Too Hot to Handle (21 page)

If Honey lived to be a hundred, she’d never understand how she had ended up tending a barbecue for an entire yard full of police detectives and hoodlums.

Even more surprising, the cops were just as loud, rude, and boisterous as her family. At the moment, she could hear Jack’s captain telling a dirty joke to her uncle Mike.

This was the third weekend in a row everyone had gathered in the San Fernando Valley to help rebuild her house. They weren’t only repairing the damage that had been done, either: Jack was overseeing the installation of a new bathroom, and Logan had insisted on buying all new kitchen appliances.

The way things were going, it wouldn’t be too long before she’d be moving from the apartment in Venice back to the Valley. Only, this time she wouldn’t be running away from Jack. His stuff was already packed among the sea of boxes that filled the apartment’s living room.

Jessica was taking over the lease on the Venice apartment, excited about living by herself for the first time in her life.

A hand snaked into her field of vision, long fingers trying to grab at a hot dog.

“Not a chance.” She leaped forward, knocking the hand aside with her tongs.

The worst part about working the barbecue was the high incidence of hot dog theft. It was despicable. Everyone knew they weren’t allowed to eat until all the food was ready, but they all thought their hard work made them the exception to the rule.

Logan had tried it a couple of minutes earlier. After catching him salivating over a sausage, she’d sent him packing to ask Captain Roberts about his new alarm system. In the six months since Clay Parsons had been arrested in his hospital bed, Logan and Jack had become close friends. Logan came over at least once a week for dinner, but he still found it hard to believe a man as young as Jack knew what he was talking about when it came to personal security.

She glanced up, blushing when she saw Jack staring down at her.

“You think you can put one over on me?” She grinned. “I was stealing hot dogs when you were still dancing at cotillions.”

“Come on,” Jack pleaded. “I’m not stealing a hot dog. I’m
borrowing
it.”

That was just about the dumbest argument she’d ever heard. Borrowing was all well and good, but a hot dog was a hot dog. When he was finished with it, no one was going to want it back.

Still, his grin was bright and eager, and the hands that had covered her body when they’d made a run to the hardware store an hour earlier were reaching out for her. Briefly, she gave in to the sense of pure bliss that came from knowing she had everything she’d ever dreamed about and more. This amazing, wonderful man loved her, and she couldn’t love him back any more if she tried.

Even his mother was coming around. Amelia had been almost civil the previous week when they’d run into her at the country club. She’d been upset when Jack told her he was never going to run for political office, but eventually she’d stopped trying to force the issue. Now she started every conversation by asking when they were going to give her some grandchildren.

Babies and bunting were still years in the future, but Jack had started dropping hints a few weeks earlier that they might get a puppy soon. A little dog with big brown eyes and a good-natured disposition.

He made a quick lunge, too fast for her to combat with the tongs, and managed to snag a hot dog.

“Thanks for working the grill, sweetheart.” He slid the hot dog into a bun before wiping greasy fingers clean on his T-shirt. “Where’s the mustard?”

Mustard.
Honey began to sputter angrily.

Now that Jack had a hot dog, everyone was going to want one. They’d never get anything done if they spent all their time hanging around, eating meat and drinking beer.

Then she glanced up and saw the dopey grin on Jack’s face.

She was never going to stop loving him.

“Grand theft hot dog. You better watch out. There are cops crawling all over this place. One word from me, and they’ll arrest you.”

“Uh-huh.” Jack ate the hot dog. “I think there’s about to be a crime wave.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. When he kissed her, his mouth tasted like burned meat. “Tell me you love me.”

“With all my heart.”

“Enough to marry me?”

The world stopped. Honey’s heart fluttered excitedly in her chest. “Of course—”

Jack kissed her again, his mouth covering hers and silencing her squeal of delight. When he finally came up for air, his features were split by a wide grin. “I don’t have a ring, but there’s something I think you’ll like even more.” He slipped a small object into her hand.

It took her a moment to identify the cool metal in her palm. A car key.

“The Volvo Sport. I bought it from Logan. It’s going to be delivered tomorrow. Or—” He wiggled his eyebrows, daring, enticing. “We could drive over to his house right now. Take her for a spin.”

A hot rod and a sexy man.

“Perfect.”

Special thanks to my biggest fan (and sister), Helena, who has read everything I’ve ever written…no matter how terrible.

Thanks to my mother, who taught me how to live life to the fullest.

Thanks to two of the most supportive, encouraging people I know, John and Henry. You have always believed in me.

Thanks to Ruth, my awesome, amazing, incredible editor. I appreciate everything you do.

Conor—if you made it to the end of this book, then I owe you dinner. Codeword:
yummy
.

Aleah Barley has lived all over the United States, but she recently moved to Motor City. She shares a studio apartment with a big fluffy cat who is constantly trying to use her computer for his own nefarious purposes. You can find out more about her by visiting her blog: aleahbarley.blogspot.com.