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Zach sat next to Kim, and before she knew what was happening, he had her on his lap
She squealed, but his lips were against hers in a kiss so hungry he thought he might have hurt her. He tried to pull away, but her arms went around his neck, and she held on to him. “You’d better not start something and not finish,” she whispered.
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
He pulled the pins from her hair and pitched them onto the floor. “Zachary,” she protested lightly, “I need those for later.”
“Too bad,” he said as he pulled the last one from the bun, and then he unwound it and let the soft strands of hair spiral into his palm. Kim let her head fall back and he drove his fingers through her hair from her scalp all the way to the soft ends. She purred and he bit her neck. Kim dissolved in his arms, curling into him. “You’re going to make me be very bad, Zach,” she said, her mouth against his neck where she licked him.
“Baby, sometimes, bad is good.”
CARMEN GREEN
was born in Buffalo, New York, and had plans to study law before becoming a published author. While raising her three children, she wrote her first book on legal pads and transcribed it onto a computer on weekends before selling it in 1993. Since that time, she has sold more than thirty novels and novellas, and is proud that one of her books was made into a TV movie in 2001, Commitments, in which she had a cameo role.
In addition to writing full-time, Carmen is now a mom of four and lives in the Southeast. You can contact Carmen at www.carmengreen.blogspot.com or [email protected].
That Perfect Moment
Carmen Green
That Perfect Moment is dedicated to
Trevor Malcolm McCray for being an ardent supporter
forever. And to the sparrow for always having my back.
I miss you.
Dear Reader,
The Hoods are the best, aren’t they? I wanted to create a family of men and women who worked hard at being good and doing good for everyone. They are the law and order we dream about—upstanding people who would risk their lives for what’s right—and they’re sexy, too. What an awesome combination.
I hope you enjoy Zach Hood’s story. He’s so easy to fall in love with.
Thinking of you,
Carmen Green
Thank you to The Art Institute of Atlanta-Decatur
Fashion Department, most especially Tonya Felton
and Chanel Thorpe for making me look wonderful
for my photo shoot. Also, special thanks to
Professor Courtney Hammond for all his sage advice.
To my photographer, Marie Williams of Top Studios,
I very much appreciate your ability to make me
look so wonderful. To my family: Jeremy, Danielle
and Christina, my parents, and brothers and sisters,
always amazing, always in my heart. Finally, to the
team of doctors, nurses and everyone else who put me
back together again, and continue to work with me,
I thank you all so very much for everything.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 1
Everyone in the courtroom waited in tense anticipation of the sentence Judge Kimberly Thurman was about to hand down to the serial carjacking teenager who’d had no regard for his victims. She referred to the paperwork in front of her, then asked the impudent defendant to stand.
Security specialist and part owner of Hood Investigations Incorporated, Zachary Hood sat in the last row of the gallery of the nearly empty courtroom and watched the judge’s reaction to the young man. With her hands folded, she leaned forward, her shoulders making her robe look stately, as she ignored his insolence. Her hair, which he knew was long and straight, had been pulled into a tight bun, accenting a regal face, allowing long platinum earrings to highlight her beauty. Her eyelashes were long and black, and fanned defined cheekbones that had been subtly dusted with bronzer.
Zach noticed every detail. His job was to miss nothing, and he took pride in it. His attention was brought back to the young defendant as the judge waited for him to finish adopting his wide-legged—head cocked to the side—stance of defiance. She didn’t even bother to comment when he intentionally smacked his hands together in front of himself as a general sign of disrespect to her, and the court.
The male deputies showed more annoyance than she. “Thaddeus Drake Baxter,” the judge began with a firm tone. “The sentencing recommendation of eighteen months in jail with six months for time served has been rejected by the court. You are hereby sentenced to seventeen years in prison to be served at a state facility to be determined by the State of Georgia Department of Corrections. This sentence is to be served concurrently.” The judge then read several case numbers to the clerk of the court, and the year breakdown for each violation.
She then looked Thaddeus Drake Baxter in the eye, and that’s when Zachary saw a flicker of regret. It was there and gone so fast, but he knew he hadn’t missed it.
“This is the judgment of the court, so say we one and all.”
The defendant’s family reacted with screams of protest. “For carjacking? That’s insane,” his mother wailed. The rest of the family sobbed. Four Baxter men glared at her, one shouting profanely.
The gavel’s sharp rap against the pad caught everyone’s attention. “Quiet in the courtroom!” The judge’s calm demeanor vanished. The gripped gavel was pointed directly at the family. “The evidence was presented and a verdict delivered. You knew this day was coming, Mrs. Baxter. The citizens of this state and the court system did what you weren’t able to do—control your son. He won’t hurt another woman for a very long time, if ever again.”
The stunningly beautiful judge peered over the bench at the large male members of the Baxter clan and didn’t flinch.
Every male in a position of authority was poised to protect the judge, although she seemed able to handle herself. Still, Zach, himself, would have vaulted seven rows to subdue the Baxter men.
“This is wrong, dead wrong,” the largest of the uncles said. His face in profile, he looked more feral than the rest of them. The elder Baxter looked like he’d raised hell in his day, and had matched it blow for agonizing blow. A healed wound was etched into his face like Interstate 75 was in Georgia’s highway infrastructure. His nose had been broken several times, and his dark eyes were flat. His face showed the knocks and bruises of a man who hadn’t ever been able to control himself; he still lacked that ability.
He