
COMING IN LAST
An Ellora's Cave Publication, March 2004
Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
PO Box 787
Hudson, OH 44236-0787
ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-778-6
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML
COMING IN LAST © 2004 SHILOH WALKER
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors' imagination and used fictitiously.
Edited by Pamela Campbell.
Cover art by Scott Carpenter.
Coming In Last
Shiloh Walker
Dedicated to Jerry...The love of my life, my heart and soul.
The father of my children, a lover who shakes me clear down to my toes,
And still the best friend I could ask for.
What more could a woman want?
The phone rang distantly in the other room, but both Jamie and the woman on her knees in front of him ignored it. Erin Mayhue's mouth was currently keeping him occupied and he doubted anything on the phone would be half as enjoyable as the woman who knelt before him, her plump pink lips wrapped around his cock, her hands tickling and stroking his shaft and his testicles.
In the mirror, he could see what she was doing, and it was a very pleasant sight.
But, as pleasant as it was, his brain was still ticking away at things that had nothing to do with sex. The job he had scheduled in the morning---did he really want to go watch another man cheat on his wife and their kids? Couldn't Mick do it? Did he---oh fuck---Erin slid her tongue down to tickle his sac as she slid one finger back to stroke the sensitive skin right behind his balls.
Just before she had him coming in her mouth, he moved away, grabbed a rubber and lifted her up, bracing her back against the wall behind her. "In a hurry?" she asked with a husky laugh.
Jamie only grinned, letting her think what she wanted.
He was just suddenly...bored. Bored with her cool sexy body, bored with her much practiced moves.
Not that it was her fault. She hadn't done a thing wrong, hadn't asked for too much, or given too little. She was funny, smart, and a handful in bed.
But he just wasn't interested in what she had to offer any more.
Driving into her, he made the decision that he wasn't going to see her again after tonight. If he could think about business even while she was sucking on his dick, then there was a problem.
Her legs closed around his hips and she gasped. But he might as well enjoy it while he was here. He made a dedicated effort to turn his brain off.
"So what's eating you?"
Sliding Mick a glance, Jamie lifted his shoulders in a disinterested shrug and said, "Not much." Flipping through the file on his desk, he skimmed the account information they had received, and cursed mildly the sense of family obligation that had him agreeing to drive two hours south and stay there, for heaven only knows how long.
Of course, it wasn't like he had anything more interesting to do at the time.
"You know, you've had that same damn look on your face for about the past six months, like nothing on this earth can hold your attention for longer than five minutes."
Flashing Mick a grin, Jamie said, "Well, anything having to do with your ugly mug is gonna bore me senseless in five seconds. What's your point?"
"Just wondering when you're gonna snap out of this, that's all." Mick shrugged, lifting his shoulders as he sipped from his coffee before flipping a page and studying the next. "You know, this is really a waste of time. Time and money---his money, our time."
"His money. He can afford us. And this was slick, slick and pat. There may well be more missing than what is showing," Jamie mused, eyeing the accounts.
"There is that," Mick said with a nod. "So when are you gonna snap out of it?"
"Snap out of what?"
"This funk."
Jamie sighed. "Mick, I'm bored. Okay? Just bored." He laughed, recalling the scene with Erin from the previous weekend. "I can think about business while I'm getting a blowjob, and a damn good one. Tell me what in the hell the problem is here?"
"You need to let me have the woman while you get your head examined?" Mick offered blandly.
Jamie rose, the tailored suit falling into place over his gun as he strode over to the window and stood staring out into the clear summer day. "Something is just...missing, Mick. I'm bored with all of this. Everything. All of it. Not the business, but my life. Erin was just the exact same as every other woman I'd gone out with before her. And the next one will be just like her."
McAdams, Inc. consisted of Jamie, rather James Alistair McAdams, III and Michael McAdams Dole, a retired narcotics lieutenant. Mick Dole was Jamie's cousin, older by a good thirty years. He was the oldest child of Jamie's dad's oldest sister, and a better man Jamie had probably never met.
The main office was in Indianapolis, Indiana, but they had been known to travel should the need arise.
It had arisen in the form of an old family friend, Jeb Booth, who just happened to be Jamie's godfather.
"Ninety-two thousand," Mick muttered under his breath. "Pocket change, really. Smart bastard. If Johnson hadn't discovered the loose ends when he did, the money may never have been missed." It really wasn't enough for them to travel the two hours south, or for either of them to mess with, and it wasn't enough for Jeb to be bothered with, but Jeb was an honest man, and he hated the thought of somebody stealing from him.
But Jeb was a family friend.
He was Jamie's godfather for crying out loud.
"Smooth as this was done," Jamie said, "I wouldn't be surprised if the figures were actually higher than ninety-two. Our friend knows how to hide himself." He absently ran a hand through his thick, wavy black hair, studying the tallies in front of him, narrowing his pale green eyes and puzzling it out.
"Or herself. Got several high-end female execs in that company," Mick said, lighting up a cigarette before offering the pack to Jamie.
The younger man accepted absently, lit up and poured over the names in front of him. "Guess we're going to go out of town for a while." Good thing he had broken things off with Erin that morning.
One less end to tie up before he headed south.
He stood up and rolled his neck before tugging his blazer on. Strong swimmer's shoulders strained against the material as he adjusted the collar of his shirt before taking one last puff of the cigarette. "Are you coming, or should I ask Marks?"
Mick shot Jamie a dour look.
"Of course, you're coming. Seeing as how you also grew up with Jeb. Granted, your friendship became rather strained when he discovered his fiancée in bed with you," Jamie said, gathering up papers.
"I didn't know she was his fiancée. And look at the trouble it saved him," Mick said, fondly remembering said fiancée. Unfaithful little bitch that she was, she sure as hell knew how to take care of a man. It was probably a sin, anyway, for a woman like that to promise to suck only one man's cock for the rest of her life.
"I'm sure he's just dying to thank you," Jamie said dryly. "But he did mention he wanted you to come when he talked to dad last week."
"I'm gone. Gotta pack."
\*
Sweat poured down her back, soaked the sturdy cotton of her sports bra, and stung her eyes. Every muscle in her body sang with each movement and her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. She blocked a jab with her hand, feinted and succeeded in clipping her opponent on the chin.
Her face was flushed, sweaty, her dark red hair clung to her cheeks and neck, and plastered to her head under the padded headgear she wore. Sweat trickled down between her breasts, soaked up by the sturdy black sports bra she wore. She watched as Kati Monroe, nineteen-years-old and an athlete in every sense of the word, glanced to the side. Then her pretty baby blues flickered for just a second, and Andi spun out of reach just before a sidekick plowed into her ribs.
They each traded a few more jabs, none of them landing.
When a foot snaked in past her guard, the air left Andi's lungs in a rush.
Andi Morrow was having the time of her life.
Her mental clock told her time was running out and gauging her opponent, Andi went all out, launching into a showy tornado, a series of roundhouse kicks, not one of them landing. Not one was meant to. Once she had her opponent dancing backward, she stopped in mid-kick, pivoted, and landed a spinning heel-kick across the side of her opponent's heavily padded head.
"Point!"
Kati's jaw dropped and she spit her mouthpiece out, staring in dumbfounded shock as the ref took Andrina Morrow's hand and raised it high in the air. The surprise in Kati's wide, lovely blue eyes had Andi snickering on the inside. Damn, but she loved that combination. Jake had told her, more than once, it caught people off guard that a girl as tiny as she could kick that high, and as...statuesque, could move that fast.
She smacked hands with her opponent, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath. Spitting out her mouthpiece, she shot her teammates a wide grin. She'd won, damn it.
Clumsy, quiet, self-conscious Andi Morrow had taken home the trophy in her division. And not just the regional competitions, but on the statewide level. Unconsciously, she reached down, rubbing her thumb back and forth on the thick, wide brown belt at her waist as she waited for her division to be announced.
Barely five-foot-four, with an hourglass figure that she had to work to keep in a size ten, Andi had long ago accepted that looking like a sex kitten wasn't something she wanted. She had shrugged off the advances of boys in the group foster homes she had lived in for so long. Unpleasant experiences had taught her just how easy a mark guys thought a girl like her would be.
So she hid that size ten in size twelve or fourteen clothes, kept her naturally curly red hair braided away from her pleasantly round face and topped it all off with a pair of tortoiseshell frames that she really didn't need. She slumped her shoulders, kept her head down, and tried to avoid drawing any more attention than she had to.
When she couldn't avoid it, she tried to keep her contact with people outside her circle of friends brief and cool. With a sharp tongue and cool eyes, she kept most people at bay, enough so that only a handful of people knew more than her name.
Moments later, she accepted the trophy in front of a gym full of strangers, grinning like they had just placed the Olympic gold around her neck.
\*
"She really doesn't look like a corporate thief," Doug Johnson murmured, shaking his head as the woman in question made her way across the floor, the trophy clutched to her chest.
"Corporate thieves generally don't look like corporate thieves," Jamie McAdams replied, his eyes narrowed and trained on the redhead as she was surrounded by fellow competitors. "She also doesn't look like a martial artist, but she apparently is." She looked more like a librarian, or a homeroom mother.
Except for the hair. Curly wisps of red hair had escaped from the braid she had woven it into, framing her round face, clinging to her damp neck. It was a dark, deep red, the kind Jamie doubted existed outside of a bottle. And those chaotic curls really didn't suit the PTA image she put in his mind.
"No," Jamie murmured. "She doesn't look like a thief."
Chuckling, Johnson recalled the stunned look on the face of her opponent, a younger, more athletically fit, slender woman with a red-and-black belt wrapped around her slim waist. When Andi Morrow's first kick had shot up and driven straight into her solar plexus, the young woman had looked almost dumb with shock.
The red-belt's sleeveless jacket, or whatever it was, had revealed trim, well-toned arms and the girl was about 5'10" or so. Andi, on the other hand, had merely looked stocky in the heavy black uniform with full sleeves, the hem falling almost to her knees. She had stood a full six inches shorter, at least, than her opponent, but the opponent's reach hadn't done her much good.
The girl had moved in a flurry, faster than either of the men would ever have expected. No, she didn't look, or act, like a corporate thief. And Doug wasn't real sure how he felt about this girl being on the suspect list.
He liked her, damn it. She was funny and smart, reminded him quite a bit of his daughter. She kept to herself, never caused a bit of trouble, and she adored the kids she took care of.
With a sigh, he asked, "Exactly how high on the list is she?"
"Pretty high," Jamie replied, dropping back down into his seat and lifting the watered down, lukewarm Coke to his mouth. Right on top as a matter of fact.
"Jeez. The girl's been with us since she left college. And how would she have access to that information anyway?"
Shooting Johnson a mild look, Jamie replied, "That's what I am here to figure out."
\*
Smoothing down the tail of her brightly colored lab coat, Andi jogged inside, blowing her damp bangs out of her face. Made it. Barely. With less than thirty seconds to spare, she clocked in and took the long hallway that separated the factory from the business office. Her place was in between, and already chock-full of laughing kids, crying babies, and the low undertone of her two assistants. Tugging her glasses out of her pocket, she slid them in place before slipping through the door.
In her opinion, hiring a nurse to manage the daycare was a damn fine idea. She was more than qualified to take care of kids, having babysat her way through her practical nursing courses, and after a number of night courses, she had the needed credits to run the daycare. On top of that, she was equally qualified to dispense their medicines, and unlike some daycare workers, she didn't freak when a child came in with a temperature of 99.1.
Since it was privately funded, the Booth Industries Daycare didn't have to follow some of the standards that some other daycare centers had to follow, so it was all Andi's.
Originally, she had only taken the job with the intention of working there one year, paying down her school loans and then start training for her RN degree. But that had been three years ago, and plans had a way of changing. Hers had changed dramatically when she had been homebound with a case of chickenpox she had contracted from one of her kids. How she had bounced from one foster home to another all her life without ever catching chickenpox, she didn't know.
The first two days she had spent going slowly out of her mind, itching like crazy and about to go mad from boredom. She had hurled down a badly written romance and, in a fit of cabin fever, announced she could write far better than that piece of drivel.
And she had.
Just six months earlier, her first book, the one she had started that third day, had appeared on the shelves. Under a pen name, of course.
Maybe it was selfish, but her parents were probably still out there somewhere, and she'd be damned if she would so much as share a penny with them. They'd left her in the parking lot of a seedy motel when she had been only five.
The bad thing about being abandoned at the age of five was that she remembered her parents. She remembered the fights, the drinking, and the beatings she had taken when she hadn't been quick enough to get out of the way. She couldn't even pretend her parents had been forced to abandon her for some mysterious altruistic reason.
Yeah. Plans had a way of changing on you. Life sometimes got in the way.
Studying the daycare, she couldn't help but thank God for that.
Off to one side of the play area was her office/clinic where she doled out aspirin and administered flu shots to the company employees. There were two foldaway cots, in case an emergency arose.
She had a computer, which was used pretty frequently. Part of her job description included having safety meetings with the three different shifts that worked in the factory.
Now maybe she hadn't had a date in nearly a year, and maybe she would have liked some adult companionship, some sweat in her hair as she bounced on the sheets with a hot looking man. Maybe a few less Cheerios in her hair would be nice. And maybe she could drop fifteen pounds tomorrow and have Mel Gibson dropping to his knees in front of her---and not to propose marriage either.
But all in all, life was pretty damn good.
Tossing in her purse, she pulled the door shut behind her and turned, smiling widely as one by one, the kids noticed her.
\*
The kids adored her, Jamie observed as the sixteen children---from brand new up to preschool---all received personal attention from her. One baby, pudgy arms wrapped around Andi's leg, waited patiently, with adoring eyes while the object of his affection finished talking to a gap-toothed little brunette who proudly displayed a dollar bill.
And it looked like she adored them every bit as much. Her eyes gleamed and shone as she stroked one hand down the ebony curls of the little black girl with a tooth missing.
There was something about a woman surrounded by kids, Jamie mused. Some guys tended to be put off by the sight, but Jamie loved it---loved watching women as they held and rocked, soothed and played with children.
Her laugh floated above the higher-pitched laughter of the kids as she unlocked the pudgy little arms from her leg and lifted the baby. Settling him on her hip, she answered one question after another as she wove her way through the maze of toys and games already spilled out on the floor.
The high-pitched peals of laughter and the squeak of excited voices had his head pounding again. Wincing, Jamie pressed his hand gingerly to his throbbing temple, wishing for a bit of peace and quiet. Hell, he had planned on coming down here with a feigned injury, not a real one.
Right before he could open his mouth, she stopped mid-stride and turned her head, meeting his eyes across the room. Light reflected off her glasses, keeping him from seeing her eyes. She turned her head and the chunky teenager took the baby from her.
"Hello."
Squinting against the bright light, cursing the throbbing in his head, he managed to growl out, "Hi."
"Looks like you bumped your head," she said. Without asking, she laid one hand on his arm and guided him around the perimeter of the room, sidestepping toys and toddlers with ease. "The clinic is right over here."
Moments later, laying flat on his back, eyes closed against the harsh glare of light, Jamie mumbled around the thermometer, "Is all this really necessary?"
"Company policy," she replied as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm. Competent, quick hands checked his vitals while Jamie lay there waiting for the Motrin he'd taken to kick in. Strong, cool, slender fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was just the pain that caused his pulse to race, Jamie told himself.
A subtle scent wafted over to taunt him. God, she smelled good.
Through the fringe of his lashes, he watched as she rose from kneeling on the floor and smoothed down the plain, simple white utilitarian scrubs she wore. As she turned away, his eyes locked on the long red braid that hung between her shoulder blades. Her hips swayed as she moved around the small office, gathering up paperwork, asking questions that he replied to as quickly and tersely as possible.
A soft wail rose from the other room and he waited for her to respond. When the wail continued for more than ten seconds, he asked, "Aren't you going to check on whoever that is crying?"
"It's Amy, our newborn. And she's hungry. Abby's got to get her bottle ready." She glanced at the simple band of braided leather on her wrist.
"Quite a lot of A's."
With a grin, she said, "This is the A-team. We have Andi, which is me, Abby, Alex, Amy, Aaron, Aspen, and Arnie, the pet hamster." Another glance at her watch, and a few seconds later, the tiny cry was silent as laughter and excited voices filled the air.
Her skin was smooth and pale, not a single freckle marring her milky complexion. And up this close, he doubted that shade of red came out of a bottle. Her eyebrows were the same shade and so was the super fine hair he could see scattered across her arms. Her eyelashes looked to be darker, but behind the glasses, he really couldn't tell.
"Hectic job," he said.
With a roll of her eyes, she said, "Any job that involves anybody under the age of thirteen is hectic."
"What happens after thirteen? Does it become less hectic?"
"No. After thirteen, it just becomes more traumatic. Ever had to deal with a thirteen-year-old girl who was convinced the world was going to stop turning on its axis because the boy from math didn't call the way he said he would?"
"Actually, yes. I have two sisters."
"Then you should already know what happens after thirteen."
Lowering herself to the rolling stool, she asked, "Dizzy?"
Some twenty minutes later, he was ushered out into the relative quiet of the hall, and he had to admit, he agreed with Johnson.
She didn't fit the image of a corporate thief at all.
And she smelled better than he ever would have imagined.
Her mouth, hmm, well, her mouth was probably going to be giving him some sweaty dreams for a night or two. Those naked, pouty lips put only one thing in a man's mind. And the thought had his cock stiffening up like a pike. Just the thought of her putting that mouth on him---
"Enough, McAdams," he muttered, stalking down the hall, absently rubbing his temple. "The girl is a damned embezzler."
\*
Behind him, Andi pushed the door closed and leaned back against it, her eyes meeting Abby's across the room. Both women, separated by roughly six years, grinned. Yum. Double-yum. The kind of yum usually reserved for strawberry sundaes, chocolate-coated strawberries, and chocolate-chip cookies.
He'd stood a good five inches taller than she. But Andi was only five four, so it didn't make him unusually tall. He'd just been unusually handsome, with pale green eyes that had seemed to shift shades every time she looked at him.
His black hair had fallen in loose waves around his head, fallen over his forehead in a way that made her want to brush it out of his eyes. A lean face, dimples slashing each cheek, and a chiseled mouth she would have cheerfully chopped off a hand to taste, just one time.
Wide shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. Of course, she hadn't been able to check out his butt, but she imagined it would be just about perfect.
Definitely double-yum.
He'd be worth a wet dream or two, she had no doubt.
By the glint in Abby's eyes, the younger girl knew exactly what she was thinking.
The following day, Andi had forgotten about the rather delicious man who had momentarily graced her clinic. As expected, she'd had a dream of the baser variety. No time for daydreaming right now though. That bastard Letcher was after her job again.
Absently, she reached up and rubbed her temple. A tension headache was brewing. No wonder, considering she had spent the last forty minutes 'discussing' the merits of on-site daycare with the company president, the HR department head, and Art Letcher, the money guy of the plant.
Doug Johnson, Jeb's right hand man and VP, rushed in. Trailing behind him was an older man that reminded Andi of a middle-aged Humphrey Bogart and, to her surprise, Jamie McAdams, the double-yum who had banged his head while roaming around the factory. She absently wondered, again, what he had been doing there. Suits generally didn't hang out in the factory unless they had to. Unconsciously, her tongue darted out to wet her lips as the forgotten dream leaped back into conscious memory.
Her attention was jerked back to Letcher as he gave the latecomers a dour look. How dare they be late for his meeting? The nerve.
"We need to...downsize our expenses," he had said.
Flatly, Andi had told him, "I am not cutting corners in the daycare or in the clinic and I will not sit passively and let others do it."
Fortunately, one of the children in the daycare was the president's grandson, and Jeb liked being able to see Lucky whenever he could. And little Amy, the newborn, was Samantha Dowers' daughter. With both the HR boss and the president having kids in the daycare, Andi pretty much knew Art was just wasting his time.
And hers.
"Honestly, Jeb. How many of our competitors have a daycare on the grounds? Especially one like this, that is practically free of charge," Art said, smiling his smarmy little smile, dismissing Andi as unimportant. "These parents need to be more responsible for providing for their kids. That is their responsibility. Not ours."
"I don't rightly know, and I don't rightly care," Jeb said, smiling at Andi and shaking his head.
You don't have anything to worry about, she knew he was telling her.
With a roll of her eyes, she settled back into her chair and started trying to work on a plot she'd been having trouble with. Glancing up, she met the cool green eyes of the double-yum, and suppressed a shiver before he turned his attention back to Letcher.
Who is he? Sighing quietly she realized it wasn't likely she'd ever find out. Guys like him tended to go for the wealthy pedigrees with legs up to here and size six figures with augmented breasts.
Well, mine aren't augmented. But I don't have the legs, the pedigree, or the income. Well, I will have the income. Soon. But that man's a wet dream that ain't never gonna happen...
Then she refocused her attention on the meeting.
Of all the absolute gall, Andi mused ten minutes later. She was sitting right there, right there, and he up and says, "You know, maybe we could save some money on this daycare if we didn't have a licensed nurse running it. Licensed personnel tend to command higher fees."
Sam rose and laid a restraining hand on Andi's shoulder, an unnecessary one. Andi was still staring at Art as if the financial officer had just grown another head. She remained in her seat while the cool-eyed blonde faced Letcher from across the room.
"We reduce safety hazards having a nurse at the plant," Sam said quietly. "This is not up for debate."
"I'm not saying we should not have a nurse," Art said, smiling at Sam, and then at Andi, as if to say, ladies, ladies, calm down. Let the men handle this. "But perhaps part-time. Andi, you've wanted to go back and get your RN."
"You planning to pay for it, Art?" she asked with a cold smile. When he sputtered, she smiled, arched a red brow and said coolly, "Relax. An RN degree isn't in the cards any more. Not for the past two years."
Again, as if she hadn't spoken, he went on. "Three days a week," Art suggested. "She can still handle the safety issues and participate in the meetings. And maybe cut back to a part-time nurse on the evening shift. Do we really need one here around the clock?"
Now he was attacking Eliza and Mike, the two nurses who covered the clinic during the night and evening shifts.
Sending Sam an apologetic look, Andi rose. "Yes, we do. If you'd bother to read up on it, you'd learn that most serious accidents do occur at night, when the body is naturally supposed to be asleep. We aren't nocturnal creatures by nature, Mr. Letcher.
At night, our bodies tell us we are supposed to sleep. Lack of concentration in night-shift workers is not unheard of, through no fault of those workers. A high percentage of night time incidents that end up in the hospital are either serious injuries or heart attacks."
Art opened his mouth, his florid face gone red.
Jeb failed to notice this, spinning in his chair to face Andi. "I think I remember reading that somewhere. You have numbers on that anywhere?"
Gritting her teeth, ignoring Art's angry eyes on her, she took a deep breath and said, "Yes, sir. It's one of the reasons I do so many QC meetings with the night and evening shifts. I have the numbers and sources in my files downstairs."
"Hmm. Not necessary," Jeb said, waving it aside. "I'm not getting rid of any employees simply to cut a few corners, especially not in this area. I was just wondering where I had read that."
Andi already knew where he had read it. She presented every subject of the QC meetings to either Jeb or Dara, his executive assistant, before actually scheduling the meeting. And the man had a mind like a steel trap. He probably remembered the essay he wrote for fifth grade, What I did on my Summer Break.
It was Jeb's very calm, very subtle way---very firm way---of letting Art know the president's support went to Andi in this matter.
Moments later, the meeting ended. As Andi gathered her jacket up, she raised her head, and met the narrowed eyes of the financial officer. She fluttered her lashes and smiled sweetly at him before swinging her bag over her shoulder and sailing out the door.
She was barely going to make it to class. And wouldn't you know it? She had missed lunch.
Again.
Jamie caught the exchange and bit back a smile. Regardless of whether or not she was a crook, the girl had something. She'd managed to insult Letcher, preen over Jeb choosing her side and rub Letcher's face in it, all without saying a single word.
\*
Some days, it just wasn't worth the effort it took to chew through the restraints.
Andi had seen that on a bumper sticker somewhere and she wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment. This day had just gone from bad to worse, starting with her oversleeping and ending with that meeting Art had set up.
It was with barely suppressed anger that she stomped into the changing room. Her ribs throbbed and her lower lip was split open. She was forced to breathe shallowly and still, every time she moved, it hurt.
She was going to have to go get a bloody chest X-ray. With each deep breath---oh, fuck, that hurt---tears blinded her and she rested her forehead against a cool locker, waiting for the rushing in her head to pass.
Something was broken.
Damn it.
The only thing that enabled her to keep her cool was the knowledge that the person responsible not only had a bloodied nose, but he was currently locked in the office with the school's owner, Jake Robinson. And if Andi's fist was any indication, his nose was broken.
Nobody liked to be locked in the office with Jake Robinson. Nobody liked having to stand in front of him, with him staring at you with those unreadable, cool gray eyes and cocked brow. Andi would never admit it, but she had spent months in front of a mirror, practicing that cocked brow and blank face until hers was nearly as good as Jake's. It was, in itself, a very formidable weapon.
Nobody liked having to answer to Jake when one of his rules had been broken.
And Jeff Simms had broken the rules for possibly the last time. That blue belt he had just tied on two weeks earlier may be coming off very shortly.
Permanently. And if it didn't, then Andi was bringing the X-rays with her tomorrow. That man was a fucking psycho. He had no business being here.
Gingerly, she pressed the back of her hand to her lip, probed the inside of her mouth with her tongue. All her teeth were in place, even if it didn't feel like it. She gingerly lowered herself to the wooden bench and started to work her bra off.
"You okay, Andi?"
The cool air felt good on her overheated skin and she stood there for a moment, half-naked, cooling down. "My ribs are a little sore," she said, reaching for her sweatshirt and tugging it on over her bare torso. Her bra was tossed into her bag. There was no way she was banding that thing around her ribs right now.
Leslie leaned forward, studied her slightly swollen mouth and shook her head. "I'm glad it was you with him tonight and not me. I doubt I would have been able to land anything on him. And I'd still be hurting."
"Hopefully, this is the last straw." Striding over to the sink, she splashed cold water on her face, ran her fingers over her damp hair. "And I'm glad it happened when Jake was here. If Mike had been teaching tonight, Jeff would have gotten his hands slapped, nothing more. And I'd be in trouble for retaliating."
Her eyes troubled, Leslie stood behind Andi and asked, "Why doesn't anybody see that there is something wrong with him? Why can't they see it?"
Quietly, Andi said, "Because it isn't something you can see. It's a feeling he gives you. And the male species tend to ignore those sorts of feelings, for some odd reason."
"I can't believe he was bitching about you popping him in the nose," Leslie said, rolling her pretty blue eyes as she shoved her short wavy blonde hair back from her face with a blue wrap.
"He's lucky I didn't pop him where the sun doesn't shine," she muttered.
Leslie wiggled her eyebrows and said, "Maybe you should have. The last thing we need is Simms fathering some child. Then we'd have two of them to deal with."
Andi laughed, winced, and gasped. "Please, don't crack any jokes."
"It wasn't a joke. It was a humane suggestion."
Rolling her eyes, Andi said, "Hopefully, the women of the world are smart enough to recognize him as the slime he is." Dragging her leggings up, she stuffed her gear in her bag to take home and wash.
"You mind if I ask you something?"
Glancing over her shoulder, Andi said, "Sure."
"Why do you dress like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like that. Girl, you gotta body I'd kill for, hips, boobs, butt, the whole shebang and you wear clothes that make you look dumpy. You got any idea how many people I'd kill to have an ass like yours?"
Absently, Andi said, "Got any idea how many people I'd kill not to have an ass like mine?" But she turned and stared into the mirror. Dumpy? Good Lord. She had started to look dumpy. The shapeless clothes had started out when she had been receiving far too many lewd comments and stares from the other kids in the group home she had lived the last two years before escaping.
Cocking her head, she wondered if maybe it wasn't time to change, at least a little. "I dunno, Les," she lied. It was easier to lie than to explain the whys. "Maybe it's time I went shopping."
"Hmm," Leslie murmured in agreement, following Andi out into the dojo. "Maybe so. And I'd try going a size smaller, instead of a size or two too big." After pausing to bow to the flag, they dropped into seats in the spectator area to tug on their shoes. Faintly, Andi could hear raised voices coming from the office.
Well, one raised voice. Jake didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. "You know," Leslie said conversationally, her eyes glinting. "I almost feel sorry for the guy."
The raised voice stopped in mid-tirade and Andi shot Leslie a sidelong glance. "I'm sure you do. After all, it wasn't your ribcage he tried to kick right out of your body." Gingerly, she laid her hand along her side, took an experimental deep breath, only to wince before she finished it. "I don't feel the least bit sorry for him. I hope Jake chews him apart. I think I'm going to have to get an X-ray done. Don't tell Jake or anything, but it hurts like fire just to breathe."
Leslie offered to drive her home but Andi shook her head and said, "I'll be okay. I'm only fifteen minutes away." Moments later, she eased herself into the car, one hand massaging her stiff neck. "What a day," she murmured.
The powerful engine roared to life and Andi shifted into reverse, her mind focused on getting home, getting into a hot bath, having a hot meal, and going to bed. The Mustang joined the flow of traffic on Dixie Highway as she contemplated getting a pizza or stopping for tacos. Cooking for one was more trouble than it was worth. And the pain was starting to make her feel slightly nauseated anyway.
Absently, she glanced in her rearview mirror before changing lanes. When the motorcycle roared up beside her at the stoplight, Andi barely glanced over. Feeling eyes on her, she turned her head as the light changed, locking eyes with Jeff Simms. From astride his bike, he glared at her, his muddy brown eyes narrow, his mouth twisted in a snarl.
Chills danced down her spine as she dragged her eyes away, horns blaring at her. She gunned the engine and joined the traffic turning onto the expressway, still feeling those angry eyes on her. When his motorcycle appeared in her rearview mirror, she whispered a curse under her breath.
She couldn't even draw consolation from telling herself she was being paranoid. Simms lived in Valley Station, and had no reason to be tailgating her at nearly eighty miles an hour. Andi stepped on the gas, digging through her purse for her cell phone as she shot around a slow moving truck.
The bike stayed on her tail, the well-oiled Harley keeping pace with her Mustang.
"Damn him," she rasped as he shot around her, getting in front of her car and giving her a light show with his brakes. The Stonestreet exit loomed near and she considered taking it, but dismissed the idea. The expressway, at least, was well lit and straight. Stonestreet was dark, long, and full of turns and blind curves.
She paused in the middle of entering the emergency number on her phone, feeling foolish. What was she going to say? I'm driving a Mustang and some maniac on a bike is mad at me because he kicked me in the ribs at karate class?
Again, Simms changed lanes, slowing down until he was even with the passenger door. "That's it," she muttered, entering the number as he glared at her through the window. His lips were moving, he was saying something.
Andi seriously doubted it was an apology.
"911 emergency."
"Yeah, I'm out on---"
Just as she was explaining to the dispatch operator what was going on, it happened. Whether he lost control of the bike or purposely veered into her, Andi would never know. But her vision was filled with spinning wheels, spinning scenery, and before she lost consciousness, Jeff's bloodied face on her windshield.
\*
Three days later, Andi woke in the hospital.
Lying flat on her back, tubes running this way and that, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the image that loomed in her mind.
Turning her head, she saw Jake Robinson sitting at the bedside, his eyes distant and unfocused. The older man's face, for once, was an open book---full of rage, grief, and confusion.
"Jeff's dead, isn't he?" she asked, her voice weak and raspy, throat dry.
Turning his head, Jake met her eyes, opened his mouth to speak, but closed it on a sigh, and simply nodded.
A soft voice came from the doorway. "He didn't even stand a chance. You're lucky to be here," Leslie Howard said, licking her lips and moving to the bedside.
Moving hurt every inch of her body, but Andi desperately needed human contact. Holding out her hand, she waited for Leslie to take it. "He got next to me at the light, right by the entrance ramp to Gene Snyder. He kept getting right on my tail. I was..."
"There were witnesses, Andi. Four different people told the cops what he was doing. You aren't responsible," Jake said quietly, taking her other hand, waiting for her to look at him.
"If anything, I am. I should have realized before now that the boy had some serious problems." Tapping his finger against his temple, Jake said softly, "He wasn't right up here. And I never noticed."
"I never thought..." Taking a deep breath, Andi continued, "I never liked him. I figured he had something wrong with him, but I never imagined he'd go postal on me." The dry, morbid humor was forced, but at least, it was there.
Jake's mouth quirked up at the small joke. "Neither did I. And I should have. He never should have been able to climb through the ranks with a mind like that inside his head."
He reached out, touched her cheek. When her eyes raised and met his, Jake said once more, "Andi, this wasn't your fault."
Logically, she already knew that.
But logic didn't stand much chance against her conscience. And she kept wondering through the days and nights that followed, if she could have done anything differently.
\*
Jamie raised his head as Jeb finished talking on the phone.
"That was Sam." Heavily, he lowered the phone to the cradle and looked up at Jamie.
Jamie didn't think he had ever seen the man look so old, so tired.
"Turns out Andi Morrow was in an accident. She's going to be out for the next ten days," Jeb said slowly, turning a gold-plated pen over in his hands. "I want you to know something, Jamie. I realize that something has pointed you toward her. But Andi isn't the one stealing from me."
Arching a black brow, Jamie asked, "Then who is?"
"I don't know. But it isn't Andi."
"It's got to be somebody, Jeb. We're going to have to look at everybody. Hell, it may end up being Samantha Dowers," Jamie said, rubbing his temple. This is why he didn't like working for friends.
Friends made it more difficult.
"I could see it being Sam easier than I can see it being Andi," Jeb said quietly. Lowering the pen back to his mahogany desk, he leaned back into the fine leather of his chair. "It isn't her."
"Then it's not going to be a problem if I go ahead and do my job, get the information I need to clear her so I can remove her from the list," Jamie said evenly. "This will be the perfect time."
"You do what you have to do, son. But don't be too disappointed when you don't find what you're looking for," Jeb told him, reaching for the phone. "Stay in touch."
A week after the accident, leg in a walking cast, the multi-colored bruises starting to fade from her face and body, Andi pulled her new car---a sedate, rather mild-mannered Ford Contour---into the parking lot at work. She missed her fast little Mustang, but had gotten claustrophobic when she had tried to climb behind the wheel of one at the dealership.
She'd really liked the Explorer, but she'd felt like she was piloting a 747. So, she ended up with this little teal Contour, with bucket seats and a V-6, a CD player, and thanks to the previous owner, one kick-ass stereo system.
There was no easy way to get out of the car, so Andi just gritted her teeth and swung her battered body around, her knee screaming at her as she put weight on it. Her vision wavered in and out for a second and Andi started to question her ability to work.
Technically, she should have stayed home a few more days.
But the longer she stayed at home, the longer it took to forget seeing Jeff's face smashed against the windshield of her car, and the harder it got to sleep at night. A spasm of grief and guilt momentarily tightened her face before she composed herself.
It was either go to work, or go insane.
She couldn't keep doing this.
With a sigh, she started the long walk across the parking lot, her stiffened leg throbbing every step of the way.
Leg hurting, chest tight, she took the elevator and closed her eyes on the way down. God, she needed her inhaler, she needed to sit down, and she needed to stop seeing that bloodied face in front of hers, just for a few minutes.
The walk that normally only took seconds took nearly five minutes and by the time she walked through the door to the daycare, sweat had dampened her face and her breath was sawing raggedly in and out of her lungs.
Fumbling through her purse, looking for her inhaler, she didn't even notice the light coming from her office until she stood in the doorway, jaw slack and eyes wide. The gorgeous guy who had knocked his head nearly two weeks ago sat at her desk, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, shirtsleeves pushed high, pounding at the keyboard.
Another man, Humphrey Bogart, she recognized, was going through her files.
"Excuse me, but what the hell do you think you are doing?" she demanded, dropping her purse and bag, limping over to the file cabinet and damn near smashing the stranger's hand inside. "Those files are about my kids, and are confidential. And this is my office."
His pale green gaze rose from the computer screen, taking in her appearance blankly. "Ms. Morrow. I wasn't aware you were coming in today," Jamie McAdams said blandly. With a flick of his wrist, whatever he had been studying on her computer screen was gone.
The only thought Jamie had was that she wasn't wearing her glasses.
"I didn't feel like staying at home any longer. Now what are you doing in my office?" she asked coldly, glaring first at McAdams and then at Bogart.
"We have...a little problem," he said slowly, taking a step back and leaning up against the wall.
Oh, God. Bogart had a shoulder holster on, the kind you saw police detectives wearing under their suit jackets. And in that shoulder holster was a big, mean looking gun. With a massive effort, she jerked her eyes away from that gun and met the mild watchful green eyes of Bogart.
"You are going to have a big problem, if you don't tell me what this is about. Damn it, those files are confidential."
"Hmm. Well, considering that he's been hired by the CEO, and recommended by the security director, I think we can let it slide," Jamie said, spinning around and propping his feet on the corner of the desk.
"Security director?" she repeated, confused. Then her eyes narrowed on the cigarette hanging from McAdams's mouth, a very fine, very kissable looking mouth, and she snarled. Her already burning throat and lungs grew even tighter. "This, sir, is a non-smoking facility. Put that damn thing out."
"Quite a mouth she's got on her," Bogart said, sliding Jamie a glance.
Jamie had to agree, but not for the reasons Mick was thinking. Casually, he ground out the cigarette in the small glass ashtray he kept in his briefcase as he rose and picked up a book that had landed by his feet, a tube of lip gloss, and some change. "We've enough problems to deal with without worrying about smoking in non-smoking facilities."
With a painful wince, she knelt down, her banged up knee screaming as she scooped up her purse and said, "Tell that to somebody who isn't asthmatic." Spying the green disk, she popped it open and dragged a deep breath into her constricted chest. Her ribs ached, fought her as she did it, and she forced the tears that welled up to subside before she opened her eyes. After holding her breath a few seconds, she let it out in a rush and slid the disk back into her purse. With one hand holding onto the handle of the file cabinet, she ignored the hand he held out to her and hauled herself slowly to her feet.
One slim winged brow rose fractionally and he nodded his head in acknowledgment. "I suppose you're right. I apologize."
The bands around her chest refused to loosen as Andi took a shallow breath, staring into the pale green eyes. "What is this about?" she asked quietly, limping over to a chair and lowering her battered body into it carefully. The constriction in her chest was threatening to turn into a full-blown wheeze, and she wasn't certain she could stay on her feet much longer.
"I trust you've recovered from the accident," Mick asked as she tried to cover a wince of discomfort.
"Recovered?" She smirked and looked up at the ceiling. "What a mild word. But we can go with that---why the hell not? Recovered," she muttered. She'd be seeing that bloodied face, and hearing her own screams for the rest of her life. But, sure...if they wanted to say she was recovered, why not? "Now what is this about?"
Sighing, Mick looked over at Jamie.
This wasn't exactly going the way he had wanted it to go. He had wanted to find this so called proof and let Mick take over from there. He wanted to go back to his nice safe condo in Indy, and forget about that long hair, the scent of her skin, her cool, silky hands. Forget about that mouth.
Something about this girl bothered him. When human resources had told him she'd be out for ten days due to an accident, he had thanked whatever gods had been watching over him.
And now she sat in front of him, staring at him with very obvious confusion in her soft hazel eyes, her ivory skin faintly flushed, and her face drawn tight with pain---back three days early. Dropping his feet to the floor, he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on top of her neatly organized desk. His eyes landed on the ashtray and the lingering scent of smoke in the air had him scowling.
One hand was absently rubbing her breastbone, and his eyes followed that hand, fine-boned with a wrist that was almost delicate. Beneath it, what appeared to be very large, very firm breasts rose beguilingly, rapidly, trying to drag air into her lungs. As he studied her hand, she noticed where he was looking and it dropped away. "Breathing okay?" An asthmatic, for crying out loud. What in the hell was an asthmatic doing taking karate?
"I will be in a few minutes." Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep, obviously strained breath. "But you won't be, if you don't tell me what the deal is. In another thirty seconds, I'm calling the plant security."
"As far as you're concerned, Ms. Morrow, I am the plant security," he said flatly. "And you're suspected of theft and embezzlement."
Behind his back, Mick rolled his eyes and thought, Hell of a way to be subtle about this, kid. Jeez. And then he studied the girl, waiting to see how she would react. Would her eyes dart away? Would she start to stammer?
She laughed.
Mick's eyes widened fractionally while Jamie's narrowed.
Whatever reaction he had been expecting, it wasn't the musical laugh that pealed from her mouth. "Oh, God. Don't make me laugh," she said a few moments later, wincing and pressing a hand to her side. "It hurts too much."
"I'm afraid this isn't a laughing matter," Mick said calmly when Jamie merely sat and stared at her.
"Oh, I can see you don't think so," she replied, still chuckling. "I'm stuck in here, surrounded by babies and toddlers all day, changing diapers and playing hide'n'seek. And you think I'm swiping money?"
"Nearly ninety-two thousand dollars," Jamie said quietly, raising one hand when Mick started to speak. "And we've been informed of some rather extravagant spending habits you have."
Her eyebrows, as red as the hair spilling down from her ponytail, rose. "My spending habits don't concern anybody but me and my banker."
"A trip to Ireland this summer. A new Mustang. A rather new home. Camera equipment. All of this in the past six months. A rich relative suddenly pass away?"
"I don't even know if I have any relatives," Andi replied calmly, a muscle tightening in her jaw. "I'm sure you are already aware, but until six years ago, I was a ward of the state, and had been since I was dumped by my parents when I was five."
"Since you seem to know all about my checkbook, you probably know all the other details of my life, too." Ninety two thousand dollars, she thought, her mind going somewhat numb as the enormity of what was happening sank in.
Ninety. Two. Thousand. Dollars.
"So because I'm materialistic, I'm a suspect?" she asked, her voice wobbling slightly. She sat up straighter, focused her eyes on the men in front of her and waited for an answer.
"Materialism doesn't count, unless you seem to be living outside your means," Mick said. Well, he was thinking, either she is really, really good. Or really, really innocent.
Either way was going to give Jamie and Mick some problems. "You care to explain how you can afford all of that on twenty-eight a year?"
Maybe it was pride, maybe it was having her privacy invaded---something she guarded closely---or maybe it was just orneriness, as people had told her throughout her life. But sitting there, staring at Bogart's reincarnation, and the other man, looking like a fallen angel, Andi leaned back in the chair, folded her hands over her belly, shifted uncomfortably in her seat, lifted one brow and archly said, "Not until I have to."
He should have figured she'd be difficult. Probably all that red hair, Jamie mused as she sat across from him, a fading bruise darkening her right jaw. Her lower lip was swollen, a tiny cut in the middle. Had she hit her head in the accident? he wondered. Even with that cut, her mouth was enough to make him look a second time. Hell, he was past second and third looks and well into the double digits.
He wanted to taste that mouth. Wanted that mouth to taste him. His lids lowered to half-mast and he could see it, her on her knees, his hands fisted in all that hair as she slid her lips down his length, as he fucked his cock in and out of that mouth, those pretty hazel eyes glancing up at him and gleaming with pure lust.
Hell...he was in trouble.
Forcing the thought out of his mind, Jamie suggested, "Maybe you should finish taking off the rest of the week you have coming. You'd be more likely to think clearly then."
With a saccharine smile, Andi responded, "I don't get much clearer than this. Sir."
"Then perhaps you should be made aware that if you choose not to cooperate, we'll have you put you on suspension." A muscle in his jaw twitched but his voice remained level, almost cool.
Lifting one brow, Andi asked, "On what grounds? Materialism?" She chuckled, winced, and pressed a hand to her side. "You have any proof? Because if you don't, and you try to put me on suspension, I'll be making a trip to the lawyers and the papers. And something tells me you are trying to keep this thing hush-hush."
Score one for you, Jamie acknowledged silently. "What makes you think that?"
"Because you can't have any proof on me, otherwise I'd be sitting in lock-up. With no proof, you have no way of knowing if I am even who you are looking for. Which means that you are aware the guilty person could still be roaming about. If this isn't kept quiet, whoever that is will know and have time to cover his tracks."
"Sure you aren't a cop?"
Flicking Mick a disinterested glance, she said, "Spare me." Then she turned her hazel gaze back to Jamie. Those eyes saw too much, he thought. Saw too much, and hid too much. "Let me ask you this; what exactly led you to suspect me, besides me liking to spend money? Somebody pointed you in my direction, didn't they?"
He opened his mouth, only to close it, and stare at her, hard. A satisfied smile curved her mouth and one red brow raised a fraction. "Maybe that's who you should be looking at. A nurse in the basement who watches kids and doles out Tylenol and flu shots isn't very likely to catch somebody's eye right off the bat. Unless somebody points her way."
Gingerly, she rose from her chair. "My kids will be here soon. I'd suggest you clear out." Even as she spoke, the door opened and one of her assistants came in, followed by a pair of toddler-bearing parents.
\*
"It's not her," Jamie said quietly as the elevator doors closed behind them.
Mick cocked his head and studied the younger man. The girl was cute enough, maybe a little too round for his tastes, but something had Jamie by the throat back there. They'd been working together nearly six years and Mick didn't think he'd once seen Jamie's hormones overrule his head. "Why?"
Hell yes, his hormones were raging, even though Jamie hadn't quite figured out why. So what if she smelled better than any other woman he had ever met? But the hormones, the scent of her, had nothing to do with his gut feeling that Andi Morrow was not a thief. She was smart, she was cocky, and entirely too open.
"It's too easy," he murmured. "Too pat. Our thief is somebody slick, somebody slick enough to avoid getting noticed for nearly two years now. If it was her, she'd have covered her tail better. She wouldn't have blatantly been spending so much money all at once. It wouldn't be so obvious."
"What about the money?"
Sighing, he said, "I don't know. Maybe she strips on the weekends. Maybe she moonlights as a bartender. But she has another income; we just need to find out from where before we can mark her off the list.
"Hell, for all we know, she has a sugar daddy somewhere and she just works here because she likes kids," Jamie said with a grimace, sidestepping the cleaning cart. The cleaning girl was running a damp mop over a coffee stain, barring their way.
"So who else is on the short list? She had a point," Mick said. "We haven't been nosing around long enough to have a whole lot of suspects."
"He's already on it," Jamie said grimly. "Letcher's the one who mentioned her, practically the first minute he had me alone.
"And I don't think Jeb is going to like it, but we need to call in Marks, have him check around. We need to find out where the extra money is coming from with Miz Morrow and we'll need to do a deeper search on our friend, Art."
"Your godfather isn't gonna like that at all. He wants her off the list...now," Mick murmured, shaking his head.
"Which means calling in Marks." Jamie slid a look over his shoulder, back to the door. It was closed, and behind it, he could hear kids laughing and squealing. No, this was one of the last places he would have looked, if somebody hadn't pointed him here first.
\*
Jamie studied the array of papers spread out before him. There it was in black and white. "She's a writer," he murmured in disbelief. Plowing his fingers through his already tousled black hair, he studied the copied contracts under his hand. "A friggin' romance writer." Off to one side was a copy of the book that Marks had picked up and tossed into the file.
Appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, an open bottle of beer in hand, Mick said dryly, "So I assume she's off the list?"
Jamie remained silent, gathering up the papers, stacking them neatly and sliding them in the file before looking at Mick. "No."
Pausing in mid-sip, Mick's brow rose. "No?"
"You know as well as I do that she's not off. She can't be taken off. We take her off, it's going to clue others in."
"Others, meaning, 'Art,' right?"
Lifting up another folder, Jamie leaned back against the couch, propped one foot on the coffee table. "Our PI had to do some digging on this one. Turns out Art has three different bank accounts, none of them stateside. Two with the Swiss, and one down in Jamaica. All under the name Max Fletcher."
"We're sure it's his money?" Mick asked.
Rolling his eyes, Mick cut Jamie off in the middle of a complex reply about computers, wiring, echoes, and other words that made no sense to him. "Just say he used computers, okay? I don't understand anything more than how to turn one on. Just save your breath, and say he used the computers." Gesturing with his half-empty bottle to the file Jamie held, he asked, "So, whaddya think? Is it him?"
"Gut feeling?" Jamie asked, lifting his shoulders in a restless shrug. "Yeah, it's him."
"Can we use that as proof?" Mick asked, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the younger man.
Scowling, he said, "No, teacher. One must not assume." Leaning back, he tossed the absurdly thin file down. "There's no proof. This just shows that the money is there. No trace of how it landed there. It's circumstantial; it's enough to probably fire the guy. But not enough to fry him."
"So we have to keep Andriette Morrow on the list until we have solid proof against Letcher," Mick said, crossing the black carpet to drop into a burgundy leather armchair. Mick had a glint in his eye that told Jamie he approved of the logistics, approved of Jamie's thought process.
Problem was, Jamie didn't approve.
He wanted Andi free and clear, officially and unofficially.
Hell, he just plain wanted Andi.
"Yeah," Jamie said, sighing. If it left some sort of knot in his gut, he'd just have to deal with it.
"Why do I get the feeling that bothers you more than it normally would?"
Glancing up, Jamie shrugged. "She damn near died in an accident a week ago. I doubt this is going to be the best thing to follow something like that up."
Mick snickered as he turned away. "Yeah, right."
"He knows me too well," Jamie muttered, shaking his head.
\*
Andi flicked Jamie a cool glance as he came through the door, focusing her attention back on the child in front of her. Probably here to fire me, she thought dismally as Beth pointed out the red fish in the picture book. He'd probably decided to call her bluff. She'd rather quit than have her face plastered all over the newspapers.
Hell, she would do nearly anything to keep from getting her face plastered across the newspapers, anything to keep her life private. After spending the majority of her life in a place where strangers knew everything from her shoe size to when she first started getting her period, she needed privacy.
With a smile, Andi looked back at the little black girl who was holding the book in front of them, pointing at the smiling red fish that cavorted across the page.
"Why isn't the fish blue?" Beth asked.
"Hmm. Now that is a very good question. Maybe the person who wrote the book didn't like blue fish," Andi said, a grin curving her mouth.
Why in hell am I having such a hard time looking away from her? Jamie wondered with a sigh, watching as she smiled down at the little girl sitting snuggled in her lap.
"Well, I like blue fish. And I bet you do, too."
"You know, I like both red fish and blue fish. And pink and purple and green."
"What about polka-dotted?"
"I don't think I've ever seen a polka-dotted fish," Andi said, stroking Beth's soft curls. Pressing a kiss to her temple, she squeezed the little girl. "I'm gonna miss you when you go to school next year."
Little arms wrapped around Andi's neck. "I'll miss you, too. You're the best, Miss Andi." Her eyes peered over Andi's shoulder and met Jamie's. Her voice dropped to a very loud whisper, and she asked, "Who's the babe?"
A startled laugh rippled from Andi's mouth as she pulled back. Studying the sober ebony face in front of her, she asked, "Where in the world did you learn that?"
"My sister Shanise would call him a 'hottie,'" Beth said, grinning.
"And your mom would call me terrible names if she heard you talking like that," Andi said, laying two fingers across Beth's wildly grinning lips. Turning, she faced the babe and had to admit, silently, she agreed with both Shanise and Beth. Those pale green eyes made her want to just sit back and stare.
He was hot.
And most definitely a babe.
That mouth had her entertaining ideas she normally didn't entertain. Unless she was sitting in front of her computer, putting her nighttime fantasies down on paper. Or relieving frustrations by abusing the massaging showerhead again.
"Well, Mr. McAdams. Nice to see you again," she drawled, lowering Beth to the floor. "Why don't you see if we have a book with a blue fish, Beth?"
As the little girl headed for the stuffed book shelves, Jamie suggested, "Dr. Suess."
One red brow arched and Andi asked, "Excuse me?"
"Dr. Suess. One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish," he said.
"A favorite of yours?"
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and Jamie admitted, "I'm surrounded by nieces and nephews."
"I see," Andi said, rising from the beanbag chair carefully. Pressing one hand to her ribs, she waited until the throbbing eased before heading for her office. "I assume you're not here to talk about the merits of Dr. Suess."
His eyes drifted down the length of her compact little body before idling back up the long braid that rested between her shoulder blades. It suddenly dawned on him that she slumped her shoulders when he was around, and she wore her clothes far too big. Her arms and wrists were lean, almost delicate, her neck long and slim, and her collarbone soft and smooth.
What in God's name did she look like under that uniform?
Snap out of it, McAdams, he told himself, blowing out an aggravated breath.
"I'm just checking to see how you're feeling. Healing up okay from the accident?" he asked, following her into her small, tidy office and lowering himself to the chair in front of her desk.
One shoulder lifted and fell in a shrug. "I suppose."
"Your ribs still seem to be bothering you," he noted.
"They got busted up the night of the accident. In another week or two, they'll be fine," she said, grimacing as she pictured the multi-colored bruise that still lingered on her rib cage. She eased herself into her own chair, careful to keep the discomfort she felt from showing on her face.
Her knee was killing her. She'd tried to do some katas last night once she'd gotten home, and failed miserably. Her knee couldn't take the strain of even the simplest warm up yet.
"You know, you are entitled to some more time off," he offered. "After that accident, you're lucky to even be here."
Her face blank and she asked, "How do you know it was even serious enough to warrant the week I took?"
"I read the report that you turned in to Sam. Pretty cut and dried."
With a cool glance, she replied, "The report didn't even touch it, Mr. McAdams."
"Is that supposed to convince me that you are fit to work?"
"I'm fine," she said flatly, leaning back in her chair. "Why are you really here?"
One black brow rose. Heavily-lashed lids fell over those pale green eyes and Andi recalled how she had felt growing up, as though her every breath was being measured and weighed against her. That feeling was back tenfold.
"I'm not leaving my job unless I am forced to," she said quietly, rising from her chair and leaning forward. Hands planted on her desk, she stared into those blank eyes and said, "I have done nothing wrong and I will not act like I have, nor will I be treated like I have."
"I wasn't aware I had asked you to leave your job, or that you were being treated any differently than normal."
"The simple fact that I have been accused is bad enough."
She looked away, but not before he saw the bleak set of her gaze. A knot settled in his chest and Jamie closed his eyes. "If you've done nothing wrong, then you don't have anything to worry about. This matter will be resolved and you can put it behind you."
"Have you ever been accused of embezzling thousands and thousands of dollars?" she asked grimly. Moving away from her desk, she studied the pictures hanging on her wall. "Ever been wrongly accused of anything for that matter?"
He opened his mouth to offer another empty platitude but then he only sighed, the words refusing to come. Honestly, he said, "No."
Shooting him a narrow look over her shoulder, Andi said quietly, "I have. And even vindication doesn't take it away."
"What, exactly, are you referring to?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. There had been no report of anything illegal. Hell, she only had one speeding ticket and she'd gone to traffic school to avoid the points on her license. Her record was completely clean.
A smile lit her eyes for just a moment. "Wondering why you didn't hear anything about that?" she asked, turning back around and studying him.
When he didn't reply, Andi sighed and shook her head. Reaching up, she rubbed the back of her neck, trying desperately to relax before the ache that settled there turned into a full blown tension headache. "It was before I turned eighteen. All my records, of course, are sealed. Some other foster kid tried to convince the foster family I was staying with that I had stolen some jewelry from them. It was...resolved, to use your word, but I still ended up leaving that home, and the friends I had made there."
She didn't mention how it had been the first family that had ever shown any real kindness or interest in her, didn't mention that it had ended up with her returning to a group home. "And look there, another strike against me," Andi said, sitting back down and folding her hands on the desk. Taking a deep breath, she schooled her features, blanked her eyes. "Are you here to ask me to go on voluntary suspension?"
"No." Those eyes had known too much pain, Jamie thought. "You're welcome to go about your job as you choose."
"For now," she said, shaking her head. "Why are you here this time, Mr. McAdams?"
"I just wanted to see how you were. It was a serious accident, wasn't it?" he asked, wondering what she had meant when she had said, "The report didn't even touch it."
Long lashes drooped over her eyes, hooding them. "Yes. Yes, it was. That's very kind of you. I'm fine."
Here's your hat; what's your hurry? Jamie thought cynically. Rising from his chair, he opened his mouth, wanting to say something. On a sigh, he just shook his head, and headed for the door.
Why her? he wondered. Out of all the women in the world, why was she the one who stuck in his mind?
\*
He could smell him before he even entered the room. Art Letcher wore overpowering cologne that warned people of his presence some thirty feet away, it seemed. Mick lowered the file he'd been studying, covering it with another, and looked up just as Art passed through the doorway.
"So," Art asked, his voice a low conspiratorial whisper. "How are things progressing?"
Mick lifted his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug.
"Things aren't looking well with Ms. Morrow, are they?" Letcher asked, his face composed in somber, unhappy lines.
The tone of voice was right, the eyes were right, even the way he held his head was right, Mick mused. Art appeared to be the picture perfect boss concerned that a well-liked employee had betrayed him.
So why didn't it feel right to Mick?
The hell if I know, he thought tiredly, dragging his hands down his face. "She's being investigated, along with some others."
"Oh? You have...other suspects?"
Laughing, Mick pushed back from the desk, kicking back in the chair and resting his booted feet on the edge. "Art, you never go into something like this and investigate only one person. Yes, we are checking into other things, looking at other people's backgrounds."
"Might I...?"
"No. I'm afraid that's confidential."
One bushy brow rose and Art assumed a haughty stance. "Mick, I will remind you I am Jeb's right hand man. I feel this information is something I need to keep abreast of."
Silently, Mick thought, You are really full of it, aren't you? Aloud, he only said, "You might be one of Jeb's right hands, but you are not Jeb. And at this point, not even Jeb's aware of how the investigation is progressing. He's brought in Jamie and me to fix things, not keep to you informed," Mick drawled sarcastically. "And since he's the one who signs my paycheck, he's the one I answer to."
Art cocked his head and nodded thoughtfully after a few moments. "You know, ninety thousand dollars, wisely invested, would be bringing in a pretty penny now. Maybe more than one person really needs."
Before Mick could figure out how to take that remark, Art left, leaving the room full of the cloying power of his cologne.
And one very interested security guy.
"I've got an idea," Mick said.
"Shoot," Jamie said, dropping to his couch and kicking his feet up. A cold beer sat unopened in his hand. He itched for a cigarette, but resisted the urge. He refused to so much as acknowledge the fact that he hadn't had a smoke in nearly three days. Acknowledging that meant admitting to himself he was quitting.
And he didn't want to admit to himself the reason he was quitting.
Of course, the fact that he was dying to kiss her and he doubted she'd appreciate him tasting like tobacco had nothing to do with him quitting.
"You aren't going to like it."
"Damn it, Mick. I hate it when you start off like that," he snapped, opening the beer with a flick of his wrist. Draining half the bottle, he lowered it and drew one knee up, looping his arm around it. Pale green eyes met Mick's and he groaned.
He really hated that look.
Mick removed his jacket and shoulder holster with slow, meticulous movement as he said, "I think we can catch Art at his own game."
"Why do I sense a big 'if' in there?" Jamie asked, tipping his head back and studying the vaulted ceiling overhead.
"If we use Andi Morrow as bait."
"No," Jamie said mildly, focusing his attention back on his beer.
"He was all but offering me some of the money," Mick said, acting as though he hadn't heard Jamie's reply, even though he had already known what the reply would be. "I've never heard such an easy, open offer. Apparently, I look like I would like to earn some easy money. We can take him down, kid."
"I don't care if he offered the evidence on a silver platter. I'm not dragging an innocent person into this," Jamie snapped, narrowing his eyes at Mick. Rising to his feet, he brushed past the older man. "I don't want somebody hurt by this unless it's the guilty one."
"What's the deal with the girl, Jamie?" Mick asked quietly. "You barely know her."
"I don't have to know her to not want her hurt," Jamie replied.
"You have a job to do," Mick said. "Finding the thief is your job. Sometimes, getting the job done means doing things you don't necessarily like."
\*
Curled in the corner of the couch, all the lights out, save for the one over her shoulder, Andi turned the page, eyes narrowed. Her hair was pulled back in a fat, loose braid that trailed over her shoulder and she was wearing a pair of silk boxers and a tank top, her favorite reading attire.
Moments later, she grinned. "I knew it. I knew you wouldn't betray her, Duncan," she whispered, flipping back and reading a passage a few chapters back.
Nearly an hour later, she tossed the book aside, already knowing it would be in her bag again tomorrow. Never mind that she had already finished it. This particular author was one she usually read at least twice before putting it on her keeper shelf.
Someday, somebody will say that about my books, Andi thought, lacing her fingers and stretching overhead before dropping her arms and rolling her shoulders. Damn, she ached.
Somewhat reluctantly, she rose and stretched her stiff, aching body. It was going to be another month before the doctor released her to go back to karate. Her ankle and knee were banged up badly enough that Andi knew better than to argue, or try to slip in without Jake knowing the doc hadn't released her.
No class to occupy her mind, no other interesting books, Andi really had no choice but to stop avoiding the computer.
Even if she couldn't manage to get anything new done, she could at least edit and proof what she had finished.
But she couldn't resist the temptation to open the file that held the manuscript she had put nearly a month of time into before that damn accident. She hadn't gotten a word written since. Well, that wasn't the complete truth.
She'd gotten plenty of words written. But not one of them had survived the delete key.
Staring at the annoying little cursor, she said quietly, "Andi, it's going to be hard to support yourself as a writer if you can't manage to write."
Nearly an hour later, she gave up. That damned delete key was going to get worn out before the rest of the computer, if she couldn't get past this slump. With an aggravated sigh, she accessed a completed manuscript and started the tedious job of editing.
She already knew the story was sold. The publisher had already said they wanted it, after reading the sample chapters she had sent. With a small grin, she wondered exactly what Jamie McAdams would have said if she had told him her trip to Ireland had been financed by the sale of her first book.
And her house had come from a very, very lucky gamble she had made at the riverboat casino. A lucky bet of $100 that had landed her nearly ten thousand, enough to put a hefty down payment on her little house.
Maybe not as exciting as espionage, she thought as she corrected the numerous typos.
But not too shabby from a kid who even quite a few counselors had given up on.
\*
What's the deal with the girl? Mick had asked.
Standing in the doorway, watching her as she soothed a toddler who had fallen down, Jamie tried to figure out the answer to that. Propping his shoulder against the doorjamb, arms folded over his chest, he ignored the sound of a sweeper-vac turning on behind him, once more focusing his eyes on Andi Morrow.
He didn't know what the deal was.
She wasn't the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, nor the sexiest, even though he had a good idea that she had a knockout body under her baggy uniform.
She definitely wasn't the sweetest. Her wry sense of humor and sharp tongue had already done considerable damage to his ego. Even though she looked unbelievably sweet just now as she smoothed back black curls from the toddler's chubby little face, tickled the little girl under the chin and distracted her with a book before her whimpers could turn into a full blown cry.
Jamie couldn't look away.
From the moment he had first laid eyes on her, something in his gut had compelled him to get closer.
And now, he was going to do that.
But not for the reasons he wanted.
"If he's planning to use her as his cover, and use me to do that, we can nail him. Hands down. And he won't have a chance."
Damn it, Mick, he thought, frustrated. You always got to be right?
"It's the babe," a little redheaded girl said in a loud whisper, pointing to him.
Flushing a dull red, Jamie averted his eyes and pretended he hadn't heard her. How had he come to be known as the babe by a bunch of preschoolers? he wondered, maneuvering his way through the maze of toys and kids.
A smirk on her face, Andi turned to greet him. "The babe, huh?" she asked in a low voice as the girls gathered in a circle by the toy box. She sauntered closer, one hand adjusting her glasses. Then, fingers curling into her palms, she slipped her hands inside the cargo pockets of her loose lab coat.
"Jeez, what are they, all of four years old?"
Shrugging, Andi said, "Kids grow up faster than they used to. Besides, they hear stuff like that from older sisters, TV, and in some cases, their own mothers." Turning on her heel, she headed for her office, stepped back and waited for him to enter. "You'll have to excuse the mess. We were playing school. I had the big kids' class. Our assignment today was to destroy my office. And if time allowed, to complete the puzzles lying all over the place."
With a grin, Jamie studied the scattered pieces all over the floor of her formerly ruthlessly neat office. "I take it there wasn't enough time before school let out."
"Nope," Andi replied, sighing. "They certainly did a good job destroying my office though. I'll have to give them all excellent marks. I decided it would be just as easy for me to clean up after they thought they should get glue and put the puzzle together on my wall." She leaned against her desk and asked, "Did you knock your head again?"
"Actually, I wanted to know if you'd like to go grab some lunch with me."
Followed by a quickie in the backseat of my car, and then we can go back to my condo and have a not so quick one.
He'd surprised her with the invitation to lunch. He wondered what her response would have been if he'd added the last part.
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped just a bit, before she managed to blank her features once more. "No," she said after a moment of somewhat shocked silence. "No, I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"Better question. Why?" she countered.
"Because you're hungry and it's lunch time?"
Rolling her eyes, Andi hunkered down to realign some puzzle pieces in the frame. "Thanks for the offer, but no thank you," she said, glancing up at him from over her shoulder.
"Why not?" he repeated, exasperated.
"Do you generally ask embezzlers out to lunch?" she asked. "Or am I the first?"
"You're not an embezzler. But it's my job to investigate everybody." Kneeling down next to her, he handed her a few pieces and waited for her to look up at him. Her long braid fell over her shoulder, and unable to resist, Jamie reached out, caught hold of it, and tugged on it. "If I thought you were a thief, I'd stay clear of you," he said honestly.
Her hands stilled and her eyes rose to meet his. The heavy cardboard pieces fell from her nerveless fingers as she stared into his pale green eyes. Taking a deep breath, Jamie ordered himself to let go, but instead, he wrapped the thick cable of her braid around his wrist and whispered, "I really shouldn't be doing this."
A startled gasp fell from her mouth as he tasted her.
Sweet. God, she was sweet. Gently, he brushed her mouth with his, pulling back slightly and studying her dazed eyes.
Carefully, he drew her glasses off and set them aside. Then Jamie reached up with his free hand, caught her face before she could turn away. Slowly, he nibbled on her lip, giving her time to pull away. When she didn't, when her mouth heated and started to move beneath his, he threw caution to the wind as he delved into her mouth, taking as much of her as he could, as quickly as he could. Any second now Jamie was expecting a fist in his gut. Any second now, and she'd realize what was going on.
Instead, her lips parted and she arched closer. Greedily, he ate at her mouth and wrapped his arms around her, pulled her up onto her knees and aligned her compact, tight little body next to his. Working one knee between hers, he wedged her thighs apart as he ran his palms down her back, filling in the gaps so that every lush, sexy little curve was pressed tight to his body. Rocking his thigh against the soft damp vee between her thighs, Jamie's entire body went tense as he felt the moisture that had already started to gather there.
The scent of her, hot female, vanilla, and sex filled his head, heated his blood and made his cock throb like a bad tooth as he rocked against the soft cushion of her belly.
Her hands traveled up his arms to fist in his hair as her mouth opened under his and her tongue darted out to meet his. Damn, but she was sweet, and hot, and so completely unexpected.
Jamie found himself fantasizing about eating her up in quick greedy bites. To torture himself, he pulled away from her mouth and feasted on the smooth expanse of shoulder that he bared simply by brushing aside the excess material of her tunic.
"Jamie..." she gasped out his name at the hot bite of his teeth on her shoulder, the wet caress of his mouth before he realigned their mouths and greedily plunged his tongue into hers, a rough growl vibrating out of his chest. One hand left the curve of her hip to glide under her shirt and cup her breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple roughly and bringing a gasp that died in her throat as he sucked her tongue into his mouth.
His mouth left her a second time, leaving a trail of fire down her chin to her neck and shoulders. Her hands trailed down to his shoulders, ran over them, curled into the hard firm muscle there before gliding down his arms. Pressed against her belly was the hard ridge of his erection. Even as it dawned on her what she was feeling, his hands grasped the curve of her butt and dragged her closer. Automatically, she rocked her hips forward, gasping as she brushed against the hard bulge there. She cuddled her abdomen against his cock hungrily, whimpering softly.
Pulling away, Jamie whispered, "Sweet God." Slow down, he ordered. But when he stared into her slumberous, heavy-lidded gaze, when her fingers curved greedily into his shoulders, when her eyes dropped to study his mouth once more, Jamie gave in with a groan, catching her face again, he plundered her mouth. Honey. Dark sweet honey, the kind that clung to you even after you finished eating it. That was what she tasted like.
And she was hot and sexy and every damn thing he had ever dreamed of in a woman. Her hands laced in his hair, and her mouth moved under his, sexy little moans rising from her throat when he trailed his mouth down to nibble on her neck.
Sliding one hand up the back of her tunic, he ran his hand up a smooth, slender back, then down to palm a firm round little bottom. His hands were feeling out the dangerous curves his mind had insisted were hidden under her clothes. Full heavy tits strained against a lace and silk bra, warm flesh heating under his palms. God, this was moving too quickly.
Normally, he wouldn't have a problem with quick, but for some reason, he didn't just want a quick easy fuck with her, he didn't want anonymous sex with her.
Not that the image of a quick fuck didn't appeal.
Backing her up against the wall, stripping away those baggy uniform pants, lifting that tight little ass in his hands and driving the length of his cock into her wet vagina...
Oh, yeah. The image appealed.
But he wanted more. Dragging her head back by her hair, he laid his teeth on her neck and bit down, hard enough to mark, hard enough to hurt. She stiffened under his hands and then her body went limp, a weak little moan of surrender escaping her mouth.
Now. He could do it, do her, right now.
Moments later, they fell apart, staring at each other. When a peal of laughter rang from the play area, Andi dragged her eyes away. Settling her weight back on her heels, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart.
"Looks like I wasn't the only one," Jamie said quietly.
Her eyes flew open and darted to his face. The pupils of her eyes were huge, just a thin rim of golden-green around the black as she looked at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath. Beneath that utilarian tunic, her hard nipples strained against her bra.
Reaching out, Jamie brushed his thumb across her damp swollen mouth. Then he closed his hand into a loose fist and dragged his knuckles across one of those swollen nipples, watching her shudder as he said, "I've wanted to do that since the day I met you."
The disbelief in her eyes had him laughing. He rose to his feet, reached down, took her hand and drew her up. "You got any idea how rough it is to try to think of somebody as a possible embezzler when all you can wonder is how she'd feel next to you?"
Underneath you, on top of you.
"I wouldn't know. I've never wondered how a 'she' would feel next to me," Andi replied faintly, her quip a weak echo of what it should have been. Slowly, she stepped back, bracing her weight against her desk, staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Damn, if he had pushed just a little more...
In the past few years, Andi had rarely thought about how a 'he' would feel next to her.
She had certainly never wondered the way she was wondering right now.
Damn, but he was gorgeous, Andi thought helplessly, her heart pounding. Her knees, she was somewhat surprised to realize, were weak. Her bones felt like water and she was so hot it seemed a forest fire had started right inside her belly. All that brought on by a simple kiss.
Her nipples had tightened and were pressing almost painfully against the lace of her bra and a suspicious dampness had settled between her thighs. A slow, aching throb rippled through her tissues and she shuddered. She was wet and everything felt hot and tight. Every inch of her was heated from where he had stroked her and every inch of her cried out for more.
Okay. Maybe it hadn't been such a simple kiss.
But why in the hell had he wanted to kiss her anyway?
She was so...average, busty figure aside. Hell, anybody with the money could buy a body these days. Andi was ordinary, she knew it.
And he wasn't.
He wasn't even six feet tall, probably right at five nine or five ten, a deceptively lean build, with a narrow waist, broad shoulders. She had curled her hands into those hard muscles, felt them ripple and bulge under her hands only moments before. Her mouth watered as she remembered, and her knees, already weak, started quivering once more. Wavy black hair and pale, pale green eyes, a cleft chin, and a mouth that had been designed with the sole intention of making a woman go mad, wondering what he tasted like.
And Andi knew. Already she craved more.
So, deliberately, she turned her back on him and took her seat behind her desk. Taking her time, searching for the composure that was legendary, Andi settled, crossed her legs, and folded her hands across her belly.
"Now, what is going on behind those eyes of yours?" he mused, shaking his head. "From firecracker to frost, in only seconds." The ice formed so quickly, it was a wonder he didn't get frostbite, Jamie mused, slipping his hands into his pockets and leaning back against the wall. The ache in his groin only intensified when Andi stroked her hand up and down the long cable of red hair while she stared him down with cool eyes. It was an absent gesture, one she probably wasn't even aware of. So why did it make him ache?
"I don't know why, but I can't see you...wondering about me," Andi finally said.
"I've been wondering about you since I laid eyes on you," Jamie admitted, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. Moving around the desk, he propped his hip on the edge and returned her stare levelly. Reaching out, he dragged his thumb across her damp, slightly swollen mouth. "Wondering about this. And this." He took her long braid, lowered his head, and dragged the scent of her---baby lotion, vanilla, and woman---deep into his lungs. "You may not see it, but you're probably the only one. My partner's suggested maybe he should finish the job up by himself."
A cynical laugh fell from her mouth as she jerked her head away, flinging her braid over her shoulder. "What, is there a betting pool going on that I don't know about? Are they laying odds out in the factory about who'll get into my bed?"
"Excuse me?"
She shrugged her shoulders, jerking her face away from his touch. "It wouldn't be the first time. If a woman turns a guy down in a place like this, she's either a lesbian or frigid. Either one is enough to make you a joke in the men's room."
"That's bullshit."
"That's the truth," she countered. "I'm not your entertainment. Finish up your job, Jamie. I'm sure you'll do just fine. But leave me alone." She leaned forward, intent on ignoring him. Dragging files from her desk, she waited for him to leave.
"I've never made a bet on a woman in my life," Jamie told her, his eyes serious, somber. "I've never thought of a woman as simple entertainment." Sliding off her desk, he lowered his head, whispered, "I'd leave you alone, Andi, if I had a choice in the matter."
Then he straightened and held something out to her. "I doubt you need these, but here," he said, pressing her glasses into her nerveless hands.
When the door closed quietly behind him, Andi leaned back in her chair, pressing her hand to her heart, the glasses she didn't need clutched in her other hand.
What had she gotten herself into?
\*
"Damn it," Jamie growled, slamming the file on his desk. There was another Swiss bank account, a well-hidden charge of embezzlement more than thirty years old. None of it would have probably been noticed, if Art Letcher had not called attention to himself. It had been too well hidden for the average inquiry to uncover, and Art, until he placed himself there, hadn't even been on the short list.
But there was no trail. No sign of how he had done it.
And the only way to nail him was with proof.
"I don't like this," Jamie said quietly, raising his eyes and meeting Mick's over the table. "I don't like this at all."
"Look, who said she had to know? I doubt Letcher's going to go running to her," Mick argued.
Closing his eyes, Jamie sighed. "I don't like using people."
Especially not when all he wanted to do with this particular person was lay her down on a bed of silk sheets and bury himself in her waiting body. Yeah, he was having a problem here.
Hell, he was also lying. He did want to use her, use her body hard and fast until he had burned out this need he had for her. Use her until he'd burned her image out of his mind, the feel of her body from his hands. He didn't want her inside of him like this. He didn't want the complications loving a woman like her would bring into his life.
"I don't like this," he repeated.
Arching his bushy gray brows, Mick countered, "You've never had a problem with it before."
"Yeah, I have," Jamie replied, reluctantly. "Just not one this big. I don't...I don't want her hurt."
"You've got a job to do, kid. Personal feelings and the job don't mix. How many times have I told you that?" Mick demanded, his long face becoming even more morose.
Too many...maybe not enough, Jamie thought. But when the job planted such a greasy feeling in your belly, when it made you feel like you were taking candy from a baby, or knocking old ladies down, there was a problem.
"I tried talking to her today in the lunchroom. She came in for a Coke and blew me off," Mick said. "I doubt I'll be able to do much good on that end. She doesn't like me much. I don't know if she likes anybody much. Kind of stuck up."
No. She's shy, Jamie thought to himself. She kept to herself.
"How does she do with you?" Mick asked.
"Fine." Sighing and lowering his head to his hands, he pressed his thumbs against his eye sockets. "She's fine."
"Great. That will be one less thing to worry about," Mick said. Then he froze, lowering the file as he caught the strangled look on Jamie's face. His own face fell and he slammed the file on the table. Absently, he drew the ever present, voice-activated tape recorder from his pocket and thumbed the switch that would turn off the automatic. Just as absently, he hit the rewind key, erasing the brief conversation with Jamie that would have been caught on tape. Then he looked up at his friend, and asked, "That bad, huh?"
"Worse," Jamie said softly, remembering the way she had felt against him. Like she belonged there. No other woman had ever felt that right against him, that complete. He liked women, enjoyed them, had every intention of getting married, in about ten or fifteen years. Right now, though, the only thing he wanted a woman for was an occasional date and a good fuck.
And one good fuck wasn't something he'd get from Andi.
He knew he wouldn't be satisfied with one, anyway.
"Damn it," he snarled under his breath. Shooting to his feet, he paced the floor of the den, hands jammed deep in his pockets, his bare feet sinking into the plush black carpet of the rented condo. The cool black, white and gray deco was anything but soothing. The harsh white walls were making his head throb as he stared at them, trying to see some sort of answer.
"Jamie, all we have to do is let Letcher think you suspect her, just long enough for him to let his guard slip. Once we get evidence, once he tries to turn money over to me, we've got him. She doesn't even have to know," Mick said wearily. "Damn it, what in the hell were you thinking, getting hooked on her like that?"
With a wry laugh, Jamie stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face Mick. Eyeing his old friend, he realized the older man had never fallen in love, probably never been close. "Mick, I wasn't thinking. It just happened. It hit me like a ton of bricks the day I banged my head. She's all I've been able to think about since then."
Sighing, Mick leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Look, all we've got to do is get the job done. Then you can get on one knee, propose and have a passel of kids for all I care. But the job comes first. Finding out who swiped the ninety grand, and nailing him, comes first. Damn it, you know as well as I do, with an operation this smooth, this clean, there's more than ninety-fucking-two-grand missing. You want that to go unpunished?"
"That comes first," Mick repeated.
Yeah. And I'll come in last, Jamie thought bleakly, staring out the window.
\*
He was there again. Andi could feel his eyes on her back. Her skin prickled and a hot little ball settled low in her belly. Taking a deep steadying breath, she handed the book to Beth and said, "I don't know, but the green eggs and ham looked kind of weird to me."
Beth wrinkled her pert little nose and said, "I don't eat anything green."
As the girl trotted away, Andi rose to her feet and pivoted. Across the room, she met Jamie's eyes, and felt the shockwave clear down to her toes. The heat in those eyes was enough to burn. Maneuvering her way through the maze of toys, she met him at the door, hands tucked into the pockets of her scrub coat. Moments stretched out as they stared at each other, as his eyes dropped to caress her mouth before drifting back up to hers.
Even with the little experience she'd had, Andi could read the message in those eyes.
All around them, children squealed and talked, babies cooed and gurgled, and the two assistants murmured and laughed with the kids. The fluorescent lighting overhead buzzed and one flickered, an unheeded reminder that Andi needed to call maintenance.
They were surrounded, in a place as unromantic as you could possibly imagine.
But for all they noticed, they stood alone, the room dimly lit, soft music playing.
Hot little butterflies started leaping in her belly and she dampened her lips automatically. When his eyes dropped to follow the movement of her tongue, Andi had to stifle a moan. A rush of warmth flooded her belly and she felt the wet start to pool in her loins.
He wanted her. Her. This sexy, beautiful man wanted her. Her throat had gone suddenly dry and she cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away.
"You're not wearing your glasses," he mused, reaching out to brush a lock of hair back from her face. "Of course, I don't reckon you really needed them."
Ignoring his remark, she moved her head out of his reach. "Unless you're here because you need medical attention or to tell me to pack up and leave, get out." Turning on her heel, nerves and fear making her voice harsher than she intended, she moved away from him.
"Come to lunch with me." His voice was a soft command as he reached out and stopped her by laying his hands on the smooth rounded flesh of her shoulders.
Rolling her eyes, Andi glanced at his hands. "I've already eaten."
He had such nice hands, she thought, wide-palmed, long clever fingers, short, blunt nails. They felt even nicer when they were touching her.
"Really?" Jamie asked, grinning.
She couldn't see it, but without even trying, she knew he was grinning and how it looked. Eyes crinkled up, his lean, gorgeous face alight, that brilliant white smile, that sinful mouth. Unable to resist, she shrugged his hands off and turned, just to see that smile before it disappeared.
"It's not even eleven o'clock," he said, amused. "Yesterday, you weren't hungry, even though I could hear your belly growling ten feet away. And the day before that you said you don't like to eat until early afternoon." Rubbing his hand over his chin, he asked, "Are you trying to avoid me or does it just look that way?"
"Back off, McAdams. I'm not interested."
He shrugged, lifted an eyebrow. Taking a step closer, he said in a low rough voice, "You know, if I hadn't had my hands on you just a couple of days ago, I might believe that. If I hadn't had my tongue in your mouth, felt you moving against me...I might believe it." His pale green eyes glittered and his cock swelled as he stared down at her, hungry, dying for just another taste.
Another taste, hell. He wanted the whole fucking banquet.
Andi, spread out and open and ready for him to feast. Naked, her breasts bare for his eyes and mouth, her thighs open and ready for his tongue and cock. Did she wax? Shave? Or did she leave her sex alone? Were there soft little curls of red on her mound? Under his trousers, his cock swelled and he moved a little closer, dragging in her scent, and fighting the urge to grab her when he caught the scent of woman, aroused woman.
She knew, felt it. He could see it in her eyes. "I want to taste you, Andi," he murmured, breathing the words softly against her cheek. "Spread the lips of your sweet little pussy open and lick you dry and then have you wrap your legs around me---"
"Stop." Andi's voice was harsh as her breathing kicked up as he continued to stare at her, his eyes dropping to focus on her mouth, before sliding to linger on her stiff nipples thrusting against the fabric of her tunic.
Pasting a bright, false smile on her face, she glanced at the kids spread throughout the room. Seeing that nobody was paying them any mind, she beckoned for him to follow, but when he tried to close the door to her office, she shook her head. "I don't think so."
She waited until his hand fell away from the door before she asked, "Isn't there some kind of ethics thing, about putting the moves on an embezzlement suspect?"
"You're not a suspect, damn it," he snapped, keeping his voice low. God, baby, believe me, please, half of him pleaded. And the other half was begging, Just kick me the hell out. Don't give me a way to do this. Then Jamie shoved his hand through his hair and glanced out the door. "Unofficially, you are off the list. Have been for a while...Miz Kade."
Kade. Alicia Kade, her pen name. Arching a brow, she said, "So you figured the money part out, huh?"
"Even before I figured it out, I knew you didn't do it. It doesn't fit," Jamie said. He took a step toward her, caught her hand, tugged her a little closer. "Seriously, though. You don't know anything about this. I said unofficially because---"
"You don't want to tip others off?" she finished. The relief she felt was unreal. The weight on her shoulders fell off so quickly, her head started to spin. Pressing one hand against her belly, she waited until her voice was level again before she said, "So what is the rest of this about?"
"Lunch," he told her.
"Lunch?" she repeated dumbly.
"Yeah, a meal you usually eat about this time," he supplied with a teasing grin. "Of course, your schedule seems rather...varied."
"You just want to grab a bite to eat, huh?" she asked darkly, inching away from him.
"Is it so hard for you to believe that I'd want your company for a while?" he asked mildly, well aware of her slow retreat.
Keeping her voice low, Andi said, "I don't know what you have going on in your head." Nibbling on her lower lip, she avoided his eyes. "I doubt I'm the kind of woman you're interested in. I don't do short-term relationships well, and I've never had a long-term one. I'm pretty much at a loss in both areas."
Ignoring the last part of her statement, Jamie asked, "How would you know what kind of woman I'm interested in?"
Pinning him with a narrow stare, Andi studied his tousled ebony hair, those pale eyes, his sculpted mouth before going on to study his tailored suit and buffed Italian leather shoes. Her own clothes, aside from the sturdy, serviceable uniforms were jeans and Tshirts she bought from a department store in the mall, the kind Jamie probably didn't know existed. Aside from the Reeboks she wore, she had a pair of sandals, a pair
of hiking boots, a pair of low-heeled black boots, and two pairs of dress shoes. She was certain that all of those shoes combined cost less than the shoes McAdams had on his feet.
"Oh, I imagine the last date you had was with a woman who was probably a good three or four inches taller than I, twenty pounds lighter, with a haircut that cost about as much as I make in a week. You two probably dined at a ritzy little secluded restaurant with white tablecloths and a maitre de, sipping at wine that runs about a hundred dollars a bottle. Her filet mignon costs as much as I spend on food in a week. If I really wanted to put myself out on a limb, I'd say she's a professional debutante that spends her time doing the charities rich women like to do so they can be seen by other rich women.
"Dinner was probably followed up at her place---I doubt you let too many women in yours. Some good, hard sex, followed by some more wine and some slower sex and then you left." The image sounded pretty damn good to her, Andi mused. But it didn't suit her.
Hooking one foot in front of the other, she asked, "How close was I?"
With some disgust, Jamie admitted, "Pretty close. But she was a lawyer who didn't drink wine or eat red meat. And I spent the night."
With a small grin, Andi shrugged. "Can't be right about everything."
Lifting her lukewarm Coke from the desk, she sipped it and held the can up for his inspection. "This is about the only thing I drink, this and the occasional Bloody Mary, and water. I can't remember the last time I paid somebody to cut my hair and I don't eat in restaurants. I just can't stand the crowds. One night stands, or casual easy sex isn't what I'm cut out for.
"You and I---we couldn't be any more different," Andi said quietly, shaking her head. "You've got folks close by, I imagine. You hear from Mom probably once a week, see the family once or twice a month. Do you have a passel of nieces and nephews?" Nodding her head toward the play area, she said, "That's the closest thing I have to a family."
"I wouldn't have pegged you as the kind to feel sorry for yourself."
One slim red brow rose. "Is that what you think?" she asked, smoothing down the front of her tunic, flicking her finger across the red crayon mark Beth had drawn on her. Raising her head, she said, "No. I do envy you. I can see that I'm right. It's in your eyes. But I'm not feeling sorry for myself. That doesn't get me anywhere. What I'm trying to do is get you to understand something---I don't have much. And it took me years to get here. I'm not about to let some pretty boy looking for thrills come in and wreck what I do have."
"I wasn't aware that was what I was trying to do."
That tiny little grin came and went again as she rolled her eyes. "Please, Jamie. You may do casual real well. But I doubt that women you've been with have felt as casual as you do. You're a heartbreaker. And the worst kind, the kind who really doesn't even see that he's doing it, the kind who is naturally sweet to a woman, who knows how to kiss her and make her feel like she's the only woman on earth. You devote yourself wholeheartedly to the woman of the moment, and once it's over, it's over. You don't look back."
"If you did, you'd probably see her crying."
Jamie fell oddly silent.
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she went to stand in front of him. Wistfully she studied his mouth, those gorgeous pale green eyes and that lean face. "You know, I really wish I was the kind who could do this." Taking a steadying breath, she shook her head. "But I can't. You'd tear me to shreds without even realizing it."
With that, before he could so much as absorb what she had said, she moved around him and joined the adoring group of kids just outside the doorway.
Andi hadn't been kidding when she had told him she wished she was the type for a quick, hot affair with a drop-dead-gorgeous, certified babe. She wished she was the kind who could spend the night rolling on the sheets with him then get up and walk away as if she was unaffected.
But she would be affected.
Already, she was affected. Just knowing he was in the same room as she was had her hands trembling and had made her belly quiver.
\*
Lying in her bed that night, Andi's eyes were closed as a soft moan slipped past her lips. In her dream, he was there in the bed with her, stripping her clothes away, whispering to her. "Such a pretty thing," he murmured. He nipped at her neck before running those beautiful hands over her, suckling at her breasts, and then he lay between her thighs, burying his face there and licking at her clit, piercing her folds with his tongue, his fingers, until she was rocking against him, and begging, with her hands buried in his hair and her belly tight and hot and hungry for more.
With a rough laugh, he moved up her body, guiding her legs around his waist as he covered her body with his.
Sweat glistened on her face as she rolled onto her back, one hand reaching out, seeking, and encountering the cool empty space next to her.
In her dream, he caught her hands, drew them over her head while he worked his magic on her, nipping at her flesh, his hands hot and hard and hungry as he worked his way down her body with his mouth. Settling between her thighs, wedging her legs apart with those wide shoulders, he spread her folds with his fingers and licked at her and suckled on her clit. She was unaware of her own fingers on her erect clit as she stroked herself to orgasm while she dreamed---in her dream it was Jamie, and it was he who was kissing his way up her torso now.
And in her dream, he buried himself inside her quaking body, working his cock inside her hungrily, moving over her, releasing her hands so that she could stroke them over those gleaming, sleek muscles. His head dipped, catching the crest of one hardened nipple in his mouth, nipping at it, swirling his tongue over it as he lifted her hips and moved higher on her body, stroking against her clit as he pumped his thick, searing-hot cock in and out of her wet cleft.
As she pumped her fingers in and out of her wet pussy, Andi, in her dream, lifted her mouth to his, opened it and hungrily sought out his tongue, shuddering as he rode her harder, deeper, sending a flood of heat through her, tearing a sharp cry from her lips before her tense muscles relaxed.
\*
Jamie woke up from a dead sleep, his body covered with sweat, hard and aching. A groan rumbled up from his throat as he remembered, vividly, what he had been dreaming about.
Soft, hungry moans, his cock buried deep inside a tight, silken sheath that had hugged him like a greedy fist. Vanilla, woman, sex, the scent had filled his head, and her hair had been fisted around his hand.
He had tasted her, and buried his cock inside her sweet, tight pussy, riding her body as she climaxed around him. He had jerked awake just as she started to scream out his name.
Kicking the sheets away, he flipped onto his back, one hand clenched in the fitted sheet beneath him as he gritted his teeth. His rigid cock throbbed in the cool air and his hands felt empty.
Damnation, he hadn't been like this since high school.
Then it had been pretty, long-legged Denise Hays, and the need had faded a few months after they'd groped each other in the backseat of his car, a few months after they'd lost their virginity together in the little guesthouse at the back of his parents' property.
Jamie was dead certain he could spend the next few years in Andi's bed and still wake up aching for her.
Clear, glistening drops leaked from the tip of his erection and Jamie gathered them, smearing them around a bit as he closed his fist over his cock, sliding it slowly up and down. Closing his eyes, he brought the dream back to the forefront of his mind, the feel of her tight, hungry body, the sound of her gasping cries as he fucked her as he started to pump his cock with slow firm strokes.
"I'm gonna feel what it's like to be inside you, baby," he murmured, arching his back, moving into his own touch and groaning. Cupping his sac with the other hand, he pumped a little hard, picturing himself rolling onto his back, with her astride him now, climbing off and moving between his thighs, licking her rosebud mouth before she knelt over him and licked him slowly and thoroughly, sliding the crown of his cock as far back into her throat as she could.
"That's it, baby," he muttered, refusing to think that she wasn't there. Rocking his hips into his hand, Jamie groaned raggedly as the climax started to build, tightening his sac, tingling at the base of his spine. "All the way...oh, damn..."
The first jet of come lubricated him more and he pumped harder, as the milky seed spurted onto his belly, soaking his hand, pooling on his abs as he slowed his strokes and coaxed the last drops of come out.
With a ragged sigh, he rested his hand on his belly, and lay staring at the ceiling.
"Damn it, I want you, Andi," he murmured as his come started to cool and dry.
After a few minutes, he kicked his legs over the edge of the bed and went into the bathroom to shower. After tugging on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he stared out into the night, wondering if he'd ever get the chance to twist naked on the sheets with her. Half of him hoped not, because Jamie knew she wasn't a woman to take lightly.
The other half of him was counting down the seconds until he saw her again.
"Any luck?"
"Nope," Jamie said, draining his beer and crushing the can before looking over at Mick. He tried not to let the relief he felt show.
He failed.
"Don't look so relieved about it," Mick growled. "Letcher came at me again. We've got a chance coming up, once he thinks the heat is off of him for certain."
Tossing the beer can to the recycle box in the corner, Jamie shook his head and said, "Ya know, I can't exactly force her to let me get close enough to her to make it look like I'm digging. But I accidentally left a PI report in my unlocked file cabinet. He was waiting in my office for me after lunch."
"We gotta do better than that. Letcher's not a fool."
"Only a fool steals that kind of money and expects to get away with it," Jamie disagreed. "There is no perfect crime. You taught me that, remember? But I'm not giving up." Much as I want to.
What Jamie really wanted to do was just disappear until this case was solved and then magically reappear afterward, when he could devote his time to getting close to Andi Morrow. Because he wanted to. Not because the job demanded it.
He murmured a distracted good-bye to his friend as he studied the forms and figures and facts popping up on his computer.
When the telephone rang, he lifted the receiver to his ear, hearing the low, familiar voice of his mother. In the background, he heard screaming, squealing kids. "Babysitting again?" he asked. "Are they paying you this time?"
"Baby, I pay them to go out, just to let me have time with the kids," his mom said laughing.
As he chitchatted with her, he kept remembering what Andi had said. "Mom, am I shallow?"
"Absolutely." Her swift answer was followed by a chuckle. "Why do you ask?"
"Do I judge only by appearances and pedigrees?"
The humor had slipped from her voice, replaced by outrage. "I raised my children to know better than that, to look beneath the surface. Who in the world cares about a pedigree, anyway? I certainly don't have one."
No. No, that was a fact. Joanna McAdams hadn't been born with a pedigree. But that hadn't stopped a man who had been born with one from wanting her. Angus McAdams could trace his roots back before the days of William Wallace, and was proud of it. His genteel mother---descended from English aristocracy---had been rather appalled when he had introduced them to Joanna Marcus, a loud-spoken girl from Somerset Kentucky.
Kentucky was only acceptable if you came from the bluebloods of racing, as far as Elizabeth McAdams was concerned. Of course, the grandkids had brought her around. Babies had a way of doing that.
He wondered what his blustering grandmother would think of Andi.
He already knew his mother would adore her.
"What's this about, Jamie?" she asked.
Rubbing his eyes, Jamie jerked his mind away from Andi and said, "Nothing, Mom. I'm just thinking out loud."
\*
Andi juggled the bags of coloring books and toys as she jogged down the stairs. A glance at the clock on the wall told her she was early, way early. God, maybe she'd miss him this time. She'd tried showing up right on time; he only waited her out, waited until the daycare settled into its regular routine for the day before approaching.
She'd even shown up late.
He had shown up in her office at naptime.
Maybe if she was really early, and barricaded herself in her office, she'd avoid him this time.
And, again, for the third time this week, Jamie was hanging out by the locked door of the daycare. Briefcase at his feet, one leg drawn up, his foot braced against the wall, one hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored slacks, the other curled loosely around a cup of steaming coffee.
Andi was tempted to duck into the women's restroom. Loaded down with new supplies for the kids would make it kind of awkward, but she figured she could dodge in there before Jamie saw her.
How much longer would he keep bothering her?
How much longer could she pretend he didn't exist?
Too late, she thought with disgust. His pale-green eyes, usually so cool, landed on her and warmed, a smile curving that sexy mouth.
Palms damp, she nodded at him as he headed down the hall to meet her. Reluctantly, she relinquished the heavy plastic bags of toys, coloring books and videos to his hands. The sooner she got to work, the sooner she could get rid of him.
"Lunch?"
Her sigh was automatic, and not as irritated as it had been just last week. Sliding him a sidelong glance, Andi asked, "If I say no, are you going to keep pestering me?"
"Absolutely," he said with a smile, following her into the daycare and settling the load on a table close to the door. "Besides, if you keep skipping meals, those baggy clothes you wear are gonna slide right off of you."
She flushed and added a trip to the uniform store to her list of things to do this weekend. Her tunic was sliding off her shoulder and with a grimace, she tugged it back up, thankful she had worn a chemise styled tank top under it. Between Jamie and Leslie's comments on her clothes, she'd decided it was time to burn the size twelves. If she kept dodging meals, size tens weren't going to stay on her long, either.
It wasn't fair. She had tried like crazy to lose this weight in high school. And now that the last thing she wanted was to look remotely attractive---liar---she had lost a good eight pounds since he had shown up. Her appetite had faded away, she was as nervous as a cat, and she rarely slept.
Sliding him a narrow look, she asked, "And if I say yes, this once, will you leave me the hell alone?"
"Possibly," Jamie lied as she made her way into her office. He didn't think she'd want to hear that leaving her alone was something he couldn't do. Not now. Maybe never.
"Possibly?" she repeated, tugging a brightly colored scrub coat from the hook on the wall, covering up the utilitarian white scrubs she wore. "How possibly is possibly?"
Advancing on her, he caught her chin in his hand, and studied her peaches and cream complexion, her rosy Cupid's bow mouth, and her wide-set hazel eyes, currently narrowed with forced irritation. She'd finally given up wearing the glasses that she didn't need, Jamie noticed.
"Not very likely," he admitted. Lowering his head, he sniffed her hair, nuzzled her neck. "You see, I've developed this problem---I can't seem to stop thinking about you. No matter how hard you try to convince me otherwise. This mouth of yours is driving me crazy. You just might deck me if you knew what I wanted to see this mouth doing."
She swallowed the whimper before it could leave her throat. But she wasn't so lucky with the moan that followed as he skimmed the side of her neck with his mouth. "I don't like it much myself. It's inconvenient to have you in my head all the time," he murmured, dropping his hands to her waist and sliding them beneath the hem of her shirt, resting them on the soft, smooth skin beneath.
Rubbing his thumbs in small circles, he raised his head and stared into her befuddled hazel eyes. "You have absolutely no idea how much I want to stop thinking about you," he said with a scowl, his eyes dark and serious. Then his lids drooped as he focused on her mouth. "And no idea how much I want you."
The hell with it, she thought suddenly. This man wanted her. He wasn't married, wasn't otherwise entangled. So what if he left when his job was done? At least she would have had a little while with him. She was so tired of being alone. So tired of pushing him away when all she could think about was how right it felt to be near him, to let him touch her like this.
The heat emanating from his body threatened to scald her. His eyes were hypnotic and his voice was mesmerizing. He wanted her, really seriously wanted her. And Andi just stopped caring about all the reasons why it was wrong, why being with him would be so wrong. She couldn't keep turning her back on him, not if he kept making it clear he was going to still be there every time she turned back around.
If she was writing the scene, this was where she would slip out of his arms and close the door, lock it, and strip down to her skin right in front of him.
If he hesitated, this was when she would wrap her arms around him and tell him to touch her. Tell him to take her, to fuck her.
But Andi was a hell of a lot more bold on paper than she was in person.
Caution, something she had been forced to learn, wasn't something she could drop overnight. Slowly, her hands flattened against his chest, avoiding the smooth leather holster she knew he wore beneath his left arm, and slid them up until she could lace her fingers behind his neck. Rising to her toes, she brushed her mouth against his, hiding a smile when she felt his heart leap against hers.
Jamie's eyes widened slightly in shock, in delight, before he closed his eyes, lowered his head and caught her mouth, preventing her retreat. Nibbling gently, he caught her gasp in his mouth and sucked on her lower lip until a shudder wracked her from head to toe.
Andi sighed in pleasure and stroked her hands down his arms, moving to his waist and curling her fingers into the band of his trousers.
His hands left her back to close around her neck as he lifted her mouth to his. Hovering just a breath away from her lips, he whispered, "I've been dying to do this again. God, Andi, it's been driving me crazy."
The whirlwind was already threatening to suck her under, even before his mouth touched hers. His tongue dove into her mouth as he arched her head back, wrapping the length of her ponytail around his fist. Slowly, warily she kissed him back, growing bolder when he made a hungry sound deep in his chest. She slid her hands inside his jacket, felt the sturdy leather of his shoulder holster, and the cool metal of the gun as she slid her arms around his waist.
God, he was delicious, his taste dark and dangerous, overlaid with the coffee he had been sipping while he waited for her.
He drank from her mouth the way a thirst-starved man would drink from an oasis, like she was the only thing in his whole universe that mattered. Using his mouth and body, teasing, tasting, taunting her, he backed her up against the desk, pressing his hips against hers, rocking his cock against her belly as his long fingers cupped her head and held her still.
Their tongues tangled, he nipped her lip with sharp teeth, then soothed it gently before pulling away, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs.
When she raised her hands, Jamie ducked his head again, catching her hands in his and gently forcing them behind her back where he clasped them in one of his. She stiffened briefly and he dropped a reassuring kiss on her cheek, whispering, "Shh. I won't hurt you." He slid his other hand up her torso to cup her breast, tweaking the hard peak of her nipple gently before he shoved the tunic up and out of the way, lowering his head to catch the hard bud in his mouth, sucking hungrily through the satin and lace of her bra.
Andi sobbed, her head falling back.
Swirling his tongue around it, Jamie smoothed the flat of his palm down the center of her belly, under the elastic at her waistline, finding a skimpy pair of panties beneath. Through them, he could feel her, how wet she was, how hot. The hell with it. He plunged his finger past the barrier of the panties and circled it teasingly over her clit as he explored the dark delights of her sex.
Ripping his mouth from the sweet taste of her breasts, Jamie rasped, "Damn it, you wax, don't you?"
She didn't answer, but he didn't need one. A soft line of hair was there above her sex, but below that, she was soft, smooth, and bare. Completely bare. Plunging one finger deep inside her sheath, Jamie swallowed her cry as he pumped it in and out, circling around the button of her clit, until she was rocking and riding his hand, her hands fisting in his hair as she sobbed weakly against his mouth.
"Come for me," he muttered against her lips. "I want to feel it. I need to feel it." Roughly, he started to fuck two fingers in and out and her body tensed, her eyes went glassy and opaque as she shattered in his arms, a rush of liquid flowing from her as he muffled her cries with his mouth.
The distant sound of laughter drifted through to Jamie and he groaned, pulling his mouth from her sweet flesh, kissing his way up the column of her neck, raking his teeth along it, biting the cord gently before stooping down and nuzzling the soft skin. "I'm going to have to have you, Andi. Soon," he whispered, drawing his hand from her panties, shuddering as her thighs parted to cradle him.
Laughter and squeals echoed from outside and a tiny body hurled against the door.
They both froze.
God, how much time had passed? Too much, Andi realized, risking a glance at the clock, stunned to realize nearly twenty minutes had passed since he had followed her into the daycare, twenty minutes spent lost in his arms, and lost in his kisses.
Slowly, he straightened, meeting her eyes as he lifted his hand and slowly slid two fingers into his mouth, licking them thoroughly. The taste, dark, wild, tangy, exploded on his tongue and Jamie was lost. Closing his eyes, he lowered his forehead to hers and damned himself to hell. There was no way he could stay away from her, not when she kissed him like that, not when she melted against him, not when she came in his arms like she had been made for his touch alone. Drawing back, he stared at her, laying one hand along her cheek. "Have lunch with me, Andi?" he asked again.
She nodded silently, pausing briefly to touch her fingers to the back of his hand, before stepping past him.
The door closed gently behind her, leaving Jamie to stare at the walls adorned with children's art and black and white photos. He shrugged his suit jacket back into place, automatically adjusting it to hide his weapon as he ran his hands down his face before dipping them into his pockets.
How had this happened?
He was in love with her.
All the way, completely in love with a woman he had only known less than a month, one he had met only because he'd suspected she was involved in siphoning money from the tool and dye company that was owned by his godfather.
"Well," he muttered to himself. "All relationships have problems."
He could only hope that he could work his way so deeply into her life that she wouldn't be able to kick him out once she found him out.
The computer screen was blank, as it had been for a month. She hadn't been able to get much of anything done since the car wreck. But Andi sailed through the door of her house, tossed her bag onto the couch and headed for the computer.
As it booted up, she poured herself a glass of tea, kicked off her shoes and changed into a loose pair of lounging pajamas.
If luck was with her, she was going to be up very late. Sometime during the day, whether it was when Jamie had followed her into her office, or when he had taken her out to lunch, the dam had broken and once more, the story had filled her head.
Maybe it was when he had taken her to eat at McDonald's and insisted they eat at the playground. Maybe it had been when he had kissed her right before opening the car door for her.
But, Andi was realistic. It had most likely happened when he had kissed her senseless again, in the privacy of her small office.
She started at the beginning, ripping the story to pieces, like she was taking apart an old shirt to use as a pattern for another.
From time to time, her hands stilled over the keyboard and she would stare into space, not thinking about the story, but the man who had somehow slipped past her guard. Even though she had been determined---still was---to keep him at a distance.
The phone rang and Andi turned her head, considered answering it before turning her attention back to the screen. The ringing persisted for a full minute before whoever it was hung up, but Andi was consumed once again by the story, and she barely noticed. It occurred to her that it might have been Jamie, but she dismissed the idea. No matter how much she thought about him, she refused to leap for the phone every time it rang, like some giddy high school girl with a crush on the captain of the football team.
Of course, when the phone started ringing fifteen minutes later, she leaped from her chair and snatched it, staring at the screen, biting her lip before saying, "Hello?"
"Ms. Morrow, this is Sandi, calling on behalf of Riverdale Lodge. We wanted to know if we could count on you for another donation---"
Andi closed her eyes and let her head fall back as the volunteer droned on.
He didn't even have her phone number, Andi told herself some time later, dropping into an overstuffed chair. Why was she expecting him to call her, anyway? "You can't really believe he meant all that," she muttered to herself, as she lowered the phone after agreeing to get together any old clothes, thinking of the surreal episode in her office. Maybe it had all been a lust-induced dream.
Caught off guard, she automatically answered the phone when it rang a few minutes later. "Hello," she said, suddenly feeling very weary.
"Hello, Andi."
She sat up straight, her feet going to the floor, her hand clenching the handset tightly. "Jamie?"
He laughed at the evident surprise in her voice. "Were you expecting somebody else?" he asked.
"Ah, no. I don't remember giving you my number."
"Don't you remember the day you found me in your office, Andi? Accused me of knowing everything but your shoe size? Size five, by the way."
"You got it from the personnel files," she finished, pressing her fingers to her temple.
"Yes. Does that bother you?"
"I can't say I like having people poring through my personnel files," she answered, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.
"I can't say I like that it was necessary to do so," Jamie said with a sigh. "But that's part of my job. Of course, I doubt that's the reason I looked it up again earlier this week."
"Have you found who did it yet?"
Quietly, Jamie said, "Andi, I can't talk about that. God all mighty, I shouldn't even be talking to you until this mess is solved.
"I knew it wasn't you, Andi. It took less than fifteen minutes in your company to figure that out. And that's all I can say. Look, can we just not talk about this, baby? Once everything is settled, I'll answer any questions you have, I promise."
Staring out into the night, relief creeping through her tense body, Andi told him, "I just needed to hear you say it wasn't me, Jamie."
"You know, I can count on one hand the number of times you've called me by my name," he said.
Propped against the headboard of his bed, clad in baggy white cotton pants, one arm resting on his knee, Jamie closed his eyes, listened to her voice. "Is that why you called?" she asked, laughing a little. "So I'd say your name?"
"No," he answered. "I called because I wanted to hear your voice. And ask if we could go out to dinner Friday."
Her hesitation was enough to make Jamie's jaw clench, his free hand close into a fist. "I think I'd like that," she finally said softly, and just like that, the tension left, as if it had never been there.
"I'll pick you up around---what time is good?"
"Seven thirty, at least," she replied. "That will give me time to get home and change."
When she hung up a few minutes later, Jamie rested his head against the wrought iron of the headboard, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, not seeing a damn thing.
God, this had to end, and soon.
\*
Jamie's footsteps slowed when he rounded the corner. Letcher was pacing back and forth in front of the small office where Jamie and Mick had set up shop. He kept shooting the ever present cleaning girl dirty looks and finally said, "Go clean the break room, will you? It's terrible in there."
The girl gathered up her supplies, shot Letcher an evil look, and slid past Jamie with what he could only call an inviting smile. Jeez, the cleaning girl, who was barely old enough to be out of high school, and preschool girls, all looking at him with wide, flirtatious eyes.
Of course, Andi was only a few years older than the cleaning girl, but her eyes weren't flirtatious, they were down right seductive, down right hot.
Ignoring the girl and sidestepping her cart, he shifted his briefcase and took a deep gulp of coffee. Art's nervous pacing stilled once he caught sight of Jamie and his typical benevolent smile appeared. The eyes continued to jump around a little too much, though.
You gonna make this easy for me, Letch? he wondered.
When Letcher held out his hand for a shake, Jamie held up his coffee and briefcase, shrugged. He then juggled enough to free one hand so he could dig the key out of his pocket before glancing at Letcher and asking, "Was there something you needed to talk to me about?"
Of course there was. Unless you just happened to be in the neighborhood...
Letcher waited until Jamie entered the office, following him in and closing the door behind him. As the latch clicked, Art turned to look at Jamie. "I'm just wondering how things are progressing with the investigation."
Jamie started to make a noncommittal shrug but then he stopped, and forced himself to say, "I'm still following the avenues we discussed a few weeks back."
Art's thick unibrow rose and his flat, almost colorless eyes widened. Voice dropping a degree lower he asked, "Is the...avenue looking rather bad at the moment?"
Disgust sat cold in his belly as Jamie turned away, shrugging out of his linen jacket. "It's not looking too great," was all he was able to say. Pivoting, he met Letcher's eyes and said, in an apologetic tone, "I know you are concerned about this, being such good friends with Jeb. But I really am not open to discuss this with anybody, not until we have it settled."
"Oh, of course, of course," Letcher said, waving his pudgy pink hands. "I understand. I just had to ask, you know. This is just going to tear Jeb apart. He really does care for that girl. Myself, I never really trusted her. Word is, she came from a long line of foster homes, something of a troublemaker."
"I'm aware of that," Jamie said, turning back to his desk so Letcher couldn't see the rage in his eyes.
"And after all, blood will tell, won't it, McAdams?"
"That's what my grandmother swears by," Jamie said, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. "I appreciate all the help," God, the word almost made him sick, "you've given us. You've saved us some time pointing us in the right direction so quickly." At least that wasn't a total lie.
Sighing, Art shook his head and met Jamie's eyes when the younger man turned around. "If I had realized what kind of trouble she is capable of, I would have had her out of here long before now."
"I'm sure you would have." Get the hell out of here, Jamie thought furiously. Before I rip you apart with my bare hands.
"It was a good idea, you know. Letting her think you've developed an interest in her. Women are always a sucker for a pretty face and pretty words, aren't they? Especially when they look like she does, such a plain little thing," Letcher mused, giving him a wink. "Gives you a chance to get closer and nose around without being noticed, eh? And maybe a few side benefits?"
Plain, Andi? A sucker? God, not only was the man a fucking thief, he was fucking stupid. And blind. And so damned disgusting Jamie just wanted to strangle him.
Jamie wasn't sure if he would have held his cool much longer if the door hadn't open to reveal Mick standing there, his hair looking like he had been dragging his fingers through it and his face set in his perpetual scowl. His eyes widened in feigned surprise and he gave a not so covert glance at Letcher before looking at his partner. "Jamie, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were busy."
"Oh, I have to be going anyway," Letcher said, giving Jamie a broad smile before scurrying down the hall like the rat he was.
"Calm down there, kid," was all Mick had to say as he went about the business of plopping his briefcase down on his own desk and opening it up.
"I don't think I want to turn him over to the police," Jamie said, his voice calm and almost friendly. Flags of red flew high on his cheeks as he turned and met Mick's gaze with narrowed, anger-darkened eyes. "I'd just as soon tear him apart here and now. Think Jeb would consider it justice?"
Mick knew better than to respond when Jamie was that angry. He just made a noncommittal hum and went about pulling a recording device from his briefcase. The one he constantly carried in his pocket joined it a moment later as he removed his rumpled jacket. "You remember I've got a meeting set up with Letcher today, right? Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll admit to the whole deal."
"Mick."
The quiet voice had Mick raising his eyes. He met the pale green eyes of his friend, scowling inwardly when Jamie softly said, "I'm in love with her."
"You don't even know her."
"I know everything I need to know," Jamie said, turning away. "I'm in love with her and I just led that bastard to believe I had every intention of throwing her in jail. I thanked him for it."
"You've got a job to do. If she's worth any of the stress you're putting yourself through, then she should understand responsibility," Mick said, tossing the door a quick glance. How long would it take to get through the door? For Pete's sake, the boy was talking about love.
To him, of all people, a total dunce when it came to love. Why in the hell wasn't he talking to his father?
"Did you fucking hear me?" Jamie bellowed. He turned and slammed his fist into the wall. And then he slammed his forehead against it and just stood there and whispered, "I thanked him. And I'm in love with her. Damn it, Mick, she's the woman I've been waiting for my entire life, and I've lost her before I've gotten her."
Mick ran his tongue around his teeth and tried to figure out how to proceed. "Jamie, you've got a responsibility. Andi will---"
"Responsibility? Since when did responsible involve setting up innocent people?" Jamie snapped, totally disgusted with himself and his partner.
"We aren't setting her up---"
Savagely, Jamie said, "The hell we aren't." His furious eyes landed on the device lying on Mick's desk, and snapped, "Will you turn that damn thing off? You don't need my voice on it, for God's sake."
"Jamie---"
He just shook his head, the edgy feeling inside him spreading. Jamie was absolutely certain, if something didn't give, he'd soon be destroying things with his bare hands. Snatching his blazer from the back of the chair, he stalked out the door Mick had been eyeing, shoving his arms into the sleeves, automatically shrugging the sidearm into place, the fine linen concealing it.
If he had any sense of self-preservation, he'd get in his car and not stop driving until he got back to Indy.
He rounded the corner to the elevators, not even sure where he was going, when he stopped dead in his tracks.
The long hair was piled high on her head today, revealing long dangling silver earrings that caught the light as she turned her head, glanced at the clock. His eyes narrowed as they studied her trim derriere in new stylishly cut uniform pants. Her normal tunic was replaced by a shirt cut to resemble a vest, a neat little tie in the small of her back, emphasizing her narrow waist and rounded hips, her perfectly shaped butt.
Maybe he shouldn't have teased her about those baggy uniforms she wore.
Damn, she looked good.
All the rage, frustration, and anger changed, channeled itself into a different kind of emotion. One he could indulge in, to some extent. Ravenous, desperate need surged to the forefront and he narrowed his eyes as he crossed the hall.
He moved quietly, waited until he was a few feet away before saying, "Hey."
She whirled around, her fair complexion going rosy when she saw him. "Jamie."
Dipping his hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. "What are you doing wandering around down here in this part of the dungeon?"
Her mouth curved up in a grin as she stared down the sterile white hall. "Don't like the ambiance, huh?"
"What's to like?" he asked with a shrug.
Reaching up, he toyed with a long tendril that had come loose from the knot on top her head. Winding it around his finger, he studied her face. "You didn't come down here to find me and tell me Friday's off, did you?"
Her breath came out in a rush and she said, "Well, yes and no."
Eyes narrowed, he caught her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "I'm not backing off again, Andi."
One red brow arched and she said, "I wasn't aware I'd asked you to. I came down here looking for you, yes. But not to cancel Friday." Her cheeks went pink and she lifted her shoulders restlessly. "I just wanted to see you."
"You came looking for me, just to see me," Jamie repeated. "What stopped you?"
Her nose wrinkled and she rolled her eyes. "I saw you had company loitering outside your door. Letcher isn't one of my favorite people."
Jamie laughed and said, "Liar. You know you're crazy about him. It's that cologne he wears."
"No," Andi replied, deadpan. "It's the way he combs all his hair from the side of his head to cover his bald spot." She rolled her eyes and shuddered dramatically. "Drives me wild. Makes me want to just rip my clothes off and throw myself at his feet."
He reached up, ran his fingers through his thick black hair and said, "If that's all it takes, let me just make an appointment with my stylist."
Her grin flashed but before she could say anything they heard the elevator bell.
He looked around, grabbed her hand and said, "Come on. Unless you want to go visit Art."
Moments later, the elevator doors opened to an empty basement hall. Behind a door across that hall, Jamie leaned his hips against a vacant table. Still holding her hand, he tugged her closer, reaching up to trace the line of her jaw. The small office was empty and the lights were dim.
Glancing around, her eyes wary, Andi said, "This probably isn't a good thing to do on company time."
His only answer was a murmured assent as he reached up, buried his hands in her topknot and loosened the pins that anchored it. "I love your hair," he whispered, lowering his head to bury his face in it as it fell around her shoulders, spilling a waterfall of red waves down her back.
Her head fell back as he pressed a line of kisses down the center of her neck to the small hollow at the base, as his long clever fingers stroked the skin under the hem of her tunic.
"You know what I'd like to do?" Jamie asked, his voice low and smoky. When she stared up at him with wide, hot eyes, he told her, "I'd like to have you strip naked in front of me. I want you to toss your hair back, run your hands through it like this." He showed her by taking her hands and guiding them through her hair, pinning them atop her head. The position arched her breasts upward, against his chest.
A groan rumbled inside his chest and he brushed the knuckles of his free hand against the soft underside of her breast. Slowly, waiting to see her reaction, he freed the four oversized buttons that held her shirt closed, and pushed it open to reveal her full, rounded breasts. The large, hard nipples swelled against the lace---deep and red.
Her tongue slid out to wet her lips and her lids drifted closed. Jamie groaned as he slid his hands up to cup her breasts, plumping them together as he fell to his knees, burying his face in the sweet scented flesh.
"Then I'd set you on the desk, like this." He demonstrated, sliding his hands from her breasts down to grip her waist and boosting her up onto the desk, as he remained kneeling in front of her.
"You're naked, you know," he whispered, smiling as her eyes closed, as her breathing became rapid, shallow. "Does that bother you?" he asked, giving her a chance to back away before he took this fantasy any further.
Her eyes opened and she shook her head mutely.
"Good," he said gruffly, settling her hips on the edge of the desk. "The door's locked. Don't worry about somebody coming in." Gripping her knees, he nudged her legs apart and moved between them. "You'd better lean back a little," he advised, taking her hands and planting them behind her on the desk. "We have to make this quick, baby. You'll be missed if you're gone too long."
Gazing into her eyes, as he massaged the firm muscles of her ass, Jamie asked, "Have you ever done this before, a quick, fast fuck that you had to keep quiet so you didn't get caught?"
"No," she whispered, her voice nearly soundless.
"There's something about not being able to make a sound, that makes you hotter," he murmured as he traced one long finger down the crease of her buttocks. "Something about being forced to be quiet that makes you want it even more."
Andi stared down at him, a fire spreading through her veins, blood rushing in her head. Oh, my, was all she was able to think. She'd written loves scenes, but she'd never done anything like this. Had never imagined she would.
Jamie's eyes had a glint in them, an almost feverish light, and his breathing was becoming more ragged. Her teeth sank into her lip to stifle a cry as he leaned forward and buried his face against her cotton-covered cleft, breathing in the scent of her, scraping his teeth over the nub of her clit before he drew back.
His hand strayed to the juncture of her thighs, pressed against her through her clothing. "You're wet," he murmured, lifting his head to stare at her, smiling in satisfaction. "I'm dying to get inside you, see how tight and wet you are, listen to your moans while I fuck you, and hear you scream my name when you come." He stood up, his cock rigid and painfully hard.
"Jamie..." his name fell from her lips in a gasping sob, as fine, minute tremors started to race through her body.
"Shh," he whispered. "It's just a fantasy, Andi. Can you help me with my pants?"
Slowly, she nodded, reaching out one hand, and to his shock, running it down the front of his fly before she cupped him and started to stroke him through the material, up and down, slowly as she stared into his eyes.
His eyes nearly crossed as her knuckles brushed up against him, once, twice. "God, girl, it's a damn good thing nurses don't wear skirts any more," he hissed, taking her hips in his hands and dragging her forward.
"Maybe not," she replied huskily, wiggling in an attempt to get closer.
"Careful what you say, Andi," he warned softly, grinding his erection against the damp material that stretched across her entrance. "I want nothing more than to be inside you, right now, right here. And that's not a fantasy---push me too far, and you'll be naked and against the wall before you can blink. I'll spread those pretty legs of yours and suck on your clit until you bite your lips bloody from trying not to scream and then I'll fuck you hard and deep until you've forgotten your own name."
She whimpered, a soft little sob that caught in her throat as she shuddered and rocked against him. Jamie thrust his cock against her, angling his hips, pushing her further back so that he could stroke her clit. Her eyes widened and she stiffened, arching up. Her nails dug into his shoulders, biting through his suit.
"Damn it, Andi," he whispered hoarsely when he felt her body tighten as she neared climax. He moved to the side, slid his hand inside her pants and panties, and plunged two fingers inside as he covered her mouth with his, swallowing the cry that fell from her mouth. Her clit was a hard little bud under his thumb as he rapidly pumped two fingers in and out of her slick, tightly swollen passage.
He drove his tongue inside her mouth, wished he could strip her naked and drive his cock inside the sweet little pussy that gloved his fingers so tightly. He finger-fucked her harder, quicker, until she screamed into his mouth and her body arched. He pulled his hand from her panties, cuddled her against him, stroking her back as she panted and tried to catch her breath.
"You have got to be the sweetest thing," he murmured against her hair, nuzzling her. He was losing his fucking mind over this woman.
He stilled when he heard the voices outside the door. Pulling her body against his and holding her tightly, one hand stroked the soft sensitive skin at the small of her back while the other laced through her hair. "Damn it, woman. What in the hell have you done to my mind?" he asked with a faint laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Me?" she repeated, a laugh bubbling in her throat. "I've known you a few weeks and all of a sudden I'm making out in the office with the kids I take care of a few feet away." Pulling back, she glanced around, added, "And hiding out in basement offices while you play with my hair, half undressing me, getting in my panties, and---" a faint blush started at her breasts and slid upward until her cheeks were pink.
"And making you come with people standing on the other side of the door?" he offered teasingly.
She licked her lips and nodded, while they listened to the voices growing farther and farther away.
"I'm game for more," was all he said as he stared at her, watching her intently as he lifted his two fingers to his mouth and slid them inside, licking them, making sure she had no doubt just exactly what else he was game for.
Her face flushed yet again, and her eyes dropped away. "This is hardly the place, though, is it, Jamie?"
His only response was to skim his hands down the length of her back and cup her hips. As he brought her into full contact with his body, Andi shuddered. An odd little ball of heat settled low in her belly and expanded, until her skin felt tight and hot, until her breathing grew rapid and shallow.
Son of a bitch, but she was game. She was game for all of it.
Staring down at her as he was, it was impossible for Jamie not to see the way his touch affected her. The pupils of his eyes contracted then grew, until only a thin rim of green surrounded them. His hands left her hips, trailed up her sides, and palmed her breasts. He dragged his thumbs across the stiffened nipples as he watched her eyes.
Lowering his head, he took her mouth again. "Damn it," Jamie hissed as she arched against him, her eyes glazed, lids low as she stared at him. Her face was flushed, and the heat from her body burned him through all the layers of clothes separating them. "I want you," he rasped, nudging his thick cock against her, leaving no doubt as to exactly how he wanted her. "But I don't think you're ready for this."
When she didn't disagree, Jamie slowly lowered her feet back to the floor, never taking his eyes from hers as his hands ran over her body in one final caress before he stepped back, reaching for the buttons of her shirt and fastening them back up before he changed his mind and decided the hell with it. He could change her mind, and fast, but he didn't want it to be here.
"And I certainly don't want the first time to be in a basement office with people around." His voice dropped and he moved a step closer, lowering his head to whisper in her ear, "I want the first time to be someplace quiet, someplace private, where I can make you scream yourself hoarse while I fuck your brains out."
Andi's breath shuddered out of her lungs and she arched her neck, staring up at him.
When she made no response, Jamie turned away, dragging his hands through his hair. "This is insane. I've known you a month, and you're turning me inside out. This is just absolutely fucking insane."
Andi closed her eyes, forced herself to take a deep breath, tried to still the racing in her chest. "That's one way of putting it," she murmured in reply. Bracing her back against the wall, she waited for the strength to return to her legs.
"You need to get back to the daycare," Jamie said, sliding his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out to brush her hair back from her face. "I can't keep my damn hands off of you."
Her mouth quirked up in a small smile---a completely female smile---one that had Jamie gritting his teeth against the need to grab her again. Slowly, she pushed herself away from the wall and located the pins that had held her hair secure in its knot. "I can't say that bothers me," she said, straightening and facing him. Glancing around, she grimaced. "But this is so not the place."
She stared at him for a long moment, then dragged her eyes away from him and disappeared through the door.
Nearly an hour later, Andi closed her eyes and relived those brief moments in the tiny little office, relived the feel of his hands on her, his mouth on her, and the dazed look in his eyes when he had said, I can't keep my damn hands off of you.
Nothing could stop the swell of feminine pride that bubbled within her.
As drop-dead gorgeous as he was, as smart and funny and sly as he was, Jamie could probably have damn near any woman he wanted, and probably had. And he was unable to keep his hands off of her.
I want the first time to be someplace quiet, someplace private, where I can make you scream yourself hoarse while I fuck your brains out.
Quiet, ordinary Andi Morrow, who had gone through high school with only a handful of dates. Granted, her sharp tongue and wisecracks had scared more than a few away. Not too many had been willing to risk getting close to her. She had handed out barbs and cold glares the way other girls had handed out flirtations and smiles.
Jamie had not only gotten past that, he had gotten close enough to touch her. To make her yearn to touch him. And he wanted more.
He wants me.
It wasn't that she had never been told that before. She had. But she had never been tempted before, had never felt this drawn to a man before. And never had she been told that by a man like Jamie, a man who commanded attention simply by walking into a room, a man that had women rolling their eyes and smiling as he walked by. Never by a man who made her mouth go dry and other parts turn wet. Even thinking about him was enough to make her wet, enough to make a slow, aching throb pulse through her cleft.
Her head fell back and she stared at the ceiling. How in the hell would he react to her being a virgin?
She wasn't too concerned about the actual act. For crying out loud, she wrote romances. She knew plenty about sex. But all of her knowledge was second hand. She had never burned for a man's hands on her before, had never craved to feel a man's weight atop her.
Had never thought that just listening to a man talk to her the way Jamie did would turn her on.
She'd been perfectly happy to live vicariously through her heroines.
Not any more.
She wanted to be in his bed, wanted to wake up next to him in the morning.
She wanted to know if he could actually fulfill the promises his eyes and hands had made. Wanted to lie under him while he made her scream herself hoarse.
And she'd be damned if she let the chance slip past her.
\*
Jamie rang the doorbell, rocking back on his heels and waiting. She had a pretty little house, with a garden in the front that bloomed with myriad colors, and a porch that spanned the length of the house and continued on around to the back. The brick wasn't red, more a pinkish-gray tone. The front door was painted a cheerful shade of blue that was echoed in the glider rocker on the porch and the shutters by the windows.
The door opened.
He met her eyes.
She stared back at him, one hand still holding the doorknob. Her hair, that long silky hair, was piled atop her head in a loose knot, tendrils spilling down her neck and framing that innocent face. Around her neck, she wore a simple golden chain, a small locket rested just above her breasts. She wore a slim skirt the color of the eastern sky at sunset, hovering between blue and amethyst, and a sleeveless white camisole top that laced up the front. The shirt was so sheer he could see the lace of her bra and the darker shadow of her nipples under it. Her feet were bare.
Her toes curled into the plush carpet and she stared at him, nibbling on her lower lip.
She was nervous, Jamie realized. He smiled at her, his own nerves settling. "I won't bite." Then he reached out and flicked the gold hearts that dangled from her ears. "Unless you want me to." Of course, there was no way in hell he was taking her out with her looking like that. He'd lose his mind the first time a man looked sideways at her. "Want me to take a bite, Andi?"
And where in the hell had this jealousy, this possessiveness come from?
"That's just the problem." She stepped aside, letting him enter. He studied the living room with its blue and white striped couch, plush navy carpeting and high vaulted ceilings. Then he turned back to her. Closing the door, she leaned her back against it and avoided his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Andi turned her head and met his gaze.
"I want just that, but I'm not exactly sure how to ask."
Jamie's eyes burned into hers and he took a step closer. "Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?" he asked softly.
"Yes."
His heart stopped for a moment, before skipping and jumping into high gear. "Are you sure that's what you want? We don't know each other very well, and I don't think this is something you do very often."
You have absolutely no idea, Andi thought, stifling a nervous giggle.
She moved away from the door---moved until she stood close enough for him to reach out and touch. And he did, tracing the back of his hand down her cheek. Her eyes stared into his before dropping to his mouth. She rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his, nibbling delicately before her tongue flicked out and traced the line of his mouth.
With a sigh of pleasure, she dropped back to her heels, watching him. "This was inevitable," she said softly, smoothing her hands down his chest. "I've wanted this from the first time I saw you. I'm tired of wanting and not having."
Jamie caught her hands in his and drew her closer. "You'd better be sure, Andi." Lowering his head, he bit her neck before placing his lips next to her ear. "Because if I start touching you, I don't know if I can stop again. Not here, alone with you."
Her head fell back and that sly little female smile graced her face again. As she slid her hands into the waistband of his trousers, she said, "I don't expect you to."
He caught her hands, held them still as he studied her honest hazel eyes, the flecks of gold glinting. Then he whirled her around and pressed her up against the wall, pinning her there with his own body. "This is insane," he said in a reasonable voice as he buried his hands in her hair. His eyes were hot, hungry, and anything but reasonable. Her hair tumbled from its knot, spilling down around her shoulders, cascading down her back as he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
She felt the hot sweep of his hands on her back as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, greedily, as if he couldn't be without the taste of her any longer.
The kind of greed she understood, because Andi certainly didn't want to go another second without his mouth on hers, without his hands on her body. She rose up, her hands locked around his waist and she kissed him back, nipping at his tongue, sucking his lower lip into her mouth. Pulling back, she pressed her open mouth to the hollow of his neck, bared by the open collar of his tailored shirt.
She slipped her hands into his trousers and jerked the two-hundred-dollar shirt free, skimming her palms over the smooth skin there. Digging her hands into the hard ridge of muscle at his back she gasped when he, in turn, pulled her skirt up and palmed her ass.
One hand slid under the skinny swatch of material between her buttocks and he raised his head, staring down at her through narrowed eyes. "What in God's name have you got on under this?"
With a smile, she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Not much."
He drew back, took her hands from his waist and returned them to her sides. Jamie dropped to his knees in front of her, still looking into her eyes. Locating the button by feel, he slid it through the hole and tugged down the zipper. With a smooth glide of his hands down her hips, the skirt puddled around her feet, leaving her bare from the waist down, save for a sleek green satin thong that glowed against the alabaster of her pale skin.
Eyes hot, they traveled from her face down to her coral pink toenails before cruising back up. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her navel, rubbing his thumb against the shiny piece of material that stretched over her hip. Her softly rounded belly quivered as her breath caught in her throat and she kept her eyes closed as he tugged her down to straddle his lap, sliding his palms under her shirt, taking the material upward as he drew his hands higher.
Moments later, she sat with her thighs splayed over his, clad in nothing more than a thong and her favorite push up bra. Through the fragile lace of the bra, her nipples showed, a dark rose-red that was just about the same shade as her mouth.
Voice low and rough, Jamie asked, "Damn it, Andi. You wear stuff like this all the time, or is this just for me?"
"Yes. And yes."
His head lowered and he rested his brow against hers as he whispered, "How am I supposed to work, knowing you've got this on under those uniforms?" He pressed a hungry kiss to her mouth before banding one arm around her waist, forcing Andi's head and shoulders back. His hot mouth traced the line of lace at the edge of her bra, while one hand cupped her hip and held her lower body close to his as he pumped his cock against her.
She could feel him, the heat of his body emanating through his clothes, the hard length of his erection pressed between her thighs. With a hungry little whimper, she squirmed closer, rocking against him, pressing the wet folds of her body against his throbbing penis, desperate.
He laughed in his throat, even while his eyes crossed as the wet heat between her thighs reached him through the layers of his trousers and boxers. "Easy, Andi." He gathered her hair in his hand, pulled it aside so he could nibble on her neck. "Or this will be over before it even begins."
Abruptly he rose, dragging her up with him. Automatically, her legs closed around his waist and she clutched his shoulders for balance. Her hair fell around them and she stared into his eyes, humming softly in her throat, pleasure rocketing through her as her weight bore her body down against him with rather astounding results. Each movement brought her clit into closer contact with his cock and Andi wasn't quite certain if her body was going to stay in one piece if he didn't put it inside her soon.
"Where's the bedroom?" he asked, his voice rough and shaky.
Leaning forward, she brushed her mouth against his cheek. "Down the hall."
He carried her down the hall, paused until she nodded her head to the door at the end, his hands stroking her back and bottom gently. He stopped by the bed and reached behind him to unlock her legs, letting her body slide against his until her feet rested on the floor.
She was so tiny, he realized. In her bare feet, her head barely reached his shoulder. But that tiny little body had hard muscle and soft curves everywhere. Maybe it was the way she now carried herself, head up and shoulders back, which made her seem taller. He moved back, his eyes burning.
When her hands started to rise, he brushed them down, studying her body, memorizing it. "I need to look at you," he said gutturally. Small as she was, the high cut thong she wore made her slim, curvy legs seem endless and the green satin glowed against her skin, rode high on her hips. With her back to the mirror, he could see how the skinny little swatch ran between the rounded globes of her ass. Her back was smooth and unbelievably sexy, and just below her right shoulder, she had a small mole.
He slowly turned her around, so that she was facing her reflection. Lowering his head, he kissed the mole before reaching around her and cupping her breasts in his hands. The lace of her bra barely covered her nipples as he plumped her flesh together. Lowering his head, he whispered, "Open your eyes."
Slowly, her lids raised and she met his gaze in the mirror before she focused on her appearance. Was that really her? Hair disheveled, a man's dark hands caressing her flesh, her body clad in a push up bra and a thong so tiny it might as well not even be there. "You are so beautiful," he said, his voice raspy. "You've got the most amazing tits I've ever seen on a woman, you know that?"
She felt beautiful, in a way she had never expected to. The strong body that she took little pride in had this man's hands shaking. With a sly little smile, her own hands came up, covered his and pressed them against her flesh, while her pelvis rocked back, brushing against the length of him.
Freeing his hands from hers, Jamie seized her hips and thrust against her bottom, grinding himself against soft flesh, his eyes on hers. She whimpered and squirmed against him, and Jamie laughed. "Like that, huh? Let's see if we can't find something else you like." But he thrust against her ass a few more times, the moisture from her body collecting on the front of his trousers. Hot little shivers of sensation raced over his body, drawing his skin tight, and with a groan he dropped his hands and moved away. With jerky movements, he shed the buff-colored linen blazer and his shirt, buttons popping when they refused to cooperate beneath his fingers.
She still stared at him in the mirror, leaning forward and bracing her hands on the smooth wood of her dresser, a wicked smile curving her mouth.
"Oh, hell," Jamie muttered, his eyes dropping to the graceful curve of her back as it tapered down to her round little bottom. He shoved his slacks down and tossed them on the bed, kicked his shoes and socks off, but left his boxers on. He stared at their reflections in bemusement. Jamie's boxers were green silk, almost the exact shade of the tiny little thong she wore.
"We match," he said, gliding his hand down the thong as it disappeared between her buttocks. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. She was soaking wet, the slick fluids seeping through her panties, and now through his own shorts as he rubbed against her.
"Jamie..."
He looked up and smiled at her as she pressed back against him. "Soon," he whispered.
"Take your shorts off," she ordered, her spine arching as she tried to get closer.
"Not yet, Andi." With his hands around her, he made her straighten as he rose. Taking her hands, he guided them until they covered her breasts. When her hands started to fall away, he covered them with his again, nipping her earlobe. "Touch yourself," he said softly.
Her head fell back against his shoulder and she said, "I want you to touch me," as she stared up into his eyes.
"Oh, I will," he promised, lowering his head and kissing her, a chaste brush of his mouth against hers. Then he nudged her head back up and told her to watch. As she did, he trailed his hands from her breasts, down her torso. One arm banded around her waist, steadying her, as the other slid beneath the stretchy material of her thong, gliding against the smooth flesh there, the small tuft of curls, as he parted her flesh. "Remember what I said I wanted? I wanted to fuck you until you screamed yourself hoarse. I'm going to do it until you can't stand up straight."
Her breath caught in her throat and she started to quiver as he slid his fingers against her wet flesh, circling around the hard little nub of her clitoris, teasing it before he slid one long finger inside her. She was tight. Very tight. Jamie's lids drooped and a growl rumbled in his chest as he thought about how that tight little sheath would feel closing around him. "You're hot, you're wet." Dragging his fingers from her body, he brought them to his mouth and licked them while he stared into her eyes in the mirror. "You're tasty."
"Jamie," she moaned, the strength leaving her legs.
Sliding his hand down, he flicked his thumb over her clitoris before dipping his fingers back inside her wet vagina. He braced her weight with his, staring at her reflection. "Watch," he ordered again, unable to take his own eyes from the sight of his hands on her.
Her own hands still cupped her breasts and as he watched, her fingers contracted and the flesh swelled, spilling over the scanty top of her bra. Muscles danced in her belly, and her back started to arch as she rocked her pelvis against his hand.
Lower still, he could see the line of green satin and his wrist, his fingers beneath that satin, sliding against her flesh, sliding into and out of her wet, tight body, stretching her. Pressing his cock against her butt, he gritted his teeth. She was quivering, shaking badly now and her eyes were half-closed and completely wild. Lowering his head, he bit her where the curve of her neck ran into her rounded shoulder.
A rush of fluid soaked his hand only moments before she cried out. Her knees gave way and she sagged in his arms as a climax raged through her. He continued to stroke her and invade her body with his fingers until the last of the spasms faded away, and then Jamie pressed his lips to her hair, drawing his hand from her panties.
Gently, he lay her on the bed and settled down next to her, stroking her back as the shudders continued to wrack her body.
Rising onto his elbow a few minutes later, he stared down into her face. A smile curved her mouth, her lids were lowered, the lashes resting against the soft skin beneath her eyes. As he watched, her lids rose slowly and she stared back up at him.
"Are you sure about this, Andi?" he asked, rubbing his thumb against the swell of her breast. Are you nuts? part of him raged. She had all but thrown back the covers in invitation and like some damned saint, he kept questioning her, even as she lay in her bed, recovering from an orgasm.
God, he had made her look like that, had put that satisfied smile on her face, put that sated, drowsy look in her eyes. Her body reclined against a pale green comforter, her hair spilled all around them, her breasts rising and falling raggedly as she tried to calm her breathing.
"Are you sure?" he repeated, his voice tight and strained.
"A little late to ask that now, isn't it?" she murmured, reaching up and threading her fingers through his hair. The black silk of it spilled over his brow, into his green eyes, and it felt cool and soft against her palm.
"No. If you aren't sure, I'll get up and leave now," he said tightly. "It'll damn near kill me, but I'll do it. But you need to know, if you don't say no, I'll be back, and I'll keep coming back. I want you for more than just one night."
One brow rose in an elegant arch and she said, "Is that supposed to bother me?"
Jamie only stared at her, rolling so that he could sit on the bed, hoping distance would clear his mind a little. He shouldn't be here with her like this. He knew he shouldn't. This was wrong. After this fucking mess was over...but it wasn't, and she was right in the middle of it---innocent as an angel---but still right in the middle.
But before he could talk himself into standing up, she sat up, reached behind her and unfastened her bra. It fell away from her breasts and Jamie's eyes dropped. Dusky pink nipples, drawn tight against the ivory satin of her skin, light blue veins tracing underneath. Then her head fell back and she reached up to lazily comb her hands through her hair, all the while watching him.
Jamie's hands flew out, gripped her shoulders and he tumbled her back down on the bed, rolling until he could tuck her body under his. Intently, his eyes almost seeming to glow with intensity, Jamie said, "If I get inside you now, you're mine. And I won't let you go. Got it?" Of course, even if she did say no, he still had no intention of ever letting another man near her. She was his.
She had been since the first time they had touched.
"I want you inside me," was all she said as she rocked her hips against him. "I want you to fuck me until I scream myself hoarse." A flush darkened her cheeks as she paraphrased what he had told her. "And I want it now."
Staring into her eyes, he rose to his knees between her thighs and shoved his boxers down. He reached out and dragged his pants closer, pulling a small foil packet from the back pocket. Tearing it open, he unrolled the rubber down the length of his cock, never taking his eyes from hers. Covering her body once more with his, he slid his fingers inside the damp material of her thong, and jerked. The muscles in his arm bunched tightly and Andi heard the fragile material rip, felt the pull around her hips, and watched as he tossed the torn silk aside.
Her thighs fell open, cradling him.
Andi closed her eyes, nerves starting to settle in, as the hot length of him nudged against her. At his raspy command she opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her teeth caught her lower lip as he slid the tip of his erection inside her. "Damn it, you're tight," he whispered as he pulled back and eased a little deeper. The walls of her vagina closed around him like a hot, wet, velvet fist and Jamie thought he would lose it then. "Tighter than anything I've..."
God, please don't let him ask, she thought desperately. If he knew he might not finish it. She reached down, cupped his hips, and arched her own. "Now, Jamie," she pleaded, squirming against him.
With a strained breath, Jamie said, "Damn it, girl. I want this to last."
"And I want it now," she replied, digging her nails into his buttocks, clenching her inner muscles around him. "Make me scream, Jamie."
Jamie drew back, staring into her eyes. Reaching down, he caught first one wrist, then the other, raising them and pinning them by her head. She continued to stare up at him, her eyes making a silent demand and her hips rocking, trying to take more of him.
With a groan, Jamie pulled all but the tip of his aching cock out, and then with a thrust of his hips, buried his entire length in her tight little sheath---never taking his eyes from hers as he pulled out and drove back into her.
She cried out, contracting around him in a silky little caress. Oh. Hell. The pressure inside her, and the heat, was unlike anything she had ever known. Knowing the mechanics hadn't prepared her for this, none of the reading she had done had prepared her for how it would feel to have him pumping inside her. The vibrator hadn't prepared her, masturbating hadn't prepared her, nothing.
She hadn't known it would feel so tight, so hot. She could feel the hot ridge of his penis, could feel him as he shifted positions and dragged himself across her clit, could feel the unbearable tightening of her body around his.
How had she ever lived without knowing this?
He pulled out, drove into her again, and again. Freeing one of her hands, he reached down to palm her ass, arching her hips up, forcing her to take more of his cock. And with a slight twist of his hips, he hit that spot inside her body, growling with satisfaction as she started to quiver around him as he slammed inside her again.
She whimpered beneath him and strained upward. A flush settled on her face, spread down her neck to her breasts. Her nipples tightened into hard little buds against his chest. "Jamie, oh, please, Jamie, oh hell, please," she chanted in a string of broken gasps as he pummeled her hips with his own.
Andi's body closed around him like a tight, silk-covered fist, every tiny flutter of her muscles stroking him and driving him that much closer to madness. This wasn't going to last, Jamie accepted. Not this first time.
He reached down between her thighs and found the bundle of nerves, parting the damp flesh so that every stroke of his body touched her there as well. "Come with me," he whispered, pressing down hard on her sensitized flesh. "Scream for me, Andi. Scream for me."
He gritted his teeth, trying to hold off the climax that was already building, tried to wait for her to catch up with him. Moments later, his restraint became unnecessary as she cried out a second time, tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes as her orgasm ripped through her, sending her sheath into spasms around his erection. The milking sensations gripped his cock tightly, holding him as he pumped heavily inside her, gripping him greedily.
She whimpered deep in her throat, rocked against him, riding it to the very end, urging him closer to his own. His own climax hit him before he could catch his breath, racing down his spine and erupting through his loins like a volcano. Releasing her other hand, he slid his arms under hers and gripped her shoulders tightly, while his body shook.
He pressed against her, pinned her hips to the bed, grinding his pelvis against her and to his shock, she climaxed around him again, each little contraction of her body, drawing his own release out until he could barely breathe.
A moan rumbled from deep in his chest and then he collapsed against her.
It was sometime later when the fog that clouded his mind lifted. He lay atop her, his head between her sweat-dampened breasts, her hands curled loosely around his shoulders. Slowly, he lifted his weight off of her, propping himself on his elbows and staring up into her face. A small smile played at her mouth and, with her eyes still closed, she murmured, "I don't think I have ever experienced anything like that in my life."
He grinned and said, "Gimme a few minutes and we'll see if we can repeat it."
Drawing her arms up, she gave a feline stretch, her spine arching, torso twisting slightly under his. Then she dropped her arms, curled them around her head, and opened her eyes, staring down at him. "I guess it's a little too late to wonder if I was too forward."
He laughed, shifting until he lay on his back. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and drew her closer, until she cuddled against his side. "Forward? Damn it, if I had to wait much longer, I think I'd have lost my mind."
"We couldn't have that," she murmured, tracing a path across his chest with the nail of her index finger. Inside, she was pleasantly achy, and her whole body seemed warmed from the inside out.
Damn he's sexy, she thought, lust starting to warm her belly again. His chest and abs were sleek, well-defined, and thank you, smooth, just a scattering of hair between his pecs and a slim line that started at his navel and trailed downward. And his shoulders. Flattening her hand, she smoothed it up until she could grasp one of the shoulders in question. Hard and tight, strong and muscled, without being bulky. His ass, his thighs, his everything was perfect. Locking her eyes on the latex condom that covered him, she licked her lips.
Underneath her gaze, his semi-hard cock twitched and started to throb. "Keep that up you little hussy, and you won't even get a few more seconds."
She laughed and pushed up on her elbow, peering down at him. "You've got a face on you, you know that?"
His eyes flew open and he stared up at her, before a wry grin curved his mouth. He reached up, trailed one finger along her jaw line, and said, "So do you. You aren't into faceless, are you?"
She laughed and sat up, swinging one leg over his hips and straddling him before cupping his face in her hands. "That's not how I meant it. Your face is beautiful."
"Oh, Lord," he muttered, trying to dislodge her hands.
She giggled as a red flush stained his lean cheeks. "You're embarrassed."
"And you're sitting buck naked on top of me, telling me my face is beautiful." With a twist and a neat little tuck of his body, he reversed their positions, looking down into her laughing face. "Usually, it's the other way around."
"I can't help it that you have a beautiful face," she said, her eyes dancing as his discomfort grew. "And your body is pretty excellent, too."
A grin tugged his mouth before he replaced it with a deliberate scowl. "You're going to ruin my image, if you keep this up."
"How is admiring your beautiful face and excellent body going to ruin you?"
He sighed patiently, shaking his head as he lowered his weight, pinning her squirming, laughing body beneath his. "Because I'm supposed to charm you, seduce you, tell you how beautiful you are." The words how much I love you sprang to his lips but he caught them before they came out.
Even if she had invited him into her bed, he doubted she was ready to hear that.
Instead, he looped his wrists under her shoulders, cradling her head between his hands. "You're beautiful," he said softly. "But in a quiet sort of way. You have to really look, at first, especially since you seem determined to hide it. But the longer I look at you, and the more I see you, the more beautiful you get." Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth against hers. "You've got the kind of beauty that doesn't fade."
Fisting his hands in her hair, he gently tugged, arching her face upward and baring her neck. Lightly, he scraped his teeth along the side before lifting his head again, staring once more into her eyes. "I don't know if I've ever seen a woman with hair like this," he murmured, combing his hand through the thick, heavy mass. Then, with a lightening quick change of mood, he waggled his eyebrows at her and said, "And I know it's real, too."
Now she blushed. "Gee, thanks."
He leaned down, kissed her pink cheek and whispered, "You're welcome."
"Remind me never to compliment your body in bed again."
"Compliment the body all you want," he offered. With a wince, he said, "Just leave my face out of it."
She reached up and cupped his face. "I like your face," she said simply.
Lowering his head, he covered her grinning mouth with his. "Let's see if we can find something else you like."
She could feel each slow, heavy beat of her heart. It was bizarre. Maybe she was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. She was cornered again, in the locker room, and she couldn't see the face of the man advancing on her. Just like the last time.
It was dark and she darted around him. She could hide. She was fast.
But every time she got away and hid, he found her again. Could he hear her heart beating?
Cruel hands closed over her arms and jerked her out from behind the row of chairs where she had hidden, then pinned her body between his and the concrete column behind her. Concrete column? Since when were there concrete columns in the locker room? Her brain shut down---none of the moves she had spent hours practicing came to mind and she couldn't escape.
God, it was her worst nightmare, all over again, she was trapped and she was helpless.
Whimpering in fear, she swung her arm. The keys were in her hand. Swiping them down his face, she shoved him back and stumbled out of the dojo, blood staining her hands. Then, before she could so much as blink, she was barreling down the Gene Snyder again and he was on the motorcycle behind her.
"Help me," she whispered. There was nobody close enough to hear, even if there were, would anybody help? They hadn't last time.
The powerful roar of the bike blasted in her ears and she looked over. Only she knew this face. Jeff. The bloody scrapes below his muddy brown eyes seemed to grow larger and bloodier as she stared into Jeff's angry eyes.
"Jeff?" she whispered. But he was dead.
Wasn't he?
He aimed his bike for her, and she panicked, slamming on the brakes. He did the same, following her every move in an eerie shadow dance.
"Go away," she pleaded.
His bike seemed to grow larger and she screamed when he rammed into her a second time.
Her car started to spin but she jerked it under control, searching for an escape route.
She didn't recognize the exit that loomed in front of her. It should have been Stonestreet, but it wasn't. It didn't matter. She had to get away. Just as she started to veer her car away, Jeff appeared on her other side, blocking her. "Jeff," she whimpered. She cursed under her breath but her whisper turned into a scream when the motorcycle spun out of control.
She sat straight up in bed, screaming, the image of Jeff's bloodied, battered face still crowding her vision.
"Andi." The voice was familiar, but rough and angry.
She cowered away from the hands that reached for her, confused, in the dark again. Back at the dojo? Had she ever gotten away?
"Andi!"
Hard hands gripped her arms and shook her.
And then, as suddenly as it came, the dream left her and she sat staring up into Jamie's shadowed, bewildered face.
"Oh, God," she whispered. Then she collapsed against his chest, sobbing.
Her whispers had brought him out of a sound sleep.
She was talking to him.
Then he realized she wasn't talking to him. She was dreaming.
"No."
"Go away."
His jaw clenched when she whispered, her voice soft and confused, another man's name. Before he could stop it, he growled out her name, tension tightening his body. Jealousy and rage churned in his gut and his hands closed into fists, as the name came again, a second time, louder. He was about to jackknife out of the bed when she said the name again. And then she screamed it. "No, Jeff, don't!"
As he sat up, the fear in her voice had his eyes narrowing. Any hint of jealousy forgotten, Jamie rolled to his knees and reached down, shaking her gently. "Wake up, Andi. You're dreaming," he said gruffly, nausea roiling in his gut. Whispering another man's name while he slept with his arms around her, then screaming---hell, wouldn't that make any guy sick?
She didn't respond. After nearly five minutes of trying to wake her, he gave up, lay down next to her, and held her tightly. God, what was going on in her mind?
Jeff. He knew that name. The accident. The guy who had been following her. He had known her from the karate school and had been hounding her for reasons not mentioned in the report. He had died instantly.
And Andi was still having nightmares. Shit, it had only been a month, what in the fuck did he expect? She lay shaking and struggling in his arms, whimpering and sobbing alternately. Then she started to jerk and fight.
With a strength that was uncanny, she ripped free from his arms, screaming, her eyes wide open as she stared at something only she could see.
"Andi!"
"Damn it, Andi, wake up!" he shouted, fear settling low in his own belly as she continued to just sit there shaking and screaming.
He drew his hand back, cursing himself, but before he could force himself to slap her out of the fear-induced hysteria, the screaming stopped and the fear left her eyes. "Jamie?" she whispered, her voice hoarse and shaking.
"Oh, God, Jamie." And then she fell against him, sobbing her heart out.
He had no idea how much time passed before she finally calmed. Her voice rough, she whispered, "Hell of an impression to make on a guy, huh?"
Rolling onto his side, he stared at her in the dim light. Reaching out, he lay his finger across her mouth. "Don't," he told her, shaking his head.
Her tortured, swollen eyes closed and she sighed, a broken weary little sound that damn near ripped his heart out.
"Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?"
Slowly, she started to shake her head, but then she bit her lip. God, the dreams weren't going away like she had hoped they would. And the sick fear still lingered in her belly.
The silvery light from the moon poured in through the skylight above her bed, painting her features with a soft white light. "Different things," she finally said, her voice, faint, quiet.
"I graduated a year early from high school, when I was sixteen. I was a ward of the state, always in foster homes. I never made many friends, so I spent all my time studying."
"I wanted to be a nurse and being a child of special circumstances, as they had called it, I'd gotten several scholarships. Not enough to go to a great school, but enough to go to a technical one. My counselor had arranged for me to get a car to drive to the clinicals at the hospital. I paid it off working at a deli during the summer.
"I started at the Health Institute a few months before I turned seventeen. One day, I was leaving the hospital and some guy grabbed me. It was in broad daylight. There were other people in the garage and they heard me screaming. Several of them even looked over at me before taking off. He was dragging me to the stairwell."
A sick feeling was spreading through his gut and he clenched the hand that was behind his head into a tight fist.
Her damp eyes drifted off to a point beyond his shoulder as she brought one hand up in front of her face. "He was going to rape me. And probably kill me. He had a gun, and his eyes, they weren't right. I found out later he had been mixing all sorts of drugs with alcohol. He was also a diagnosed schizophrenic. He hit me." She raised her hand to her face, as if it still hurt. "I fell down and my head hit the wall. I think I blacked out for a minute. When I opened my eyes, he was shoving his pants down. He fell down on me, shoving my skirt up."
She stopped, her throat working convulsively, as if trying not to vomit. Her voice was shaking now as she continued, "I...I had my keys. And I hit him in the face with them. Just once, and I tried to run away. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me down again, screaming he was going to kill me. So I hit him again. He still wouldn't let me go."
Closing her eyes, she whispered, "The last time I hit him, before he finally let go of me, I hit him again, this time in the neck. It...it cut him. Wide open. He bled to death, right on top of me, and I was too damn weak and out of it to move. I had a concussion."
"Jesus," Jamie whispered. God, no wonder her eyes looked haunted every time he managed to catch a glimpse of them before the mask came back up.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked at him. "I can live with that. I learned the hard way, it's a dog-eat-dog world. And if I hadn't stopped him, I wouldn't be here now. I can't say it doesn't bother me, knowing that I took a life, but if I hadn't, he would have killed me. But I didn't ever want to be that helpless again. Nobody tried to help me, not one of them," she whispered viciously, her mouth twisting in an angry snarl. "Damn it, he was trying to hurt me. But he was sick. And I had to kill him to get away. If somebody had tried to help me, maybe he wouldn't have had to die.
"I've been taking karate ever since. It took a little while before I could stand to have people touching me, before I could work up the nerve to learn how to actually defend myself should somebody try it again."
He listened as she told him about Jake's school, the testing, the training, and the competitions. "The wreck I was in, the guy who died, I knew him from the school."
Jamie's body stilled and the hand stroking her arm froze. "I know that. I read the report, remember? I'm sorry." There was more to it---was she going to tell him?
She laughed---an empty, hollow sound. "His name was Jeff." Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the star-studded sky. One small, slim hand rose to cover her left side. "He had a bad rep---liked to use a little too much force. Especially on people who weren't as strong as he was. It ended up that he was only allowed to spar upper ranks. I was the highest rank there that night and I got stuck with him. First he split my lip and then he kicked me in the ribs, bruised them. Jake was on the other side and didn't notice. Jeff had been called on the carpet before, and it never did any good. So when Jake called a break, I didn't say anything, but when he had us start back, I lit into Jeff, broke his nose, and socked him in the ribs.
"He started yelling and raising cane and Jake came over to see what the fuss was. I told him and when Jeff started lying about it, I jerked up my shirt. My ribs were already starting to discolor and my lip was split wide open."
"So that didn't happen in the wreck," Jamie said slowly, rage burning a hole inside his gut. The care she had taken with her bruised ribs and that swollen, bruised face, not all of that had happened in the wreck. A man had done that, somebody who probably towered over her, outweighed her. And Jamie wanted to kill him. "He did that to you."
He couldn't though. He remembered the bastard had been killed instantly.
"Yeah." With a sigh, she rolled to her knees, lifting her face to the sky and stared through the glass. "Jake took him in his office, stripped him of his rank and told him he wasn't welcome there any more. I didn't learn all of that until a few weeks later."
"Jeff was furious. Followed me out the Gene Snyder, riding my bumper. Cut me off a few times. I was calling 911 on my cell phone. There's always a ton of cops out there and I dunno, I guess I figured they'd scare him off. I never finished the call. Just as they answered, he lost control and spun out. I don't think he meant to hit me---Jeff wouldn't have done something that involved hurting himself. He loved himself too much. I hit the bike and he got pinned between it and my hood."
Turning her head towards Jamie, tears streaming out of her eyes, she whispered, "The last thing I remember seeing is his face. The nightmares started right away." She dragged her wrist across her damp eyes before she took a deep breath. "They've gotten better, don't come as often. But tonight I was dreaming that somebody in the dojo was trying to grab me. And when I got away, it was Jeff, and I started reliving that whole night again."
Strong arms closed around her and lifted her. Supported against his chest, cradled in his lap, Andi sighed and snuggled closer. "I know it wasn't my fault. But it haunts me."
Jamie rubbed his chin over the soft cloud of her hair, stroking her back. "I'm sorry," he said, hating the useless words. "And you come back from that to find me poking around in your office."
"Finding you poking around in my office was the highlight of that whole month, maybe this whole year," she said, lifting her head and staring up at him. "After all, look where we ended up."
She shifted in his lap, straddling him. Staring down at him, Andi stroked her hands restlessly over his shoulders. "I don't want to think about that any more. Not about any of it." Lowering her head, she pressed her mouth to his and whispered, "Make love to me. Help me forget about it."
Gathering her hair in his hands, he tugged her head closer, caught her lip between his. "Did I tell you that after I finished making you scream, I planned on making you sigh?" he whispered, forcing his turbulent thoughts aside, wanting only to push that anguished look from her eyes. "Make you whimper and moan?"
Rolling onto her side, Andi frowned. The space next to her was empty. Well, not empty. There was a note on the pillow.
Gone out for breakfast. Don't you move until I get back.
With a smile, she held the note to her mouth, then feeling foolish, she tucked it in the bedside table before rolling out of bed.
Much as she would like to lie around, she had things to do.
A trip to the bathroom being first on the list.
When Jamie used her key to unlock the door nearly an hour later, Andi lay on the weight bench, lowering the bar, raising it, and lowering it again. Glancing over, she saw Jamie standing in the door, watching her with a cocked brow. Maybe he'd been taking lessons from Jake, she thought. He's got the eyebrow thing down pat.
Focusing her eyes back on the barbell, Andi mentally counted twelve before she released and sat up. Her sweat dampened face turned to his and she lifted her shoulders and grinned. "Sorry. The bed seemed a little too empty once I woke up."
Jamie's eyes trailed over the body revealed by her skimpy workout clothes, a sports bra and extremely short spandex shorts, the brief kind of shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass. How in the hell did she manage to hide a body like that? Her flesh was damp and slick from sweat and his eyes darkened as he moved closer. He slid one finger down her bicep and said, "Did I ever tell you that I love the way you look when you're working out?"
One brow arched and she said, "You've never seen me work out."
With a negligent shrug, he said, "I always love the way you look, so why wouldn't I love the way you look when you work out?"
He dropped to his knees beside her, pressed his lips to her damp, salty flesh. "Are you done?"
"Yes."
Running one hand across her belly, he smiled as the muscles there quivered and leaped. "This is what dragged you out of bed? I was going to make you breakfast."
"Sorry," she said, biting her lip as those clever fingers flirted with the low cut neck of her sports bra. "I...I've got an, uh...damn it, I can't think when you touch me. There's a competition in a few months and I have to keep my strength up. It's going to be hard to get back into the swing once I go back to class next month."
Sliding his large palms under her thighs, he turned her body so that she faced him and then he tugged her off the weight bench and onto his lap. His hands then trailed up her back and gripped her shoulders, pulling her torso back, kissing his way from her chin down her neck.
"Jamie...Jamie, let me up. I'm all sweaty now," she murmured, even as she rocked her hips against his.
He rose, one arm braced just beneath her buttocks, the other grasping her hair and drawing her head back so he could nibble on the sensitive flesh of her neck. The movement arched her back, lifting her breasts against the hard muscled wall of his chest. He turned, still nibbling on her neck, and her legs automatically locked around his hips, pressing against him. Walking down the hall, he took her into the bathroom, kicked the door closed before he turned, braced her back against it, and fit himself between her legs, sliding against that sensitive vee of flesh.
Andi gasped and shook, a welcoming heat spreading through her belly and groin. Her breasts were flushed, nipples rock-hard and aching against the thick sturdy cotton of her sports bra.
Slowly, he pulled away from her, reaching behind to unclasp her legs.
Moments later, Andi's eyes drifted open and she stared at their reflection in the bathroom mirror as he lowered her feet to the ground. She stood there waiting as he turned on the shower spray. Then he returned to stand behind her, reaching for her ponytail and freeing her hair. Andi's eyes widened slightly as he hunkered by her feet, untying her shoes and tossing them aside.
Her breath caught when his hands grasped the band of her tight-fitting sports bra and drew it over her head. He paused to soothe the reddened area around her ribcage where the elastic of the bra had clung. At the rush of cooler air, her nipples puckered and darkened. Lids low, she watched as he reached around and cupped her breasts, holding her still against him as he plumped her flesh, rubbed his thumbs against the already stiff peaks of her nipples.
Her very brief bicycle shorts were eased down her legs and within moments, she stood staring at her naked reflection while his dark hands roamed her flushed damp flesh. A shudder wracked her body when he insinuated his legs between hers, spreading hers.
Damn, she's hot, Jamie thought, for the hundredth time. Her tongue darted out, dampening her lips as she stared at him in the mirror. Her breasts---high, full, round breasts---filled his hands, and her narrow torso twisted as she tried to arch closer. Her waist dipped in before flaring into rounded hips and a tight, round little butt that was pressed against his cock and currently driving him insane.
His eyes fastened on the red strip of hair at the juncture of her thighs, and below, the naked mound of her sex, watched as he slowly slid one hand down her torso until he could part her flesh and slide one finger inside her tight, narrow little passage. She was so tight.
And so wet. His fingers slid easily across her slick flesh, stroking, teasing until he had her panting in his arms, whispering his name. He slowed his movements and pulled his hands from her body.
Jamie wasn't ready to end this just yet.
A moue of disappointment settled on her mouth when he urged her, alone, into the steamy shower. Her thighs were weak and quivering and an odd, empty sensation settled low in her belly. Empty. She wanted him, inside her again.
How could she need him like this after last night? He'd awoken her at dawn, rolling her onto her knees, taking her hard and fast, and when she had crawled out of bed just over an hour ago, she was aching in places she had never ached before.
But, damn it, she wanted him again.
Turning her face to the spray, she wet her hair and let the water sluice away the sweat and the faint icky feeling that bad dreams leave behind. The shower door swung open just as she was reaching for the shampoo. Her hand fell, limp and nerveless to her side as Jamie stepped into the crisscrossing shower sprays and gathered her body against his.
One hand tangled in her wet hair and Andi rose onto her toes to meet his hungry mouth, returning kiss for avid kiss. Caught up in him, in each slow, deep kiss, she didn't notice him reaching up and back. She jumped when a spray of water landed on her thighs. Jamie pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek before turning her around so that her back was to him, his thick cock pressing against her lower back. Andi saw what he held in his hand and hot little licks of excitement and nerves started to heat her belly.
A laugh rumbled out of his chest as he caught the look in her eyes. She wasn't just willing, she was eager. What else would she be willing to try?
Once more, his strong thigh slid between hers, spreading her legs wider as he slid his fingers through the wet tangle of curls at the junction of her thighs. Slowly, he parted the flesh that guarded the entrance to her body and stroked the hard little nub. Then he turned the massaging showerhead on the exposed flesh of her body.
Andi's legs went weak and the arm around her middle supported her weight as the water pulsed against her already seeking body. A rush of fluid soaked her so that her own moisture mingled with the pulsing spray from the shower. One arm reached up behind her and wrapped around his neck, fisting in the wet silky hair there. The other hand clutched at his wrist as the fever inside her body started to rage.
"You like that?" he asked softly as her hips starting to rock back and forth. Each move stroked her bottom against his aching shaft but he held back as a moan slipped past her parted lips.
"Oh, hell yeah," she gasped. He strained against the crack of her butt, and nudged her a little harder.
Shifting a little to the side, he moved one hand down to that crevice and pressed his thumb against her anus. "What else?" he whispered. "What else would you like?" Without waiting for an answer, he eased the tip of his finger inside the tight muscle there, groaning as her body bucked in his arms. "There are a million things I want to do to you, a million ways I want to touch you."
A flush started low on her breasts, spreading upward until a delicate pink tinted her entire face and torso. Her belly quivered and jumped under the weight of his wrist as he brought the showerhead just a little closer.
"Oh," she whimpered, biting her lip between her teeth. "Ah, hmm. I think...that's a good start."
He used his fingers to spread moisture around her asshole and slipped his index finger in. "What about this?" he asked as he slowly started to penetrate, working against the tight, virgin resistance he found there.
Between his naughty hands and the showerhead, he had his answer in less than a minute when she fell against him, whimpering as the orgasm ripped through her.
Fuck, she was hot, she was sexy. He smiled against her neck and said, "I haven't even thought about starting yet." And then he plunged his finger inside her tight little hole. Her hips started to pump against his hand, riding it as the water continued to pulse against her.
"Jamie," she gasped. "I don't...I can't, not just yet." Her wet hair fell in streamers around her shoulders, plastered to her breasts, back and ribs. Using his chin, he nudged a wet hank of hair out of the way, nibbling on her shoulder.
"You can. You want to," he disagreed in an easy tone. "You're dying to."
The lids of her eyes felt heavy and she could barely open them. Her heart pounded fast and hard in her chest, her breathing became quick and shallow. Using his weight he urged her to the floor in the shower stall, still holding the showerhead against her naked flesh while his hand penetrated her from behind. Slowly, he drew his fingers away from her to take her wrist. Her hand closed automatically when he pushed the showerhead into it. Her hand retreated, only to be brought back by his. "Yes," he whispered, guiding her so that once more, the rush of water caressed her.
Her body started to shudder in his arms as he shifted behind her. Now she was positioned sideways between his splayed thighs, his erection throbbing against her ribs while he palmed her breast with one hand. The other slid down the crevice between her buttocks, lingering, before moving forward and sliding across the slick folds of her body once more.
Her eyes were remote and wild, and her insides were on meltdown. "I can't handle it, Jamie," she gasped, trying to pull back from the overload of sensation.
"You can," he countered, sliding one hand down from her breasts to pin her hips in place when she would have moved. "You will. Come for me, Andi." Arching his head around he covered her open, panting mouth with his, pulled his hand from her body before gliding a second finger inside her, spreading her folds as he did so, opening her completely to the pulsating shower of water. When she started to convulse he swallowed the tiny scream that fell from her lips as she flew apart.
Weak and dazed, she collapsed against him, the showerhead falling from numb fingers. Dimly, she thought she should feel a little embarrassed but she couldn't even work up the energy to more than just lie there against him.
Strong arms lifted her body. On shaking legs, she stood there while he replaced the hand held showerhead in the notch, positioning it so that the water pounded on her back and buttocks. Her head fell back and she watched as Jamie reached for her shampoo, squeezing it into the palm of his hand. With a small smile, he said, "I've got this thing about your hair," as he lathered the heavy mass, massaging her scalp and neck muscles.
A smile of pleasure curled her lips as strong fingers kneaded at her neck and shoulders. Backing her up into the spray, he rinsed the lather from her hair before reaching for the second bottle. Tropical scents drifted to her nose as he worked the conditioner through her hair then gathered her against him, stroking her back with slippery hands.
After a moment, her breathing started to slow, and the strength gradually returned to her legs. Once she could support herself, she pressed a kiss to his chest before tipping her head back into the stream of water and rinsing her hair one final time. Her eyes on his, she ran her hands down his sides before dropping to her knees in front of him.
His hard erection throbbed under her gaze, and it jumped when she closed her hand around the base. He was long, thick, and hot, throbbing in her hand. She glanced up when he caught his breath as she ran her fisted hand from base to tip. And he moaned when she leaned forward and took him in her mouth. His hands fisted in her hair as she took him deep before drawing back. She repeated the slow move again, heat pooling in her belly as she put to use all the secondhand knowledge she'd gleaned from books.
She had never been too sure about this, but damn, even if her body wasn't on overdrive already from what he had just done, she'd be overheating now, just from the way his body shuddered under her hands, the way his eyes slitted and the moan rumbled up from his chest.
His eyes closed and he leaned back, bracing his weight against the wall of the shower stall as she paused to nibble gently at the underside of his erection, pressing her tongue against the vein that throbbed and swelled with her every move. The hard, ruddied length rose from a nest of dark hair, thick, full, curving just slightly toward the end. His sac hung between his thighs, and Andi cupped it in her hand, dipping her head to draw a patch of skin into her mouth.
Then she lifted up and skimmed one hand up the inside of his thigh, wrapping it around the base of his shaft, pressing back, and rising up just a fraction in a small maddening massage. Closing her mouth around him she moved up and down, reveling in the clean, musky taste of him, the vibrations of his body, and the ragged moan that fell from his lips.
Jamie groaned and used his hold on her hair to pull her back. Then he jerked her up with his hands under her arms and flipped their positions so that he held her body pinned against the wall. Hot water continued to pound down around them as he grasped her thighs and opened them, sliding his thighs between hers. Muscles bunched as he lifted her weight and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Andi's eyes flew open as he thrust himself all the way inside her. Pinned between his surging body and the wall at her back, she could do little more than clutch at his shoulders. Her over-sensitive flesh rasped against the thick head of his shaft as he pulled out and drove back into her. Her body shuddered wildly and she arched her back, whimpering as that tiny movement took him even deeper.
Her entire world condensed to the advance and retreat of his cock, and Andi didn't know if she could handle anymore. She turned her head away from his, tried to twist her body aside. His hands slid from her buttocks to the back of her knees, forcing her body open even wider, exposing the bundle of nerves to the brush of his cock.
"No," he whispered harshly as she tried to pull back. She was tight and swollen from the previous night, but she was wet and he could feel the pounding of her heart against his, could see the arousal in her eyes that battled with nerves and fear. "Don't pull away," he said quietly, gentling his movements until she stopped trying to push him away, until her small hands rested on his shoulders in acceptance and the lids of her eyes fluttered closed.
He didn't want acceptance.
Jamie wanted everything.
"Look at me," he ordered softly, slowing the movement of his body even more, until he was moving against her in small rocking motions.
Her lids lifted slowly and she stared up at him with dazed, confused eyes. "Feel it," he murmured roughly as he drew back and thrust himself deep, shuddering as her wet tissues clung to him as if trying to hold him deep within her.
Feel it? she wondered helplessly. How could she do anything but feel it?
"This is what you do to me," he whispered, the pumping of his hips growing faster as he felt her heartbeat skip and start to pick up. "You make me want and need and yearn. You're so tight, so wet. Sweet, sexy, soft. I could ride you for a hundred years and never get tired of it," he said gruffly. "Don't pull away from it."
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jamie realized he wasn't wearing a rubber, but he didn't care. Wrong. Hell, yes, he cared. But he didn't want one. He wanted to come inside her, not a damn condom. He wanted to feel the wet, silken caress of her body on his, wanted to feel her as she climaxed around him. He wanted, damn it, he wanted her pregnant with his child, this woman whom he had known for only a matter of weeks.
A throaty moan escaped her lips when he leaned forward, grasping her neck just above the curve of her shoulder with sharp, even teeth, holding her there as he drove himself home again. He slid one hand under her thigh, found the tight little hole of her anus and pushed his finger in. "Give it to me, Andi," he rasped, feeling the tension start to mount inside her body. "Everything." And it happened. As her body clenched, around his cock inside her vagina, around the finger he had slipped inside her asshole, penetrating her again in a way she had never thought of being penetrated.
It happened. She hadn't thought it could happen, hadn't thought she wanted it again. She wasn't even sure she had wanted him inside her so soon. But as he had slid his finger up and down inside her ass, it happened. Her climax hit her in a thousand shuddering waves, wracking her body from head to toe as her sheath clenched around him in spasms. The minute silky caresses drove Jamie to the end of his endurance and with a roar he emptied himself inside her before collapsing with her on the floor of the stall.
Andi's eyes were closed.
Though every part of him told him to just stay where he was, Jamie forced himself to stand and turn off the water. He then gathered her limp body in his arms and urged her to her feet. Flipping the towel from the bar, he ran it over her hair before securing it around his waist. A thick robe hung beside the door and he took it, bundling her into the warm material.
Moments later, they lay wrapped around each other in bed.
Jamie forced himself to wait until the tremors left her body before he rose up on his elbow to look at her.
He hadn't worn a condom.
And forcing himself to be honest, he knew he had subconsciously done it on purpose, marking her. In this day and time, a man who took a woman to bed without any protection was a fool, and he couldn't remember ever forgetting it. He knew he never had. This was the first time he had ever buried himself inside a woman's body with absolutely nothing between them. Jamie was a civilized man, but this woman had brought forth instincts he hadn't even known existed. With a sigh, he reached down, placed his large warm palm over her belly and quietly said, "Andi, I didn't use anything."
Her eyes flew open and she stared up at him. "What?"
"I didn't wear a rubber."
Her tongue darted out and a soft pink settled on her cheeks as she peered up at him.
God, this woman writes romance. Hell, she'd given him a hard-on with the sex scenes, and he still couldn't believe he had even read the damn book. She was so tight, he knew it had been a while, but she made serious money with stories about love and sex.
And she was blushing over a simple statement about birth control. Rolling his eyes, Jamie asked, "You on the pill?"
Hesitantly, she shook her head no. Then she rolled away from him. "Ah, I was hoping this wouldn't come up," she said softly, drawing her legs up and looping her arms around them. "You don't have anything to worry about. Last night---"
She broke off, turning her flushed face away from him. Catching her chin, Jamie drew her eyes back to his and prodded, "Last night?"
In a rush, she said, "Last night was the first time."
"First?" he echoed, not comprehending.
"First," she repeated, tugging her face away from his grasp.
"As in never?" he said, starting to look a little dazed himself.
"As in never," she agreed, tension tightening her shoulders. Automatically, she blanked her face, hiding her emotions as she had so often done in the past.
A whispered curse left him before he looked her in the eye and said, "Why didn't you say something?"
Tossing her head back, her drying hair settling around her face in a halo, she responded, "Because I didn't want you to do anything differently simply because I was a virgin. I knew what I wanted, and I knew you wanted me."
"Yes, I wanted you. God, I still do. But a virgin probably shouldn't spend her first night with her lover pounding into her until dawn."
Maybe so, Andi acknowledged. She'd been stiff and sore when she had rolled out of bed earlier. But damned if she'd admit it.
With a shrug of her shoulders, she said, "I'm fine." Sliding him a sly glance, her mouth curved into a female smile, she added, "Better than fine, if you want the truth."
How had a virgin learned to move that way? He wondered.
But he already knew the answer. Some women just seemed to know. Reaching out, he ran a hand down her naked back before drawing her into his lap. "Why me, Andi?" he asked. He didn't doubt that she was telling the truth for even a second. It was no wonder she had been so tight. And the dazed, almost confused pleasure he had seen in her eyes was making sense as well.
Her body softened and relaxed against his as the tension left the air. Her head fell back against his shoulder and she responded, "I never wanted to be with anybody. You...I wanted you the day you stumbled into the daycare after banging your head." She traced her hand over the area on his head where the bruise had faded weeks earlier. "Just looking at you made me shake."
Turning his face into her hand, he pressed a kiss to her palm. "You hid it well," he said. "When I kissed you that first time, I was certain you were going to haul off and slap me. I know women, Andi. And looking at you, I would have bet the bank you weren't interested. Attracted, maybe. But not interested. When you kissed me back, I almost went into shock. I thought it was all one-sided."
"Old habit," she told him. "I don't like letting others know when something matters to me."
Humbled, Jamie gathered her against him and wrapped his arms around her. "What about you getting pregnant?" he asked.
"It's not likely."
"But if it happens?"
The weight of his hand settled on her belly again and she realized that was why he had said something to begin with. Gazing up at him, she said, "If it happens, it happens."
"If it happens, I want to know."
"If it does happen, what will you do?"
He waited to answer as he sorted through the chaotic tumble of thoughts in his head. Finally, he decided to be up front with her. He moved, then, placing her naked body under him and cupping her head in his hands. "I'll do the same thing I plan on doing if you don't get pregnant. I'm going to marry you, Andi."
Her eyes dark and huge, she stared up at him and squeaked, "Marry me?"
Lowering his head, he took her mouth in a hard, almost brutal kiss. "You're mine. And I'm keeping you." Then he lowered his head and whispered, "I love you."
She didn't tell him back.
Hours later, Jamie tried to accept it, told himself it might take time.
But it ate at him.
She had stared up at him, tears gleaming in her eyes as he repeated it a second time. And a third, after he gently made love to her, carefully using his hands and mouth to bring her to climax, preparing her body before he eased his way inside her again, binding her to him in the most basic way possible. Even as she climaxed, tears in her beautiful eyes, she hadn't said anything.
He had urged her into a warm bath then, refusing to join her when she held her hand out to him. "We keep this up, and you won't be able to walk," he said, kissing her cheek before leaving her alone in the bathroom and going to fix them something to eat.
He enjoyed cooking. It usually relaxed him, helped him clear his head.
Not today.
As he set about making Belgian waffles, Jamie wondered if he had made a mistake, telling her so soon. He'd only spoken the truth. And he knew he might be rushing it. But if things fell apart with the investigation, he wanted everything he felt out in the open before Andi found out the rest.
Maybe it would hurt her a little less then.
Once the batter was ready, and the strawberry topping was in the fridge, he wandered around, waiting for Andi to finish her bath.
He was standing in front of a framed piece when she left the bathroom, clad once again in the heavy cotton robe, her wet hair braided and out of her face.
Love Is.
The words were in capital letters in a dark burgundy on a pale ivory background. In much paler shades of burgundy, small verses read:
Love suffers long and is kind. Love does not envy. Love does not parade itself, is not puffed up. Does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil, does not rejoice in inequity but rejoices in the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.
The passage was repeated over and over, covering the entire background.
He studied it, puzzled. She didn't have much on the walls, no pictures, very few decorations. The house was simple and elegant. Yet over the fireplace, this plaque hung.
Love Is.
"I went to church for the first time a few months after I was attacked. The minister was reading that passage when I walked in," she said softly, walking to stand next to him. "I read a lot, always romance. I got hooked on romances when I was in high school. The thought of love, I don't know, it always seemed like some sort of fairy tale. But I didn't really understand what love was."
Nodding to the plaque, she said, "As many romances as I've read, as many movies as I've seen, I've never heard it defined quite so well. I made that, and hung it up to remind me."
"Remind you about what?"
She turned then, looking at him. Burying her hands in the deep pockets of her robe, she said, "What I was looking for." Then she reached out, touched his face. "To remind me that you were out there somewhere."
She lowered her eyes briefly, and then lifted them back and said simply, "I love you. I've been waiting for you."
Emotion swamped him. His eyes closed and he stepped forward, wrapping her slim body in his arms and holding her close to him, feeling her heart beat against his, feeling her hand come up and cup the back of his head.
He wasn't surprised to realize tears were burning his eyes. Lifting his head heavenward, he silently pleaded, Don't let me lose this.
The sun rose far too quickly the next morning. Jamie lay on his side watching Andi sleep, somewhat amazed they were both still alive and mobile. Could wanting somebody this much kill you? he wondered, tracing one finger down to the tip of her nose, the curve of her cheek before rolling onto his back.
It took a little longer for him to work up the nerve to get out of bed.
The clothes he'd grabbed when he had done the breakfast run were in the small duffel bag by the door, along with the box of condoms he had reluctantly bought and worn. Damn it, he'd never be able to so much as think of a rubber without thinking of Andi again, and how her small, quick hands had rolled it on him.
Standing in the shower, scrubbing his hair, he could almost see her on her knees in front of him again, almost feel her talented mouth as it slid over the length of him. Feel her sharp teeth as they closed gently over his sac before sucking it into her mouth. And the sly grin she had given him, knowing she was driving him mad.
His entire life had pivoted on its axis this weekend. It had been coming for some time, Jamie knew, but he hadn't expected it to come so quickly. Hadn't expected for her to invite him in when he had shown up at her door to take her out.
Water sluiced off of him as he stepped out of the steamy shower, running both hands over his head, shoving his hair back out of his eyes. After drying off with a fluffy white towel, he dressed and returned to the bedroom, lowering himself on the window seat, watching her while she slept.
He lingered in the bedroom until her eyes opened and she smiled up at him, arching her back, stretching her legs and arms before turning on her side and tucking her arm under her head. Jamie left the window seat to settle down beside her, one hand smoothing her tangled hair back from her face. "Do you have to leave?" she asked, one small hand resting on his thigh. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice husky. Reluctantly, Jamie forced himself to open his mouth. "Andi..."
She already knew what he was thinking. She could see it in his pale eyes, the strain, the need, the hesitancy. Her hand reached up and she covered his lips. With a one-shoulder shrug, she said, "Don't worry about it. You've got a job to do. I'm aware of that."
He caught her hand, pressed a kiss to the back before leaning over her. "I don't like it this way," he said. "I want to tell you what's going on."
Her eyes understanding, she said, "But you can't. Jamie, I'm okay with that." Her eyes drifted away and she asked, "But what happens when the job is over and you find out who did it? What happens to you?"
"I live in Indy. That's where Mick and I set up shop," he told her, combing his hand through her hair. "Would you move there?"
When she hesitated, he said, "If you won't, then I'm moving here. I'm not having some long distance relationship with you. The thought of you not being where I can touch you drives me crazy."
Slowly, sitting up in the bed, clutching the sheet to her naked breast, Andi said, "Jamie, you hardly know me. Are you certain you want to change your whole life?"
"It changed the minute I laid eyes on you. You are my life." The intensity in his voice had her eyes widening. Sighing, he stroked his hands up and down her arms, staring over her shoulder. "I'm not saying we have to set up housekeeping together, at least not right away. But I'm not living two fucking hours away from you. Don't ask me to."
Lowering his head, he kissed her soft mouth, sucking on her lower lip before gathering her into his arms one more time. "We can take some time, get to know each other a little better, if that's what you want. But I'm not backing away and I'm not letting you out of my life. I told you, I wasn't settling for one night, that you're mine, and I'm keeping you." His voice went deep and gruff as he stared at her, his eyes hot and intense. "I meant it."
She reached up and touched his face. "I don't plan on going anywhere," she said simply.
He caught her hand in his, pressed a kiss to her palm.
"I...need to talk to you, though," she said, her eyes darkening. "Can you meet me in that little office by the elevators?"
"I can call you tonight," he offered.
"No. It's not urgent. I just want to talk to you, though. It can wait."
"Okay. Can you come in early, though? I have meetings most of the day," he told her.
"I'll be there at seven thirty."
Jamie rounded the corner. The basement offices were quiet this early in the morning. The small offices and work areas were reserved for lower level administration and records and such and none of those employees showed up until nine.
Glancing at his watch, he didn't see Andi right away.
When he saw her, he froze in his tracks.
Oh, God.
She was wearing a skirt, a short black number that definitely wasn't her typical wardrobe for chasing down toddlers. But she was wearing it. It wasn't the least bit indecent. In fact, with the pristine white ribbed tunic she wore with it, the dark hose and the long multi-colored stones that hung around her neck, she looked quite professional.
But damn it, she was wearing a skirt.
With a sly smile, she glanced down the hall then disappeared into the tiny little cubbyhole of an office.
Jamie moved, his steps jerky, his breath catching in his throat. He closed the door tightly behind him, locked it before turning around.
She was smiling at him wickedly, and as he watched she reached under the material of her slightly shorter than knee-length skirt, hooked one finger in the edge of her panties and slid them down her thighs, her knees, until she could step out of them. The movement revealed that she wasn't wearing hose. She was wearing stockings, the stay up kind that ended high on her thighs.
Settling her buttocks against the desk, she said, her cheeks pink, her eyes full of nerves and need, "You kind of set off a fantasy of mine."
While he stared at her, his eyes narrow and hot, she lifted herself onto the desk, gripped the bottom of her white cotton tunic and pulled it over her head. When she was done, she was clad in a white push up bra, her breasts straining against the lace, her skirt resting high on her thighs, those legs of hers encased in dark silk stockings.
She looked like every high school boy's dream come true.
"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, his voice thick and rough as he moved closer.
Andi's lips curved up in that shy, proud little smile that drove Jamie nuts as she reached for his shirt, her fingers slipping the buttons free as she eyed him under the fringe of her lashes. Running her nails up his chest, she smiled. "I love looking at you. You're so sexy, so beautiful."
Leaning forward, she licked the flat nub of one nipple and then bit it before she smiled slyly as she reached for his belt. "We'd better make it quick," she murmured, grinning as she slid her hand inside his trousers and lowered them.
Jamie dipped his head, catching one rosy nipple and sucking it deep into his mouth, laving it with his tongue as he pulled her hips to the edge of the desk, rocking his hips against the wet cleft between her thighs. "You're so wet, so soft," he groaned, his head swimming as her scent flooded his system.
Sliding his hands under the edge of her skirt, he trailed them over the edge of her stockings, caressing the firm muscles of her thighs before reaching down and lifting her, and cupping the firm, lush curves of her butt. "I love your ass," he murmured against her breasts. "You know that? Firm and soft, round...I hate a skinny butt on a woman, you know that?"
She giggled. "And to think I've hated all my life not being a size eight."
"You're perfect," he rasped, sinking his fingers into the fleshy mounds and rocking against her cleft. Her wet folds slid against him, silkily, perfectly...
Angling her hips, Andi tried to guide him inside her but he held back. "Are you sure you're not too sore?" he asked, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to wait until she answered.
She smiled a sweet, pleased smile, before she reached up. "I'm fine," she told him.
He parted her flesh, felt how wet she was, and shuddered. "God, Andi." But, still he didn't move. "Damn it, I don't have anything with me."
Her head fell back, her rich red curls tumbling over her shoulders, spilling down to flirt with her breasts. "I don't care," she said softly. "Do you?"
A muscle worked in his jaw. "I meant what I said the other day," he said.
She smiled at him, lifting her hands and threading them through her hair, tugging until her hair was piled atop her head and then she said, "So did I."
"Then you better lean back," he said, moving forward. "We're going to have to make this fast."
He was just teasing. Jamie meant to love her slow and gentle, certain she'd be sore, even if she wasn't telling him. But as he slid inside her, as her wet sheath closed around him, gloving him tightly, she whispered something that broke his control.
"I'm wanting it fast," she said, leaning back, arching her breasts up, her head falling back. She gazed at him from under her lashes, scarcely able to believe she could be doing this, saying this. "Fast and hard."
Jamie's control shattered and his hands closed tightly around her waist, dragging her to the edge as he buried himself inside her. He remained there, not moving until the first initial shockwave of pleasure faded from her eyes. "Hang on," he ordered, lifting her hips. Turning, he took two steps and pinned her against the wall for leverage.
Then he pulled back, and lunged back inside her, hard, as hard as he could, as though he wanted nothing more than to get inside her and never leave. "I love you," he said gutturally, pumping his hips against hers, moaning as she clenched around him in a wet, silky caress. "I love being inside you, just me, nothing between us."
Andi had realized over the weekend that Jamie was an anomaly. He liked, no, he loved to talk to her during sex, loved to make her blush, loved describing how it felt to be inside her. Other times, you could rarely get a word out of the man. She gasped when his hands left her butt to hook under her knees, opening her body all the way. "I love hearing you moan and scream while I fuck you."
Her lips parted, and he released one leg to cover her mouth. "You can't scream now, though, Andi," he said harshly, shuddering as she started to tremble in his arms. "Bite me," he offered, as her eyes opened wide. "Bite me, but don't you scream."
She had never, in her whole life, experienced anything as erotic as this. Her teeth sank into the toughened flesh of his palm as he rode her hard, driving so deep inside her she thought she'd die.
She was sore. She had lied to him. She was sore and swollen and he felt unbelievably huge inside her, but the near pain only added to the moment. She had asked for this, after what he had told her last time they were in this room.
Damn, she'd be sure to ask again, once she recovered.
"I'm going to come inside you, but not until you're ready, too," he told her, biting her on the lobe of her ear, laughing when she whimpered.
"Jamie," she whispered against his hand. "Ohhhh." A long, low moan left her mouth as she started to convulse around him.
She felt the rush of heat inside her as Jamie climaxed and she shuddered, squeezing with her inner muscles, riding the wave as long as she could.
Moments later, he collapsed against her, letting her legs go. Clearing his throat, he said with a dry mouth, "Ms. Morrow, I think it would be wise if we continued to have these discussions on a regular basis."
A smile curved her mouth up and she snuggled against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "How often?"
"As often as we can damn well manage it without killing ourselves," he replied seriously, his voice brisk and businesslike. Then he pulled back, pulled out of her and stepped back. In a matter of seconds, his clothing was restored and he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, restoring it to some kind of order. With a shrug of his shoulders, his holster shifted back into place and he looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ.
Then he moved closer, smoothing her skirt down her hips. Flicking at the gold dangling from her ears, Jamie said, "You planned this yesterday?"
She nodded, stretching her arms high overhead before running her fingers through her disarrayed curls. Her cheeks were pink but she stood there half-naked, letting him look his fill.
Reaching up, Jamie cupped her face in his hands and pressed a gentle loving kiss to her mouth. "I love you, you wanton little minx," he whispered.
"I love you, too," she replied. "And it's your fault. You bring out the worst in me."
His eyes widened and he pressed one hand to his heart. "This is your worst? Baby, don't ever show me your best; I don't think I could handle it."
He left the room a few minutes later as she straightened back up. He tapped on the door to let her know the hall was clear. Glancing up, he saw the video monitor and said conversationally, "You know the monitor saw us going in there."
She lifted her shoulders. "I'll just tell them you were grilling me," she said with a grin as they walked across the hall to the elevator.
"Did you wear this for me?" he asked as they stepped into the elevator.
She was planning a trip to the women's restroom. Her thighs were damp and sticky and she was wet from both him and herself. Looking up, she said, "Well, yes and no. I have an in-service I have to go to across town. So I had to wear professional casual. But I was planning on wearing a pantsuit."
He reached down, patted her tight rear end and grinned. "Thank God for in-services." Then his hand disappeared briefly to trace the lace of her thigh highs. "And stockings."
\*
"You're going...where?" Mick repeated, lowering the Coptalk magazine he was reading.
"To Andi's," Jamie responded, swinging his jacket around and shoving his arms into the sleeves. At his side, a small suitcase waited and a garment bag was draped over the back of the chair.
"That's not very wise," Mick said, tossing the magazine down and rising.
"No? I think it's pretty damn smart myself."
"How so?"
Shoving one hand through his hair, Jamie relayed the conclusions he had come to Sunday on the drive home from visiting his folks. "I'm in love with her, Mick. That's the bottom line. When this whole thing comes to a head, she's going to know about it. And I don't want her hurt. As long as she remembers that I love her, we can get through it."
"So you move in with her?"
"I spend as much time as humanly possible showing her that I love her." Glancing down at the tape recorder Mick constantly kept at his side, he scowled. "Turn that damn thing off." Pacing the length of the cold, impersonal luxury condo he was using, he said, "She loves me. I'm going to make damn sure that she can't live without me; once this matter is settled---"
"And what if she doesn't remember that, Jamie? I don't want to see you hurt, boy," Mick said, shaking his head. "None of this is your fault. It's not even anything you could control. You had a job to do; what if she can't get past that?"
Grimly, Jamie said, "I'm not going to let that happen, Mick."
Sighing, Mick turned the tape recorder over and over in his hands. "Son, you may not be able to stop it."
Jamie refused to consider that.
Tossing his garment bag and suitcase into the trunk, he slammed it closed and got into the car. It would all be over with in a matter of weeks anyway. Letcher had made arrangements with Mick Friday night while Jamie had been taking Andi to bed. Nothing he had said could be used as evidence; he'd been too vague. But the meet was planned, the bait cast, and as far as Letcher was concerned, he and Mick were constructing evidence that would paint Andi guilty in the eyes of the law.
The sick feeling in his gut didn't lessen as he drove his car down the expressway toward Andi. Mick seemed pretty hopeful the entire thing could be kept quiet. Letcher hadn't even gone near Andi, and Jeb had given his word he would keep the matter quiet once they had Art in custody.
And Jamie had as much faith in the thought of keeping it quiet as he had in government. Absolutely none. If he was smart, he'd keep some distance between them until Letcher was behind bars and Jamie could explain why he'd led others to believe he was investigating her.
He knew the smart thing to do was turn around, go back to that condo, maybe call her and make plans to see her Friday. See her, not tumble her down on the bed again.
But the clothes were to keep over there next time he fell asleep in her arms.
Pulling into the driveway, he studied the small piece of land she had. Just past the Jefferson County line, she had found a place that hadn't been turned into subdivisions or shopping malls.
The driveway wound its way from the road through a small stand of trees, over a creek before climbing its way to the small hill the house was built on.
As he followed the path around to the garage in the back of the house, he grinned. She was taking advantage of the sun and the heat, clad in a tiny pair of shorts and a sports bra, hosing down her car.
A pair of headphones on her ears, she didn't hear him as he pulled up. He debated between sneaking up behind her or just honking the horn. He decided on the horn because he figured if he sneaked up on her, he'd either get pelted with water, or get thrown to the ground. Jamie wasn't sure his ego could handle it if he was thrown to the ground by a girl, brown belt or not.
He climbed from the car, leaning in to press on the horn.
Her head flew up, eyes startled. He saw the tension claim her body before she recognized him, saw the way she spread her stance, clutching the hose the way she would a weapon. Disgust curled in his belly, even as she smiled and relaxed once she saw him. It made him sick, the way this sweet, sassy woman had been forced to learn to protect herself. It made him sick that it was necessary, and it made him furious that he hadn't known her then, hadn't been with her to protect her.
The thoughts cleared from his mind as she dropped the hose, and moments later plastered her damp body against his. Threading his fingers through the ponytail, he tugged her head back and lowered his mouth to hers. Sliding his mouth across hers, Jamie absorbed the shock that touching her always gave his system. Parting her lips, he slid his tongue across hers in a gentle caress, gliding one hand up and down her back before curling his fingers around her hip and tugging her against him.
Drawing his head back, he rested his forehead against hers and sighed. "Missed you," he whispered, wondering how he had been turned into a man who couldn't stand not seeing her everyday.
"I know. Me, too."
"I came by the daycare a couple times today," he told her. "You were in some parent conference the first time."
Her fingers caressed the nape of his neck, combed through his short hair. "I know. I heard you out there. I wish you could have waited."
Damn, she had gotten so sappy, Andi mused as she buried her head against his chest, feeling at ease now that his arms were around her once more. How had one weekend led to this?
It hadn't been just the weekend though. It had been brewing ever since she had looked into his eyes. Every time she saw him, that slow, rare smile on his serious face, every time she looked into those pale green eyes, her heart flipped over in her chest.
And when he touched her, she felt like it sent a bolt of lightening coursing through her veins.
Finally, his hands stroked down her arms, squeezed her hands, before he stepped away. Flicking a curl away from her face, he asked, "You want some help?"
Her nose wrinkled as she slid her eyes from the top of his neatly combed hair down to his Italian leather shoes. "You aren't dressed for washing cars," she told him with a grin. Turning she walked back over and picked up the hose, her bare feet splashing in the cold puddle of water.
"You eat yet?"
Looking at him over her shoulder, she bent over, picked up her sponge. She grinned widely as she saw where his eyes landed. She straightened slowly, rolled her shoulders absently before saying, "I was going to make a steak. Sound okay?"
He looked into her gleaming eyes, a wry grin on his face. He shrugged as if to say, I'm a man, whaddya expect? Then he looked away from her smiling face to the gas grill on the deck. "How about I take care of supper while you finish up?"
"Oh, be still my heart," she said, pressing one hand to her half-naked breast. "A man offering to cook me dinner."
"Don't forget I made you breakfast," he reminded her, heading up the small flight of stairs.
Later, he urged her to the floor, her body naked except for a button down shirt she had snatched from him after their shower. "You remember how I told you there were a million things I wanted to do with you?"
"Yes," she whispered, her voice husky and soft, her face flushed.
"Here's the next thing on the list," he murmured. "Get on your hands and knees." After she complied, he knelt behind her and his body cupped hers, rocking against her until she started to whimper and quiver. "You tell me when you're ready for this," he told her, reaching down and pulling out the lubricant he had brought with him.
In the flickering firelight, her skin looked like gold. Shoving the shirt up above her waist, he shoved his shorts down and eased into her from behind, using his hands to set her hips to rocking. Once she found her own rhythm, he let go and flipped open the lube before pouring some into his hand to warm it.
Her hot tight little pussy clenched around his cock when he slicked the lubricant along her anus, coating his fingers before sliding the tip of one inside. "Just getting you ready," he murmured when she jerked. "You're going to like this, baby. Ever thought about being fucked in the ass?"
Mutely, she shook her head no, mingled excitement and fear mixing inside her.
"When you're ready, it's just about the best damn feeling there is," he promised, placing one hand on her hip, riding her a little harder, penetrating her hole a little more, smiling when she tensed and bucked underneath his hands.
"Jamie---"
"Are you ready for more?" he asked softly, praying she was. He'd been hard night and day, thinking about doing this to her, thinking about how the hot glove of her ass would feel. He'd been waiting until he figured she'd be ready for this. Some of his lovers never got ready for this, but if he knew Andi...
"...yes," she sighed, twisting and straining, trying to take more of his finger inside her bottom.
Pulling out, he stared down at them, his cock slippery and wet from her vagina, her anus quivering and slippery from the lube. Then he took one of her hands and pushed it between her thighs, waiting until she was stroking her clit before he eased himself against her, not even entering her yet. The rose-colored hole spasmed, as if seeking him, and he smeared more lube between the cheeks of her ass, coating her anus before he started to rock the head of his cock against her.
"This might hurt a little," he warned, his voice tight, his skin, his cock tight, so damn tight he thought he was going to come before he even got it inside her. "If you want me to stop..." I won't. "Tell me," he ordered, forcing his own selfish demands to be quiet.
"Do it," she ordered, planting both hands on the ground and rocking back to meet him.
"You do it," he countered.
So she did. Rocking so minutely, it took more than a minute just to get the first inch in. But she was liking it. Already her body was tightening for climax and when he dipped a hand around to stroke her clit, she was wetter than she had ever been. Gathering some of those sweet fluids, he smeared them on his cock and took her hips, forcing a little deeper inside her body.
"No!" she snapped.
He froze, thinking he had hurt her.
"Let me do it! Ah, that feels so fucking good," she muttered, sliding a little further onto his cock, taking a little more inside her butt before sliding forward until he had almost left her.
The sight was just about more than he could handle. "You're missing out, baby," he panted, staring down as she rocked back and forth on his cock, the tight snug embrace of her asshole bringing him to the point of coming. "Got any idea what this feels like, what it looks like?"
"It feels like you're inside my ass," she said with a groan, panting, and pushing back, bearing down on him harder. "Jamie...oh, damn. Jamie, I need..." her broken little words made no sense to her. She wasn't even sure what she wanted. She didn't even have half his engorged penis inside her and she felt full, too full. Too full, maybe, to take any more in. So she wasn't really sure what she was asking for.
But he knew. Locking his hands on her hips, he said, "This will help." And then he lunged, driving his cock all the way inside.
Beneath him, she screamed, long and hard and loud, her body as taut as a bowstring. "Touch yourself, slide your fingers inside that wet little vagina, and play. You're going to come like you never thought you could," Jamie told her, pulling out and driving back in, harder, harder.
It's too damn much, Andi thought, and whimpered just a tiny bit, opening her mouth to tell him to stop, not to do it any more. "Jamie, stop," she mouthed, trying to squirm away from him. He pulled out and her tensed body started to relax. But then his hard, strong hands closed over her hips and jerked her back as he drove his cock inside her again. "Don't," she whispered, a little louder.
Pulled out, rammed her in the ass yet again.
"Jamie, that hurts---Oh!" she shrieked when he used his own hand and jammed two fingers into her pulsating sheath while his cock rammed her in the ass. It took her by surprise---the force of the orgasm that ripped and clawed its way through her---starting low in her belly and spreading outward with each repeated thrust from behind. A dam of moisture inside her loins ruptured and cream flooded out of her pulsating pussy, coating Jamie's fingers as he pinched her clit.
The climax had barely ended when another followed it. She saw colored streaks erupt around her and her breath left her lungs in a rush.
A hot jet went off inside her ass and his climax set her off again. While he pumped in and out of her ass, the third climax stole the breath from her lungs and blackness flooded her vision.
When her eyes fluttered open a few minutes later, she had slumped to the floor and Jamie hovered atop her, stroking the globes of her ass gently, while he waited for her to come back. Once she had started to breathe a little steadier, he braced his hands on her hips and crooned softly, pulling out with a slick wet sound. A weak, protesting whimper escaped her lips and her body shuddered as he eased her gently to the floor.
Lube, semen and a tiny streak of blood seeped from her ass as Jamie leaned over, pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, shifting until he could sit and draw her into his lap.
"Not sure. Ask me in a few hours," she mumbled, her whole body still quivering from reaction. Her heart pounded inside her chest so hard she thought she was going to have a heart attack.
"Hurt?"
"No," she said after she took a minute to evaluate. "I'm not hurt. Sore, yes." Rolling her head on his shoulder, she stared up him, a dazed look lingering in her eyes.
Reaching up, he brushed his fingers over her mouth, cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm not going to ask if you enjoyed it," he told her, his other hand cupping over her cleft. "But maybe I should ask if it was okay. Some women don't like getting it in the ass. Or at least, they'd never admit to it."
With a weak chuckle, she said, "Then that is their very sad loss."
He smiled and bussed her mouth before shifting her pliant body away. "Let's go take a shower," he said, lifting her in his arms.
"Hmm," she murmured, eyelids getting heavier. "Wake me when we're done."
\*
Jamie spent three nights that week with Andi, her body pressed against his, wrapped in his arms.
The third night, he'd arrived at her house to find her sitting listlessly on the couch, her face pale, legs drawn up to her belly. An old sitcom flickered on the TV, but he doubted she was really seeing it.
"You're not sick, are you?" he asked, tossing down the spare key she had given him before settling next to her on the couch, drawing her tense body into his arms.
Her eyes, tired and dull with fatigue, met his. Shaking her head, she said, "No."
"What's wrong?" he asked, stroking his hands over her stiff back.
"Take a guess," she murmured, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink as she stared at the wall beyond his shoulder.
One hand slid to rest on her belly, rubbing it soothingly, as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Hmm. The Queen of England declined your invitation to tea?" he teased. She wouldn't meet his eyes and Jamie rolled his. Cupping her face in his hands, he said, "Andi, I've got two sisters. I know all about this."
Giving him a dour look, she asked, "Is there anything about women you don't know?"
He just grinned at her.
"I'll be okay in the morning," she murmured. "You don't have to stay."
Gathering her in his arms, he kicked his loafers off and simply said, "I want to."
She fell asleep right there in his arms, less than ten minutes later, the soothing heat of his large hand pressed to her belly, the other hand kneading the tense muscles of her shoulders and back.
He buried his face in her hair and whispered, "I love you."
Distracted, Jamie didn't even realize the door to his office was open until he almost walked right into the cleaning lady. She muttered a quiet "Sorry," as she dumped his small can of trash into the large plastic bag tied to the side of her cart.
Sarah Mullins, he thought automatically. "I thought the door was locked," he said, brushing past her. They'd already had this discussion before. She could clean his office only if the door wasn't locked. She wasn't to use her master to get in and clean if he wasn't there.
Her purple eyes met his and she said, "It wasn't. Haven't cleaned in here for nearly two weeks now." With a scowl, she attacked the dust on his desk as if it were a personal insult to her.
"The door wasn't locked?" he asked.
"No."
A quick look around showed there was nothing she could have gotten a hold of, not that she'd likely understand it anyway. Jamie was certain he had never met a more dense person in his life. He'd absently offered her a drink once as he'd been on his way to the Coke machine and she'd stared at him as though he'd grown two heads and said, "A what...?"
Mick and Jamie never left any of their work behind, always secured it in a locked briefcase, and carried it back to the condo they shared. Mick had been the last to leave last night, again, after Letcher had approached him in the lunchroom, wanting to 'discuss' things.
Jamie had purposely lagged behind, far enough to convince Letcher he hadn't heard anything. Of course, the small device he wore pinned to his shirt, picked up and recorded everything that was in view. And the ever-present recording device Mick kept in his pocket came on instantly at the sound of a voice.
Letcher was digging a hole for himself. But it was taking far too long for Jamie's piece of mind.
He settled down at his desk, crossing his arms, his briefcase sitting on the desk in front of him, closed. "Try to hurry it up, if you can, Sarah," was all he said as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Mick came in barely a minute later, barely glancing at Sarah as he grinned widely at Jamie. With one finger, he tapped his jacket pocket, indicating the recorder inside.
Hope and anticipation sprang through Jamie and he resisted the urge to tell the cleaning girl to get out.
Instead, he waited patiently, absently talking about the upcoming World Series with Mick as if he had absolutely nothing else on his mind.
Once she was gone, Mick closed the door tightly behind her and pulled the recorder from his pocket.
"...big, this time. How are things progressing with Ms. Morrow?"
Jamie recognized Letcher's high pitched nasal tones, and Mick's lower, slower drawl. "Jamie is still looking for something to convict her with. She's got all this extra money lying around. God only knows where it came from. But he wants proof."
"I'll get him that proof. You think you can find a way to present it to him, once I arrange it?"
"Of course. He's so damn wrapped up in computers, he's forgotten about real investigating, if he ever knew."
Jamie glanced at Mick, a sardonic brow lifted. Real investigating was something he had learned from Mick.
Mick only smiled easily, laced his fingers behind his head and focused back on the tape.
"You don't seem to like him very much."
"He's a kid who thinks he knows everything. Always running off at the mouth about computers, and personality profiles, doesn't know squat about real investigating. Hell, finding out her finances was his responsibility, and he still hasn't done it."
"How exactly are you going to work this, once you get the money?"
"Quit and retire to Mexico," Mick replied. "I got...a nest egg, and once this is over, it will be more than enough for what I need. Especially since I'm selling out my half in the business to Jamie. He won't want to share it with anybody else. Hell, he's been trying to get me out for the last five years. And I started the damn company."
"Here comes the really good part," Mick said, leaning against the wall, grinning like a loon.
"There's one thing I don't like though. I really don't want to see the girl in prison. She's practically a kid."
"I've already thought of that. I've felt Jeb out and he's not going to press charges. She'll lose her job and get a bad rep, but hell, she doesn't need a good rep to work in a nursing home."
"How do you know he won't press charges?"
"He likes her too much. He said, and I quote, 'I just can't see her doing something like this to me,' and then he made the pronouncement, 'It's only money. I don't want to see her life ruined just for a mistake. Once it's all settled, I'll have my lawyers set up a meeting and I'll tell her if the money is returned, we'll call it even.' Then he goes on to tell me that Jamie still hadn't found proof, but he is aware that it isn't looking good for Ms. Morrow."
The only sign of life in Jamie's cold face was the muscle that ticked in his jaw. His eyes were cool and flat and unblinking. Not so much as an eyelash quivered as Mick stared at him. Jamie wasn't at all pleased by the hole Letcher was digging for himself. In fact, Jamie looked about ready to shove him in that still shallow hole and bury him alive. "Buddy, it's almost over," he said quietly, cocking his head. "Keep listening."
"I'm turning in my notice on Monday," Letcher said. "It's very sad, you know. My wife has recently been diagnosed with breast cancer. I'm quitting to spend more time with her."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Art," Mick said.
"Ah, well, don't be. She'll make a sudden and startling recovery once we are in Monaco," Art replied, laughing. "I've made some wise investments over the years and have a fat little bank account waiting for me. I just want to make one last parting shot, a big one this time."
Mick's eyes might have started glazing over the technical mumbo-jumbo that followed, but Jamie's only narrowed. If he wasn't so furious, he might have appreciated how well Letcher had planned this out. How cannily he had hidden his theft. Padding expenses here, skimming from profits there.
"We've got proof right there," Jamie said, looking at Mick.
"And we'll have more in just another week or so. You know as well as I do, any smart lawyer can find a way out if we don't actually catch him turning money over to me."
"How is he planning on planting this so called proof?" Jamie wondered, rising up from his chair and pacing. His lean fingers rubbed at his neck as he stopped to stare at the blank white wall in front of him.
Mick shrugged his shoulders and held his hand up. "Listen," he said.
"Speaking of grudges, what's the deal with you and Jeb? I thought ya'll were friends."
Snorting laughter. "I have no friends, and no loyalties except to myself. Jeb Booth is a joke, Mick. A sad joke. Instead of making me the VP, he gave it to that fool, Johnson. Well, he made his bed."
"You certain he won't be able to trace this to us?"
"I'll handle Booth. You just worry about keeping McAdams busy. Of course, he's so busy putting it to Andi, I doubt he'll notice a damn thing. He's already certain she's guilty, but I'd bet my ass they've been getting it on. And some people would consider me slime," Art said, chuckling. "He's just waiting for her to trip up so he can slam her in jail, and in the meantime, he's slamming her."
Jamie shot to his feet, jamming his fisted hands into his pockets, gritting his teeth as the tape ended. "I'm gonna nail that bastard to the wall," he said pleasantly, wanting nothing more than to take the recorder and make Letcher eat it, that and the ninety-two grand. Slowly, he drew in a deep breath, ordered his muscles to relax.
"Calm down, man. It's almost over," Mick said, eyeing the younger man warily.
"Yeah, almost." The easygoing tone of voice didn't have Mick relaxing any. Slowly, Mick got to his feet, deciding maybe sharing the tape wasn't the brightest move. I could have just hit the highlights, he thought with a weary sigh. And saved myself the trouble.
"Jamie, you need to calm down," Mick said, wisely keeping his distance. "This will all be over with in a matter of few days, another two weeks top."
I'm supposed to keep lying to her for two more weeks? Jamie thought. He took a deep breath, acknowledging what he had already decided to do. "I know," he said mildly, fury still hazing his vision.
As Mick retreated from the office, Jamie dropped into his seat and said, "Sorry, buddy. But as far as Andi is concerned, it's already over."
She rolled out of bed on Saturday morning with a yawn and stretch, eyeing the clock with acute dislike. Way too early for a Saturday. But she had a house to clean and a book to work on. Of course, maybe the house wouldn't get clean. She had lain awake for ages, unable to sleep without Jamie next to her.
She had gotten accustomed to him so quickly. Already she could hardly imagine her life without him.
But on the up side, it had hit her like a bolt of lightening, and she had sprung out of bed and hit the keyboard, staying awake until nearly three a.m. while the story flowed from her with an ease she rarely experienced, page after page, chapter after chapter.
With a moan, she wondered why she was out of bed at eight thirty when she had been up so late. But nonetheless, she padded into the kitchen and searched blearily for her seldom used coffee pot. Her camisole rode high on her hips as she stretched on her toes, trying to wrap her fingers around the base.
"Damn, now that's a fine thing to see so early in the morning."
She shrieked, whirling around to see Jamie standing in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the doorjamb, a Styrofoam cup of coffee held in one hand, the other hand in the back pocket of a worn pair of jeans.
"You scared me to death," she said, her voice shaky.
His eyes slid over her nearly naked body and he smiled. "You look pretty alive to me," he replied, moving closer. Reaching over her head, he grabbed the coffee pot and moved it to the counter. "Just out of curiosity, why do you have it so high up?"
"Because I usually don't drink coffee," she replied, eyeing his cup with greed.
One black brow arched and he held the cup out to her. "Bad night?" he asked as she accepted, wrapping both hands around the cup and sipping carefully.
"Yuck, black," she muttered. Then, she took another drink, waiting for the caffeine to hit her system. She snuggled up against him, smiling when his arms came around her. "I couldn't sleep." Tipping her head back, she took in his drawn face and tired eyes. "You look kind of tired yourself."
His hands stroked down her silk-covered back. "You look beautiful," he whispered quietly, staring into her eyes. "Even if you did swipe my coffee."
"I thought you had some stuff you needed to get done," Andi said, trying to ignore the rush his words gave her.
He leaned down and rubbed his lips over her mouth. She set the coffee down and reached out, hooking her fingers in the loops of his belt. For a moment, his body crushed into hers, his arms banding tightly around her back. Andi shuddered as he greedily took her mouth. Her hands went to tug at the hem of his shirt, but before she could get it out of the waistband of his jeans, he had lifted her, planted her nearly naked butt on the cool Formica counter top and stepped back.
With a pained look, he said, "Andi, do me a really big favor and put some clothes on."
Glancing down, she followed his eyes as they trailed over the amount of skin exposed by her panties and camisole. "Why don't you come with me?" she asked, looking at him through her lashes.
"Oh, God," Jamie rasped, pressing his hands to his eyes. He turned his back, bracing his palms on the opposite counter. The fabric of his shirt drew taut and stretched across his shoulders with the move, the muscles in his forearms standing out as he clenched his hands into tight fists. "Andi, baby, I need to talk to you and I can't do it with you like that."
She shrugged, suppressing a grin as she slid off the counter. Over her shoulder, she called, "Your loss."
He looked up in time to see her pulling her camisole off as she walked away, exposing her slim naked back. Blowing a breath out, he muttered, "Don't I know it."
He took his cooling coffee, gulped it down then started hunting through the cabinets looking for more. He found a red tin can in the fridge, popped off the top and sniffed. Not the same as freshly ground, but thank God, at least it wasn't instant. Within a few minutes, the scent of coffee filled the air again and Jamie waited for the first cup.
God, he was exhausted. He pressed his thumbs against his eyes, and rolled his shoulders. Lifting his head, he watched as Andi padded back into the kitchen, an angelic smile on her face. She had dressed. Sort of. If you could call pulling a pair of well-worn, tight faded jeans on, getting dressed. A thin white cotton tank top covered her, but did not conceal. It was so thin he could see the shadow of her nipples through it. One skinny, lacy strap slid down her naked shoulder as she took a couple of mugs from the cabinet.
"You're cruel, Andi, you know that?" he asked, flicking the strap with his finger before accepting the steaming mug of coffee.
She paused in the midst of adding a boat of sugar to hers to grin up at him. "So I'm told."
Jamie waited until she had settled down on the couch before following her, holding his coffee, staring into it, as he stalled.
"What's wrong, Jamie?"
Looking up, he met her eyes. She had scooped her hair into a loose tail and she wore a pair of gold dangles through her lobes. Eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep, arms looped around one knee, she waited patiently.
"You're so damn pretty," he murmured, setting his untouched coffee on the oak entertainment center.
She flushed pink.
He wondered if a compliment in thirty years would still touch those cheeks with color, if her eyes would widen slightly and that small, self-conscious, proud smile would still curve her mouth. If he'd even be around to see it.
Moving across the carpet, he settled his weight on the coffee table. His briefcase sat on the floor in front of the couch and he reached down, picking it up. Opening it, he took out a fat file and laid it next to him. "I need to talk to you, but before I do, there's something I need to tell you. And you need to believe me."
"Okay," Andi said, her voice wary. Her hands locked together and her knuckles whitened as his tension started to transfer to her. "But if you tell me you're married, I'm going to kill you."
When he didn't answer, Andi's eyes narrowed. "You bastard."
He held his hands up and said, "Easy, girl. No, I'm not married. But if you cooperate, we can change that whenever you want."
She didn't smile, didn't respond to that as she studied him with narrowed eyes. "What's the deal, Jamie?" she asked quietly.
"I love you. I think it started when I walked into your clinic. I don't know when. I only know that I love you---you're the other half of me," he said softly, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. Raising his head, he asked, "Do you believe that?"
She combed her fingers through his thick hair and said, "Yes. I can't understand it, but yeah, I believe you."
"I don't want you to be hurt. I never wanted it."
"Hurt by what?"
Jamie had stayed up half the night, trying to figure out how to tell her this. And he had come to the conclusion that there wasn't going to be an easy way, so he just flat out told her, like he was giving Jeb a report.
Halfway through, as he was explaining how Letcher had approached Mick, she climbed off the couch, brushing past him to stand in front of the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself while she rocked back and forth.
"He's the one who pointed you towards me in the beginning?" she asked when he paused.
Staring down at the hands linked between his splayed legs, Jamie responded, "Yes."
"Figures."
That was all she said.
Jamie went through the proof that had been gathering, saying, "It was all circumstantial, not enough to nail him. It was my job to find enough evidence to get him arrested."
"So, since he conveniently put me in the way to begin with, you went ahead and used me," she supplied in a faint voice. "Efficient, Jamie. Very efficient. Nice side benefit, too."
"I never meant this to happen." Getting to his feet, he moved to stand behind her, wisely keeping his hands in his pockets. But, damn it, he wanted to touch her, hold her. "I wanted you. I won't deny that. I still do. I'm going to go to my grave wanting you. But all I intended to do was make it look like I was getting close enough to feel you out. I left some background reports and your financial data out where Letcher could find them and Mick was feeding him lines.
"I swear to God, Andi," he said hoarsely, staring at the slim, stiff back. "Getting into your bed wasn't a plan. It just happened."
"You sure as hell didn't fight it," she said coldly.
"I couldn't," Jamie replied honestly. "It was where I wanted to be. Where you wanted me."
"Why are you telling me this? Did you get what you needed and want your conscience clear before you go back to Indy?" she asked, turning around and staring at him with hooded eyes.
She had that mask on her face again, the one she had worn so often when he had first met her, the one that hid her every emotion. Even her eyes were blank. But fine tremors shook her body and Jamie would have cheerfully chopped off his arm before causing her pain. But it was too late. She was already hurting and he couldn't stop it.
Hell, he had caused it.
"I'm not going back to Indy," he told her. "Not without you."
One red brow arched and a humorless smile tugged at her mouth. "So is that a yes?"
"No. We haven't gotten the proof." He drew the slim recording device from his back pocket and hit the play button. "Once I heard this, I couldn't keep doing this."
Before the voices started, Andi slashed out, knocking it from his hand. It landed on the hardwood flooring in the foyer, sliding a few feet before coming to rest against the base of a large potted plant that stood just by the beveled glass door.
"I don't want to hear it," she whispered, her voice starting to shake. The mask was falling from her face and tears stood in her eyes. "You went around telling lies about me, having your partner point fingers my way. Do you have any idea how many times someone from upper management dropped by the daycare the past few weeks? They've been spying on me, damn it."
God, she'd already figured it all out. All of it. "I know," he said, his eyes haunted.
"You know," she repeated sarcastically. "How far down did it spread that Booth Industries suspected me of embezzlement? Did you spread that?"
"No."
"Mick did." Turning away, she rubbed her hands up and down her chilled arms. "Unofficially, I was off the list," she whispered, echoing the words he had told her only a few weeks earlier. "Unofficially, as in only you and Mick knew the truth. Everybody else thinks I'm a damn thief. Jeb, Sam?"
When he turned away, Andi closed her eyes. Amy's sweet, gentle mom, and funny, protective Jeb---two people she admired with everything in her. And they thought she was little more than a crook. She dashed away a tear with a shaky hand and asked in a cold flat voice, "How much longer?"
"What?" he asked, his voice low and rough. How much longer until what?
"How much longer is this going to go on? How much longer until you can get what you need on him?"
Jamie was silent and she whirled on him, her hands closed into tight, small fists. "How much longer?" she demanded.
"A few days, maybe two more weeks," he said, his eyes darker than she had ever seen them. "He's planning something big. Planning on splitting the money with Mick for helping point the arrow in your direction. But---"
"Fine. Two weeks. I'll wait two weeks. And then I'm turning in my notice. And you get the hell out of my house." She turned away and left the room. Moments later, the door upstairs slammed behind her as she curled up on the bed, eyes closed tight, arms wrapped around her cold body.
Downstairs, Jamie flinched as the slamming door echoed in his head. A broken sigh escaped his lips and his shoulders slumped. The only thing he had taken into consideration was that she'd be upset when she realized he had started coming around for a reason.
Why hadn't he thought about how much it would hurt to have your name dirtied?
Especially when it had taken most of your life to build that name.
Gathering his papers up, he left the house, leaving the spare key on her coffee table. He paused with one hand on the locked door, staring down the hall at the steps. It was silent, completely silent.
As he started his car, he remembered what he had thought less than a month earlier, when Mick had convinced him to do this.
Either way I lose, he had thought.
With a squeal of his tires, he whirled the car around and punched it. Hell, had he been right or what?
I lost.
But so had Andi. And he hadn't been counting on that.
\*
It was after noon before Andi left the empty bed. She couldn't sleep. The sheets, even her damn pillow, smelled like Jamie.
She rooted through her closet, unearthed a heavy fisherman's sweater she had bought in Ireland and tugged it on over her chilled flesh before heading downstairs. Her eyes were puffy and red from tears and her throat hurt from crying so much.
She stood staring into the refrigerator, with half a mind to eat something, but she couldn't take comfort in food. Her throat tended to lock up when she was upset. So, Andi figured, in about three or four years, her broken heart would fade and eventually, she'd be able to eat again.
Arms folded around her middle, she wandered the house, kicking at the carpet, pausing to rub her finger over a nonexistent mark on the wall. "I'm trying really hard here to deal with the life you've given me without complaining, God," she whispered. Her voice broke and she pressed her lips together, reaching for composure. "It's getting harder though."
There was no answer, of course. Andi really hadn't expected one.
She retreated to the living room, tugged the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her chilled body as she thumbed the remote. Deliberately, with great effort, she blanked her mind.
In a little while, she'd be able to deal with this.
Not yet, though.
Not yet.
\*
Sweat flowed freely as Jamie pounded the heavy bag with gloved hands. A snarl was etched onto his face and the guys who had joked with him only a few days earlier steered clear. He had no idea what time it was, didn't care. The air in his lungs seemed to burn and his muscles were starting to feel it as well.
But he kept pounding.
"Wondered where you were," a familiar gravelly voice said. "I dunno why it took me so long to check here."
"Go away, Mick," he panted, ignoring the throb that was developing in his right shoulder. When his right arm began to feel too heavy to lift, he switched sides, going from a right jab to a left without breaking speed.
"You keep this up, you're gonna punch a hole through the bag," Mick observed, noting the heavy sheen of sweat. He'd seen the sheet where Jamie had signed in. Nearly two hours earlier.
"Get the f---" he paused, bending over from the waist to catch his breath. Roughly, he said, "Mick, just get away from me. You don't want to be around me right now."
With a shrug of his stooped shoulders, and his best hangdog expression, Mick said, "I've seen you at your best and at your worst. Nothing you do or say will surprise me any more. And you look like you need a friend."
A humorless laugh escaped and Jamie straightened, stripping the gloves off his hands and tossing them aside. "Need? I can't have what I need. I can't have what I want. Go away," he repeated.
What he needed was locked up in her house. What he wanted was crying and hating him and hurting.
"I take it you and Andi are having problems."
Jamie's face went blank and his eyes went cold. "Drop it," he ordered, brushing past Mick on legs that were starting to shake.
"Why? So you can pound on something until you keel over from exhaustion? Talk to me, kid. Tell me what's happened and what it's gonna take to fix it," Mick demanded.
Jamie paused, glancing at Mick over his shoulder. With a small shake of his head, Jamie said, "There's nothing left to fix, buddy. It's over."
He collapsed in the steam room, a towel hooked around his waist, his muscles alternately throbbing and going numb. His shoulders, arms, and chest were on fire and the knuckles of his hands were reddened and slightly swollen, despite the protection the gloves had provided.
He realized there was a good possibility Andi wouldn't return to Booth Industries after the weekend. But he couldn't work up the nerve to care. Even though they wouldn't get their last shot at Letcher. It would keep the bastard from being able to come down on Andi, though. That wasn't such a bad thing. And maybe Jeb would be happy with a little old-fashioned justice. Jamie would be more than happy to help with that.
How in the hell could he expect her to go back? God, why hadn't he thought this through before he continued with it? He never had. How many lives had he ruined by doing something exactly like this, letting somebody else carry the blame while he boxed the crook into a corner? He'd done it before.
And the person had been left to deal with suspicious glances and a sullied name.
He'd done that to Andi.
She was so proud, almost arrogant.
Closing his eyes, hardly even aware of the heavy heat, Jamie damned himself to hell and back, his chest aching at what he had thrown away.
"What do you mean, she may not come in?" Mick repeated, his voice low and hushed.
"She knows," Jamie said simply as he tossed his briefcase on his borrowed desk and turned, prepared to deal with the fallout. Mick stood there, his face red and furious, his mouth working even though no words came. Jamie held up one hand and said, "Before you say anything, are you aware of what we did? Every single person who knows about the embezzlement is thinking Andi's the one who did it. Did you stop to think about how degrading, how insulting, how cold that is? If somebody did it to you, how easy would it be for you to hold your head up?"
"She didn't do a damn thing, and she knows it. If I was her, I wouldn't give a damn. Aw, hell, Jamie. It was almost over." Mick's pugnacious jaw dropped, lowered and he scrubbed his face with his hands.
"The people here that she cared about think she's a damn thief. You expect me to believe that wouldn't bother you?" Jamie asked, lifting one brow. He stood in Jeb's office, staring over the parking lot, looking for the familiar teal green car to turn in. Nearly eight o'clock. She wasn't coming. "We dragged her name through the mud, Mick. On purpose. And for what?"
"To catch a thief?" Mick suggested with a dry look.
Turning, Jamie asked, "Is it worth it? To catch one crook, is it really worth ruining the life of an innocent person? A damn good person who never once hurt another soul?"
"Christ, Jamie."
"We humiliated her. I used her," he snapped, jabbing a thumb at his chest. "And worse, even though I knew what was going to come down, I slept with her."
Silence fell. Agitated, Mick lit a cigarette, offering one to Jamie before tucking them back into his pocket. Mick realized that he hadn't seen Jamie smoke once since he had seen the girl struggling to breathe in the office of the daycare the day she'd surprised them. "So what in the hell are we gonna do? We've got a job to do, damn it."
Jamie lifted his shoulders, and said, "I really don't give a damn, Mick."
As if he hadn't heard him, Mick paced back and forth. "We'll think of something, damn it." Muttering under his breath, scratching his thick, silvering hair, he thought the thing through. "Maybe we can---"
Jamie straightened, his arms dropping from his chest, his hands sliding into his pockets as he shoved off the desk. Moving closer to the window, he said, "Chill out, Mick. She's here."
"What if she says something, damn it? It could put her in danger," Mick pointed out as he tried to convince Jamie to go to the daycare.
"She won't say anything. She wants him nailed as badly as you do," Jamie said. Looking his old friend in the eye, he said, "I'm not going down there. She made her wishes clear. I've done enough damage."
"For crying out loud. Take her some flowers or something. She's a woman. Women forgive anything. You were just doing your job!"
Jamie ignored him, his eyes following the screen. He had set it up to relay everything that took place on Letcher's screen. Letcher was currently forging documents that looked rather official---juvenile records, the kind that tended to be sealed.
Documents with Andi's name on it. Letcher was building her a bad rep, inventing one out of thin air.
Once they were completed, Jamie saved a copy to disk as Letcher logged online in his office upstairs. Then Jamie got a peek at his finances, as Letcher couldn't resist admiring his bank accounts online.
"You've completely lost it," Mick was muttering on his way out the door. "Over a girl you hardly know."
Quietly, in an echo of what Jeb had told him weeks earlier, Jamie said, "Mick, if you knew her, you'd understand."
Andi had known it would be hard, walking into Booth, but she hadn't known how hard. The security at the gate eyed her as she entered, and she passed by the night-shift manager, feeling his eyes on her every step of the way. Encountering Sam in the hall, when she went to greet Amy, she got a shoulder in her face and a cold look.
All the little things she had been noticing for weeks, but not really paying any attention to. Of course, it was worse now than it had been. Even Johnson, the VP who always paused a few minutes to speak with her when he saw her in the hall, looked at her as if she were slime.
But Andi kept her chin up and pretended not to notice.
She'd be damned if she left before she was good and ready.
Of course, the minute Letcher slipped up, that was it.
It wasn't just her paranoia. Ever since Jamie---God, it hurt to even think of his name---had told her what was going on, pieces starting falling together and the odd looks she had been receiving and ignoring now made sense. Now it made sense why so many of the upper management had become so interested in her daycare.
It even made sense why Jamie had paid attention to her at all.
Oh, it all made sense.
It was also making her sick.
Once she had escaped into the daycare, she paused a moment in the dark, leaning against the door, one hand pressed to her belly. Nausea rolled through her in greasy waves and it took a moment before she was sure she wouldn't be sick.
A week, maybe two.
Andi flicked on the light and moved to her office, trying to perk herself up a bit.
Girl, you lived in hell for years. You can handle two weeks of people talking about you behind your back, she told herself.
Of course, she had thought, had hoped she had left that life behind. Maybe blood really did tell. Maybe she would never be free of it.
The door opened outside her office and she heard familiar, friendly voices. Pasting a smile on her face, she steeled herself to walk into the childcare area and pretend there was nothing wrong.
Several hours later, Abby reached out, touched her hand to Andi's and asked, "Are you okay?"
Glancing at the younger woman, Andi offered a tired smile and said, "I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well this weekend."
"You look like you don't feel well," Abby said.
"I'm just tired. Thanks for asking," Andi said, turning her back and clapping her hands to get the kids' attention.
She worked through lunch, feeding the kids, changing diapers, laying weary little bodies down for an afternoon nap. She yearned to stretch out beside them and sleep, but forced herself into her office, taking Amy with her. Amy sat in her bouncer, staring with solemn eyes while Andi booted up the computer and started the monthly inventory of the medical supplies. On the side, she had a half-eaten sandwich on a plate. The other half sat like a stone in her belly.
She checked on the order she had placed early last winter for the flu vaccine and went ahead and made the flyer that she'd distribute next month.
No, which her replacement would distribute. She'd spent the weekend drafting her job description and writing out a help wanted ad that Jeb's people could put in the Courier once she had turned in her notice.
"God, Amy. I don't know if I can do this," she whispered.
The baby reached out, cooing. When Andi held her hand out, Amy clamped tight to a finger and laughed.
"I'm going to miss them. All of them," Andi said, touching the baby's downy cheek, blinking away the tears that threatened.
Glancing up, she saw Abby sitting in a chair, studying. Becky was outside on her smoke break and the only person paying Andi any attention was the baby. "It's not fair, you know," she said conversationally, as if waiting for Amy to reply. "I worked damned hard here, bent over backwards trying to make this place work, make sure Jeb understood that hiring me on was a good decision."
The baby cooed and started waving her arms up and down, excited.
Andi smiled and leaned back in her chair. "I wish...hell, who am I fooling? I know better than to go wishing for things," she murmured. Reaching up, she wiped away a tear.
Amy just laughed and kicked her little feet.
Andi shoved her self-pity aside, dashed away tears and settled down to work.
Jamie rounded the corner, frustrated, lonely and bored out of his mind.
He froze in his tracks when he saw Andi standing in front of the bank of elevators, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. She rocked back on her heels, reached up to brush a wisp of hair out of her face and turned her head.
Jamie's heart did a slow twist inside his chest.
She stared at him over the short distance that separated them. Her hazel eyes were blank and her face showed little emotion. Slowly, she turned her head back to the elevators, waiting, ignoring Jamie.
When the car arrived, she stepped inside, the doors sliding closed at her back, not even glancing at Jamie. He felt the blood, the life, slowly drain out of him and he turned blindly, walking back to his office.
"Jamie."
For half a second, his heart started to beat again, but then he realized the voice he heard wasn't Andi's. It was only vaguely familiar. He stopped in his tracks and lifted his head, looking into the cool blue eyes of Samantha Dowers, the head of human resources, the woman who Andi had considered a friend.
"Ms. Dowers," he said, inclining his head, even though all he wanted to do was go into his office and lock the door.
Glancing around, she made sure the hall was empty before she asked quietly, "How much evidence do you have on her?"
"Excuse me?"
"On Andrina Morrow. How much evidence? I want this matter solved, quickly. My mother is taking care of Amy until she is gone. But Andi shouldn't be around any of the kids in that daycare."
The sickness that had been residing in Jamie's belly started to climb up his throat. They were taking the kids away from her. What had she said, that first day he had kissed her? She had nodded to the kids in the play area and said, "That's the closest thing I have to a family." No wonder she had turned away.
"You head up the human resources department, right? Fancy yourself a good judge of character?" Jamie asked, taking her elbow, guiding her to stand beside a large potted plant, out of the way of anybody walking by, out of sight.
"You can't always tell a person is a crook, just by looking at them. The reason criminals are so successful is because they are good at fooling people. She fooled all of us," Sam said, her voice shaking slightly. "She touched my daughter."
"You are responsible for keeping certain information confidential, right?" Jamie said, acting as if she hadn't spoken. When her eyes narrowed on his, he went on to say, "Consider this confidential, or I'll see you lose your job. And once this is all said and done, Jeb will not be giving you a good recommendation."
"What are you talking about? And who do you think you are? You're just a PI, you can't cost me my job," she said, her eyes narrowed and her voice shaking with rage.
"Ms. Dowers, I'm a personal friend of the Booth family. My father went to school with Jeb, and he happens to be my godfather." Arching a brow, he asked, "Still think I hold no influence? I'm here as a favor to him, and I can damn well guarantee that Jeb will listen to anything I tell him."
Sam's face had paled, but she composed herself, inclining her head, waiting for him to continue.
Glancing around, Jamie lowered his head the scant inch it took to reach the tall woman's ear. "Things aren't always the way they seem, Ms. Dowers. And some of us are right to trust our instincts."
As he walked away, Sam stood there, confused. She really didn't know what to make of that.
As for Jamie, he was counting the minutes on the clock, waiting until it was okay for him to escape, preferably to the nearest bar.
\*
"...a thief."
There was just something about the way they were talking that caught Abby's attention as she settled down at the table for lunch. They didn't really notice her. Few people did. She was too young, too plain looking, and too inconsequential. And that was okay with her. People would be simply amazed if they knew how much she had picked up just because they didn't pay her attention.
But this time, it had her shaking with fury.
"I never would have thought it of Andi. She's so sweet," Max Rusher said, frowning.
"Hell, I think she's a fucking snob."
Max glared at Frank. "That's just 'cause she turned you down flat. You think anybody who ain't impressed with you is either a snob or a lesbian or both," he snorted, swigging from his soft drink. "I can't see it. She's not the most talkative sort, but she strikes me as an honest one."
"Not me." Mike Crown said, shaking his head as he munched on his burger. "I always see her punching away at her computer, all stealthy like. I always figured she was up to something. Stealing from us. Hell, she was probably the reason our Christmas bonus didn't go up as much as we'd hoped it would."
Abby's hands clenched around her sandwich and she slowly set it down, picking up her napkin and wiping her hands clean as she took a deep, slow breath and released it.
What in the hell...
Turning her head, she looked around. All over, people were talking. Some normally, but some...furtive conversations, heads lowered, faces angry. And a few had actually noticed her.
Abby sneered at them and stood, stalking away.
Abby was waiting in Andi's office later that day, after all the kids had left. Her chubby face was red and her eyes were flashing with anger. Andi was a little surprised. She had never known the quiet, gentle Abby to get upset over anything.
"I overheard a couple of the guys talking at lunch," Abby said, the words pouring out of her in a rush. "They're going around saying you're a thief."
It must be spreading like wildfire if somebody like Abby had overheard. She wasn't around the upper management, simply because of where and when she worked. So it had trickled down to the lower and middle levels of management. Andi lowered herself into her chair, rolling a pencil between her hands as she tried to figure out how to handle this.
Finally, she sighed. Abby was a good kid, knew when to keep her mouth shut. So she told the younger girl an abbreviated version of the truth.
"That's not right," Abby said hotly, shooting out of her seat, her hands clenched into tight fists. "It's not damned fair."
Softly, Andi laughed. Abby, like Andi, was an orphan, had in fact been cared for by some of the same foster families. She knew how life was. "Abby, sweetie, you know just as well as I do that life isn't fair."
"It was all an act, wasn't it?" Abby asked, her soft heart breaking as she thought of how many times she had seen Jamie with her boss, the woman that Abby practically worshipped, and knowing it was all a lie.
Andi didn't say anything, turning her face away so Abby wouldn't see the misery in her eyes. "Anyway, I'm waiting to see that the bastard, who shall remain nameless, gets what is coming to him. And then I'm turning in my notice."
With a humorless grin, she said, "Amy's not going to be with us for a few days---Ms. Dowers told me earlier. No doubt because of me. I'll be out of here, once this mess is solved. The A-team is falling apart."
"I don't blame you. Hell, I'd go ahead and quit."
Andi lifted her shoulders in a tired shrug. "I thought about it, Abby. Long and hard. But you know what? I'm sick and tired of people whispering about me behind my back, of the dirty looks, the insults they think I don't hear. You know what it's like. Everything that goes wrong, you're responsible, you're the troublemaker." In a heated whisper, she said, "I want them to know they were wrong about me. I want them to come up to me and apologize, or say, I knew it wasn't you all along. And then---"
"And then, you're going to walk away, and not give them the chance."
"Girl, you know me too well," Andi said with a faint smile.
Abby remained a few minutes longer, and as she was gathering up her things, she asked, her eyes focused on her books, "Does he know that you love him?"
Andi's head fell back and she stared up at the ceiling.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Andi said, shaking her head.
"It sucks. I swear it does," Abby whispered through clenched teeth. "Doesn't he know all he had to do was ask, and you would have gone along with it? Instead, he just used you and set you up."
Left alone in the silence of the office, Andi had to agree. It really did, without a doubt, suck.
She kicked something as she juggled her purse and a bag of groceries while locking the door behind her. Flipping on the light, she looked down and froze. It was the tape recorder. The lid had come open, and the tiny tape, barely an inch by two inches, was lying next to it.
Andi moved away, taking the bags to the table. Then she turned, telling herself she was going to throw it in the trash.
But moments later, she was kneeling in front of it, remembering. The drawn, tired expression on Jamie's face when he had come up behind her. And what he had said, words that had sounded so cryptic.
Words, that until now, she had forgotten. It was the other words she had remembered, the ones that had torn her to pieces that had replayed themselves over in her mind.
Now, she remembered others.
I need to talk to you, but before I do, there's something I need to tell you. And you need to believe me.
Easy, girl. No, I'm not married. But if you cooperate, we can change that whenever you want.
Married. Even before he had told her what was going on, he had said he wanted to marry her, more than once.
I'm not married. But if you cooperate, we can change that whenever you want.
The morning they had made love in the shower, no protection.
If it does happen, what will you do? she had asked. And he had said, I'll do the same thing I plan on doing if you don't get pregnant. I'm going to marry you, Andi.
And most of all, she remembered the last thing he had said before he had told her about Letcher and the plan to let him think they suspected Andi.
I love you. I think it started when I walked into your clinic. I don't know when. I only know that I love you--- you're the other half of me. Do you believe that?
God, she had believed him.
She still did.
Slowly, she reached out, her hand shaking, and scooped up the tape player, slid the cassette in and hit the play button.
A wry sardonic voice filled the air and Andi finally recognized Mick's voice.
Girl, I had a feeling he wouldn't be able to keep this up with you. Listen, I know you're hurt. There was a pause, a tiny scraping sound. A match. It was odd. Both of the men had been smoking in her office that day. Mick still did, she could smell it on him. But Jamie didn't smell like smoke, and he didn't have it on his breath. Moments later, Mick sighed, and once more spoke. I know you're hurt. But Jamie really didn't have much of a choice. I didn't give him one, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry we dragged you into this, and I'm sorry that you got hurt from it.
But the boy loves you.
I...got this bad habit. I keep this recorder in my pocket, and it records everything. I usually keep what I need and erase what I don't. I don't know why I didn't erase these. Hell, yeah, I do. I knew I'd need them.
Or that Jamie would. Listen.
A moment of dead air played and then a click, followed by more voices, Mick's and Jamie's.
Mick, I'm in love with her.
You don't even know her.
I know everything I need to know. I'm in love with her and I just led that bastard to believe I had every intention of throwing her in jail. I thanked him for it.
Even though it was just a damn recording, Andi could hear the revulsion and the fury in his voice. Mick's voice followed, his rough, raspy tones soft, trying to console.
You've got a job to do. If she's worth any of the stress you're putting yourself through, then she should understand responsibility.
Did you fucking hear me? I thanked him. And I'm in love with her. Damn it, Mick, she's the woman I've been waiting for my entire life, and I've lost her before I've gotten her. The utter fury in his voice had her skin feeling tight.
A loud crash came from the recorder and Andi jumped, dashing away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks.
Jamie, you've got a responsibility. Andi will---
Jamie's voice again, this time louder, all but exploding with fury. Responsibility? Since when did being responsible involve setting up innocent people?
Mick again, his voice getting aggravated and impatient. We aren't setting her up---
Jamie's savage voice exploded out of the tiny recorder, making her jump. The hell we aren't. Will you turn that damn thing off? You don't need my voice on it, for God's sake.
Jamie--- Mick's voice ended with a click and then, it flowed from the recorder again. This was the first time, and it's the original. God only knows why I kept it. The rest is copied from the others I recorded. Now if I know our Jamie well, he will have taken the cassette I conveniently labeled and left out, knowing he'd see it and that his conscience would get the better of him.
Listen to this, then flip it over and listen to what it was that drove him over the edge.
And Andi, don't be too hard on him. He loves you.
Tears were already streaming down her face, and the fist around her heart started to loosen. She ached as she listened to the pure misery in his voice, while part of her danced in relief. He really did love her.
You're going...where? The disbelief in Mick's voice was evident. Andi could almost see those hangdog eyes widen and his normal scowl deepen.
To Andi's.
That's not very wise.
No? I think it's pretty damn smart myself, Jamie replied sharply, his voice growing fainter as he moved away from Mick.
How so?
I'm in love with her, Mick. That's the bottom line. When this whole thing comes to a head, she's going to know about it. And I don't want her hurt. As long as she remembers that I love her, we can get through it.
So you move in with her?
I spend as much time as humanly possible showing her that I love her. Andi grinned slightly as Jamie snarled, Turn that damn thing off. He was talking about the recorder obviously. And just as obviously, Mick neglected to turn it off. Thank you, God, she thought, rolling her eyes heavenward and thanking Him for nosy, spying investigators who liked to record everything.
She loves me. I'm going to make damn sure that she can't live without me; once this matter is settled...
And what if she doesn't remember that, Jamie? I don't want to see you hurt, boy. None of this is your fault. It's not even anything you could control. You had a job to do; what if she can't get past that?
I'm not going to let that happen, Mick.
Son, you may not be able to stop it.
There was nothing else. That was it.
She sat there, rocking herself back and forth while she nibbled on her lip. Then she remembered the other side. The one that, how had Mick put it, had driven Jamie right over the edge. She flipped the tape, listening in disgust as the copied recording of Letcher and Mick's voices filled the air.
Something else inside her eased as Letcher described Jeb's response to her supposed guilt. He hadn't believed it. That helped. Some.
After the tape finished, Andi leaped to her feet, stomping to the shower to wash away the dirty feeling Letcher's voice had given her. While she lathered her hair, she tried to figure out what to do next.
It hurt.
God it hurt.
Sometime later, she drew her robe on and wandered out of the bathroom. Shivering slightly, she roamed the house. Nothing seemed to catch her interest. She didn't want to read. She didn't want to write. Andi ended up in the living room, even though she didn't want to watch TV.
An odd sense of deja vu settled over her as she stared at the framed verse hanging over her fireplace.
Love Is.
Jamie had stood right here, the day she had told him she loved him. He had read it, wondered over it.
Now Andi read it, and felt her heart start to break all over again as guilt flooded her.
Love suffers long and is kind. She hadn't been patient, or kind, or even understanding.
Love does not envy. Love does not parade itself, is not puffed up. Does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil.
She had thought evil, believing Jamie had worked his way close to her just to use her.
That couldn't have been further from the truth.
Does not rejoice in inequity but rejoices in the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.
She hadn't borne anything, hadn't believed. She had fallen into despair and self-pity.
In short, she had failed him.
Jamie left his condo, rubbing at his gritty eyes as he headed for the steps.
God, he was ready for this to be over.
But he wasn't ready to go home, wasn't ready to leave this town, to leave the woman he loved.
He turned the corner, heading for the back of the building where he'd parked. His footsteps faltered as he came around the southern end that bordered the parking lot. Andi was leaning against the wall of the building, her hands buried in the pockets of a beat up blue jean jacket, one leg drawn up, her foot braced against the brick. Her head was tipped back and she was studying the early morning sky intently.
Her eyes never left the sky but she knew he was there. Softly, she said, "I wasn't sure how early you left. I've been here since about seven." Shivering, she huddled deeper inside her coat and said, "I've forgotten how cool it gets in the morning toward the end of summer. Can you believe Labor Day is already here?"
Bewildered, confused, wary, Jamie rocked back on his heels, buried his own hands in his pockets, distantly wishing he had gotten some coffee. Maybe he was dreaming. "What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.
She lowered her face then, and he met her eyes. They were dark, almost bruised in her pale face, like she hadn't slept very well. Her hand left her pocket, holding something. "You left something at my place." Holding it out to him, she waited.
Looking down, Jamie felt his hopes sink. The tape recorder. She'd probably come because she didn't want to take the chance that anybody would see her handing it to him. Andi had become a veritable hermit at Booth the past week, only leaving her daycare when absolutely necessary.
Or maybe she had brought it with the intention of making him eat it.
Jamie had heard the rumors flying that the lovebirds had had a fight, but hadn't answered the questions that had come his way about the sudden change in behavior. If people wanted to think she was acting oddly out of nerves, what in the hell could he say about it?
Reaching out, he said gruffly, "You didn't have to come out here. I don't need it."
"No," she said. "It's just a copy, after all."
As his hand closed around it, she hit a button.
Jamie froze as Mick's voice filled the air.
Girl, I had a feeling he wouldn't be able to keep this up with you. Listen, I know you're hurt. But Jamie really didn't have much of a choice. I didn't give him one, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry we dragged you into this, and I'm sorry that you got hurt from it.
But the boy loves you.
Slowly, Jamie's head rose and he stared into her eyes. Saw the tears gleaming there, the regret, the need. The last time he had looked at her, her eyes, her face, had been blank, hidden by her mask.
"I'm sorry. I didn't try to see things from your side. I, uh," her voice trailed off and she turned her head away, biting at her lower lip. "I was hurting too much."
Mick's and Jamie's voices were coming from the device and absently Jamie turned it off. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice rough and hesitant. "If you're only here to say you're sorry, don't. It isn't necessary. You have every right to be angry, to hate me."
"It is necessary," she contradicted. "But it's not the only reason." Shoving away from the wall, she moved to stand in front of him. "Was he right? Were you telling me the truth?
"Do you love me?" she asked intently, her hands fisted at her sides, her voice trembling.
"With all my heart," Jamie said quietly.
Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. Then, just like that, she stepped into his arms, wrapped hers around his neck, sighed and snuggled against him. And just like that, the misery that had been eating at him dissolved, and the crack in his heart disappeared.
One hand buried in the long, loose tresses of her hair, the other banded around her waist, holding her tightly against him. His head lowered and he buried his face against her shoulder. "God, Andi. I thought I'd lost you," he whispered.
Her hands soothed and stroked at his back while she said, "No. No. I love you so much it hurts. I just went a little crazy there at first."
Raising his head just a fraction, until he could press his forehead to hers, Jamie said, "I'm sorry. I never---"
"Shh," she whispered, pressing her fingers to his lips. "It's over. I...I don't trust very easily. It took me a little while to calm down. But, even if I hadn't listened to that other side, I would have been here. It might have taken another day or two, but I would have been here."
"Yeah?"
She nodded, biting her lip. "To find out if you were really in love with me. Of course, if you had said, 'Sorry, babe. It was just the job,' I probably would have killed you."
"Not being near you was doing that," he told her, smoothing his hands down the back of her tunic. Softly, he said, "I've never had a problem finishing the job before. I may have had some qualms about how we had to do it, but I always did what had to be done. Until you. God, Andi. I hate what this has done to you."
He told her about Sam, saying, "I'm sorry for that. We caused it, and I didn't even stop to think about what it might do to you."
Andi's lids lowered and Jamie realized this was still hurting her. But in a rough, unsteady voice, Andi said, "I know who my friends are, Jamie. Sam wasn't one of them, I guess. Abby, and a few others, have heard through the grapevine and they're backing me. Most of the parents, in fact, have mentioned it in some way or other the past few days. They're furious. Sam has been going to them, suggesting they take their kids elsewhere. Some of them, ah well, basically, they've told her to shove it up her ass.
"I...I can't say it doesn't hurt, so many people I thought I liked, that I thought liked me, turning on me that way." Her small hands glided down the front of his shirt before settling on his hips. "But I'd rather know the truth."
"It shouldn't have happened."
"But it did. And I'll deal with it."
He lowered his head, crushing his mouth to hers---starving, greedy. "Fuck it," he growled, gripping her hips and lifting her. Against her lips, he whispered, "You're going to be late to work." Then he carried her back to his rented condo, grappling to hold her slight body and find his keys.
"Jamie, this isn't---"
He cut her off by letting her go, burying his hands in her hair and driving his tongue into her mouth, pinning her against the door, crushing her with his weight as he pumped his cock against her soft belly. "Now, damn it," he demanded. "I thought I was gonna lose you. Can't go all day without you, can't."
He fumbled for the key as he took her mouth again and they stumbled inside. He fell to his knees in front of her, jerking her shoes off, stripping her pants away and pulling her to the floor. Shoving her thighs wide, he dove for her pussy and speared her with his tongue, shuddering as her scream rent the air around them.
Her fingers wound through his hair and she arched against him, sobbing. He bit down on her clit and jammed two fingers inside her before shoving up onto his knees and using one hand to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. Then he flipped her onto her hands and knees, gripped her hips and drove home, fucking her ruthlessly, hard and quick, while she whimpered and cried.
"Mine," he rasped, as her swollen, wet tissues clutched at his cock as he withdrew. "Damn it, Andi. I thought I'd lost you."
He pressed his thumb against her rosette and said, "Tell me. Say it. Say I haven't lost you." He pushed his thumb inside and listened to her wail, felt the tight clutch of her little pussy around his cock as he burrowed back inside.
"Yours," she sobbed, shoving her ass back against him. "Damn it, Jamie, I'm here, aren't I?"
He pushed deeper inside her ass and pounded harder as she started to convulse around his cock. Her jacket and shirt were still on. With a snarl, he released her hip and shoved the material higher, baring as much of her back as he could. He pulled his thumb from the snug glove of her ass and wrapped one arm around her waist so he could jerk her against him, her weight forcing her down heavily on his thick cock.
"Love you," he rasped against her neck, reaching around to stroke her clit with fast, sure strokes. "I'm keeping you. I want to know I can fuck you every single day for the rest of my life."
"Jamie, please," she sobbed, squirming on his impaling cock.
In a quicksilver change of mood, he went from savaging to seducing, moving his mouth to nuzzle at her ear, gently, purring softly against her, "You're so wet, so tight. Mine..." as he rolled his hips lazily, keeping her from taking the depth she wanted for climax. "I was so sure I had lost you. Tell me again. Tell me that you're mine."
"Yours," she whispered. "I love you. Damn it, I love you. And it's your fucking fault...so stop being mean...and fuck me damn it."
"Isn't that what I'm doing?" he teased, surging deeply inside her, pressing his fingers against her clit. His teeth bit down on her earlobe at the same time and her gasp made his heart stutter in his chest.
"Ja-mie," she hissed brokenly, pushing back against him. "Please." She squeezed down around him, caressing him with the tight, silken muscles of her pussy, over and over again until he groaned and slapped her ass with a rough hand.
His eyes crossed and his teeth clicked shut as the caress drew his balls up tight against his body and damned near had him coming right there. "Wench, don't do that. It drives me insane."
"Then we're even. Now stop teasing me, and---oh, man..." her breath shuddered out of her as he laughed hoarsely, and stroked her hard, taking her to the floor in the same movement. "Your wish..." He proceeded to grant it, filling her with fast, hard thrusts that had her sobbing his name, that had her creaming around his cock as he reached around and circled his thumb around her clit.
Nudging her hair out of the way, he licked a trail down her neck and sank his teeth into her shoulder. Taking his hand from her clit and replacing it with hers so he could glide his hand up her hip, her side, he cupped her breast, massaging it roughly as he hunkered over her body, shafting her forcefully as the pressure and tingling in his spine increased.
He could feel the climax building in her, in the writhing of her body, in the hungry, whimpering sobs that fell from her lips as he rode her harder and harder with thrusts that had her climaxing once, then a second time around him, before he finally pumped her full of hot sperm.
Breathing raggedly, he curled up against her and eased them both to the floor, holding her tightly against him, feeling the pounding of her heart and reveling in her nearness. As she cuddled against him, he buried his face in her hair and whispered a silent prayer.
Andi burrowed up against him, breathing rapidly, brokenly. "I'm gonna be late for work," she whispered. "But I need a shower now."
He slid his hand down, cupping her wet cleft, soaked with his come, her cream. "I'd rather you leave it on you," he murmured.
She smiled sleepily. "If I want to get any work done... Maybe they can just fire me." Then she sighed and sat up. Eyeing him, she smiled. He still had on his suit---mostly. His cock was still hard and wet from them, but he looked almost presentable.
She, on the other hand, was naked from the waist down, except for socks. And her jacket and shirt were wrinkled, her hair was a mess and she smelled like sex.
"Shower, Jamie," she whispered.
He smiled and stood, righting his clothes before he lifted her. "You'll have to do it alone. We'll never get out of here if I come in with you," he whispered, lowering his head and kissing her hard and fast.
Thirty minutes later, her hair woven into a wet cable down her back, they stood on the sidewalk.
Rising to her toes, she rubbed her mouth against his. "It's getting late. We need to get in." Pressing her mouth against his, she kissed him swiftly, curling her hands around the hard ridged muscles of his back before stepping away. Sliding him a look under her lashes, she asked, "Will you come over tonight?"
"Just like that?" he asked, reaching out to cup her cheek. "You forgive me that easily?"
Shaking her head, she said, "It's not easy. Coming here wasn't easy. Listening to that tape wasn't easy. Of course, I'd like to say getting dragged into your condo and getting ravished wasn't easy---but I didn't get much say, and I enjoyed it too thoroughly to waste the breath saying it was wrong. No, it's not that easy. But none of that would be as hard as living without you." She covered his hand with hers and asked again, "Will you come over tonight?"
Tugging on her braid, his mouth curved up in a smile as he said, "As long as I'm welcome."
She grinned at him, and turned away, hands buried in her pockets.
\*
Jamie stood there watching as she slid into her car, lifting a hand as she waved and drove away. Only once her car was out of sight did he lower himself to the curbside, heedless of the expensive trousers and the damp concrete beneath him.
He was shaking. His damned head was spinning.
Thrusting his hands through his hair, he locked them behind his neck and tried to still the trembling. Tried to calm his whirling thoughts. The relief, the release of pressure was so unexpected that Jamie felt like he was floundering.
When he heard the footsteps behind him, he knew who it was without even turning. As the rumpled slacks appeared in his line of sight, Jamie said, "I owe you one."
"Ya know, getting old really bites," Mick muttered as he lowered himself down next to Jamie, stretching his legs out in front of him, grunting as his stiff body protested. Mornings were getting harder and harder. Eyeing the slightly dazed expression that remained in Jamie's eyes, Mick stifled a pleased smile and asked, "Heard from her?"
Jamie responded, "She just left."
"On an even keel again, I hope?"
Slowly, Jamie nodded. He got to his feet, held out a hand to the older man. Once Mick finished muttering about his aching joints, Jamie rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I owe you."
Mick shrugged. "She's a smart girl; she would have come around eventually. But I was getting sick of that hangdog look on your face."
Shaking his head, Jamie responded, "I don't know that. I hurt her, bad. You didn't see that look on her face, and I'll never forget it. Nothing can erase that---and I didn't have any right to try, after what I did."
Mick turned away, pulling out a cigarette. Running it through his fingers, he absently said, "I wish I could just up and quit the way you did. Of course, you had an incentive." Sighing, he put it in his mouth, lit it, and pocketed the lighter in an old, familiar gesture. Through a stream of smoke, Mick told him, "If I hadn't pushed it, this may not have happened. I can't get past that, or how miserable she looked this week. I did what I could to make up for my part. But she would have let it go on her own, eventually. And I don't think you would have let her go as easily as you seem to think."
It was probably one of the longest speeches the older man had ever made, voiced without a single complaint, and with sincere regret in his voice. Then, without flickering an eyelash, Mick swore under his breath and said, "Let's get the show on the road."
\*
Letcher was getting nervous.
There was no real reason. The evidence had been planted and already Mick had shown it to the cool-eyed young hothead who thought he was so damn smart. Jamie had read it without flickering an eyelash and had already shown it to Jeb, requesting to bring in the authorities. And as expected, as prayed for, Jeb said, "We'll handle this on our own."
All he had to do was get through today, and the money would be his.
That sorry bastard Mick Dole actually thought Art was going to share the money.
With a laugh, Art patted the gun in his pocket. The hell he was sharing. There was always the chance that Mick would start to feel guilty and back out, or just as bad, start talking after the fact.
Nope, Art wasn't sharing.
And he wasn't just retiring and leaving town. He was going to disappear off the face of the earth, and leave his sniveling bitch of a wife behind.
He'd lay low a year or so, and reappear with a new face and the cool $2.5 million he had skimmed from Jeb and various others over the past thirty years. With the investments he had made, it was now in the area of ten million and change. Oh yeah, Letcher was good at what he did. No way was he sharing.
The only things in his way were the cocky private investigator and the nurse.
No reason to be nervous.
He just had to get through the day.
\*
Andi's palms were starting to sweat. Letcher had walked into her daycare less than three minutes before she had planned on walking out the door.
He had come to make sure she wasn't going to bolt. The rumors were flying all over the factory. He wanted her in place to take the heat so he could clear out. Andi could read that as clearly as she could read a book.
"I just wanted to drop by, see how things were progressing. See how you were doing," Letcher lied easily as he roamed the small play area. "You haven't been outside the daycare much lately. We never see you in the cafeteria any more."
Does she know anything? Has she heard any of the rumors? She could almost hear the thoughts in his head, see the nerves in his eyes.
Of course she hasn't heard anything. Would she be here, so quiet, if she had?
Andi dragged her gaze from his, in case he could sense her thoughts the way she was sensing his.
Her shrug was casual and her eyes were relaxed. But her palms, damn it, her palms were sweating like crazy. Tucking them in her pockets, Andi returned one lie for another. "I've been dieting. The cafeteria is too tempting and I've got to get back to competition weight."
"Ah, yes. Your karate."
She didn't answer as she gathered her things from her office. "I really need to be getting home. Was there something you wanted?"
When he only made a noncommittal hum, she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door. "You're welcome to come down for a visit, any time at all."
"I wouldn't."
His words didn't make any sense, until she turned slowly and saw the gun in his hands.
Mildly, Letcher said, "You know."
She hadn't hidden it well enough. The one time in her life it had been vital she keep a mask up, and it had fallen. Staring at the lethal little gun in his hand, she licked her suddenly dry lips. Pasting a confused look on her face, Andi stuttered out, "Know what?"
"Child, don't play games with me. I've been in this game far too long. You can't possibly win."
Okay. So much for bluffing her way out of it. She slid back one step, then another.
"If...If I know, don't you think others do as well?"
"What others?" he asked. Then, his eyes narrowed. "A set up. The whole time, it was a set up," he whispered, realization dawning in his eyes. "You and McAdams."
Shaking her head, she said, "We aren't the only ones who know. You kill me, they'll know where to look. I disappear, you become the main suspect."
"I'm not going to be around for questioning, my dear."
Arching a brow, she gave him the look she had copied from her karate instructor as she coolly said, "Embezzlement is a serious crime, but pretty white collar. Murder is a different story. They pursue murderers much more diligently than they pursue thieves. You sure you want to cross that line?"
With an evil smile, Letcher asked, "What makes you think I haven't already?" His hand held the gun steadily focused straight on her heart.
"Is ninety thousand dollars really worth killing somebody?"
Art shrugged, his eyes amused. "I've done it for less."
The fear was back. She had felt this kind of fear before, in the narrow landing of a hospital parking garage. There had been nobody that would help then. And, this late in the day, there were few around to help. Staring down the barrel of the gun, Andi's body started to quiver.
She really, really wasn't ready to die.
\*
Jamie glanced at his watch. Andi's car was still out in the lot. Nearly everybody was gone now. With the holiday coming up, Jeb had closed the plant for the long weekend so there wasn't going to be a second or third shift.
Which meant he could go see Andi without worrying somebody would see them together. After Andi hadn't sought him out, he figured it would just be best to let everybody think they'd fought. It was obviously what she had in mind.
But, damn it, he needed to see her.
Rounding the corridor, he headed down the hall, his feet silent on the tile. He was nervous, Jamie realized, recognizing the twisting in his stomach. God knew he had felt that emotion enough in the past few weeks to be very familiar with it.
Soon, thank God, soon, it would all be over.
He reached the door and stopped.
Voices.
Jamie's heart froze.
Letcher.
Jamie felt the reassuring weight of his gun, but before he could draw the 9 mm, he stopped himself. Andi's words drifted through the door.
"Is ninety thousand dollars really worth killing somebody?" Jamie's eyes closed as the fear started to echo in her voice.
"I've done it for less."
They'd been wrong. All their data indicated that Letcher was a nonviolent sort and Jamie would have pinned him as being too weak to take another life.
Dear Lord, they had been wrong and now Andi's life was on the line.
"We're going to take a ride, my dear," Letcher said. "Now, I'm going to have this pointed at you at all times. Should you decide to bolt, I'll shoot. Try to use any of your pathetic martial arts on me, and I'll shoot. Do anything other than what I tell you, and I will shoot."
Fuck! The bastard had a gun pointed on her. Which was why Andi hadn't done anything to get herself out of the mess.
Jamie retraced his steps, praying Andi wouldn't do anything stupid. He couldn't do anything, not without being able to see them, not with a gun pointed at Andi. He continued to back up, breathing shallowly through his mouth, taking care to be as silent as possible.
Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he hit a button on it for Mick, making sure it was on silent mode and then hit send as he reached the end of the hall, eyes on the door. Please, God, let Mick remember how to use the damn phone.
And the messages...
He turned the corner only seconds before the door opened. He could hear Andi talking. "Is there any hope I can talk you out of this?" she was asking. Her voice was shaking, but she hadn't frozen.
There was really no place to hide. Just a Coke machine and the stairwell.
And Jamie couldn't let Letcher get her into a car.
"Just keep walking, Ms. Morrow." Letcher's voice was softer, quieter. "I still have this gun pointed at you and I will---"
"I know. I know," Andi interrupted, dryly. "You will shoot. You've been watching too much TV. You sound like a badly written villain."
"You'd think a woman in your position wouldn't be quite so cocky," Letcher mused.
Their voices were drawing closer. Jamie could picture them. Letcher would be a few feet beside and behind her, his gun in the pocket of his blazer, or maybe in his hand, with his blazer draped over his arm, hiding the gun he pointed at Andi. He wouldn't dare get too close, not until they were out of sight of the security cameras that lined the hall and stairwell.
Once in the parking lot, he'd get a little closer, take that chance. By then, he'd be almost home free.
"In my position, what have I got to lose?" Andi replied.
Shit.
They were almost on the Coke machine by now. Jamie waited, pacing himself, and when he could see her shadow on the floor, he reached out, snagged her arm and jerked her over as he pivoted and stood facing Letcher, his own gun drawn, the muzzle pointed directly at Letcher's face.
"Stand down," was all Jamie said.
Letcher's face was a florid shade of red, but the gun now pointed at Jamie was steady. "I don't think so."
"Security will have already called the cops," Jamie said, gesturing to the cameras with his head. "And plant security will be on their way."
Letcher smiled. "You idiot. Do you really think I left those cameras enabled?"
Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Jamie heard Andi whisper, "Mick, thank God."
Letcher glanced at the older man. "Excellent timing, my friend," he said.
"Not for you," Mick said, sighing, his own weapon in his hand. "Stand down, Letcher. I've called the cops."
Jamie watched as Letcher's eyes started to narrow. With a smile, Jamie said, "Do you really think he was actually interested in that money? Good ol' Mick's loaded. His momma and daddy left him with a fortune."
In his free hand, Mick held up his ever-present tape recorder and pressed the button. Voices poured out, Mick's and Letcher's, the first meeting that Letcher had said anything incriminating.
"Looks like you haven't been in the game as long you thought," Jamie said. Then in a harsh voice, he ordered, "Put that damn gun down."
Jamie could see his knuckles whiten as he started to squeeze the trigger.
"Art, I called the cops," Mick repeated levelly. "They will be pulling up any second. I described you, your car. Right now, plant security is covering the exits. Yeah, yeah, you rigged the cameras, but you don't seem to know that my boy here is a computer whiz and everything you did, he can undo, without even blinking an eye. The moment you touched the computer system, bells and whistles started going off in our office and I knew what you were up to. The game is over."
Harshly, Mick said, "You can't get out."
"I'm going to kill you," Art said, his voice almost soundless with rage.
Mick shrugged. "Don't take it personally. I had a job to do," he responded as he pocketed the recorder. "Besides, I really hated your cologne. Do you have to marinate in it?"
From the corner of his eye, Jamie could see Andi, still pressed against the side of the Coke machine. She was pale but steady. Probably in better shape than he was. He was shaking inside, and petrified---desperate to get that gun from Letcher, desperate to keep her safe. "We already know you think the money is worth killing for." Softly, Jamie said, "But tell me this, is the money worth dying for? Because I'm ready to pull this trigger."
Distantly, they heard sirens.
And Letcher's hand dropped, the gun falling from his hand.
Jamie's eyes closed with relief as Mick took position behind Letcher, taking his hands and cuffing them. Glancing up and said, "Good work, kid."
Jamie looked at Letcher. "I'd like you to meet my cousin, retired from the Indianapolis police force, Detective Michael Dole McAdams. He likes to go around incognito when we work embezzlement cases. He must look shifty or something---crooks are always offering him a cut."
As Andi stepped out from behind the Coke machine, Mick grinned. "Taught the boy everything he knows." Then he nudged Letcher forward, scooping up his gun. "Come on, Letch. I got some colleagues I'd like you meet."
Andi stared at Mick, at the wide grin and pale green eyes, the face that was usually so somber. Her gaze flickered over to Jamie and he shrugged, his hands spreading wide. "I look more like my mother," was all he said as Mick headed down the hall.
Mick's voice floated back. "Thank God."
Staring at her, Jamie reached out, touched her pale cheek. "Are you all right?"
Shakily, she nodded. "He didn't hurt me," she said numbly.
God, I'm starting to lose it here, Andi thought as her body started to quiver. The fear-induced sweat had dampened her body and now she was cold, freezing. Shock.
Jamie saw her wide, dark, unfocused eyes and he took his jacket off, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her close. He returned his gun to its holster and banded his arms around her. Cupping her head in his hand, he whispered, "You're fine. I'm fine. It's all over."
Softly, she asked, "You think they need another nurse anywhere in Indy?" Pulling back slightly, she looked around, dazed. "I don't think I want to come back here."
Jamie laughed and tucked her head under his chin, soothing her back with his hands, stealing what moments he could. Already, he could hear the sound of police issue shoes on the stairs. "I love you," he told her as somebody called out their names.
Reaching up, she traced a finger down his face and said, "I know. I love you, too."
\*
Jamie looked away from the ceiling as the door opened. The room was dim, and with the light of the bathroom shining behind her, Andi's face was in shadow. The light turned her nightgown translucent and he could see every curve, highlighted and touched with gold. Her hair lay in a fat, loose braid on one shoulder as she moved away from the bathroom.
God, this was his wife.
His wife of four hours and fifty...two minutes.
Slowly, he sat up, watching as she paused by the little alcove off the bathroom. The huge king-size bed, soft as down, waited and Jamie was dying to lay her down on that bed and bury himself inside her body.
But she was holding something out to him.
It was a long flat package.
Looking up at her, he said, "I already got what I wanted."
She touched one hand to the gold charm at her throat and smiled. "So did I. But that doesn't mean I won't keep this," she told him, lowering herself down to sit beside him, holding the package out.
He started to open it but paused when she spoke.
"The day I listened to that tape, I was wandering around the house. I kept telling myself I didn't know what to do, but I did. Open it," she urged.
As he stripped away the simple navy paper, he saw creamy ivory paper, pale blue lettering, and the words, Love Is, in darker blue. It looked like that piece Andi had hanging over her fireplace.
He read it, even though he remembered the verse from childhood. Even though he had listened to the minister say those words only hours before as they pledged their lives to each other.
He ran his hand down the smooth glass before looking up at her.
She was studying the frame, and the verse. "I kept wandering over and reading this, over and over. And then I got so mad at myself. I hadn't listened, hadn't forgiven. I thought I had failed you."
"Andi---"
She laid one hand over his lips, took the frame from him and set it aside. Then she hiked her gown up until she could straddle his lap. "It took me a little while to figure it out, but if love is patient, you'd understand that I had to work it out before I could let it go. I was only failing you if I couldn't put it aside."
He slid his hands up her back and found the band that secured her hair. Undoing the braid, he smoothed the heavy, shining curls out over her shoulders and breasts before looking up at her. "You could never fail me," he finally said, his voice soft and rough.
Lowering her head, she kissed him, her hair falling around them, blocking out the light.
"Love me," she whispered, grasping his hands and guiding them to her breasts.
"For the rest of my life," he swore, shifting and turning, until she lay beneath him, cradling his body with hers.
"The rest of our lives," she whispered, tugging his head down to hers.
Jamie had one last coherent thought, before need, love, and lust, completely fogged his brain.
I won, after all.
About the author:
Shiloh was born in Kentucky and has been reading avidly since she was six. At twelve, she discovered how much fun it was to write when she took a book that didn't end the way she had wanted it to and rewrote the ending. She's been writing ever since.
Shiloh now lives in southern Indiana with her husband and two children. Between her job, her two adorable and demanding children, and equally adorable and demanding husband, she crams writing in between studying and reading and sleeps when time allows.
Shiloh welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora's Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.
Also by Shiloh Walker:
Her Best Friend's Lover
Her Wildest Dreams
Make Me Believe
Once Upon A Midnight Blue
The Dragon's Warrior
The Hunters: Delcan and Tori
The Hunters: Eli and Sarel
Voyeur
Whipped Cream and Handcuffs
Discover for yourself why readers can't get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora's Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

