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Oh, man, he’d pegged her so completely wrong.
Her tough, big-city woman persona was nothing but a shield for a vulnerable girl, and Gunnar’s desire to protect and serve had never been stronger.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He hugged her tight, wishing he could take back the last hour, trying desperately to make things better. Hell-bent on being the opposite of his father, he’d acted nothing short of a bully tonight, apparently just like Lilly’s father. It would never happen again. Ever. “I’m sorry, Chitcha, please forgive me.”
The soldier-like tension in her body relaxed. She leaned into his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have been following you. I wasn’t even that interested.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Agreed. You absolutely shouldn’t have been following me. So no more games, okay?”
“No more games.” She looked up.
“No more snooping?”
“No more secrets?”
“Touché,” he said, just before capturing her mouth for a long and tender kiss as they stood under the light of the perfect half-moon. He was in a sticky situation, being on a committee that Lilly was dying to find out about, and just now promising not to keep secrets. How was he supposed to juggle that double-edged sword and not get injured?
Her Perfect Proposal
Lynne Marshall
LYNNE MARSHALL used to worry that she had a serious problem with daydreaming—then she discovered she was supposed to write those stories! A late bloomer, Lynne came to fiction writing after her children were nearly grown. Now she battles the empty nest by writing stories that always include a romance, sometimes medicine, a dose of mirth, or both, but always stories from her heart. She is a Southern California native, a dog lover, a cat admirer, a power walker and an avid reader.
Special thanks to Flo Nicoll who always makes me dig deeper. And to Carly Silver for being a bright light and for being there whenever I need help.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
“Is this because I’m an outsider?” said the petite, new and clearly fuming visitor in town. She’d jaywalked Main Street in broad daylight, far, far from the pedestrian crosswalk. As if it was merely a street decoration or a pair of useless lines. Did she really think Gunnar wouldn’t notice?
Dressed as if she belonged in New York City, not Heartlandia, she wore some high-fashion fuchsia tunic, with a belt half the size of her torso, and slinky black leggings. Sure, she was a knockout in that getup, but the lady really needed to learn to blend in, follow the rules, or he’d be writing her citations all day long.
He took his job seriously, and was proud to be a cog in the big wheel that kept his hometown running smoothly. Truth was he’d wanted to be a guardian of Heartlandia since he was twelve years old.
“I won’t dignify that slur with an answer,” Gunnar said, though she was an outsider. He’d never seen the pretty Asian woman before, but that wasn’t the point. She’d jaywalked!
With the often huge influxes of cruise-line guests all disembarking down at the docks, and now with the occasional tour bus added to the mix, he had to keep order for the town’s sake. The tourists rushed to the local stores for sweet deals and to the restaurants for authentic Scandinavian food without having to fly all the way to Sweden or Norway. If he let everyone jaywalk, it could wreak havoc in Heartlandia. The town residents had to come first, and it was up to guys like him to regulate the influx of visitors. Plus, jaywalking was a personal pet peeve. If the city put in crosswalks, people should use them. Period.
He kept writing, though snuck an occasional peek at the exotic lady. Shiny black hair with auburn highlights, which she wore short, her bangs pushed to the side, and with the pointy and wispy hair ends just covering her earlobes and the top of her neck. Interesting.
Most guys he knew preferred long hair on women, but he was open to all styles as long at it complemented the face. The haircut and outfit were something you might see on a runway or in a fashion magazine, but not here. And those sunglasses... She had to be kidding. Did she want to look like a bee?
Even though her eyes were shielded by high-fashion gear, he could sense she stared him down waiting for his answer to her “Is it because I’m an outsider?” question. Not wanting to be rude by ignoring her, he came up with a question of his own.
“Let me ask you this. Were you or were you not jaywalking just now?”
“I’m from San Francisco, everyone jaywalks.” She leaned in to read his name tag. “Sergeant Norling.”
