Party of Three: A H.O.T. Cops Novel (5 page)

“Yeah, and you used to sound pumped up when you told me those stories, too.” But as soon as she’d spoken, she wondered if it was weird to be bringing up conversations they’d actually had … in bed. Because that tended to be when Rogan had opened up to her the most—cuddling after sex. Oh well, it hardly mattered, given why Rogan was here, and maybe the screwdrivers were kicking in, making it so she didn’t weigh things as much as she might normally. “Just seems like your skills are going to waste.”

He slanted her a cocky glance and a wink to say, “Not all of ’em, babe.”

And despite herself, she felt it in her panties. And found herself swallowing nervously. And deciding it still felt safer to keep discussing police work. So she looked to Ethan, then back and forth between them. “Didn’t you guys get into some high-tension situation during your H.O.T. training?”

When the two men exchanged brief looks, she realized that she’d actually only heard bits and pieces of this story from each of them. Finally Ethan said, “There was a little girl being held hostage by her estranged father in a house in Traverse City.” That was where they’d gone to the police academy and where their hostage ops training had taken place, as well.

“It was actually the day after we all graduated,” Rogan said, “and the locals didn’t have any hostage specialists, so they called us in to help. We were the only two who hadn’t left town already.”

“It got … a little crazy,” Ethan said, and the quiet in the room made Mira begin to understand why she’d only heard bits and pieces. Clearly, it wasn’t a
good
memory.

But she still felt compelled to ask—softly, “What happened?”

“We got the little girl out okay,” Ethan said. “I carried her out myself. But …”

“The dad almost shot himself on the front porch,” Rogan explained then. “Right in front of us all. Ethan had just grabbed the girl and I was moving in on the father with a few other local guys behind me, with our guns drawn. Then he suddenly pulled out a pistol and put it to his head.”

Mira gasped. She was sorry she’d brought this up after all.

Still, Rogan went on. “We didn’t know he had a weapon at that point. That was where we fucked up,” he added, shaking his head.

“But it was literally your first day on the job, so you can’t beat yourself up for it,” she pointed out. “And … you got it away from him, right? He didn’t actually do it?”

“Yeah, we got it away from him. But it was … damn tense for a while. And it was pretty embarrassing, too. I mean, we’d had the training and passed with flying colors. Only thing was, we were concentrating more on defusing the situation than on some of the technical stuff we’d learned.”

“And because we screwed up,” Ethan said, “that little girl almost saw the ugliest thing a person could see. So …”

“So … all’s well that ends well, the way I see it,” Mira offered, trying for a smile.

And luckily then, both guys seemed to lighten up and let go of the old memory. Ethan released a low albeit self-deprecating laugh, and Rogan said, “It was a long time ago. And a lesson learned.”

“And you ultimately saved the day,” she reminded them.

“And made damn sure we were more careful after that,” Ethan said.

When talk then turned to some of their other H.O.T. friends, Mira was grateful for happier topics. “Think I’m gonna fly down to Miami and see Colt soon,” Rogan informed them. Colt, whom Mira had met only once while traveling with Rogan, owned a personal security business in south Florida and had struck her as even more confident and cocky than Rogan could be.

And after a little talk of Rogan’s plans for fun in the sun, Ethan told them both what he’d learned from their buddy Jake, whom he’d talked to on the phone just yesterday. “He and Carly set a wedding date. Looks like next April we’ll all be getting together in that little town he moved to downstate.”

“More to drink?” Rogan asked Mira, gracing her with another sexy smile as he pointed to her mostly empty glass.

“Sure,” she said without hesitation. She didn’t want to get completely drunk, but a little intoxication would surely help dull her fears.

She watched as Rogan reached for the pitcher, then leaned to refill her glass without spilling a drop. “Basket business still good?” he asked—and she appreciated the shift to another safe-feeling topic.

“Yeah—it’s continued to bring in a lot of customers I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. In fact, we’ve been so busy lately that I almost felt bad leaving Lydia alone for the weekend.” Mira had owned and operated a bookstore on Bridge Street, the main thoroughfare through their waterside town, since before she’d met either of the men with her right now. But due to the declining book market, which saddened her in so many ways, a couple of years ago she’d converted the store into Books and Baskets, where she still sold books but also created gift baskets
featuring
books. It was a small shop with only one part-time employee in addition to her, but business had been booming lately.

“I put together a baby shower basket for your neighbor, Mrs. Denby, just yesterday,” she told Rogan. This particular basket had featured a baby name book and a reference guide for baby’s first year, along with a rattle, tiny socks, a small baby blanket, and a baby brush and comb. Now she recalled how the woman’s appearance in her shop had brought Rogan to mind, but she couldn’t have imagined being in
this
situation with him just over twenty-four hours later.

Rogan nodded. “I’m glad it’s going good for you, Mir.” Their eyes met and it made her remember, more than any other interaction they’d shared so far, what it had been like between them once upon a time. What it had been like to be his girl. He hadn’t always been the best boyfriend, but at moments, just the way he looked at her could make her feel … cherished. Like the center of his world.

She was almost relieved when he moved his attention back to Ethan. “Still working your ass off keeping the people I arrest out of jail?”

Ethan let out a laugh in reply. “Only the innocent ones. Mostly,” Ethan added. “You know that’s why I gave up the badge—couldn’t stand that loss of control after an arrest.” Mira recalled Ethan’s struggle between the two careers. Before attending police academy, he’d gone to law school, but then he’d wanted to be more hands-on in law enforcement, less caught up in a system that sometimes seemed unjust. In the end, though, he’d realized he didn’t like the other side of the equation, either—it had bothered him to have to arrest someone he felt might not be guilty and have no way to affect the outcome. So he’d taken the bar, passed with ease, and turned to litigation, practicing law in a way he felt helped the most honest people.

“Whatever works for ya,” Rogan answered easily.

After which Ethan switched his gaze to Mira, lowering his voice slightly. “And actually, now that the practice is pretty well established, I’m trying to slow down, reprioritize.”

And something in her chest warmed. Because yes, the situation they were in right now—it was about sex on the surface, but this reminded her that it was also about something much bigger. Once this weekend was past, she might really have her man back in her life, the way she wanted him. And if she was able to go through with the threesome plan, well, hopefully what Ethan had said would be true: They’d be closer; they’d know each other in a whole new, intimate way. The fact was, to her surprise, this was all starting to make sense to her.

Just then, Rogan pushed back the wooden chair he sat in, the legs squeaking across the hardwood floor, and headed to the bathroom. As she watched him go, then glanced back to Ethan, she realized the screwdrivers were hitting her. In addition to that pleasant, floaty feeling, she found herself having the urge to pick up with Ethan where they’d left off earlier in the hammock; she suddenly suffered the urge to straddle him in the chair.

“Doing okay?” he asked. “About everything?”

“So far so good,” she said without even measuring it. Which was a first here. She’d answered easily despite the weight of what he was asking. Again, she could only attribute the fresh comfort to the alcohol. And she didn’t mind anything she was feeling. An hour ago, the very idea of admitting she might really want to have a three-way had struck her as too forbidden, shameful. But now, slowly but surely, it had just begun to feel … honest. And if Ethan was okay with that honesty, why shouldn’t she be, too? “You?” she asked then, just to be certain.

He only grinned. “I’ve been okay all along. You’re the one who wasn’t sure.”

She widened her eyes on him in playful accusation. “
I’m
the one who had it dropped on me without warning, bub.”

He flashed a typical, sexy Ethan grin. “I know, I know. Now that we’re in this, I’m realizing that maybe springing it on you wasn’t the best way to go about it. But … you’re starting to seem more relaxed now.”

In reply, she just pointed to the highball glass in front of her filled with pale, orangey liquid.

Yet that caused him to squint a look of concern. “I hope it’s not just the vodka making you cool with this. Because if it is, tell me and we’ll call this whole thing off. Seriously.”

And once more she acknowledged to herself that now was indeed the time for honesty. “No, it’s not just the alcohol making me cool with it. It’s the alcohol … making me
comfortable
enough
to admit to myself—and now you—that … I
do
want this.” Though an unexpected shiver rushed through her at the confession. Because saying it out loud was different than just thinking it. And, slowly, feeling each new word as it left her, she went on to say, “I’m still nervous, yeah, but … I’m turned on, too.”

And when her eyes locked with Ethan’s, she understood—in a fuller way than she had before—how this would bring them closer. Because what she’d just shared with him had
already
brought them closer. It was a new openness that stretched invisibly between them and expanded now, spreading outward through her chest and down. And it was different than the night she’d told him about her fantasy. She’d been drunker then, actually. And this … this was no longer about sharing a fantasy—this, again, was about reality.

Just then, the door to the bathroom—the only area inside the cabin that actually
came
with a door—opened, and though Mira almost felt as if there was more to say, it ended their conversation. They were three again. And yet the quiet closeness to Ethan remained.
That’s how this will work. Even though we’re with Rogan, we’ll feel silently connected in a way we weren’t before.

When Rogan sat back down and scooted his chair up toward the table, his knee pressed firmly against Mira’s underneath. And he didn’t move it.

Oddly, it caught her off guard—just because in most such situations, the other person would shift after bumping into her, give her back her personal space. And when he didn’t, it reminded her in a whole new way why. The plan was for her and Rogan to get close again, for the first time in a long time. In front of Ethan. Or
with
Ethan. She wasn’t even sure how that part would work, how Ethan
wanted
it to work—or if it was really all about how
she
wanted it to work.

Stop thinking so hard about this. Just let it be what it is, whatever it becomes.
Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. But she used the moment to take another big sip of her drink anyway—a little more fuel to help her relax still deeper into this surreal little birthday party Ethan had thrown for her.

“So … cards?” Ethan asked, holding up the deck.

“Sure,” Mira said for no particular reason.

“What do you want to play?” he asked.

And she blinked, stuck for an answer. But it took only a second for Rogan to suggest, “Strip poker?”

The idea felt almost childish, clichéd, and yet it made her giggle and cast him a look. “That’s not exactly fair.”

He simply raised his eyebrows as if to ask why.

“I’m”—she glanced down at her tank top and jeans—“not wearing much. Well, not as much as you guys anyway.” They each had on socks and shoes, whereas she was currently barefoot. And Rogan wore a denim jacket over his T-shirt.

“Guess that’s our gain,” he said with a wink she felt squarely between her legs.

And Ethan had just started dealing out cards, announcing, “Five card stud,” when an old disco tune Mira loved met her ears. She didn’t hold in her response, letting her eyes go wide as she said, “My song!”

Ethan cast her a sideways glance. “‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?’ by Rod Stewart is your song?
Why
? And how do I not know this?”

“I never told you this story?” She started to dance in her chair a little without thought and grew instantly aware that the movement subtly increased and then decreased the pressure of her knee against Rogan’s.

“Uh, no. That I’d remember,” Ethan said, looking amused.

But she didn’t care if loving the old dance song seemed silly—she still moved to the rhythm, and the shift of her legs beneath the table sometimes brought her other knee into contact with Ethan’s now, too. “I was a baby when it was popular,” she explained, “and according to my mother, I’d never spoken a word—until one day I suddenly sang the whole chorus along with Rod on the radio.”

Both guys smiled and Ethan said, “So your first words were, ‘If you want my body’?”

She shrugged, still dancing in her seat. “So the story goes. And apparently, it became my theme song after that. I danced whenever it was on, and I’m told I once even danced on a table in a restaurant when my aunt played it on the jukebox and that everyone applauded.”

Looking just as entertained as Ethan now, Rogan leaned back in his chair slightly, watching her from beneath shaded lids. “You can dance on the table for us now if you want.”

She let out a laugh. “Nope, not getting on the table, but I
will
dance to it. And so will you guys.” And with that, she followed the instinct to push to her feet, grabbing onto each of their wrists in an attempt to pull them up from their chairs.

The two men just gave each other are-we-really-going-to-do-this? looks, but when Rogan let himself be guided from his chair, Ethan relented, too. And the next thing she knew, Mira was twirling about the open hardwood surrounding the table with them both.