by Elise Noble
But now my gaze strayed downward, and I swallowed hard. That was one heck of a bulge.
“Maybe?”
Luca laughed. “Well, while you make up your mind, I’m gonna enjoy dessert.” He flicked another spoonful of ice cream, and it splattered across my chest. “Chill.”
Was it possible to love someone and want to throttle them at the same time? Absolutely. Luca was living proof of that, but when he treated me to another helping of that magic tongue, I decided I didn’t care about the negatives. I also realised in that moment that no matter what happened in what was left of my life, no matter who I spent the years with or where I ended up, I’d always love Luca Mendez. Even if these nine days were all we’d ever have together, a part of my heart would be his forever. That ache of a memory would be with me for the rest of my days.
“Fuck. Sweetheart, why are you crying?”
“I…” Crying? I put a finger to my cheek, and it came away wet. “I didn’t realise.”
“It was a joke. I only meant it as a joke.” He held out the tub as I processed the note of panic in his voice. “Throw the whole damn thing at me if you want.”
“No, no, it’s…” I could hardly tell him I was miserable over the future, could I? Getting emotional about a lack of commitment was the surest way to send a man running for the hills, at least if those self-help articles on the internet were any indication. “Just bad memories, that’s all.”
“Want me to stop?”
“No, I want you to take the memories away. Bury them beneath new ones.”
“With or without ice cream?”
“Uh, with?”
Luca’s mouth curved into a dirty smile, and I knew I’d never look at a tub of Häagen-Dazs in the same way again. But who cared? Luca skimmed a hand over my body, light, almost reverent, then unbuttoned my jeans and slid them off.
“These need to go too,” he muttered as he dragged my panties down my legs and tossed them over his shoulder.
“Hey, you’re still dressed.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get to that, but I’ve been waiting ten damn years to taste you, so don’t spoil my fun.”
Nothing tastes as good as you.
The words from Cupid’s note played on my mind, and I shivered, but luckily at the same instant Luca spooned ice cream over me, so I managed to hide my momentary freak-out. Wait a second… He wasn’t going to…? Oh, yes, he was. Luca buried his head between my legs and sucked, and stars burst behind my eyes as I arched off the couch. Based on my past experiences with other men, I thought he’d give a couple of licks, shuck his jeans, and get his rocks off, but no, he kept going. His hands were everywhere, and that tongue…it was magic. I honestly hadn’t realised it was quite so long. Like an anteater’s, except obviously there were no ants, and… Shut up, Brooke. Sometimes, my inner monologue took on a life of its own. But then Luca added his fingers to the mix and even background-Brooke was at a loss for words.
I came on a long moan, tasted myself as Luca kissed me. I was wrecked. Ruined. How could he expect me to go back to my old life after that?
“Worth the wait,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against mine.
Another tear rolled down my cheek, and I hastily wiped it away. “Ignore that. I’m just happy, that’s all.”
“You cry when you’re happy?”
“Yes. I mean, I suppose. I’ve never felt quite like this before.”
“Then I guess that makes two of us. You want to move this into the bedroom?”
I nodded. The fear was gone, but I was secretly concerned that my legs would never work again. And perhaps Luca knew that because after he’d taken Vega out and settled him into his pen for the night, he picked me up and carried me to bed.
And it turned out we needed every single one of those pillows.
22
Luca
“You’re sure Brooke was at the party? I don’t remember seeing her there.”
Marnie Simcox—now Marnie Pettigrew—was the second of the names on Colt’s list. The first—Lydia Fairbanks—I’d skipped over because, according to Brooke, she still lived at home with her parents, and Elmira Fairbanks wasn’t my biggest fan. Not because I’d ever upset her personally, more because my reputation as a teenager had preceded me and she didn’t want me anywhere near her daughter. I couldn’t imagine she’d changed much over the years.
Neither had Marnie. Despite being only two years older than me, she’d been married three times and divorced twice since I saw her last, and judging by the way she was eyeing me up, divorce number three would be in the cards soon. Still, she seemed to have done well out of her chosen path. Her home on the outskirts of Coos Bay had to be six thousand square feet, and I spotted a swimming pool through the open terrace door. The shirtless guy cleaning it watched me suspiciously. Checking out the competition?
The row of trophies on a shelf in the living room suggested Marnie’s current husband liked golf—I couldn’t imagine her playing—and the framed certificates on the wall told me he was a doctor. A cosmetic surgeon? Her boobs had definitely gotten bigger since I’d seen them last. Trust me—a guy remembered these things. Her lips were plumper too. And her hair had grown. She wore it piled on her head in an elaborate style that defied gravity, apart from a few chestnut strands that floated around her chin like spider silk on a breeze.
“Yeah, Brooke was there. I’m surprised you were too—I don’t remember you and Addy being close at school.”
“Oh, we weren’t. But when Addy moved to Coos Bay, she worked as my second hubby’s executive assistant, and we became friends.” Marnie gave a little huff. “I ended up speaking to her more than I spoke to him. The party really wasn’t my thing—I’m more of a champagne girl—but of course I wanted to drop off a gift for Addy.”
“What time did you arrive?”
“Maybe eight thirty?”
Brooke had been there until at least nine thirty, so Marnie wasn’t very observant.
“How long did you stay?”
“Ten minutes? Fifteen? Not long.”
Okay, so Brooke could have been in the bathroom or somewhere.
“Who else do you recall seeing?”
“What’s this all about? Did something happen to Brooke?”
I went with the half-truth Colt, Brooke, and I had agreed on, both to protect her privacy and to avoid tipping off the perpetrator about how much we knew.
“She’s been getting weird notes and anonymous gifts sent to her home. The first one came right after the party, so we figured a guest might be sending them.”
“Gifts? What kind of gifts?”
“Candy and flowers.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet.”
“It’s creeping her out.”
“Each to their own.” Marnie shrugged. Receiving unsolicited gifts was probably nothing unusual in her life. “I saw Lydia Fairbanks talking to Addy. Tannis Winfield was there too. You remember Tannis?” Marnie didn’t wait for an answer. “She went to college in Boston, and now she works in the shoe store near Walmart. Shara Newell had her tongue stuck into a man’s mouth, as usual, and Easton Baldwin was pouring beer down his throat in the kitchen.”
My ears pricked up. “Easton Baldwin was there?”
“I don’t suppose Addy invited him, but her door was open and he probably sniffed out the liquor. That man has a serious drinking problem.”
I didn’t doubt that Easton’s morals would allow him to fuck an unconscious woman, but I’d seen him drunk plenty of times, most recently last week. Between whisky dick and a lack of coordination, would he have been able to pull it off? I wasn’t convinced, and nor did I believe he had the finesse to place those notes without either bragging about it or being seen. Tongues wagged when Easton was around.
“Anyone else?”
“It was a year ago. I’ve been to a hundred parties since then.” Marnie reached out and straightened my collar. I’d figured a dress shirt would be appropriate today, since this was semi-official business. The jeans stayed, tho
ugh. “Are you and Brooke a thing now?”
“Me and Brooke? Nah.” It physically hurt to deny it, but I had no other choice. “Colt’s snowed with other cases, so I said I’d help out by talking to a few people. Informally, you know? He’ll follow up if I hear anything important.”
“You’re a good friend. I always said people misjudged you.” Marnie’s hand moved from my collar to my cheek. “So if you’re footloose and fancy-free, how about you come back later?”
Ah, fuck. “I thought you were married?”
“A woman still has needs.”
No, she hadn’t changed at all. “I have a kitchen to install before Aaron gets back. A guy’s gotta earn his keep.”
“Too bad.”
I jerked a thumb in the pool guy’s direction. “Looks as if Ken out there might be interested.”
A slow smile spread over Marnie’s face. “Oh, he is. He most certainly is.”
Like Marnie, Shara Newell remembered Addy’s twenty-fifth birthday party. And like Brooke, she’d never forget the aftermath.
It, or rather he, was sleeping in a crib beside her in the studio apartment she called home. Every surface in the room was piled high with baby stuff, junk mail, takeout cartons, or balled-up laundry. Her parents had moved to Coquille after she graduated high school, and she’d followed six months ago because—in her words—childcare was a bitch. Seemed housekeeping wasn’t much easier.
“That jerk takes no responsibility at all. None! Like it was my fault the condom broke. He was the one who invited me over to his place, at least, I’m almost certain he did—it’s hazy, you know?—and it definitely took two to tango. What is it with men?”
She seemed to expect an answer, so I shrugged and said, “We’re assholes.”
“Right. And he’s meant to pay child support, but he lost his job again so he figures that lets him off the hook. How am I meant to buy diapers? Do you know how many diapers a baby goes through? Like, hundreds. All they do is shit and eat. Which is all Harry does too, that and watch TV, because he sure doesn’t lift a finger to help. I can’t even drive, and he has a truck, but…”
I tuned out Shara’s tirade about men in general and one man in particular and let my mind wander. How did Colt do this every day? I’d rather tiptoe across a live minefield with the Taliban on my tail. And every moment I spent with Marnie and Shara and their ilk was one less I’d be able to spend with Brooke.
Brooke.
Now that I’d finally gotten her into my bed—and also the double-width shower stall she’d had the foresight to pick out on her brother’s behalf—I never wanted to sleep alone again. In the past, I’d thought of spending the night with a woman as a necessary evil, something to be endured because I figured I owed them, but with Brooke, it had been no chore to wrap her up in my arms as we drifted off. Nor had I minded when I woke in the early hours, hot, too hot, with her legs tangled in mine and her head on my chest. I’d be her pillow any day.
And deep down, I wouldn’t even mind if the condom broke, which was a fucking terrifying thought.
Because we only had eight days left.
“…and I’m gonna join a convent. Do they let nuns bring kids? Like, if they have them already?”
“Uh…” It wasn’t a question I’d spent much time considering. “Maybe you could call and ask?”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. Anyhow, sorry I don’t remember anything else about the party.”
“No problem. Good luck, okay?”
The despair in her eyes as she glanced across at the crib said she’d need it. So would I, but at least we could cross Harry Dents off the list now.
Phoebe Gilmore was next up, but she’d have to wait until tomorrow because today I needed to fit locks to Aaron’s windows. Understandably, securing the perimeter hadn’t been highest on his list of priorities—who wanted to break into a half-finished building?—but with Brooke sleeping there now, the task had taken on a new urgency. I planned to stop at the hardware store in Coquille before I headed back. If I needed anything more, I could drop by the Lowe’s in Roseburg when I went to visit Phoebe.
But the smaller store was surprisingly well-stocked, and I’d installed the locks by the time Brooke finished work. Since Deck and Brady were getting ready to leave, I took the dog for a ride in Aaron’s car. He seemed to like hanging his head out the window. The dog, not Aaron.
“Hey.”
I couldn’t kiss Brooke the way I wanted to, not in public, but I reached over to squeeze her thigh. She laced her fingers in mine and laughed as Vega leaned between the seats to lick her face. Lucky mutt.
“Thanks for picking me up.”
“It’s not exactly a hardship.”
“Can I smell food?”
“Maybe.” I figured since we couldn’t travel together, I’d take her on a culinary tour of the world. Mexico yesterday, China tonight. “Tell me you like kung pao chicken?”
“I’ll eat anything.”
The little glance toward my crotch as she said that… That tiny flick of the tongue… Did she even realise she’d done it? Either way, I hardened in a second, and I no longer gave a fuck about dinner.
“Noted.”
I floored it out of the parking lot, and Brooke grabbed the handle above the door. I glanced in the rear-view mirror. The dog was wearing his harness, and I’d clipped it to the seat belt so he didn’t slide around.
“Hey, slow down!”
“And waste a moment of our time together? I don’t think so.”
“You’ll get a speeding ticket.”
“From who? Colt? There’s no traffic anyway.”
Brooke didn’t say another word, just reached over to my belt and began to unbuckle it. No way. She wasn’t going to…? She fucking was. A second later, she had my fly undone as well, and my dick sprang free. I hadn’t bothered to put on underwear. Another barrier to Brooke had seemed like overkill when I got dressed this morning, and I hated doing laundry.
“Is this a good—” I started, lifting my foot off the gas.
“Yes.”
The rest of the question stuck in my throat when Brooke sucked my dick into hers. The woman was a natural. Either that or she’d had a hell of a lot of practice, which wasn’t a possibility I wanted to consider. Fuuuuuck. The dog watching felt weird at first, but I soon tuned Vega out and focused on the road instead. The road and Brooke’s mouth.
Brady waved as he drove in the other direction, and I managed to raise a hand back. The thrill of passing people who recognised me, of knowing they didn’t have a clue what Brooke was doing to me at that moment, was a turn-on I’d never expected, and my balls tightened.
“Sweetheart, I’m gonna come,” I choked out.
She didn’t stop. No, she cupped my balls in her hands and massaged gently. Holy fuck, I’d struck gold. This woman, she was everything, and I wasn’t saying that just because she was sucking me off. I loved everything about her. The added filth was an unexpected bonus.
I nearly missed the turn for Deals on Wheels as I pulsed into her mouth, perhaps harder than I’d ever come in my life. She swallowed every damn drop, then turned to me wide-eyed, her lips smirking their way into a smile.
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“Neither can I.” Her grin turned smug. “But I got you to slow down, didn’t I?”
23
Luca
If I’d had to put money on anyone in high school joining a convent, it would’ve been Phoebe Gilmore, not Shara. The address Addy had given me was over in Roseburg, but driving ninety miles was still preferable to speaking with Lydia Fairbanks, even if it was a waste of time. The Phoebe I remembered would have been in bed by eight thirty every night, definitely not a party girl, but she’d agreed to talk to me at two p.m. on account of how she’d been out until the early hours. And Colt said it was better to speak face to face because body language told you what words couldn’t. Had he ever been propositioned by Marnie Simcox? Was that where he’d come up with that gem of advice?
Phoebe lived in a good-sized family home in a nice neighbourhood, just the type of place I’d have expected her to live, but there was only one car in the driveway, a new Honda with an “if you can read this, you’re too close” sticker in the rear window. No kiddie seat. The front yard was small but neat, with a freshly mowed lawn and purple flowers exploding from pots lined up in front of the porch. Violets? Pansies? Not roses, that much I knew.
I rang the bell. Waited. No barking, no music, no sound at all until the door swung open. Phoebe hadn’t changed much. She’d always been tall and thin in an athletic sort of way, but her hair was longer now. Blonder too.
“Luca?”
I didn’t think I’d changed much either, but I nodded anyway. “Good to see you again, Phoebe.”
She didn’t seem to share the sentiment, but she opened the door wider and took a hesitant step back.
“Won’t you come in? Please excuse the mess—I’ve only just gotten up.”
What mess? The place was spotless.
“You work the night shift?”
“Yes, I do. The hours are antisocial, but I love to dance, and my colleagues are wonderful. I’ve made so many friends since I moved here.”
“You took ballet lessons, right?”
In school, she always used to be in a hurry after classes finished. Her mom picked her up every day and drove her to some fancy dance academy miles away. Probably why I didn’t remember much about her. She hadn’t socialised much, although she’d obviously made friends with Addy. Then again, Addy made friends with everyone. If only she hadn’t, this case would have been infinitely easier to solve.
“Oh, yes. That was a lifetime ago.”
“There’s a theatre in Roseburg?”
I should buy tickets for the show. Take Brooke. She’d probably like Swan Lake or The Nutcracker or whatever it was that ballerinas danced to nowadays.
“A small theatre, over on West Harvard Avenue. They’re performing a musical production of Beauty and the Beast at the moment, evenings with a Saturday matinee. It’s really wonderful if you have the time to visit. Please, take a seat in the living room. Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Soda?”