Meghan Muldoon is at a crossroads: struggling to balance the demands of a high stress vocation as an advocate for victims of violence and her feelings for Keenan Rossi, a man who wants to make their relationship permanent.
On Valentine’s Day, a series of routine crises force Meg to question staying in a profession which fulfills her both professionally and spiritually–or devoting the rest of her life to the one person who completes her.
Which one is For Keeps?
He quirked one heavy brow and grinned. “There’s a half bottle of wine left from dinner the other night. Would you like a glass?”
Meg loved the cool sensation of crisp sheets against her skin as much as the feel of him naked and ready between her thighs. “Better not. I’m on first call tonight.”
That response cast an unfortunate pall over the festivities.
“You take call too damn often,” he muttered. “If you’d quit that job and marry me, like I’ve asked at least a million times, we could—”
Here we go again. She resisted the urge to yawn as he recited from the first chapter of the book Whose Job is More Important, a title they’d revisited more than once after taking the next step in their once strictly professional relationship.
Ignoring the thorny topic of holy wedlock, again, Meg focused on one of the lesser conflicts that too often reared its ugly head. “I’ve told you before, Keenan. Call is taken on a rotating basis among the staff. Tonight is my turn.”
He rose up on one elbow to glower at her, using what she termed his bad cop persona. “Let me remind you of your position at that zoo known as Crime Victim Services. You are the boss. And bosses shouldn’t take call on any night of the week.”
Per usual, her significant other of little over a year insisted on having the last word. As much as she wanted an end to the discussion—so that they could get on with the entertainment portion of the evening—she wasn’t about to give in and have him think he’d won.
“You take call. On a fairly regular basis.”
“Not as regularly as you.”
That put her neck up enough to snipe back. “Two nights ago, that wasn’t me sitting alone in a darkened movie theater while Tom Cruise felt his need for speed?”
THE WILD ROSE PRESS