Tom Savage was tall, with a still-handsome face, sky blue eyes and most of the time, he could be very charming. He had salt and pepper hair and had been built like a defensive lineman when he was young. Over the years, that had given way to just a bit of a pot-belly fueled by beer and his obsession for Mexican food.
He turned to Lee. “You hit her?”
I took in a sharp breath at this insulting question and so did everyone else.
Lee stared at Dad for a beat and then I watched as his face closed down. He leaned his hips against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms on his chest and didn’t deign to answer.
Dad loved Lee, Dad thought about Hank, Lee and Ally like Malcolm and Kitty Sue thought about me. I knew Dad even admired Lee.
But Dad was a cop and he knew things about Lee and his past that I didn’t know, things of which he didn’t approve. Things that made Lee being involved with his daughter not a happy circumstance to celebrate.
Regardless, I had the weird and irrational desire to kick Dad in the shin.
“No, he didn’t hit me. Jeez, Dad,” I said.
“Of course he didn’t hit her, Tommy. How could you think such a thing? What happened?” Kitty Sue, ever the diplomat, brushed off Dad’s idiotic remark and came toward me.
I looked at Ally who had dropped another bag on the floor. This one was not an overnighter. This one was bigger, stuffed full, undoubtedly packed with enough of my clothes to get me through a week of staying at Lee’s, by the end of which I would likely be pregnant or Lee’s love slave, or both.
If I wasn’t so worried about her and didn’t love her with every fiber of my being, I would have strangled her.
“You okay?” I asked.
Ally nodded.
Kitty Sue stopped and looked between the pair of us. “Oh no, what are you two up to?”
I answered quickly, “Nothing. As for my cheek, Dad, I got hit in the face with some books falling off a shelf. Lee came over and got me so he could take a look at it and put ice on it.” I walked to the sink and showed Dad the ice bag, then, for some reason, I leaned my shoulder into Lee.
Don’t ask me why I did this. I just didn’t like the way my Dad spoke to him and I didn’t like to see Lee’s face close down like that.
“You have ice at Fortnum’s,” Dad said.
Oopsie.
This was true.
“Lee’s ice is better,” I replied.
Lame. I was losing my touch.
“I bet Lee’s ice is better,” Ally muttered and both Kitty Sue and I gave her a killing look.
Hank and Lee were exchanging glances. Hank sighed and rocked back on his heels. Lee uncrossed his arms and draped one around my shoulders. I didn’t even try to decipher what the Lee/Hank glance was all about, it had been a scary enough day.
And anyway, all I could think was that their coming over meant I was off the hook with the Lee Nap. It had been getting pretty flirty there and I needed to restore control.
“Where are we going to dinner?” I asked happily and Lee’s eyes slid sideways and his look made a definite promise of “later”, shattering any illusions of my being off the hook.
“Sushi Den,” Ally answered.
At those two words, Ally and I both immediately threw up our hands, index finger and pinkie extended in the famous, devil’s horns, “Rock On!” gesture and squealed, “Sushi!”
“We’re not having sushi,” Malcolm declared.
“We decided this. We’re having sushi,” Kitty Sue said.
“Sushi’s shit,” Malcolm stated.
“Sushi’s good for you,” Kitty Sue returned.
“Mexican is good for you,” Dad said.
Kitty Sue rolled her eyes.
I went to the bag excitedly.
I loved sushi, but I loved Sushi Den even more. It was one of my favorite restaurants in Denver. It was on Pearl Street, next to Pearl Street Grill and across from Stella’s Coffee Haus.
Sushi Den was made out of cement and glass, they had hostesses filled with attitude who, with a look, could make lesser mortals feel small and even suicidal and they had the best sushi I’d ever tasted. They never took reservations because they were always wall-to-wall people. Ally and I went to Sushi Den at least twice a month and had an ongoing battle to out-attitude the hostesses (with hostesses winning).
“Did you bring me a Sushi Den outfit?” I asked Ally.
You didn’t go to Sushi Den in jeans and cowboy boots. Sushi Den demanded something else entirely. Clothing… black. Shoes… stiletto. I had a full section of my closet devoted to Sushi Den clothes.
“You bet your ass,” Ally replied.
* * * * *
I woke up in Lee’s bed again and my first thought was sake.
I didn’t even like sake but I drank it with Ally at Sushi Den because that’s what you had to do.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do.
When at Sushi Den, drink hot sake.
I was on my belly, left leg crooked, right one straight, left arm bent with my hand resting on the pillow, right arm crushed between me and what I knew had to be the weight of Lee’s warm, hard body.
In one night, Lee had perfected a strategy of keeping me in one place while I was sleeping. He was pressed against my back, a good deal of his body resting on mine, his arm around me, his left leg bent into the crook of mine and his thigh pressed against my nether regions. This was surprisingly not uncomfortable, it was cozy and warm and made me feel, somehow, safe.
Fucking hell, how did I get myself into these situations?
I thought back to our sake-soaked, family “celebration” dinner and was thankful to discover that I remembered everything.
Eat, drink sake, eat more, drink more sake, get drunk.
Let Lee put me in his Crossfire while I blew kisses to Ally, Hank, Dad, Kitty Sue, Malcolm and the parking valet
Come back to Lee’s condo, stagger into his bedroom, take off clothes, confiscate another wife beater, fall face first in Lee’s big bed because of drunkenness and lack of Disco Nap, and fall asleep.
With my left hand, I checked the status of my clothing.
Panties, check.
Wife beater t-shirt, check.
Either Lee didn’t ravish my drunken self or he dressed me when he was done. I figured it was the former.
My left cheekbone felt tight and there was a dull ache that, without sake working its way through my system, I could now actually feel.
I quickly strategized my next twenty minutes as best as I could without the aid of caffeine.
I needed to get away from Lee without waking him, call a taxi and go home.
Fine, good, sounded like a plan.
I inched forward, trying to be sneaky.
And failing.
“Un-unh,” Lee mumbled behind me, his arm tightening.
Foiled at the first hurdle.
I tried again using yesterday’s successful excuse for escape.
“I need to make coffee.”
Lee’s arm went away, but the weight of his body was enough to keep me where I was. He slid further onto me, bent and I felt his lips touch my shoulder at the same time I felt his hand travel up the side of the thigh of my crooked leg, stopping at my hip.
“You can have coffee after,” he said in my ear.
Every muscle in my body tensed even as my stomach melted.
“After what?”
His hand moved forward from my hip and his fingers traced the waistband of my underwear just below my navel.
“This is gonna happen,” he said and I didn’t need him to explain what “this” meant. Then he said, “Now.”
Holy shit.
Belatedly I felt the evidence of his determination against my behind and my heart started racing.
Since I knew that such a thing as sex existed, I wanted to do it with Lee.
Now, faced with the imminent act, I was terrified.
“I have a hangover,” I tried.
Lee’s lips were at my neck, e
ither he didn’t hear me or he didn’t believe me and thought my lie unworthy of a response.
He pressed his hips into my ass as his hand slid up my belly and I felt tingles shoot down my legs.
Holy, holy, shit, shit, shit.
I sank my teeth into my lip to stop from groaning as pure electricity raced from everywhere in my body, with pinpoint accuracy, straight between my legs.
I tried again.
“I have a headache.”
His hand went up my shirt and stopped just under my breast, his knuckles brushing along the swell of the underside.
“Probably tension, don’t worry, I know how to ease tension.”
I bet he did.
I gave it one last shot.
“My face hurts.”
I felt his tongue right behind my ear before he said, “I can take your mind off that.”
“Lee –”
His hand splayed on my midriff and his weight and thigh went away. He pushed me on my back and leaned over me.
“Give me one good reason not to do this,” he demanded, looking me straight in the eye.
His hair was sexy wild again. His face was both soft and hard. Soft with whatever-it-was I’d seen the last couple of days whenever he looked at me, hard with determination and desire.
In the face of that, without my morning coffee, I had difficulty answering.
“That’s what I thought.” His head started to come down when the phone rang.
“Are you gonna answer that?” I asked against his lips, his arms were going around me, pulling me to him.
“Fuck no.”
He kissed me and I melted into him, immediately, happily, the fight simply just went out of me. He was that fine of a kisser.
So be it, I was finally going to make love with Liam Nightingale.
My whole body rejoiced.
He fell to his back and pulled me over him, his arms wrapped around me, holding me tight.
The phone rang again and then something clattered on the night table but he ignored them as he dragged his lips along my jaw to my ear.
I shivered.
One of his hands slid over my ass while the other one held tight at my waist.
“I love your ass,” he murmured in my ear. “I’ve always loved your ass.”
His words shivered through me. I had no idea he loved my ass, the very thought thrilled me to the core, so much so, I kissed him for all I was worth.
I heard him groan under my kiss and that thrilled me too.
The phone was ringing again and the thing on the night table vibrated and clattered. Lee’s hand was in my underwear and my hand was at his belly, exploring his washboard abs on a downward descent.
Then the door buzzer went, three quick buzzes and then a longer one.
Lee’s hand stilled.
“Fuck!” he clipped from behind clenched teeth.
“What?”
He flipped me on my back as if I weighed no more than a sack of feathers and gave me a quick kiss.
“Don’t fucking move,” he warned and angled out of bed.
He grabbed a pair of jeans before he walked to the door and I watched him go, frozen solid and fascinated by my first, unadulterated view of his perfect, naked body including the particularly generous gift with which God had chosen fit to endow him.
At the sight and the realization that I was sleeping next to a naked Liam Nightingale, I’m not embarrassed to admit, I think I had a mini-orgasm.
I heard voices, tried to get my body back under my control (and failed) but then in mere moments, Lee came back into the room.
He walked straight to the bed and hauled me out. I slammed against him and he kissed me, hard and deep, but unfortunately not long.
“I have to go,” he told me.
I wanted to scream, “No!” I was beginning to get seriously hot and bothered, he’d just admitted he loved my ass and always had, and I wanted to explore his God-given talents.
Instead, I just kept holding on to his shoulders because that was all I was capable of doing after his kiss.
He smiled.
Damn the man.
“I’ll pick you up at Fortnum’s as soon as I can. Promise me in the meantime you won’t get into trouble.”
I nodded my head.
He stared at me a second, then sighed.
“You’re lying.”
“No I’m not,” I replied.
“Just don’t do anything too stupid.”
As if!
He brushed his lips against mine. He let me go, headed straight to the bathroom, took a shower, dressed and left.
I called and asked Ally to come pick me up.
We had a long, busy day ahead of us if we were going to find Rosie.
Chapter Six
Kinky Friedman Zone
I decided to drag Jane into the search, in fact, I decided to drag everyone into the search.
We spent the morning waiting on coffee customers, the one person who actually wanted to buy a book and making phone calls to everyone we knew putting an APB out on both Rosie and Duke.
Regardless of her first shock at seeing the state of my face (I had a mini-shiner, not a full-blown black eye but a killer bruise on my cheekbone and yellow discoloring under the eye), Jane was excited. Jane thought this was fun. Jane had not been shot at or stunned-gunned (yet). She read romances but she also read mysteries and detective novels. She was in the Kinky Friedman zone.
Jane headed off to Evergreen after the morning rush to put a note under Duke’s door, telling him to call me the minute he got home (with a little PS to Dolores, inviting her to Girl’s Night Out next Wednesday).
I had decided that the morning’s weakness with Lee was temporary insanity and the aftereffects of sake. I was back to my decision that Lee and I weren’t a good idea. Most especially if he could (and would) leave me hot and bothered for whatever scary shit he did for a living. I knew my control was slipping but I had a new plan. All I had to do was not end up in his car, his company, his condo and especially his bed. That was the extent of my new plan.
The minute Jane left, I called Rosie’s parents in North Dakota. He had them as next of kin on his employment records. In order not to freak them out, I pretended I was an old friend from high school, calling to catch up.
“Isn’t that a funny coincidence?” Rosie’s Mom said. “Two nice gentlemen came around yesterday saying the same thing!”
I glanced at Ally with my “uh-oh” face and she returned an eyebrow raise.
Either it was Lee or it was Terry Wilcox. One spelled disaster for me and the other spelled disaster for Rosie.
I gave my name and number, disconnected and told Ally.
“Probably Lee, he has ways,” she decided.
Great.
“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” she asked.
“Lee and I have a bet, the kind of bet I don’t wanna lose.” It wasn’t a total lie. If Lee found Rosie, I would lose a lot, peace of mind, my grip on reality, things like that.
“So you bet Lee you’d find Rosie before he did and return a bag of diamonds to a bad guy?” Ally stared at me like I’d just had half my brain sucked out by brain-eaters.
“Yep.”
“Girl,” she drawled, “you’re so gonna lose.”
Lucky for me, Ally was into the underdog.
The door to Fortnum’s burst open and Andrea Cocetti stormed in.
Andrea was at school with Ally and me and she was in our pack. Rumor had it that Andrea made out with Richie Sambora backstage after a Bon Jovi concert but this had never been publicly confirmed or denied (privately, though, she admitted to both Ally and I that it didn’t happen and thus, in secret, I reigned supreme with my Joe Perry encounter).
We’d stayed friends over the years but didn’t see each other often. Andrea got married about twelve minutes after we graduated and now had four kids. Four kids, especially hellions like Andrea’s, were a good reason not to see each other that often.
Now, A
ndrea was Andrea Moran. She was pushing a stroller, dragging a child alongside her, while an older one followed, carrying a purse the size of an overnight bag and a diaper bag stuffed full to bursting, all this done with such practiced ease, it was as if they were all merely accessories, including the children.
“You hooked up with Lee Nightingale!” she shrieked, causing the four customers who were calmly sitting around reading and enjoying their coffees in quiet surroundings to jump and stare. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Over the years, Andrea, too, had been drafted in some of my Lee Maneuvers. Andrea, too, was on Kitty Sue Nightingale’s Christmas Card List and therefore in her address book and therefore, no doubt, received a call. Perhaps, considering a day had passed, during the second wave.
“It only happened yesterday,” Ally said.
Andrea ignored Ally. “Have you and Lee done it yet?” Her voice was still, really, really loud and the four customers stopped staring at Andrea and swiveled their heads to look at me.
I sighed then said, “We’re taking it slow.”
“Slow!” Her eyes moved from me, to Ally, and back to me, they looked like they were going to pop out of her head. “I… you…” She made a strangled sound and I was starting to get concerned. “That isn’t possible. Slow isn’t possible. Lee Nightingale doesn’t move slow. One second he’s looking at you, the next second he’s walking away and he has the little satin bow from your panties as a souvenir.”
God, I hoped it wasn’t that fast that would be disappointing.
What was I thinking? It wasn’t going to happen at all.
“That isn’t true,” Ally replied. “He’d take the little satin bow from your bra. Not all panties have them but most bras do. Sometimes they’re rosettes, he’d take those as well.”
I stared at her.
“You’re joking,” I breathed, really not wanting to be a little satin rosette bouncing around with hundreds of other little rosettes and bows in Lee’s sock drawer.
Ally shrugged. “That’s the rumor.”
“Have you seen them? How many of them are there?” Andrea asked.
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