by Carsen Taite
Claire was used to Cheryl’s whiplash inducing changes of topics, but she could tell by the look on Riley’s face, she was still trying to sort out if the questions were land mines or legit. “I guess I should’ve asked if you have any food allergies,” Claire said.
“Shellfish has never done me wrong,” Riley said with a grin. “And, Cheryl, I’ll make sure you get an invite, but don’t feel obligated to make a purchase. I’ll consider it a success if anyone shows up.”
Cheryl pointed a fork at Riley. “Humble.” She looked at Claire. “This one’s a keeper.”
Claire felt the heat of the blush wash over her at Cheryl’s misread of the situation between her and Riley, but there really wasn’t any easy way to correct her without drawing attention to the fact there was something brewing between them no matter how much she tried to pretend their association was purely professional. Nick was right, she was blurring lines, and she should care about the implication for her career, but in this moment, all she cared about was the easy vibe of being on a double date with a catch of a date in the company of her dearest friends.
“Dinner’s ready,” Cheryl announced, and Nick appeared to help her carry platters into the dining room. Claire finally looked over at Riley who was grinning. Apparently, she wasn’t disturbed at all to be mistaken for a couple. Claire filed that fact away and led her into the dining room.
“You have a beautiful home,” Riley said as they passed the platters and started digging into the food.
“Thank you,” Cheryl said. “It’s way too big, but it’s been in the family for years and my parents can’t bear to let it go. I suggested they lease it, but not a lot of families need this much space, and it is convenient when they visit to have them be in an entirely different wing. Right, Nick?”
“I love my in-laws,” he said in a perfect deadpan.
Cheryl smiled at Riley. “He practices that line when they’re due for a visit. Mom and Dad are a bit hard to take. Very particular and very used to having their way. When they’re here, they talk about Florida like it’s paradise, and when they’re there, Dallas is the only place on earth they’d rather be.”
Riley laughed and Claire watched the exchange, pleased with how seamlessly Riley fit into their group.
“Do your parents live in Dallas?” Cheryl asked.
Claire looked at Nick who rolled his eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t filled his wife in on Riley’s background, but he’d place the fault with Claire for bringing Riley here in the first place without much in the way of notice. “Uh, Riley is—”
Riley put a hand on her arm and shook her head. She turned to Cheryl. “Yes, my parents live in Dallas, but they’re divorced and we’re not close. And I’m fairly certain all three of our homes would fit into this one.”
Everyone laughed and Claire let out a breath, relieved and impressed Riley had handled the question with ease. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Riley handled everything that had been thrown her way with measured steadiness, and it was one of the things she admired about her.
The rest of the dinner went without incident. When they were done and the dishes were cleared, Cheryl brought out a tray holding a clear liquor bottle and four slender stemmed glasses. She lifted the bottle. “This is Casa Dragones Joven tequila or, as I like to call it, nectar of the gods.” She poured them each a glass. “I picked it up last month in Puerto Vallarta. I won’t bore you with the details about how it’s made. Just sip and enjoy.”
Claire clinked her glass with the others and raised it to her lips, locking eyes with Riley seated across from her. For a moment, everyone else faded away and Claire imagined it was just her and Riley, enjoying each other’s company, far removed from this case, these murders.
Cheryl’s voice broke through her musings. “Who’s ready for a game of brainstorm with the civilians? Riley, you’re on my team. What’s the first topic?”
Claire caught Nick looking at her out of the corner of her eye and wondered if he’d seen her staring at Riley. Wasn’t much she could do about it now other than dive deep into what they’d come here for. “First topic is motive,” she said. “Someone either stole or found Riley’s sketchbook. Her drawings are showing up at each murder scene. The natural conclusion is someone either wants to implicate Riley in these murders or they are sending her a message.”
Everyone turned to look at Riley, and Claire instantly regretted putting her on the hot seat, but she eagerly anticipated what she had to say.
“I wish I could be more helpful, but I don’t have any enemies that I know of. Certainly not anyone who’d commit murder to get my attention.”
Cheryl slapped her hand on the arm of her chair. “Maybe it’s not about someone being out to get you, but just trying to get your attention. What better way to flatter an artist than to draw attention to their work?” She nudged Nick who was seated next to her. “What do you think?”
“I think you may be on to something,” he said, motioning to Claire. “That guy Jensen. He was a little obsessed.”
Claire felt Riley tense beside her, and she recalled their conversation about Jensen at the gallery. She turned to face Riley. “I know you’re fond of him, but at least consider the possibility there’s a side of him you know nothing about.”
Riley’s expression was thoughtful, and a few beats of silence passed before she answered. “I can’t see it, but I’m willing to admit I don’t know him very well. Come to think of it, I don’t know many people in the group very well. I mean aside from Jensen, Buster, and Natalie, I rarely see any of them outside of our meet-ups.”
Claire could tell it pained Riley to think any of her art pals might have a secret, criminal life, and she was drawn to her tender heart, naive though it may be. They brainstormed for a while longer, but after a couple of glasses of tequila and over an hour talking through all the evidence they had so far, they were left with lots of questions and few conclusions. In the car on the way home, they rode in silence until they were almost to Riley’s. Claire reached over and grasped Riley’s hand and gently squeezed. “I could tell that was hard for you.”
Riley caught her hand as she was about to draw it back and held on. “I don’t like thinking the worst of people.”
Claire pulled up in front of the brownstone and put the car in park. She shifted in her seat to face Riley. “Believe it or not, I don’t either, even though it’s kind of what I do for a living.”
Riley cracked a smile. “That’s inconvenient.”
“It can be.”
“When did you stop thinking the worst of me?”
“I don’t think I ever got to that point.” Claire traced Riley’s palm with her fingers. “On some level, I knew you were one of the good ones.”
“You did, did you?”
Riley’s tone was coy, but Claire knew she wasn’t a tease which meant this was genuine flirting. Suddenly, the car was very warm, and she was very warm, and she was very conscious that, despite the fact the surveillance on Riley had been called off, anyone driving or walking by had a clear view into the vehicle. Not that there was anything to see. Yet.
“Do you want to come up?” Riley asked, her voice cracking slightly.
Claire knew she shouldn’t. If she went upstairs with Riley, feeling the way she felt right now, she’d be crossing a line with a witness, taking a risk with her career, but if she didn’t, she knew she’d regret sacrificing her feelings for her work like she’d done every day of her life up to now. She closed her eyes and shut out the part of her brain that had run everything in her life up to this moment. When the inner voice was finally silenced, she was able to tune in to the call of her heart, and the answer came easily. “Yes. Please.”
Chapter Seventeen
Riley jammed her key in the door and jerked it to the right, the task made harder by the distraction of Claire’s hands on her back, winding their way up her jacket and tugging her shirt out of her jeans. She shoved her way inside her apartment, barely able to contain the urgent need to pu
ll Claire into her arms. She shut the door behind them and whirled around, pulling Claire into her arms and shivering when Claire’s hands stroked her naked back. “You’re killing me.”
Claire leaned back and gave her a long, slow smile. Riley dipped her head, touching her lips to Claire’s, savoring the simple connection before pressing harder to deepen the kiss. Claire opened her mouth to welcome her in, and Riley moaned with pleasure as they tasted and teased in tandem. When they broke for air, Riley could barely form words, murmuring, “so good, so good.” She shrugged out of her jacket and tugged the rest of her shirt from her waistband.
“Here, let me,” Claire said, easing her hands around Riley’s waist in slow, delicious strokes. She started unbuttoning Riley’s shirt, taking her time, finally shucking it off and tossing it on the couch with her bra close behind. Claire traced her breasts, lightly rubbing her thumbs over her nipples until they peaked with desire, and then she bent and sucked each one in turn. Riley, lost in the sensation, staggered and braced against the wall, desperate not to break their embrace. Claire lavished her breasts with her tongue, over and over and over until Riley was certain she would come while standing in the center of the room.
“Do you have a bed behind that screen?” Claire whispered in her ear.
“I do,” Riley gasped.
“I think we should get you into it. There are things I want to do, and if I do them right, you won’t be able to stand for long.”
“You might be a mind reader.” Riley grasped Claire’s hand and led her to the bed.
“Someone likes a lot of pillows,” Claire said, grabbing one of the many throw pillows from the bed and giving a tight squeeze.
“Pillows are one of my guilty pleasures.” Riley pulled her favorite patchwork velvet pillow into her arms. She rubbed her face against its soft surface. “Feels so good.”
“Wishing I was a velvet pillow right now.”
Riley reached out and ran her hand along the side of Claire’s face. “Don’t tell my pillow, but I think you’re winning the ‘feels so good’ competition.”
“Oh, there’s a competition?” Claire asked. “I love a competition.”
Riley grinned. “Really? I never would’ve guessed.” She’d barely gotten the words out before Claire tugged her onto the bed.
“You won the kissing contest,” Claire said, settling beneath her, propped on the giant collection of pillows. “But we have many other events to go.”
As she spoke, Claire started unfastening her blouse, but Riley placed her hands over Claire’s and pushed them away. “I got this. Save your energy for the next round.” As she slowly loosened each button, she dropped her head and ran her tongue down the length of Claire’s neck. She pulled back the silk and left a trail of whisper light kisses on Claire’s naked shoulder as she unfastened her bra and slowly removed it along with the shirt, letting the delicious delay of anticipation amp up her desire.
“I want to feel every inch of you,” Claire gasped, fumbling with buttons on Riley’s jeans. Riley reached out with one hand and grasped the headboard, struggling to contain her arousal as Claire slid her hand inside the waistband of her boxer briefs and inched her fingers toward her wet center. Riley’s hips rocked in time with Claire’s steady strokes, and she bent forward, taking one of Claire’s hard nipples into her mouth and circling it with her tongue. Claire arched off the bed, and moved her hand lower, entering Riley with one finger, then two. Between thrusts, Claire’s thumb glided over her clit, soft passes at first, then with mounting pressure until Riley could no longer distinguish the difference between giving pleasure and receiving it. She closed her eyes and let her only awareness be every touch between them—electric, sparking waves of ecstasy, pulsing and pounding her toward unimaginable release. When she came, she heard deep, guttural groans of pleasure, and she recognized the voice as her own though she’d never made these sounds, never experienced this level of pleasure.
A hand brushed against her cheek and she opened her eyes. She was lying next to Claire, in her arms. Safe and sated, staring at tender blue eyes looking deep into her soul. “You.”
“Yes.” Claire laced her fingers through hers. “Also, you. That was amazing.”
“You have no idea.”
“I kind of do.” Claire traced her lips with her forefinger. “I had a front row seat.”
Riley kissed the tip of Claire’s finger. “Are we still on the competition theme?”
Claire shook her head slowly, her blond waves fanning out against her shoulder. “I think we already have a winner.”
“Oh, is that right?” Riley caught her wrist and gently flipped Claire over so that she was on top for the second time. She stretched Claire’s arm onto the pillow above her head and used her other hand to do the same with Claire’s other arm, joining them both at the wrist with one hand. She dipped her head and brushed her lips across Claire’s, pausing long enough to tease Claire into arching off the bed for more before lightly kissing her way down her chest, pausing to coax her nipples into hard points of pleasure before she dropped lower, dipping her tongue into Claire’s warm, wet core, holding on tight as Claire rocked beneath her. She never would’ve imagined Claire surrendering to pleasure with such abandon, and it was the ultimate aphrodisiac. This woman was full of surprises and she planned to spend the rest of the night teasing them out of her.
* * *
Claire rolled onto her side and patted the bed beside her. Nothing. She opened her eyes and scanned what she could see without sitting up—she wasn’t sure she had the energy after a full night in Riley’s bed. She was still there, but Riley wasn’t, and the idea of waking up without her after the night they’d shared left her lonely and a little sad.
“You’re awake.”
Claire turned her head at the sound of Riley’s voice and pulled a muscle. “Ouch,” she said, rubbing her neck. The pain was worth it. Riley stood next to the bed wearing tight jeans and an even tighter black T-shirt that hugged her sculpted chest. That beautiful body had topped her well into the night.
Riley grinned as if she could tell what Claire was thinking and set a steaming cup on the nightstand. Claire sniffed the air. “Is that coffee?”
“It is. I borrowed it from the couple downstairs. I hope it’s good. They fancy themselves to be quote the ‘in-home baristas,’ and they used lots of fancy words to describe its ‘essence.’”
Claire held the cup to her lips and let the aroma surround her before taking a sip. She moaned and took another.
“I recognize that sound,” Riley said. “Although you weren’t drinking coffee the last time you made it.”
“Coffee is now my second favorite thing,” Claire said. She reached for Riley’s hand. “A distant second.”
Riley bent down and cupped the back of her neck, gently pulling her into a slow, deep kiss, before settling in next to her in bed. “Last night was unexpected, but it was amazing.”
“Any regrets?” Claire asked.
“None. You?”
Claire saw the hopeful expression in Riley’s eyes and she fought hesitation. In this moment she wasn’t having any second thoughts, but that’s how it worked when you were basking in the glow. Would the flurry of emotions that accompanied this incredible attraction have staying power when she was back in the real world where cops weren’t supposed to sleep with witnesses and everyone was a suspect until the case was closed? She didn’t know the answer, but right now a gorgeous woman who’d spent the night pleasing her had wandered out to find her drink of choice in an incredibly thoughtful gesture, and she owed her an expression of appreciation. “Remember how I said any gallery would be lucky to have you?”
“Yes.”
“Any woman would be lucky to have you too. Your art extends beyond the canvas.”
“I’d say I bet you say that to all the girls,” Riley said, “But maybe you don’t date a lot of artists.”
“I speak the truth, but you’d be right. I don’t date much of anyone. Job tends
to get in the way. Most women don’t understand why I have to keep rushing off in the night or they assume I’m using the job as a cover for cheating.”
“Trust is important. Both ways.”
“Agreed,” Claire said. “How about you? Date much?”
Riley shook her head. “I get to the second or third date before they start asking questions about family. The whole dad’s in prison thing is either a nonstarter or they’re morbidly curious about the details of murder trials and prison life, and they quickly lose interest when they realize I’m an expert at neither.”
“That sucks.”
“It does, but it’s part of my story, for better or worse.” Riley stroked her shoulder. “Right now, I guess you could say I’m reaping the benefits.”
And just like that, Claire’s hesitation disappeared. She set her coffee down and turned into Riley’s arms, ready to resume their electric connection, but a loud buzzing jarred her out of the moment. “Is that—”
Riley reached over to the nightstand and handed over her phone. “It was on the floor this morning. Must’ve fallen out of your pocket during the clothes shedding portion of the evening.”
Claire took it from her hand with a sense of dread that the real world was about to burst their bubble. She was right.
You and Redding. My office. Nine a.m. sharp.
The only other time she’d been ordered to appear before her squad commander, Major Reggie Holland, on short notice, she’d received a commendation, but she knew in her gut this wasn’t that. Shit. She texted Nick to give him a heads-up and told him she’d meet him at the station. When she finished typing, she looked up from her phone. Riley was staring at her with a wistful expression.
“You have to go.”
“I do.”
Riley smiled. “This is when all those other women would bail on you, right?”