And if he hadn't already thought he was one lucky SOB, he sure did now. Her hand moved everywhere her lips couldn't reach, and that mouth . . . holy hell, that mouth was pure heaven.

When he couldn't take it another second, he grasped her arms and hauled her up to consume those beautiful lips with a hot, hard kiss. She barely gave him a second to grab protection before she lifted her hips and slid all the way onto him. Her eyes slammed shut as a shudder racked her body.

He framed her face with his hands. "You look so beautiful like this."

She braced both hands against his chest. Her gaze locked onto his, and she lifted to his tip and slid down again until he was buried to the hilt and pressing into the deepest part of her. She did it again, and the fires of desire burned bright in her eyes. Her speed increased, and she never looked away. Never broke that intimate bond that passed between them as her stare held his.

Of all the fantasies he'd had about her, this wasn't one of them. He'd dreamed of making love to her, bringing her to one orgasm after another while she enjoyed each one more than the last. He hadn't considered that she'd be the one trying to please him.

That was so like her, though.

Her full breasts bobbed in a sexy, mind-blowing rhythm as she circled her hips against him. So he lifted enough to take one nipple into his mouth, and a sexy little sound whispered through her lips.

Her breathing increased right along with the speed of her thrusts, until she was panting and wrapping her arms around his head again. She buried her face in his neck and kept riding him, her body tightening around his length until he thought he would explode.

The feel of her muscles starting to quiver and close around him again made his mind go blank. Until finally he started thinking clearly again as her heat built to a mind-altering level. She had welcomed him into her life, her family, her body. And for the first time in his life he belonged. He thought he'd found acceptance in the military. But the brotherhood he'd formed there was only a replacement for not being welcome in his town, his home, and his family.

He'd finally found his true home, and it wasn't a house with four walls. His home was Lorenda. With her wrapped in his arms.

A thrill raced through him and wound around his heart.

With one fluid movement, he flipped her onto her back again and buried himself inside of her.

"Oh!" she moaned, arching into him.

"That's it, baby."

She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he drove into her. Over and over until his name rolled off her tongue, and her orgasm contracted around him, making him follow her into that dreamy state of complete satisfaction.

He collapsed on top of her, crushing her into the soft velvet comforter. Afraid he was too heavy, he tried to move, but she wrapped her arms and her long, sexy legs around him and held him in place.

"Don't move," she whispered against his ear.

He never wanted to move from that spot. So he braced both elbows on each side of her head and gently threaded his fingers into her silky hair. His temple rested against the bed, and he nuzzled her ear.

It took a while for their breathing to slow and his mind to shift out of overdrive. He lay there covering her, listening to the ebb and flow of her breaths, and letting the pounding of their hearts mingle and twine together. They were one now-husband, wife, lovers. She was half of him. The better half, and he had a lot of changing to do to live up to the standard she deserved.

Finally they crawled under the covers, and he pulled her into his arms. Her cheek rested against his chest, her fingers sketching over his skin.

"I was so scared, Mitchell. I was physically sick until you finally called and I heard the sound of your voice," she whispered against his chest.

He caressed her hair. "I had to go back and try to help those kids."

She nodded. "How do you think the fire started?" Her warm breath prickled his skin.

He drew in a weighty breath. "Good question. Tomorrow I need to talk to my dad." Mitchell also planned to find out why the scouts had disappeared in the middle of the night. It was time for Mitchell and his dad to work together, whether they wanted to or not. If they couldn't put their differences aside and compromise for the greater good, someone was going to get hurt.

That someone might be Lorenda or one of the boys. And that was something Mitchell couldn't let happen.

Chapter Nineteen.

The next morning-after enjoying coffee in bed and another hot shower for two-Mitchell toweled off his hair and decided to bring up a touchy subject with Lorenda. Maybe with her being all naked and vulnerable and satisfied, she'd actually listen to reason.

"So I was thinking, Sparky."

A towel wrapped around her, she stood in front of the mirror and brushed through her wet hair. She turned to look at him, still brushing the ends.

"I know you think Bart is harmless." He ran the towel over his chest, and her eyes followed.

Ah. Not a bad strategy. Maybe she'd agree to what he was about to propose. He ran the towel over his arm, then down the other, making sure to flex his tattoo at the opportune moment. Worked like a charm, because her eyes hung on that ink. The brushing stopped, and the tip of her tongue traced the line of her mouth.

"But I'm not so convinced." He toweled and flexed some more.

"The scouts showing up at the lake and then disappearing does raise some questions." Her eyes moved from Mitchell's ink to his chest. Then lower. "But I can't imagine that Bart arranged all of that on purpose or had anything to do with the fire."

Mitchell draped the towel around his waist. "Remember how my dog tags went missing? I found them at the scouts' campsite."

Her forehead crinkled. "We swam to that side of the lake before the scouts showed up. Maybe you dropped them."

He shook his head, and droplets of water sprayed his shoulders. "They disappeared from our tent. Had to have."

She started brushing again. "No one could've gotten into our tent without us seeing them. I'm sure there's an explanation."

Yeah. The explanation was that Bart was much creepier than anyone suspected, and why Lorenda couldn't see it bothered Mitchell.

"It's entirely possible Trevor snuck them into his pocket and dropped them. He wanted to wear them pretty bad."

Mitchell hauled in a breath. "You should put the music program on pause until you find another location." He flexed his ink again, proud at the way he stressed the word pause.

She pulled her gaze away from his tattoo, and her eyes narrowed.

"I'll try to help you find another place. I'll even-"

"No." She turned back to the mirror.

"Sparky." He stood behind her so they both faced the mirror. "It would be temporary."

"No." Her voice was even firmer that time.

He ran open palms up her arms, and her soft skin pebbled. His head dipped and pulled a sweet earlobe between his lips for a taste. "It's for your own safety," he whispered against her ear, then planted a soft, openmouthed kiss behind it. She shivered, and her head fell back against his chest.

She melted back against him and rubbed her magnificent ass against his crotch.

Christ.

"The answer's still no," she said, eyes closed. Voice breathy.

"Bart's got something to do with this. I know it, Lorenda." He rarely called her anything but Sparky. Hadn't since they were teenagers, but this was serious.

Her lids popped open. "You're overreacting. Yes, he's a little peculiar, but in a pathetic, harmless kind of way." She stepped away from him and started brushing her hair again. "But even if what you say is true, I'd rather be at the school where I can be close to the kids."

Mitchell had considered the kids, and he couldn't come up with a solution because it was the only elementary school in town.

"I can't let the music students lose momentum when they have a concert to get ready for." She put a hand on her hip and stared at him through the mirror.

"Damn it, woman. You're willing to put yourself in danger for a free after-school program that is meaningless to most of the town?"

Probably a poor choice of words. But every instinct he had told him to stay on alert.

First, her eyes flew wide. Then she slowly lowered the brush. Next she turned to face him with a look as hard as granite.

"That came out wrong." He tried to explain.

She held up a hand to silence him. "Don't start pulling your alpha-male-warrior crap with me."

Definitely could've chosen his words more carefully.

"I've put my dream on hold long enough. I've been on my own my entire adult life." Her voice escalated, and her usual easy-going, softie demeanor evaporated. "You are not going to start making decisions for me on day two of our marriage, which is not even for real anyway."

Well, hell. It was only day two of their fake marriage, and they were already having their first fight.

He stepped in front of her. Fingered the edge of the towel that was tucked and holding the whole thing in place. "Last night was very, very real, Sparky. At least it was for me."

Her eyes flared, turning a deeper shade of blue. But it shut her up, which was fine by him. He'd gone and ruined a perfectly good sex marathon by opening his stupid mouth and making her dream seem trivial. Which was not at all what he'd meant.

He flicked the tucked piece of terry cloth free, and the towel fell away. He stepped into her, then put one hand at the small of her naked back and the other in her hair to pull her against him. "It doesn't get more real than this." He smothered her mouth with his.

Not only did that distract her from the awkward turn of their conversation, but she completely lost track of time. They went back to bed and stayed there for a long, long while.

When they finally got dressed, Mitchell dropped Lorenda off at her parents' where the kids had spent the night. He needed to see his father. Alone. So he drove over to the sheriff's office.

He pulled into the sheriff's office parking lot and slid out of the truck, every muscle in his body aching from the most incredible sex he'd ever had. It hadn't just been him wanting to go all night. Lorenda couldn't seem to get enough, and he'd been more than happy to oblige.

Least a man could do for his wife. A smile spread across his face. A soul-deep contentment went with it because Lorenda was his. At least she'd felt like his until she'd gone and reminded him that it wasn't for real while wrapped in nothing but a towel.

He'd done his best to remind her otherwise by taking her back to bed.

He walked in to the sheriff's office and leaned against the reception desk. Maureen had obviously come in on a Sunday because his dad needed the help. Every light on her multiline phone flashed red.

Maureen held the phone to her ear. "Sheriff Lawson will catch the person responsible, I assure you. The fire chief is investigating, and the state troopers have gotten involved since the sheriff is shorthanded."

She went quiet, listening. Then her eyes flitted to Mitchell for the briefest of moments, and she blushed. Like maybe the person on the other end of the line was talking about him.

"The sheriff is following every lead."

She waved Mitchell toward the hall. With a hand over the phone she mouthed, "Your father said to send you right in."

Mitchell made his way to his father's office and leaned against the doorframe. His dad faced the back wall, talking on the phone. The top of his graying military cut showed over the back of his chair.

"There's no hard evidence. It's all circumstantial, and I guarantee you I'll get to the bottom of this." His dad drew in a breath, obviously exhausted. "I can't arrest anyone until we have sufficient evidence. You're the mayor. You know that as well as I do." More silence. "I've got people leaning on me too, Harold, but Mitchell's wife said she was with him the whole night." His tone held an edge of anger.

Mitchell's pulse kicked.

"I'll hire new deputies as soon as I find someone who is qualified. Until then, I've asked the state troopers to take the lead on the investigation." Garbled yelling streamed through the receiver so loudly Mitchell could hear it too. "I've devoted my life to public service just like you, Harold, and-" His dad drew the phone away from his ear. The mayor had obviously hung up. His father spun to replace the receiver.

He startled when his eyes landed on Mitchell.

"Tough day?"

"You could say that." Deep lines creased the tanned skin around his father's eyes.

Mitchell shoved his hands in his pockets. "Let me guess. They're wanting you to arrest the most likely suspect." Which would be Mitchell.

His father didn't answer. Just ran a hand over his face and then rubbed his eyes.

"Why not give them what they want?" His dad hadn't had a problem accusing Mitchell in the past.

"Because you didn't do it, that's why," his dad said. "You know me well enough to know that if I thought you had done it, I wouldn't hesitate to lock you up."

Mitchell did know that.

"Have a seat." His dad pointed to the armchair in front of his desk.

Mitchell sank into the black leather, his edginess relaxing. He hadn't realized how much he'd actually wanted his father to believe in him. He'd spent years burying that need for approval deep, because he didn't think he'd ever get it. Now that he had it for once, he wasn't sure what to do with it.

He toed the ground, unable to meet his father's gaze. "Anything you can share about the investigation?"

"The fire chief and the forest rangers are sure it didn't start on its own. Same as the rec-center fire."

"Anyone come forward from the Wilderness Scouts?"

His father's expression turned dark. Worried. "As a matter of fact, yes. And they're not keeping their mouths shut about it either. I've been getting calls all night." His fingers drummed against the desk, a sure sign he was bothered.

"My attorney would kill me if she knew I was here," Mitchell said.

His dad exhaled. "Off the record, Angelique is one of the best. You were smart to retain her. Even with Lorenda vouching for your whereabouts, everyone is convinced that it was you because you were there. They think she's covering for you. And now that she's made a statement about this fire, it looks bad that she won't make a statement about the rec-center fire."

Mitchell gave his dad a pointed look. "What do you believe?"

"My gut tells me it's all too conveniently pointing to you." He returned Mitchell's stare with a softer look in his eyes. The worry lines around his mouth deepened. "Which is why I asked the state troopers to take the scouts' and chaperones' statements. The troopers are going to each home as we speak. It seemed like a conflict of interest for me to do it since I'm your father, and I don't believe you should be arrested."

Mitchell blinked. Maybe they should join hands and sing "Kumbaya." When Mitchell finally recovered, he asked, "What do you know about Bart Wilkinson?"