Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [71]
He glanced at me, looking angry as hell. “No!” he said. “You are not going to cry.”
I sniffled a little, feeling like a ninny.
He levered himself to his feet and pointed dramatically toward the back of the house. “You were just accosted by some madman, woman! That’s when you should have cried … or screamed or swooned or some goddamned thing. But did you? No. You ran out there in a mermaid suit, waving an aerosol can. So don’t pretend you’re getting all teary-eyed because I raised my voice.”
I shook my head, searching for the temper that usually saves me from that particular brand of humiliation. “It’s not that. I just …” I pressed my knuckles to my nose to stop the flow of snot. “Does this mean you’re not going to sleep with me?”
It may have been the dumbest thing I’d ever said, but the words were out there, searing me with their soppy honesty.
For a second every muscle in his body tensed. Then he swore and stormed across the floor. Bending, he scooped me into his arms. His chest felt hard against my boobs, his lips fire-hot against mine as he kissed me.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy.” He kind of panted the words. My arms had wound themselves around his neck.
“What kind of crazy?” My words came out as a kitten-soft whisper.
He stared at me for a full twenty seconds, then gritting his teeth, he swore out loud, and turned toward the bedroom.
“Mac! Mac!” Laney’s voice stormed through the house even before I heard the front door open. Footsteps galloped across the floor and in a moment she was standing there, staring at us with her eyes wide, her face pale.
Rivera stood half-turned toward her, frozen, cradling me in his arms.
She took in the situation like a speed-reader, searching for wounds or blood or dead bodies. “What happened?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” I said, but in that moment Solberg gal-lumped in after her.
“Why’s Rivera’s car …” His voice petered to a stumble. “… parked on the sidewalk?” he asked, eyes skittering from Rivera’s face to my own. “And why is he carrying a mermaid?”
“Are you hurt?” Laney asked.
I was starting to blush. It’s not something I do often. But when I do it’s a full-body thing, and I was just now beginning to realize that this looked as if Rivera had made an emergency booty call. Had careened through L.A., jumped the curb, and come charging into the house to service me.
I wiggled uncomfortably in his arms and he released my legs, letting me slither my slippery tail to the floor. I cleared my throat.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Everything’s fine. There was just a little bit of trouble with Aalia.”
“Her husband?” As usual, Laney had switched tracks with the alacrity of a train engineer.
The excitement of the past hour coursed through me again, firing up cold remnants of adrenaline. “He was pulling her behind the neighbor’s garage when I let Harlequin out to pee.”
“You stopped him?”
I glanced toward Rivera. “I, ummm, had my Mace.”
“Jesus,” Solberg said. He looked as white as talcum powder.
“But you called the lieutenant,” Laney said.
“First thing.”
She turned and gazed at Rivera with that expression that had made lesser men wet their pants. “Thanks for rushing over.”
He nodded.
“I know she drives you nuts.” I’ll never be sure how she managed to sound so sincere. “But she’s worth it.”
“She’s going to get herself killed,” Rivera said.
“Don’t let that happen.”
“Then she’d better quit—”
“I’m right here!” I said. “I can hear you, you know.”
“Then quit acting like a harebrained whack job,” Rivera said.
“Harebrained … Is that what you call saving lives?”
“It is when you’re not trained. When you’re armed with a damned spray can. When you—”
“Angel,” Solberg said, eyes wide in his chimpanzee face. “That dress!” I was holding my breath. “Wasn’t your friend—”
“Jeen,” Laney said, and turned toward him, expression as placid as summer as she hugged him. “Thank you for getting me home so quickly.”
“But … at the party … that girl …”
“Needs to relax now. Could you run out to the car and get my planner. I have a few details Mac and I need to discuss.