Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [77]
“Yeah?”
He kissed me there. I tried to stifle a sigh, but I may have failed. “He’s got to be more careful,” he said.
“Maybe he’s got a lot on his mind.”
He pushed my collar aside a little and kissed my neck. “What’s he thinking about?”
I canted my head to the left. “Laney’s wedding. I’m just not … he’s not ready for her to get married.”
“You’re right. He is sensitive.”
I considered nodding, but didn’t want to interfere with the magic he was working on my neck.
“She’s Brainy Laney Butterfield with a big-ass wedding at the Pavilion, which is all wrong for her, by the way. And she’s marrying the Geekster. The Geekster! If he’s the best she can find …” I let my voice trail off.
He pulled away a couple of inches and found my eyes with his. “Then what hope is there for you?”
“For Harlequin,” I corrected, and he grinned.
The expression tweaked something in my gut. Maybe that’s why I didn’t immediately notice that he had loosed the top button of my blouse. But when he tipped his head and kissed the tight valley between my boobs, I was pretty much aware.
In fact, I may have gasped.
“I think there are good things in store,” he said.
I seemed to be gripping the hair at the back of his head with my right hand. Not sure how that had happened. “Yeah?” I rasped.
His eyes were steaming. Swear to God. “Yeah,” he said.
“When?”
“How about now?” he asked.
I felt every hormone in my body do the rain dance. They would have done the fertility dance, but they couldn’t remember the steps.
He was rising to his feet, me in his arms.
“Do you hear a phone?” I asked.
“No.”
“Do you have yours with you?”
“You want me to call Harlequin?”
“I want you to flush it down the toilet,” I said.
He chuckled. The sound sent a little thrill of excitement screaming from my ears to my belly button.
“Maybe we could just ignore it.”
“Hasn’t happened in the past.”
“You weren’t crying in the past,” he said, and stepped toward the bedroom.
“Seriously?” I said. “That’s all it would have taken? A few tears?”
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for drippy women.”
The path to my bedroom had never been so long. I could feel every breath that left my body.
“Had I known that, I could have faked a flood.”
He set me on the bed. It creaked a little beneath my weight, but only sighed at his. “You’re not going to have to fake anything,” he said, and kissed me.
27
A man’s world? Are you shitting me? It hasn’t been a man’s world since Eve showed up naked.
—Jack Rivera, post-coital
The world spun to a slow halt while Rivera and I kissed.
“You sure you don’t hear a phone?” I asked when he pulled away. There must be a phone. There was always a phone.
“Not ringing,” he said, and pulling his cell from his pocket, held it up for inspection. “Where’s yours?”
“I think I dropped it when the lamp broke.”
“I’ll take care of them,” he said, and headed into the living room. In a moment he was back, sans phones.
“They’re gone?”
“Under the sofa cushions.”
“I must be either dead or dreaming,” I said.
“You’re not dead,” he said, approaching the bed, then slowly kissed me again.
I reached up and undid his shirt. His chest was smooth and hard and pretty.
“Maybe I’m in heaven,” I said, gazing up at it.
“The rest of me is even better,” he said.
“Really?”
“Want to see?”
“More than anything,” I said, and he stood up and undid his jeans. In a minute he was naked.
I sat there staring and hoping I wouldn’t burst into tears again.
“You okay?” he asked. He looked ungodly comfortable in all his naked glory.
“I love life,” I said.
“You were just burglarized.”
“Don’t ruin the dream,” I said.
He chuckled, then reached for my hand and pulled me to my feet. “You can’t sleep fully clothed.”
I shook my head. “That would be wrong.”
His fingers made quick work of my buttons. Clever fingers. In a moment I was standing in nothing but my underwear and huaraches.
I moved to kick off the shoes, but he stopped me. “My job,” he said, and kissed my left breast.
My heart did a funky little jungle