Along Came a Husband by Helen Brenna Page A

him closer. As if sensing her growing agitation, Sean whispered in her ear, “Come on. Let’s dance.”
    Grateful for the distraction, Missy followed him onto the floor.
    “Is it just me, or was the tension getting thick over there?” he asked, smiling.
    She chuckled and walked into his arms for a slow rock song.
    “How’d you end up marrying that guy, anyway? He doesn’t seem like your type.”
    “No, I suppose not.” What was her type? A variety of men had come and gone through Duffy’s over the past several years. Golfers, fishermen, old, young, rich, poor. She’d flirted here and there, even dated on occasion, but there’d never once been a man like Jonas.
    Sex may have been what had brought her to him, but what had kept her in his arms, what had convinced her to spend the rest of her life with Jonas, had been the way he’d simply let her be. The exact opposite of her father, he’d never once tried to control, direct or change her. Whether she wanted to learn yoga, or how to throw clay pots, taking a cooking class or working at a women’s shelter, he’d supported her every move. If only he’d loved her more than his job.
    She glanced toward the bar and found Jonas watching her and Sean, his gaze entirely unreadable. He took a long pull on his beer, but his eyes never left the two of them.
    Sean spun her around. “Don’t look now, but he’s watching.”
    She laughed. Sean could always make her laugh. When they spun back around, Jonas was standing a foot away. Sean stopped.
    “I’d like to dance with my…sister, if you don’t mind.”
    Sean glared at Jonas and then glanced at Missy. Jonas never took his eyes off her face.
    “It’s all right,” she said, knowing she’d draw more attention to them by refusing.
    Sean stepped back and Jonas immediately took her hand and drew her to the far corner of the floor where they weren’t at all visible to her friends at the bar. The song on the jukebox was a new rock song with a fairly fast beat, but he held out his arms for a slow dance.
    “No.” She shook her head.
    “Chicken.”
    Before she could turn away, he tugged her into his arms and moved half-time, if even, to the beat of the music.
    “If I were Sean,” he murmured, “there’s no way in hell I’d let you dance with me.”
    “Well, you’re not Sean. Not even close.”
    “He’s not your type, Missy.”
    “Oh, and you are?” She tried to pull away, but the bullet wound apparently hadn’t impacted his arm strength. His hold on her was like a vise. He wasn’t going to let go.
    For a moment, she stopped fighting it. Closing her eyes, she let herself imagine they’d gone back in time to the first few months of their marriage, when they’d been blissfully happy, to a time when his work hadn’t yet intruded.
    Resting his cheek against the side of her head, he brought her hand to his chest and drew her closer. She felt the solid, but quick thudding of his heart under her hand as his hips pressed against hers, and something warm and liquid and needy fired to life inside her. “What do you want, Jonas?”
    “That’s simple,” he whispered in her ear. “You.” His voice was raspy and soft and made her stomach quiver.
    “You had your chance.”
    Before this went too far, she yanked away from him and quickly made an exit along one side of the dance floor. All of her friends at the bar were too busy talking and laughing to notice her heading to the bathroom. She pushed open the door and breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one at the sinks and the stalls were empty, giving her a chance to compose herself. Running her hands under cold water, she splashed her cheeks.
    Now what? If she’d known Jonas was going to come here, she would’ve gone straight home after work. Then again, better late than never. She left the bathroom, planning to quietly exit via the alley, only to find Garrett waiting for her in the hall.
    “You all right?” he asked.
    “Actually, I’m not feeling all