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Chapter 4
Sarena relaxed on her porch with her feet perched on her banister. She just wanted to relax on this warm fall night. Nights in Columbia didn’t get too cold this time of year. It was one of the things she loved about living in the south. Warm weather all year round.
She paused with her beer to her lips as the rumble of a motorcycle making its way down their quiet street grabbed her attention.
Marcas.
She took a long sip and watched him roll up into his driveway. His machine gave a loud roar as he revved it up. The sound of her soft music playing from her small radio was drowned out by the sounds of his bike.
Marcas shut the engine off and parked, then got off and turned in her direction. He made his way across his yard. She had to hold back a sigh, taking him in, his t-shirt stretched across his muscular frame, his jeans resting low on his hips He headed toward her yard.
Marcas reached her small white picket fence. It had been one of the highlights of the house when she’d purchased it. It was to be her American dream, owning a home with a white picket fence.
“Howdy, neighbor,” she called out, a smirk on her lips.
He paused at her fence. “Evening,” he replied. “May I?”
“By all means.” She waved her glass bottle in the air.
He was asking for her permission to enter her yard. She laughed. It wasn’t like that little fence would actually block him.
He drew closer, and she greedily took him in again. The soft glow from her front door cast him in just the perfect light. Her body awakened.
“Are you the neighborhood welcoming party?” she drawled. “I seem to have forgotten to get cash. Do you take credit? I swear Janet didn’t have to hire a cop to come welcome me properly. She must have known I had a thing for men who wear uniforms.”
She allowed her smile to grow on her lips. She didn’t hide the fact that she was looking him over.
He released a snort and came up her few stairs.
“I came to thank you for taking care of my team member today.” He reached out his hand.
She dropped her bare feet to the floor and stood, taking his hand. His warm hand engulfed her smaller one, and he introduced himself. “Mac.”
“Mac?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sarena. So I’m curious. What does ‘Mac’ stand for?”
She would play like she didn’t know his name. Janet had been sure to make sure that she knew the entire street before she had even met her neighbors.
“Marcas MacArthur.”
He pulled his hand from hers, and she instantly missed his warmth. A tremor traveled down her body, and she cocked her head back to look him in the eyes. He was so much taller than her, and she loved it.
“Marcas,” she murmured, her eyes meeting his. “I like it.”
“Well, I’m glad that my name pleases you.” His lips curved up into a small smile as he studied her.
“So if you knew who I was earlier at the hospital, why are you just now introducing yourself to me?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her nipples had beaded into little nubs and painfully pushed against her shirt. She prayed he didn’t see how he affected her. From the way his gaze dropped to her chest, she knew it was too late.
He knew.
She toyed with the chilled glass in her hand and waited for an answer. His eyes flickered to her small cooler that sat next to her chair.
“Help yourself.”
He stepped over and snagged a bottle and popped it opened. She watched him lean against her banister and take a long pull from the bottle before his eyes met hers.
“Because I usually don’t do this.” He motioned to her with his bottle.
“Do what?” she asked, puzzled. She pushed her thick hair behind her ear as he appeared to finish his train of thought.
