Authors: Susan Fox
Body Heat (35 page)
Inspired, she leaped off the bed and hurried to the kitchen, where she grabbed her glasses. Perched again on the bed, she slipped them on.
Jesse’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. I’ve never seen you with your hair down and your glasses on. God, woman, that’s sexy.”
She smothered a satisfied grin and said demurely, “I have to read the instructions.” That was true, but he’d think it was sex play.
She scanned the instructions and opened the wrapper, then, with her glasses still on, fumbled to roll the condom onto his erect penis.
He groaned and rasped out, “I should’ve done it.”
“Am I doing it wrong?”
“You’re doing it so right, it’s driving me crazy.”
She grinned smugly. “That’s okay then.”
The moment she’d secured it, he sat up, pulled her into his arms without giving her a chance to take off her glasses, and rolled so she was on the bottom. He rose above her and an instant later surged inside.
Oh, yes! That felt so very good, the way he filled every empty, needy bit of her.
This time, though, it wasn’t a quick race to the finish line. They kissed, they caressed, he shifted pace from fast to slow. He rolled again so that she was on top, then again so they were on their sides facing each other. Sometimes, he slowed so that he moved just the tiniest bit, rubbing some secret spot inside of her that had her gasping with pleasure, then crying out as orgasm rolled through her.
Then, finally, he rolled atop her again, caught her hands, and held them above her head. Gazing straight into her eyes through her glasses, he drove them both to the peak and over the top.
They hung there together for long moments, then as her muscles began to relax, he eased down. After dealing with the condom, he settled on his back, his arm around her, tucking her into the curve of his shoulder. She finally took off her glasses so she could nestle closer, and wrapped a leg over him.
Lazily, he stroked her shoulder and arm, and ran his fingers through her hair, which was now hopelessly tangled. “When you went down on me and all this gorgeous hair tumbled across my belly and cock, it was a fantasy come true.”
She smiled into his eyes. “You make all my fantasies come true.”
“I’d like to do that, Maura. You mean a lot to me.”
“And you to me.”
“You’re not going to start quoting the rule book and saying we can’t keep seeing each other?”
“I’d decided to think about that tomorrow.”
He cocked his head toward her bedside clock. “And it is.”
She glanced at the time. Yes, it was past midnight. “You want to keep seeing me?”
“Yes.” One simple word, spoken firmly, with no hesitation.
For how long?
But she couldn’t ask that. He’d told her all his relationships were casual. This was the guy who viewed sex and bike rides as equally significant. Soon there’d be another woman on the back of his Harley and in his bed.
But she couldn’t ask that. He’d told her all his relationships were casual. This was the guy who viewed sex and bike rides as equally significant. Soon there’d be another woman on the back of his Harley and in his bed.
The thought shouldn’t make her heart ache. It was naïve and stupid to care too much for a man who was a player, a man she’d known from the beginning couldn’t possibly fit into her world.
Yet, somehow, it was impossible not to care for Jesse. Surely, when their affair had run its course, she could shift that caring into pure friendship. “I want to see you, too,” she told him. They’d be careful, make sure no one else found out. He knew that was one rule she wouldn’t break.
Jesse studied her unblinkingly, then he swung off the bed. “Back in a minute.”
What? Had she said the wrong thing?
Cool without him there, she pulled the top sheet and duvet over her and sat up to await his return.
When she saw the two glasses of wine in his hands, she breathed a sigh of relief.
He handed her a glass and swung into bed beside her, propping pillows behind his back. He clicked his glass to hers. “To us, Maura Mahoney.”
Happily, she replied, “To us, Jesse Blue.” As lovers, friends, business colleagues. She hoped Jesse would be in her life for a long time.
“About that reunion of yours,” he said slowly.
The reunion?
Aagh
. Why did he have to spoil this perfect moment by reminding her of the reunion? “No appendicitis yet,” she tried to joke. “Guess I’ll have to go.” And go alone, too. There was no way she could invite Edward now.
Aagh
. Why did he have to spoil this perfect moment by reminding her of the reunion? “No appendicitis yet,” she tried to joke. “Guess I’ll have to go.” And go alone, too. There was no way she could invite Edward now.
“If you wanted”—Jesse sounded as if he was struggling to dredge up words—“I could go with you.”
Jesse? Her date for the reunion? She squeezed her eyes shut and a scene she had imagined before flashed into her head.
The doors to the high school gym flew open and they rode in on Jesse’s shiny black bike. Heads turned, people gaped, all conversation ceased.
Everyone was in evening dress but none came close to touching Jesse when he slid off the bike in his tux. He looked as dashing and sexy as Sean Connery’s Bond. He bowed slightly in her direction and held out his arm so she could slip her hand through it.
She inclined her head and accepted the invitation, and they swept forward. She wore a red off-the-shoulder ball gown that swished with each step she took, and killer heels. As tall as she was, Jesse was even taller.
“Is that Maura Mahoney?” she heard Cindy say. “I can’t believe it!”
“Who’s that man she’s with?” someone asked.
“He’s a movie star, isn’t he?” another answered. “He’s the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen.”
“He’s pure sex, walking,” an awed voice whispered . . .
“Maura?” Jesse’s voice broke in. “Are you all right?”
Her eyes flew open, to see him beside her in bed, the sheet draped carelessly across his hips.
He’d offered her her fantasy.
But...
Obviously, they couldn’t ride into the gym on a bike. And Jesse likely didn’t own a suit, much less a tux. The girls from her class would be impressed by his looks, but they’d ask what he did, what post-secondary degrees he’d earned. It was Wilton Academy, for heaven’s sakes; everyone would have graduate degrees and impressive jobs.
But the capper, for her, was imagining the shock and disapproval on her parents’ faces. And if they found out he’d dropped out in grade ten, that he couldn’t read . . .
“Maura?” Impatience edged his voice.
Why did she care what people thought? Jesse was special, a really great guy.
She should be ashamed of herself for thinking that way. And she was. But even if she put all the rest aside, she couldn’t go out in public with Jesse. “I, uh, really appreciate the offer.” She struggled to find words and couldn’t meet his eyes. “But everything I said before is still true. About my promotion, and your community service. We can’t risk them both, not for my silly high school reunion.”
“I get that.”
“You do? Then why—”
“Thought we could tell my lawyer the garden’s done and you don’t have any more work for me. He’d have to find me someplace else to finish my community service.”
She’d been planning to move Jesse into doing repairs, but he was right. It was a plausible story to tell his lawyer. And if Jesse wasn’t working under her supervision, the two of them could be together. But for how long?
“So, what about that reunion?” he asked.
Chapter 19
M
aura’s face wore a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
aura’s face wore a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
And it sunk in. Deep and hard.
He’d actually been stupid enough to buy all that crap she’d been spouting about her promotion.
He’d realized he cared for her, a lot. That he was falling, head over heels, and liking it. He’d thought she felt the same, and so he’d found a way they could be together without it hurting her career.
And yeah, her career mattered to her, but that wasn’t the real reason she’d been putting him off. He should’ve known better, a guy like him dreaming of a future with a woman like her.
“So I’m good enough to fuck,” he spat out, “but that’s it. I’m your dirty little secret.”
Her “No, that’s not it” came several long seconds too late.
He leaped out of bed and yanked on his underwear.
“Jesse, no. Wait.”
His back to her, he ignored her. What an idiot he was. Damn it, he knew better. He’d been wary in the beginning; Con had even warned him. And still, he’d been stupid enough to believe Maura was for real.
“Jesse, let’s talk about this.”
He zipped up his jeans. Even that shit about dyslexia and the repair service for seniors, it wasn’t because she cared about him. She
saw
him, but not as a man, as a charity project.
saw
him, but not as a man, as a charity project.
“As for your stupid nonprofit society, I don’t need your fucking charity.”
“It’s not charity. It’s a worthwhile project and you’d be great at it.”
He pulled his tee over his head and turned to look at her, sitting upright in bed with the duvet pulled tight around her shoulders. A do-gooder, trying to remake his life into some image she had in her head. Because he wasn’t good enough for her.
“I’m happy doing what I’m doing,” he said heatedly. “I don’t need you messing around with my life.”
“I was just trying to help,” she said softly.
“Don’t you get it? I don’t need your help.” He stalked out of the bedroom, down the hall, and out of her apartment, slamming the door behind him.
Con was right. People like them should stick to their own kind.
Blood boiling, he cranked over the engine on the Harley. He’d head over to Low Down, shoot some pool with the guys, and drink enough beers to drive Maura Mahoney right out of his mind.
If there was that much beer in the world.
Maura awoke to the insistent ring of the phone. She forced open eyes swollen by hours of tears—tears of self-pity, and of guilt—and glanced at the clock. It was ten. She never slept that late, but then she never cried until dawn, either. Her head ached fiercely and she longed to put it back on the pillow.
The phone rang again. Could it be Jesse? What would she say to him? She’d hurt him last night. She hadn’t meant to. She’d thought he knew as well as she that they were too different; she’d thought he was a player who’d never care enough about one woman to give her the power to hurt him.
She’d been wrong. Wrong in so many ways.
Ever since she’d met him, she’d kept messing up.
She was a horrible person. And yet, the bottom line was still true: her world and his just didn’t match. He’d realize it, too, when he thought things through.
But she’d hurt him. She felt awful for hurting him. And, selfishly, her heart would break if she’d destroyed their friendship.
Another ring. She was tempted to ignore the phone, but that would be breaking the stupid rules and she’d done enough of that. She grabbed it and said, tentatively, “Yes?”
“Maura? Oh, thank God!” It was Ming-mei, and the panic in her voice had Maura swinging out of bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s been a robbery! Mr. and Mrs. Trotter came back from the inn where they spent the night, and her jewelry’s gone.”
“Oh, no!” Mrs. Trotter had several very expensive pieces. The recently retired general manager of Cherry Lane had advised the woman many times to keep them in safe storage, but she said she liked to look at them, and to wear different items when the mood struck her. “They’re really gone? She didn’t take them to the inn with her and forget she’d done it?”
“I asked. She says she was so upset about the flood that she forgot all about them until this morning, when she wanted to wear a special brooch to church.”
“Still, things were pretty crazy last night. She could be confused. Or maybe she or her husband hid them away somewhere before they left?”
“Mr. Trotter is positive her jewelry was in its usual place when they left: an inlaid jewelry box on top of the dresser in the bedroom.”
“I’ll come in right away.” Maura pulled underwear from a drawer, pants and a shirt from her closet.
“Thanks. The police are on their way, too. Mr. Trotter called them. Should I call Louise?”
“No. We can handle this.”
Maura had showered sometime in the small hours of morning, so now she just flung on clothes. She didn’t even bother to pin up her hair, only ran a brush—the brush Jesse had used last night, but she wasn’t going to think about that—through it and yanked it back with a clip. Ouch. No, that made her headache worse. She released the clip and gulped a couple of aspirin and a glass of cold water.
Then she raced out to her car and pushed the edge of the speed limit. Scenarios ran through her head. First, in hopes this was a big mistake, she’d search the Trotters’ room and phone the inn herself. If the jewelry really was missing, could Jesse have forgotten to lock the apartment door? But most Cherry Lane residents left their doors unlocked during the day, and if any of the seniors or staff had wanted to steal Mrs. Trotter’s jewelry, they’d have done it before.
What about the rental company that delivered the dehumidifiers? Maura’d been with the delivery man the whole time, hadn’t she? And Jesse’d been the one to set up the machines in the living room, bedroom, and bathroom, and get them running.
By the time she turned the corner to drive down the lane of cherry trees, she’d returned to her original thought: this had to be a mistake.
A police car was parked in front of the building.
Maura rushed inside. Ming-mei, at the reception desk, said, “I’m so glad you’re here! This is terrible, just terrible!”
A group of seniors clustered around, and several of them began to talk at once.
Maura took a deep breath, wishing her head would stop pounding. To the seniors, she said, “We’ll get this sorted out. Why don’t you get on with your day?” And to Ming-mei, “Let’s go talk in my office.”
“The police asked me to send you up to the Trotters’ apartment.”
“All right, I’ll go talk to them.”
“They asked who was on duty last night, and I said you were here working late and Nedda diFazio was on the desk. They had me call her, too, and she should be here soon. Should we let the Board of Directors know?”
“No, not yet.” Oh, great. Just after impressing the Board at the last meeting, now she might have to report that a theft had occurred while she was in charge. “We’ll wait until we find out what really happened.”
As Maura turned to go to the Trotters’ apartment, Nedda rushed through the front door. “There’s been a theft?” She was more animated than Maura had ever seen her.
“We don’t know that yet,” Maura said.
“The police want to see you, too, Nedda,” Ming-mei said.
“Of course they do,” the woman said. “I see what goes on in this place.” She shot Maura a nasty look.
In silence, the two of them paced down the hallway and took the elevator to the second floor. The door to 203 was closed, and Maura knocked.
A brown-skinned young woman in police uniform opened it.
When Maura introduced herself and Nedda, the officer opened the door wider. “I’m Constable Singh. Come in.”
The apartment was hot and humid, as Jesse had warned, and the fanlike noise of the dehumidifiers aggravated Maura’s headache. The Trotters sat side by side on their couch, holding hands. A beefy, fair-haired male police officer sat in a chair opposite them, holding a notepad and pen.
Constable Singh introduced Maura and Nedda. “This is Constable Meyer.”
Maura nodded. “Thanks for coming. But I have to ask, Mr. and Mrs. Trotter, are you absolutely sure you didn’t hide your jewelry, or take it with you last night?”
“We’ve checked that, ma’am,” Constable Singh said. “I searched the apartment and phoned the inn to have them check the room. The jewelry box is still on the dresser, but it’s empty and—”
“I know who did it,” Nedda broke in eagerly.
They all turned to gape at her.
Meyer turned to a fresh page in his notebook. “Go on.”
“It was that shady character who’s been working in the garden. Jesse Blue.” She shot a triumphant look at Maura.
Maura shook her head firmly. “No, that’s not possible. Jesse would never steal.”
“He’s a criminal! He almost killed someone, and that’s way worse than stealing!”
“You read his file!” Maura stared accusingly at the woman. “HR files are confidential and they’re kept in locked cabinets.”
She shrugged. “I went into Louise Michaels’s office looking for something, and there was a stack of files out. If they were supposed to be confidential, she shouldn’t have left them there.”
Maura’d always known the woman had a nasty personality, but she’d never guessed she was such a snoop. “They were labeled.”
“How’m I to know how you people label your files? I’m just the receptionist.”
Seething, Maura turned back to the two police officers and tried to keep her voice calm. “Mr. Blue came to us to do community service. It was arranged by Ms. Michaels, the HR manager. She’s on maternity leave and I’m filling in for her.”
“The man’s an attempted murderer?” Constable Singh asked disbelievingly.
“No, of course not. Mr. Blue did assault a man, but his reasons were good enough that the court didn’t send him to jail. He’s not a violent man, and he’s been a hard worker, responsible, and excellent with the seniors.”
“Excellent with the seniors,” Nedda parroted in a snarky voice. “Sucking up to them, so he can rob them blind.”
Infuriated, Maura snapped, “That’s not true!”
“Ladies,” Constable Meyer broke in, “thank you for this information. We’ll need to get statements from both of you. We’ll start with Ms. diFazio. Got an empty office we can use?”
“Ms. Michaels’s,” Maura said.
To the Trotters, Meyer said, “I have everything I need from you, except for that jewelry schedule on your insurance policy. But don’t get it out of the dresser until we dust it for prints. Best thing for you now is to go downstairs and try to relax.”
They all left the apartment. For Maura, it was a relief to get out of the noisy, humid place, but she was still seething over Nedda’s false accusation. Surely, when the police interviewed her, they’d realize she was just a bitter, spiteful woman, making up a story.
Maura went with Nedda and the police to Louise’s office and made sure the desk and credenza were bare of files and the cabinets and drawers were still locked. “I’ll be in my office when you’re ready for me,” she told the officers.
First, though, she got the Trotters settled in the lounge, where they were immediately the center of attention. It was unavoidable, but Maura hated knowing that Nedda’s lie would soon be spread among the residents.
In her office, she rested her head in her hands and was rubbing her fingers into her aching temples when Constable Singh stepped through the door, followed by Constable Meyer.
“Headache?” the woman asked sympathetically.
“Yes. This has upset me.” And that was no lie, even though the original source of her headache had been a night’s worth of tears and guilt. She stood. “Shall we go to Ms. Michaels’s office?”
“Here will do fine,” the male officer said, plopping down in the chair Maura and Jesse had occupied last night.
Battling a flush, she said, “Fine,” as Constable Singh took the other chair.
Both pulled out notebooks and pens as Maura seated herself again.
“Let’s start at five last night,” the male officer said, “and you tell us what you were doing.”
Maura told them about the flood, regretting that her story established that she and Jesse were the only people, other than the Trotters, who had been in the apartment bedroom. “I know I didn’t take the jewelry,” she said, “and I’m sure Jesse didn’t. There has to be some other explanation.”
The two officers exchanged glances, then Constable Singh asked, “What’s the Trotters’ financial position?”
“They’re not wealthy. Few of our residents are. Are you suggesting they’d fake a theft and claim the insurance money?” She shook her head. “She loves that jewelry, loves wearing it, showing it off, telling about when her husband gave her each piece. Besides, they were too upset about the flood to plan anything like that.”
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