by Sharon Sala
Stone kept remembering everything about her, including the taste of her lips and the way she molded herself to him. Oh, man.
But Jessica had other plans. Her smile slid sideways as he stood up. “Come with me,” she said softly.
He followed her out of the kitchen and down the hallway to her bedroom. The sexy sway of her backside was a turn-on, and that odd, sleepy smile that she’d given him was driving him wild. The hint of her shape beneath that baggy shirt was more enticing than if she’d been naked. He followed her, so close that he could feel the air moving as she passed. She was almost within his grasp, and he was at the point of forgetting everything but the joy of making love to Jessie.
Jessica paused, then opened her closet door and reached up, handing Stone a pillow and two blankets as she stepped back and closed the door.
“Here you go. You’re a bit tall for my couch, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to manage.” Her hand was in the middle of his back as she walked him out into the hall. “Thank you so much for offering to stay. I just wouldn’t have slept a wink if you hadn’t.”
Having said all she could without making a fool of herself, Jessica pivoted and walked back into her bedroom, shutting herself in and Stone out.
He looked down at the bedding he was holding and then back up at the door, wondering where he’d gone wrong. He’d been so close, and it had ended with a feather pillow and two yellow blankets.
He ambled into the living room and tossed the stuff on a nearby chair, then sat down and pulled off his shoes and shirt before making himself a bed. A few moments later, he turned off the lights and crawled onto the couch, telling himself this was no more than he deserved. As his head hit the pillow, he sighed and then stretched, angling his long legs up on the end of the furniture where they dangled in midair.
Five minutes later, he was still wrestling blankets and cursing his height and her couch when he heard Jessica coming up the hall in the dark. He heard her pause, then take a deep breath.
“Have everything you need?” she asked.
Everything but you. “Sure do.”
“Well, okay, then. Good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Stone listened until she was gone, then gave the top yellow blanket a vicious yank, which instantly uncovered his feet. He looked down at the decorative border lying across his shins and rolled his eyes.
Yellow ducks with little orange feet and beaks stared back at him from a strip of white satin. He kicked, trying to cover himself back up, and then gave it all up as a lost cause.
“Son of a miserable—”
Ignoring the fact that his butt would be hanging over the edge of the cushions, he rolled over on his side with his knees doubled up toward his chin and closed his eyes.
And then a hinge squeaked down the hall and he heard Jessica call out again.
“You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he answered. Her door slammed shut as he was hammering at a place on his pillow. “Everything is just plain ducky.”
Chapter Seven
Jessica woke to the sound of hammering and the feel of lips feathering the edge of her cheek. Her eyes popped open as she rolled over in disbelief. Stone was lying beside her.
“Stone Richardson, what are you doing?”
Tracing the edge of her lower lip with the tip of his finger, he leaned over and blew in her ear.
“Trying to make time with this crazy girl I know.”
She pulled the covers up to her chin. “Get off my bed,” she muttered. “I need to take a shower.”
His eyebrows arched as a wry grin tilted the corner of his mouth. “That sounds good. I’m game.”
He rolled over on top of her, pinning her to the bed, and wondered what the hell he was doing here. He’d only meant to wake her up, not crawl in bed with her, but one look had led to a few extra steps, and before he’d been able to stop himself, here he was, wanting and wishing and telling himself it was lust, not love, that he was feeling for Jessie.
The hammering noise kept getting louder. She glared. Between that racket and the thunder of her own pulse, it was all she could do to think.
“I am not taking a shower with a man who does not trust his own judgment, let alone mine.”
A little angry that she’d called his hand so neatly, he feathered a kiss on the side of her neck and then muttered against her lips, “I never said I didn’t trust you.”
She started to give him a piece of her mind…at least, a part of it that she knew she could trust, when she met his gaze. In spite of his bawdy, teasing manner, she saw something that gave her real hope. She would have sworn there was more than lust in his eyes. Her voice softened—slightly.
“Oh, so you’re handing out remedies, are you? If you ask me, you’re too old to be playing doctor.”
“Well,” he drawled, and slipped a hand on either side of her face. “If I promise it won’t hurt a bit, could we—”
The hammering stopped. “Hey!” someone shouted, and the sound echoed down the hall and into her bedroom.
Jessica jerked as if she’d been slapped, and then kicked and rolled, tumbling Stone off of her and onto the floor.
“What the hell did you do that for?” he yelped, staring at her in disbelief.
“Someone’s out there!” she hissed, pointing toward the doorway.
“Well, yes, Jessie Leigh, someone sure is. A carpenter has been fixing your door. Who in blazes did you think was doing all that hammering…a giant woodpecker?”
“Hey, in there! Is anybody home? I’m through out here!”
Stone crawled to his feet, brushing at the seat of his jeans.
“Be right there!” he yelled, then glared back at the mop-haired waif standing at the foot of the bed. “You may as well get dressed. I’d say the mood is pretty much broken.”
She stared at the button fly of his jeans and arched a brow.
“What a shame! I hope it doesn’t hurt.”
A slow flush spread across his cheeks as he pivoted sharply and stalked out of the room.
Jessica jumped out of bed and slammed the door behind him, turning the lock to punctuate her mood.
“Fly specks,” she mumbled, and stomped toward the bathroom with single-minded intent. She needed a shower, and the colder, the better.
A short while later, she emerged wearing clean white shorts and a nearly new baby blue shirt tucked in at the waist. Barefoot, she paused in the hall before following the scent of fresh-brewed coffee.
Stone was standing in the kitchen, nursing a steaming cup of the brew and staring off into space.
Something about the loneliness of his stance made her hesitate, and the sharp-edged remark she’d been saving disappeared from her mind. She sauntered across the floor and took a cup from the cabinet, reminding herself to stay calm.
“Good morning,” she said.
He grinned wryly and toasted her with his cup.
“So, my timing was off. I see I should have waited until after the shower. You’re a whole lot friendlier after you’ve gotten wet.”
Her face reddened as she pointed her empty cup like a fat, accusing finger.
“Listen, buddy. I’m trying to be sociable here. And I’m trying to forget that someone I thought I could trust was right there in my bed when I opened my eyes this morning, invading my space!”
Stone set his cup down, pretending great dismay.
“And I didn’t see a thing! Well, damn, Jessie Leigh, where’s my gun? I’ll call headquarters right now and put out an APB.”
In spite of herself, she started to grin, but Stone wasn’t through playing the game. He took her grocery list from the cabinet.
“I’ll need a description. Did you get a good look at his face?”
“You’re funny,” she said, and poured herself some coffee. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”
Stone grinned and took away her coffee, then took her in his arms. In spite of her huffing and puffing, as always, she melted against him. This t
ime, he didn’t waste a breath on a warning. He just dipped his head, nuzzling the curve of her neck.
“You smell so sweet,” he whispered, trailing his lips up to the lobe of her ear.
Jessica sighed. Any minute now, I will tell him what I really think of men who can’t make up their minds.
He shifted his embrace, moving his hands from the middle of her back to the curve of her hips. When he pulled her close against him, then closer still, he groaned and then sighed, resting his chin at the top of her head.
“Ah, Jessie. I missed you, more than I care to admit.”
Her mouth twisted wryly as she pressed her nose against the breadth of his chest. He missed me? Dear Lord, I nearly died from doing without this man in my life, and he missed me?
And then she sighed. Held fast against the man that he was, she couldn’t move. In fact, she didn’t want to move—totally forgot she should have moved. There was an unexpected measure of comfort and safety in being held so dearly.
It was way past time for Stone to go. He was already late for work, and he knew when he got there that word of last night’s fiasco would have already preceded him, yet he just didn’t care. He had a little unfinished business with a tousled-headed sprite. He brushed his lips near her stitches, then reluctantly turned her loose.
“Hey, Jessie.”
Mesmerized by the moment they’d been sharing, Jessica swayed, then looked up.
“About this morning.”
She blinked. Was he about to get serious again?
“You know…when we were in bed together?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t forget myself or where I was or whom I was with—or the fact that the carpenter was here.”
A frown split the middle of her forehead. What on earth was he getting at?
“Then what was it all about?” Jessica asked. “You made it perfectly clear two years ago that I wasn’t what you wanted.”
Stone’s belly knotted as he stared into her face. “I never said I didn’t want you, Jessie. I said, I’m not making the same mistake twice. Being a cop and being married don’t always go hand in hand. I tried it, remember?”
But not with me. Yet Jessie couldn’t bring herself to utter the words and suffer the humiliation of rejection. She pushed out of his arms and took several steps back, putting some distance between them before she spoke.
“I never asked you for anything, Stone Richardson, and I’m getting damned tired of trying to defend myself.”
Stone wouldn’t admit she was right, but he couldn’t admit he was wrong. Instead, he made himself focus on the reason he was even in her house.
“Speaking of defenses, there’s one more thing I’m going to remind you of before I leave. Try to stay out of trouble today, okay? And if you don’t want to answer the phone, just turn on your machine. Busy signals give me the creeps.”
He winked, and then he was gone.
Jessica was still trying to think of a scathing comeback when she heard him backing out of her driveway. She dashed into the living room and then came to an abrupt halt.
Her door! He’d replaced her whole door. A new set of keys and an advertising flyer were on the hall table next to a note addressed to her.
Dear Jessie,
Thought you’d appreciate the precaution, just in case some nut ever tries to kick in your door.
“Precaution? What precaution?”
She glanced at the door. It was white, just like her old one had been. He’d even matched the beveled design. She stepped closer, peering along the surface. There was something about it that didn’t seem quite—She reached out and touched it, then frowned. “What on earth?”
She picked up the flyer beneath the keys, scanning the text. Once more, she looked back at the door, shaking her head in disbelief. Not only had Stone replaced her lock, but if the literature was to be believed, while she’d been sleeping, a carpenter had installed a genuine, guaranteed-against-break-in, Colonial white, exterior steel door.
Jessica couldn’t quit staring.
“Why do I feel like I’ve just been incarcerated?”
* * *
Stone walked into headquarters and headed for his desk. To his relief, everyone seemed busy, too busy to bother with him. But the closer he got, the more certain he became that something was up. They were busy, all right. Too busy.
He glanced at his partner, who had kicked back in his chair and was grinning broadly. Stone paused at his desk and stared at a football helmet sitting upside down on top of his files.
“What the hell?”
As he picked it up, dozens of condoms fell out at his feet. Taped inside was a big red sign that read Play Safe!
The men in the room erupted in a loud round of laughter. Coupled with the rude innuendos they were tossing about, Stone knew he’d been had. He sighed. It had been too much to hope that the news wouldn’t get around.
“Heard you got busted last night in the middle of a little slap-and-tackle session,” Stryker said, and then chuckled at the play on words, as well as his own wit.
“Well, you heard wrong,” Stone said, and started picking up condoms and tossing them back into the helmet.
Stryker laughed aloud. “The hell you say.”
Stone grinned and tossed a condom on Stryker’s desk. “Here, we’re partners. Share and share alike.”
“Does that mean we share everything?”
Stone threw a handful of condoms at Jack’s head. “No way. Find your own woman. Jessie is mine.” And then he froze. Where the hell did that come from? A little frightened by the intensity of his feelings, he began digging through the files on his desk and tried to pretend the words hadn’t been spoken.
The smile slid off Jack Stryker’s face. He hadn’t seen Stone this involved with a woman since his divorce. “So, it’s like that, is it?”
Stone refused to comment. After all, what could he say? I don’t want her, but I don’t want anyone else to have her, either? That sounded lame, even to him.
Frank Sanderson stepped out of his office. “Stryker! Richardson! If everyone is through playing, I want you both in my office—on the double!”
Stone tossed the last of the condoms into the helmet and glanced wistfully at his coffee cup. He’d already been thrown out of a bed on his butt, and now the chief was calling them on the carpet before he’d even sat down. The start to his day was looking less and less promising as the hours went on.
“Close the door,” Sanderson said as they walked into his office.
“What’s up, chief?” Stone asked.
Sanderson dropped into his chair and leaned back. “Where do we stand on the Stuart case?”
“Right now, pretty much in left field. Olivia Stuart’s house had already been cleaned, and the room in which they found her had been restored to its natural order, although I talked to the maid who’d done the cleaning. Other than some things having been knocked off a table, which she thought had been done when Olivia fell, she’d noted nothing out of place. And there’s no evidence of a break-in, although no one really thinks robbery was a motive. Burglars aren’t in the habit of poisoning their victims.”
Sanderson didn’t like the news and glanced at Stone. “So, does your psychic stool pigeon have anything new to add to the pot?”
Stone bristled. “If it wasn’t for her, someone would have gotten away with murder,” he said shortly.
“Sorry,” Sanderson said. “But so far, the facts we have are based on one woman’s so-called vision. Exactly how much of what she’s said can we count on?”
Stone leaned forward, bracing his hands on the chief’s desk.
“We could ask a woman named Tinee Bloom. Yesterday, our little stool pigeon had one of her ‘visions’ and saved Mrs. Bloom’s life. Now half the town thinks Jessie Hanson is an alien, and the other half thinks she’s God’s gift to Grand Springs.”
Sanderson frowned. “I don’t like this. Someone could ask a couple of the wrong questions and link her to the disc
overy of Olivia Stuart’s murder.”
“Well, I don’t like it, either,” Stone said. “But right now, there’s not much we can do. She’s trying to play it down, although it’s pretty much a lost cause. The gossip around town is that it was probably her, anyway. We’ve let the fact be known that Olivia’s body was still in the morgue, alluding to the supposition that medical personnel spotted the suspicious bruising and got curious, but from the gossip on the streets, it’s going to be a miracle if anyone buys the theory.”
Sanderson frowned. “I guess you’re right.” Then he stood up, a sense of purpose in his step as he circled his desk. “Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. The mayor’s funeral is later this morning. I want both of you to attend on behalf of the department. And while you’re there, I think it would behoove us to watch the behavior of those who’ve come to pay their last respects.”
“So you think the killer might show up to gloat?” Stryker asked.
Sanderson shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. At any rate, I want you both present.”
“Yes, sir,” they echoed.
“Then, that’s that,” Sanderson said. “Go catch some bad guys.”
They started out the door when the chief called out. “Hey, Richardson.”
Stone turned.
“Heard you made a pretty good catch last night.”
Stone grinned. “Why, thank you, chief. Does this mean I’ll be getting a raise?”
Sanderson grinned and threw something, hitting Stone on the side of the head. He looked down at the small foil packet lying at his feet, grinned wryly, then bent down and picked it up. Even the chief had been in on the joke.
* * *
Most of the town was expected to be at the funeral. And from the things Jessica had heard, everyone wanted to go. Partly because Olivia Stuart had been a well-respected member of the community, and partly because she’d been murdered.
But Jessica was the exception. Last night, she’d had no intention of going. And then, while Stone slept peacefully on her couch, she’d had the same dream again. This time, she’d been aware it was happening, and had tried with all of her might to focus on the killer’s face. It hadn’t happened.