My Only Vice

Nah, she immediately assured herself. It couldn’t be. Not a nice old guy like Don. He might be a little off these days, what with shrouding cashiers in Glad Wrap and threatening to throw Alice into financial turmoil with frivolous shopping, but he wasn’t the sort of man to go out in public with a…with a…a…a…

A vibrator?

Rosie tilted her head to the side, to observe the object from another angle. Yep, Don was brandishing a vibrator all right. The Xtacy 3000 model, if she wasn’t mistaken. In the Vixen Scarlet color that was so hard to find these days. Even on the Internet. Rosie was fairly familiar with the product, since she’d been shopping around for one for the past month herself, wanting to upgrade from her Xtacy 2000.

Well, what else was she supposed to do? Small-town life agreed with her in a lot of ways—ways she hadn’t even anticipated, truth be told—but Northaven wasn’t exactly bursting at the seams with eligible men. At least those under the age of seventy-five. Even if ol’ Don was estranged from Alice now, it would take a lot more than an Xtacy 3000 in Vixen Scarlet to make Rosie think twice about dating him. Which was moot, anyway, since he was clearly still deeply in love with his wife, performance art with his head cashier notwithstanding.

Of course, there was Northaven’s incredibly hunky police chief, Rosie thought. As she often did. Especially when she was keeping company with her Xtacy 2000. Not only was he way younger than seventy-five—she guesstimated he was in his mid- to late-thirties—but with that thick dark hair and those chocolate-brown eyes…and those broad shoulders that strained at the seams of his white cop shirt in the warmer months and his leather cop jacket in the winter…and that perfectly packaged rump that even brown twill cop pants couldn’t mar…and those big manly hands, each of which would very nicely cover a woman’s breast or splay lovingly over a woman’s behind….

Damn. As always, she was getting way ahead of herself when there was no way she’d be getting any. Not from Sam Maguire, at any rate. Because he evidently didn’t notice the steamy heat ballooning around the two of them that Rosie noticed whenever they encountered each other. Possibly because the steamy heat was only ballooning off of her. Even though she always made a point to seek Sam out on those occasions when they were attending the same function, he only greeted her politely, made a little small talk, then found some reason why he had to go speak to someone else before politely excusing himself to do just that.

The first couple of times it had happened, Rosie hadn’t thought much about it. He was a public servant, after all, and new in town to boot, so he’d naturally need to make himself available to a lot of people. She’d finally taken the hint, though, the last time she’d encountered him at a Chamber of Commerce gathering, when Sam had excused himself to have a very important discussion with Luther Bybee. No one in Northaven ever elected to have a discussion with Luther Bybee. Because Luther Bybee was notorious in Northaven for repeating the same story over and over again about the genital wart that nearly claimed his life. Clearly Sam wasn’t interested in Rosie romantically. Fortunately, her Xtacy 2000 was always there when she needed it.

She knew Alice had been looking for the new Xtacy 3000, too—Hey, what woman wasn’t?—and thought it was exceedingly nice of Don to have found one for her. It took a special man to extend a vibrating olive branch. Maybe he really was into nude, plastic wrap performance art. Stranger things had happened. Don was obviously doing his best to make amends for the cashier thing.

Rosie was taking a step forward to get a better look at the vibrator and was about to ask Don where he’d found it, especially in the most sought-after color, but her words—and her step, for that matter—were cut short when, out of nowhere, she was blindsided by a huge, growling grizzly bear that wrestled her to the floor and rolled on top of her.

Oh, no, wait. It wasn’t a grizzly bear, she realized when she and the big predator came to a halt. It was Sam Maguire. Speak of the devilishly handsome. Maybe he was interested in her romantically. Though why he’d decided to make his intentions known so suddenly, in such a public venue was a little puzzling. And just where the hell had he come from, anyway? He wasn’t enrolled in Alice’s morning class.

“Uh, Chief?” she said by way of a greeting.

But she got lost after that, because she couldn’t seem to find her way out of those espresso eyes and back to…whatever she’d been doing before she found herself pinned beneath him. All she could remember was something about nudity and plastic wrap and performing, all of which sounded pretty good at the moment.

He was solid rock in all the places he came into contact with her, shoulder to shoulder, chest to calf, his rigid weight pinning her to the padded mat beneath her in a way that should probably have been painful, considering his size, but which was instead incredibly erotic—considering his size. She wasn’t positive, but Rosie was pretty sure that wasn’t a banana in his pocket. He was definitely happy to see her. Really happy, judging by the size of that banana. Colossally happy. In fact, it wasn’t so much a banana he had in his pocket as it was a loaf of French bread.

He smelled wonderful, an enticing mix of clean laundry and autumn wind. And something else, too, something intangible and implacable that was earthy and musky and dark. Something so intrinsically male that Rosie began to wonder how she could ever think an Xtacy 2000—or even an Xtacy 3000—could ever be enough.

And those dark, fathomless brown eyes of his…She’d always thought Sam’s eyes reflected intelligence and good humor, but up close this way, she saw that both were tempered by something less noble and more unpredictable…and held just barely at bay. The impression never quite had the chance to gel in her brain—not that much could gel in her brain with Sam Maguire lying atop her this way—because he rolled again, this time pulling Rosie on top of himself, a position she immediately decided she liked even better. Unfortunately, that impression, too, was quickly dispelled when Sam effortlessly picked her up and set her down on the mat beside him.

Truly. He picked her up as easily as if she had been a ladybug who landed on his shirt, then set her down with a gentleness she wouldn’t have thought he was capable of managing. And, just like that, he went from being sexy as hell to flat-out irresistible.

“Uh, sorry,” he said by way of an apology.

For one much-too-brief moment, their eyes met again, and he studied her face as if she were the answer to every frustrated question and desperate plea he’d ever shot at the cosmos. And in that much-too-brief moment, Rosie felt like a blessing indeed. Then he was scrambling up off the floor and straightening, and the feeling evaporated like, inescapably, ballooning steam. Where Rosie had expected him to extend a hand to help her up, however, he grabbed Don instead, circling one big hand around the man’s wrist to twist his arm behind his back before snaking the other out to grab the Xtacy 3000 from Don’s grip.

Wow. Sam must want one of those even more than Rosie did.

She shook the thought from her head as soon as it formed, since any man who carried around a loaf of French bread in his pocket certainly didn’t need a little thing like an Xtacy vibrator. Funny, though, how she’d never considered the Xtacy little before….

“Chief Maguire!” Alice shouted when she saw Sam manhandling her husband.

She dropped her hands to her pink-leotard-clad hips and blew a damp, silvery blond curl off her forehead, only to have it fall right back into place. Alice was really too petite and willowy to look menacing, Rosie thought, but damned if she didn’t come pretty close just then.

“What do you think you’re doing to Donnie?” Alice demanded.

Donnie? Rosie echoed to herself. Alice only called Don “Donnie” when she was speaking affectionately about him. In fact, she hadn’t even called him “Don” lately. Since the plastic-wrapped cashier episode a few weeks ago, she’d been referring to him as—

Well, something that wasn’t fit to share in any company, mixed or otherwise. Suffice it to say it had been a looooong time since Rosie had heard Alice refer to her husband in anything remotely resembling affectionate terms. In fact, what she’d called him had been pretty much anatomically impossible anyway, even if one had a loaf of French bread in one’s pocket to do it with. Now, however, it looked like Alice was reconsidering her animosity. Among other things. Because she walked right up to Sam and stomped on his toe. Hard.

“Ow,” Sam replied with much understatement. He lifted the injured foot from the floor, but didn’t loosen his hold on Don. “What was that for?”

“You leave my Donnie alone,” Alice told him, hands fisted indignantly on her hips again.

“Leave him alone?” Sam echoed. “You asked me to intervene if he tried anything funny. So I’m intervening.” He rubbed his foot on the back of his calf and put it—gingerly—on the floor again. “And you’re this close to assaulting an officer, Alice.”

Alice snorted derisively. “Oh, please. I barely touched you.”

Rosie would bet a fallen arch that Sam disagreed. To his credit, however, he said nothing.

“Now let Donnie go,” Alice repeated. “He’s brought me a present.”

With obvious reluctance, Sam did as Alice asked, but he didn’t fork over the vibrator, only looked at it curiously, as if he had no idea what it was. Then, “I have no idea what this is,” he said. “I came running in because when I first saw it, I thought it was a stick of dynamite.”

Rosie couldn’t quite help the smile that curled her lips. “Well, it can be,” she said. “In the right hands.”

The other women in the class chuckled knowingly, something that clearly only confused Sam more. Alice, however, saved Rosie from having to explain by snatching the vibrator out of Sam’s hand and turning it on. It immediately relaxed from its erect cylindrical shape and began to twist itself into a series of elaborate, contorted motions that Rosie knew could be set at a variety of speeds, intensities and temperatures. It was erotic poetry in motion.

“It’s the Xtacy 3000,” Alice said for Sam’s enlightenment. “A personal fulfillment device.”

“Personal fulfillment device,” Sam said without any enlightenment whatsoever.

Then again, he was obviously the kind of man who could personally fulfill a woman to the point where she wouldn’t need a device for that, so Rosie supposed it shouldn’t be surprising that he’d have no knowledge of such things.

Alice rolled her eyes and blew out an exasperated sigh. “A vibrator,” she clarified.

Sam’s dark brows shot up at that, and a faint stain of pink bloomed on his cheeks. Oh, for God’s sake, Rosie thought. He was blushing. Honestly blushing. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a manly man do something so adorable. That Sam was doing it only made him so much sexier. And so much more irresistible.

“I had it on my Christmas list last year,” Alice continued as she watched the vibrator do its thing. “But the demand has been so high since it hit the market that it’s been impossible to find. Especially in this color.” Her voice softening, she looked at her husband and added, “Oh, Donnie. You do still love me. Wherever did you find it?”

And with that, she tucked herself under Don’s now-freed arm and snuggled against him with such obvious, unmitigated love that Rosie couldn’t help but smile. Wow. Someday, she hoped she’d find a guy like Don. Only without the comb-over and the green Clover Mart jacket. One who would understand her needs and desires and do his best to fulfill them while loving her to distraction.

Inevitably, her gaze wandered to Sam, and she saw that he was watching the Xtacy 3000 intently. But he didn’t look in any way turned-on, the way the women in the group did, Rosie couldn’t help thinking. Instead, he was looking at it as if he were wondering what kind of addition it would be to his Craftsman tool collection.

Men. They just couldn’t see the erotic side of machinery. She wondered what he’d say if she told him how many women had discovered dual uses for everything from hand mixers to washing machines. Or was it just Rosie who had discovered dual uses for stuff like that…?

Sam watched warily for a moment as Alice and Don continued to snuggle, then his expression softened. Well, okay, maybe softened was a little too extreme a word to use, since what his expression actually did was…um…become less hard. Then he lifted a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it in that way men did when they were a little uncomfortable about something.

He asked, “So, Alice, does this mean you won’t need me to include your house and studio on my daily rounds anymore?”

For a minute, Rosie didn’t think Alice had heard the question, but then she turned a distracted gaze to Sam, as if she only now remembered where she was and what was going on. She seemed to remember then, too, how she’d been mad at Don for weeks, because she pushed herself away from him and fisted her hands on her hips again, making a halfhearted attempt to look angry.

But the resentment in her voice was clearly forced when she said, “Well, Don and I have a lot to talk about. Just because he brought me a gift doesn’t mean all is forgiven.”

Hah, Rosie thought with a smile. That wasn’t just any gift.

“But no, Chief,” Alice told him, “you don’t have to stop by anymore. For now,” she added with a chilly look at Don…which inevitably turned into a warm smile.

Sam dropped his hand back to his side and nodded, then turned to go. He first strode past the line of women, including Rosie, without looking at any of them. But as he gripped the handle of the studio door, he pivoted back around and met her gaze levelly with his own. “I’m sorry about sacking you the way I did,” he told her.