wait!

Share it.
If you liked this book, please lend your
copy to a friend who might enjoy it.

Review it.
Please consider posting a short review
on Amazon. Reader reviews help others decide whether they’ll enjoy a book.

Connect with me.
I’d love to hear from you by
email at
[email protected]
.
Or you can stop by my Facebook page for updates, cover reveals, and general
time wasting at
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Melissa-F-Miller-Author/192328657456509
.

Sign up.
To be the first to know when I have a new
release, sign up for my email newsletter at
www.melissafmiller.com
.
I only send emails when I have book news—I promise.

Finally,
you can always find an up-to-date list of the entire series for Kindle at smarturl.it/sashaseries

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Melissa F. Miller
is a commercial litigator. She has practiced in the offices of international
law firms in Pittsburgh, PA and Washington, D.C. She and her husband now
practice law together in their two-person firm in South Central Pennsylvania,
where they live with their three young children. When not in court or on the
playground, Melissa writes crime fiction. Like Sasha McCandless, she drinks
entirely too much coffee; unlike Sasha, she cannot kill you with her bare
hands.