On Best Behavior (C3)

by Jennifer Lane

  “Let’s pick them up, but approach slowly. I don’t want to alarm Sophie.” He noticed her glancing over her shoulder, probably looking for a taxi. They’d likely have to walk a couple of blocks to find one.

  As the limo inched forward, closing in on the two pedestrians, Grant saw a cloud of Sophie’s breath crystallize in the icy air when she laughed at something Ben said. She gave Ben a playful shove, then wrapped her arm around his shoulders when he boomeranged back to her. She seemed so relaxed and confident, sauntering along in her high-heel boots. God, I’ve missed her.

  He lowered the window and frosty air rushed in the limo. “Got some fries with that shake?”

  She spun toward the vehicle with her mouth hanging open, and Ben almost shouted his name. Grant drew his finger to his lips, silencing the boy, then beckoned them both into the long, sleek black car.

  He scooted over as Ben clambered onto the smooth leather seats, his growing teenage body all elbows and knees. Then Sophie stepped in behind him with her usual grace, smoothing her camel coat under her legs. Her cheeks glowed with a rosy blush beneath her stylish leopard-print hat. “Where in the world did you get this limo?”

  He smirked. “Perks of the job.” Calling up to the driver, he said, “Tommy, can you drop off Ben first?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Saylor.” The divider between the front seat and the rear of the vehicle quickly slid into place.

  “Sweet wheels,” Ben marveled. “Smells good in here too.”

  Grant smiled and pulled his nephew into a sideways hug. “You bet, buddy.”

  Ben pulled away, dusting off his shoulder. “Dude, I don’t hug.”

  “Since when?” he looked at Sophie, who shrugged.

  “So this is Alex’s car?” she asked.

  “Yep. He’s letting me borrow it to drive you guys home from practice.”

  Ben butted in. “Because it’s so fucking cold outside?”

  Grant stared at him, sensing a challenge. “That, and because I missed you two. I’m really sorry I haven’t been around. Hopefully this thing I’m doing for the FBI will wrap up soon.”

  “Right,” Ben scoffed.

  “How’s swimming going?” he asked.

  Sophie’s calming voice entered the conversation. “He just dropped two seconds in the hundred ’fly.”

  “That’s great!” he said.

  Ben looked away and fiddled with the built-in cup holders on the armrest. “It’s not that big a deal.” Something across the vehicle caught his eye, and he crawled toward the mini-fridge. Yanking it open, he asked, “Can I have some champagne?”

  “How do you think I’ll answer that?” he asked.

  Ben smirked. “Some Coke?”

  “Sure.”

  Ben cracked open the soda and sat back. After a long gulp, he asked, “Can you come to my dual meet tomorrow?”

  Grant looked at Sophie then back at Ben. “Are you asking me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Um…sorry, buddy. I have to work.”

  “But I’ll be there,” Sophie promised.

  Ben’s silence stabbed his heart. He felt the limo roll to a stop, and looked up to find Ben’s apartment building to their right.

  “Looks like we’re here.” Grant smiled at his nephew. “Say hi to Ashley for me.”

  Ben looked down. “She’s at work.”

  “I thought you’d say that.” He leaned forward and rapped on the divider, which rolled down a second later. “Can I grab one of those pies, Tomacz?”

  “Sure thing. The smell is driving me crazy up here.”

  He reached out to accept the pizza box, which he then bestowed on Ben’s lap.

  The boy’s eyes bulged. “You got me a pizza?”

  “I knew your mom would be at work, and you’d be starved after practice. You’ll probably have to heat it up, though.”

  Ben beamed—it appeared all was forgiven.

  “Thanks, Uncle Grant. This is perfect.”

  Grant was surprised when Ben maneuvered the pizza box to the side to give him a quick hug before scrambling out of the car. “Bye, Sophie!”

  “See you, Ben.”

  “Oh.” He turned back to the limo. “Sophie? Could you call my mom and tell her I went right home after practice?”

  Sophie paused. “Okay? Is there a reason why?”

  “N-N-No reason,” he stammered. “She just worries about me, ya know?”

  “Sure.”

  As Grant watched his nephew juggle the pizza box and his backpack to take out his keys, he said, “I thought he didn’t like hugs?”

  Sophie’s gaze lingered on Ben until he got into the building safely. “Maybe not, but I do.”

  “Me too.” He gave her a lascivious look. “Uh, Tommy?”

  The divider slid up. “Hold it,” Grant said. “How ’bout you take a couple pieces for yourself and pass back that other pie?”

  “Ah, I couldn’t, Mr. Saylor.”

  “Please,” he said. “A token of my appreciation.”

  Tomacz shrugged. “If you insist.” He’d already taken a big bite from one of the slices by the time the divider closed.

  “He’s seen where Ben lives,” Sophie whispered once the divider slid into place. “And now he’ll know where we live when he drops me off.”

  “After a small detour first.”

  “A detour?” She studied him. “Where?”

  “Patience, Bonnie.” He reached into the fridge and withdrew a bottle of Riesling.

  “But is Tommy safe?”

  He poured them both a glass. “Mr. Remington said he trusts him with his life. He’s picking up the governor and his entourage later tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  He handed her a glass then raised his for a toast. “To detours.”

  Her eyes still held a hint of suspicion, but she clinked her glass with his.

  The cool wine slid down his throat, mixing with the heat in the limo to warm his belly. “How about some pizza?”

  “How’d you know I was starving?”

  “I saw that lustful look you gave Ben’s pizza.”

  Her eyelids lowered a half-inch. “Maybe it wasn’t the pizza I was lusting over.”

  He felt a thrill of action below the belt. He picked up a slice with pepperoni and mushroom then scooted closer, offering her the first bite. A moan escaped her lips as she bit off a small triangle, and she didn’t take her eyes off him as she chewed. Her tongue swept out to lick a dab of red sauce off the corner of her mouth, stirring up more heat inside of him. It didn’t seem so cold anymore.

  The vehicle stopped, and she craned her neck to look out the window. “Navy Pier, huh? I love the lights on the Ferris wheel.” Her gaze returned on him. “So you think you’re getting some tonight?”

  “I see you’ve figured out the purpose of our detour.”

  She ate a couple more bites of pizza. “I’m mad at you, McSailor. I promised myself I wouldn’t have sex with you until we got to talk.”

  He feigned offense. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”

  Her eyebrow cocked up, and she crossed her arms.

  He looked down. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. That’s the real purpose of this detour, actually…” He looked back up at her. “Let’s talk. What do we need to discuss?”

  “Well, for one thing, our wedding’s in three months, and I’ve gotten bupkis from you about what you want. My dad’s totally breathing down my back about all the stupid details.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve dumped this on you. But I thought your dad hired a wedding planner.” He took a bite of pizza.

  “He did, but I don’t want some stranger planning our day.”

  He reached for her hand. “I thought this big wedding thing was for your dad, not for us.”

  “It is!”

  “Then why not let his person plan it?”

  “But…Huh.” Her slow nod increased speed. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t care what the wedding’s like, and you certainly don’t, so why g
et all stressed out about it?”

  Could it really be that easy? “Aren’t you going to argue with me about this?”

  “Why would I argue? You just pointed out the obvious. Thank you.” She grinned as she took a sip of wine. “I’m going to dump the whole thing on Cheri. My dad will be thrilled.”

  He polished off his piece. “And like Ben says, maybe your dad will stop getting all up in your grill.”

  “Let’s hope. My grill’s gonna burn him if he gets any closer.”

  He chuckled. “So what else do we need to discuss?” He wiped his hand on a napkin. Then he tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear and tugged at her furry hat. “How ’bout we take this off?”

  Her hand darted to her hair. “But I’ve got hat head.”

  “Impossible,” he said, lifting the hat away. “Your hair’s always beautiful.”

  “Don’t try to distract me, McSailor.” She shook her hair out and finger-combed a few strands. “I wanted to ask you how it’s going with the Russians.”

  He pulled back. “The less you know, the better.”

  Her lips pressed into a tight line, and he expected her to berate him for his tight lips. But instead, she took a swig of wine and tossed her hair back before crawling toward him. Her hands snaked up his chest, and her fingers went to work on the buttons of his coat.

  “Do you know what we discussed today in my class?” she asked.

  He felt the third button come undone and shook his head, unable to form words.

  “Gender differences in intimacy.” She loosened the bottom button and pulled open his coat. “You see, men seem to need physical intimacy—sexual attraction—before they can establish emotional intimacy.”

  As she helped him shrug out of his coat, he told himself he needed to attend her class more often.

  She went in for the top button of his shirt. She paused. “Is the FBI listening to our conversation?”

  He shook his head. “They let me turn off the mic until I get back to the hotel.”

  “How generous of them.”

  When he reached up to unbutton her coat, she swatted his hand away. “Back to our class discussion. Women are different from men, of course. Women…well, we need emotional intimacy first, before we want physical intimacy. We need to feel close and safe—we need to trust—before we agree to have sex.”

  She then sat back and scooped another piece of pizza out of the box.

  Watching her eat, he realized his mouth had fallen open. His eyes narrowed. “You’re blackmailing me for sex!” Her eyes danced. “If I don’t tell you what’s cookin’ with the Russians, you won’t trust me, and you won’t take your clothes off.”

  “You’re sharp, McSailor,” she cooed. “But I prefer the term positive reinforcement to blackmail.”

  “Positive reinforcement?”

  “You tell me how you’re risking your life, and I reward you by making your life a little better.”

  “Blackmail,” he grunted, tapping his fingers on his knee. Maybe throwing a few crumbs her way would satisfy her? “Okay.” He blew out a breath, wondering where to begin. “The Russians…they discovered I’m former Navy.”

  She sat up with wide eyes.

  “It’s okay—we wanted them to.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t get into the details, but it’s a way to build trust with them.”

  She scooted closer after discarding the crust in the box.

  “The Russians are selling drugs to sailors at Great Lakes.”

  “That’s horrible!”

  “I know. We thought it was just enlisted men at first, but it appears there’re officers involved too.” He shook his head. “So stupid. They have no idea who they’re getting involved with.”

  “Hmm…” She glared at him. “Who does that sound like?”

  “The FBI’s covering me, Sophie. I’m taking every precaution.”

  “So how does your Navy connection come into play?”

  “We’re working with Captain Lockhart to arrange—”

  “Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “Isn’t he the captain who got you arrested?”

  He sighed. “Yep. He wasn’t too happy to see me.”

  “You saw him? What’d he say?”

  “After the captain chewed out Bounter and me, he finally came around—once he found out some of his officers were involved. I sure wouldn’t want to be in their shoes after the sting goes down.”

  Her eyes got big. “It hasn’t happened yet? Are you involved?”

  His stomach sank at her fear. He was doing this to her—making her worry about him again. I’m a total jerk. “You see?” He leaned in to cradle her face with his hands. “I don’t want to make you worry about this stuff. I’ll be fine. I will.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry.” When she opened them again, the lights of the Ferris wheel reflected in them, revealing flecks of gold. “You finally get a night off from those thugs, and I make you talk about them. I shouldn’t have blackmailed you.”

  “I thought you said it was positive reinforcement.”

  She grinned. “And now it’s time for your reward.” Her coat was off in seconds, and she lunged for his shirt buttons.

  “Why are you in such a great mood?” he asked.

  She paused her unbuttoning, then shrugged. “I guess it’s the swimming. It’s tough diving in that cold water, but I feel amazing after practice. All those feel-good chemicals swimming in my bloodstream.”

  “Then I’ll have some of what you’re having, please.”

  She grinned. “Coming right up.”

  She’d almost pulled his shirt off when he held up his finger. “Wait.” Grant reached for the pink shopping bag near the front of the limo. “I bought this for you.” He dangled the red teddy from his finger, its price tag still on.

  Her mouth popped open. “In this weather? You’re crazy if you think I’m going to put that on.”

  Shrugging, he zinged the satiny material away from them. “Maybe next time, then. Perhaps our wedding night?”

  His shirt came off, and he heard a muffled “Uh-huh.” Her mouth was otherwise occupied doing crazy things to his chest, her tongue swirling down the central line of his abdomen as he massaged his fingers through her damp hair. He shifted down on the leather cushion, and his hands groped for her turtleneck sweater, trying to figure out how the heck to remove it.

  She must’ve sensed his confusion because she suddenly giggled. Her hands flew to her collarbone and unclasped the hooks along the side of her neck.

  “Complicated clothes,” he grumbled. “No fair.”

  The turtleneck soared over her head and landed on the limo floor, revealing creamy skin with a dusting of freckles. She grazed one hand across her collarbone and tugged at her bra strap. “I think you’ve undone this bra before, Magic Fingers. You should have no problem there.”

  He thanked God for easy front clasps and had her bra off in seconds. Her swift shove, which plastered his back to the seat, surprised him. Looking up at her with wonder, the twinkling lights from Navy Pier showcased a hard curve on her left arm.

  “What’s this?” His hand brushed from her shoulder to her elbow.

  She squirmed away. “The scar is fine, Grant. It’s not your fault.”

  “No, Dr. Taylor,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not talking about your scar. I’m talking about this cut triceps muscle.”

  “Oh.” She peered down her nose at her exposed skin as she straightened her arm. “I guess the swim practices are taking effect. Do you mind if I get a little muscular? That’s what happens when I swim.”

  “Do I mind? It’s your body, Sophie.”

  “I know that. I’m not asking for your permission. What I meant was, do you find a muscular woman…sexy?”

  He exhaled. “Incredibly.” He grasped her hand and drew her on top of him, feeling her smooth skin collide with his, the graze of her nipples on his chest shooting sparks of tingles through his body. Then her mouth wa
s on his, and she kissed him with an intensity he hadn’t felt in quite some time. How could he have gone so long without this? Without her?

  His fingertips glided up her spine then pressed in sweeping arcs along the fine muscles of her shoulders. She responded with deepening kisses and by unbuckling his belt. A tight heat built inside him, and her fingers curled over his boxers, then ripped them down. He felt his erection spring free, pressing into her belly. With a sense of urgency, he clawed at her suede skirt and growled when it didn’t budge.

  Continuing to ply him with kisses, she guided his hands to the small of her back where he located the skirt’s zipper. He shoved the skirt down only to find her wearing tights. “Damn it! Freaking Fort Knox up in here.”

  Her mouth lifted from his with a bright grin. “It’s your fault you’ve got blue balls, Mick.” But she took mercy on him by rocking back and sliding her tights and panties down to her crumpled skirt, which rested at the top of her boots. Her thighs were the color of freshly poured cream, and he thought he’d lose it the second she lowered herself back down, her slick heat coming into contact with his hardness.

  “Sophie,” he breathed, pressing her to him and holding so tight. He shifted an inch, found his way inside her taut fire, and ohhh…he’d missed her welcoming desire for far too long.

  He heard her gasp as his hips bucked, but her blissful smile told him she was just fine. They rocked together, and all he could hear was his quickening breaths and her soft moans. God, she was beautiful. Her resounding shudders moments later jolted them both, knocking a wine glass to the limo floor. Thankfully the wine dribbled away from her sweater.

  “Whoops,” she squeaked, finally opening her eyes. “Sorry, Alex.”

  He took in the disheveled backseat. “Tommy might need to clean up back here before he picks up the governor.”

  She giggled. She reached up to caress his sweaty forehead, and he closed his eyes, reveling in her soft touch. Sophie massaged his buzzed hair as he stroked the length of her naked back, and her lips brushed against his, smooth and sweet.

  “Are you feeling rewarded, McSailor?”

  “You just reinforced my good behavior, Bonnie.” Despite the looming drug deal, he knew he’d sleep very well tonight.