“That’s it.”
He shrugged out of the rope, brought her up slowly but emphatically till they were face to face. She huffed, “You…cheater.”
“You vixen.”
“You could get out of that rope all along.”
“You can harangue later.” He ushered her into the salon and grabbed his jeans.
She grabbed him. “You are so not leaving me like this, Quaid O’Fallon. You play with me, tease me, get me hotter than the hinges of hell and—”
He held up a condom. “I’d grin but I don’t have enough skin left. And I’d throw you over my shoulder but my ribs aren’t up to it.”
He stole a kiss, then tore for the bed in the next compartment, dragging them both onto the soft mattress, him on top.
She took the condom from his hand. “Up, up.”
“Babe, if I was any more up this thing would be a lethal weapon.”
“Up as in away from me a little bit so I can get the blasted condom on.”
He sat back and she rolled on the latex, her fingers shaking, his breathing erratic, her insides screaming for him to be there.
“You are one luscious woman.” His eyes smoldered.
“Words later, action now.” She held out her arms to him and he just sat there. “Quaid?”
“I’m coming.”
“Good God, not yet!”
He rolled his eyes. “I meant I wanted to look at you and then I was—”
She grabbed his forearms. “I don’t care what you meant. Now, dammit, now.” She froze. “Can you do this with bruised ribs?”
“Honey, when it comes to making love with you, I could do it in a full body cast.” His mouth devoured hers as he slid into her in one long hard thrust, her legs widening, widening again to take in all of him. She gripped his shoulders, her hips lifting from the bed to meet him. He roared deep in his throat, the intense sound of male pleasure filling her head, her heart. Knowing that she satisfied him to that extent pushed her over the edge as he ground out her name in climax.
Her limbs quivered and there wasn’t enough oxygen in the little cabin, the heat oppressive. She felt dizzy, nearly faint. His magnificent body gleamed in the sunlight with a fine sheen of male sweat.
“Holy shit, girl,” he panted against her neck, adding a kiss. He didn’t move, letting the moment between them linger so they could commit it to memory. Slowly he pulled himself from her, breaking the connection, making her feel alone again. She hated it, and being alone had never bothered her before. He flopped back on the mattress, the gentle swells of the boat soothing, hypnotic.
“I think we just christened your boat.”
“This has a bottle of champagne beat all to heck.” He discarded the condom. Chuckling, he rolled to his side facing her, their bodies close. “Do you have any idea how much I like you?” He tweaked the tip of her nose.
“I’m glad you’re here and part of my life, I really am.” She grinned. “You do know that an older woman landing a younger man is quite an accomplishment.”
“I’m landed?”
She crawled on top of him on all fours, her knees at his hips, her hands at his shoulders. She peered down at him. “You’re on the hook or maybe I’m the one there, wiggling around trying to figure out what to do.”
“I love it when you wiggle.”
“Then we’ll just wait and see what happens next.”
Chapter 15
Demar flipped a slab of spareribs, the meat sizzled on the hot grill, getting ready for the dinner crowd. He slathered sauce across the chicken and turned the sausages, the incredible aroma wafting into the evening air. He loved cooking, Slim’s, the people, Sally. Sally…Fear gnawed his insides. How much longer could he hold on to her while playing the Jett game? He hated hurting her, really hated the possibility of losing her altogether, but Jett was a good lead on the case, at least he hoped so after all this.
He turned up the radio, the announcer introducing a new after-midnight program starting tonight, “‘Southern Spice,’ putting heat in your relationship to keep it on fire.”
He didn’t need heat, he and Sally had all they could handle in that department, except Jett wanted her share, too, and was getting more insistent every day. The big question was, how long could he put her off without her getting suspicious and how long would Sally tolerate his less-than-loyal behavior?
He loaded ribs, sausage and chicken into the smoker, then tossed a helping onto a tray for an early dinner order. He took it inside, the night waitress not on duty yet. Keefe and Ryan sat at the bar, no one else in the place, just platters of uneaten food. “Messin’ With My Lady” hummed from the jukebox. Demar put down the tray. “What happened? Where’d everyone go?”
“Out,” Ryan said. The look in his eyes and Keefe’s stopped Demar cold. “We’re here to fix something for a friend, and didn’t need an audience.”
Damn, this was no friendly encounter and had nothing to do with food. He was about to get his clock cleaned, and these two pretty boys might have a polished appearance but their eyes said they were pissed as hell. That translated into taking care of Sally and really taking care of him. “Look,” he started in a low voice. “I know why you’re pissed and—”
“We think it’s time you packed up and left town on your own steam,” Ryan said.
“Or we can lend some assistance,” Keefe added. “It’s your call.” They stood facing him.
“You haven’t talked to Quaid, have you?”
“We don’t need Quaid. He’s got his hands full at the moment.”
Demar backed up, keeping both guys in sight. “There’s an explanation.”
“Yeah, the harder the dick the softer the brain. You’re going to take your cop gal and get the hell off the Landing.”
Demar backed his way to the other side of a table. “This is business. Jett’s not what she seems, she has connections with someone here and is—”
“You have fifteen minutes to pack up your crap and get out of town.”
Keefe and Ryan circled the table and Demar stopped. Best to face a fight head on. “I’m not going anywhere, and you’ve got this all wrong. I’m here to help—”
Keefe swung and connected with Demar’s jaw. Some cushy soap star! Demar replied with a jab to the ribs and suddenly Quaid came between them, pulling them apart. “What the hell are you two doing?”
Keefe rubbed his gut. “This jackass is two-timing Sally with some bimbo from Nashville. We were extending a one-way invite out of town.”
“Ah, fuck a duck,” Quaid groused at Keefe. “I didn’t even know you were in town.” He took him in a hug.
“Just got here. Got a play to put on. Thought we’d take care of some trouble then go looking for you.”
“Except you’re the ones causing trouble, just like old times.” Quaid snagged the plate of food from the bar and dropped it onto a table with a hollow thud. “Demar’s on our side, I just forgot to tell you.”
“You forgot?” Keefe griped.
“Let’s eat, I’m starved. Grab the stack of napkins off the counter.”
“I’m back one lousy hour and you’re already barking orders,” Keefe grumbled and went for the napkins.
“Somebody’s got to keep you in line since it looks like we’re all here on the Landing for good.” The three slowly exchanged looks, grins and nods.
“’Bout damn time,” Ryan added.
Keefe added, “Especially since I volunteered us to build a new baseball field.”
“I knew it.” Quaid pulled out a chair, sat and tore off a chunk of rib. “But first off we have to get Dad, Mimi, and Bonnie straightened out and that’s where Demar here comes in.” He motioned for Demar to take a seat then continued, “He’s not messing with Sally, he’s playing Jett for information. She used to be his partner back in Nashville and we think she’s connected to the guys at River Environs and using the information she can get from him to find Mimi.”
Ryan nodded to Demar. “And you’re using her to find
the bad guys. A game of cat and mouse.”
Keefe drummed his fingers. “You’re stringing one woman along and trying to hold on to the other at the same time? Hell, man, you should be the one on a soap opera.”
Ryan leaned across the table to Quaid. “With all that, it still didn’t cross your muddled brain to tell me what the hell was going on?”
Quaid shrugged. “Slipped my mind. Got other stuff to think about.”
“Like Cynthia Landon,” Demar said, Ryan and Keefe chuckling.
Quaid grabbed a chicken leg. “Any of you got a problem with that?”
“Not me,” Demar said, holding up his hands. “I got enough women problems at the moment.”
“Hey,” Sally said as she and several customers entered the front door. She ignored Demar, making him feel guilty as hell for putting her through this.
She came over to Keefe, and folded her arms. “Denzel Washington is nowhere to be found in this town. We all looked one end to the other and no one’s seen that hunk of man around here. The only thing in the town square is the new flagpole on top of the founders’ memorial, which is nice but certainly not Denzel Washington. You lied to me, Keefe O’Fallon.”
Keefe rolled his shoulders. “Did I say Denzel Washington?” He took a bit of chicken. “I meant Dan…Dan Washington. Going to open up a hardware store on the corner. Thought you’d like to meet him since he’ll be right across the way.”
Sally slapped the back of Keefe’s head with the flat of her hand. “That is not funny. You know I like DW. You’re back an hour and teasing me already. Next time it’s hotdogs for you. You can forget barbecue.” Sally strolled off as the returning customers reclaimed their seats and the food they’d left to find the movie star. Quaid chuckled and said in a low voice to Keefe, “You said Denzel Washington was in town and Sally didn’t take you out and shoot you dead for sending her on a wild goose chase?”
“A chance we had to take. We needed to talk to Demar alone. Reports of spotting DW in town on his way to New Orleans emptied the place in ten seconds flat.”
“So now what?” Ryan asked as he snagged a sausage and turned to Demar. “Do you have anything we can use?”
Demar leaned over the table. Lightnin’ Hopkins’ “Another Fool In Town” kept the conversation from being overheard. “I talked to a cop friend in Nashville. It seems Jett got a call one day and ten minutes later took personal time and left for here. Obviously this has nothing to do with having the hots for me, but using me. Since cell phones don’t work on the Landing, I got the phone records from Hastings House, thinking she’d placed calls from there to her contact, but there was nothing unusual for a B and B—just calls to here, tourist places in Memphis, boat rentals, Ivy Acres and the like, same sort of calls coming in. Thelma says Jett’s had no visitors since she got here, but there are people coming and going at Hastings House all the time and Sally saw her meet with someone in the woods but didn’t get a good look. Said he sounded like someone from up north.”
Ryan took a gulp of beer. “Then we’re no closer than before. What do we do?”
Quaid wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Didn’t help that I pulled those two assholes off that sinking boat.”
Rory said, “You couldn’t let them drown.”
Quaid gave him a look that suggested he could have done it without a second thought. “They nearly killed Lawrence, stole Bonnie, would kill Mimi in an instant. They’re slime, drowning’s too good for them. I’m looking forward to meeting up with them again…soon. Very soon.”
Demar said, “Quaid and I think her contact is Beau Fontaine, a new southern gent in town who might really be the third president we’re looking for. I need to go through Jett’s room and see if I can find a connection. Don’t want to accuse the wrong guy and let the real contact get away. Tomorrow night I’ll tell Jett I want her to meet you guys at your house since you’re my new friends. She’ll go for it because she’s after info on Rory and Bonnie, and this meeting gets her closer. You keep her busy, tell her I had to help Slim, that gives me time. I’ll get the key from Thelma.” He nodded at Keefe. “You’re an actor, you can do this.”
Quaid leaned in further and whispered, “Well, we got to try something. How much longer can the plumbing problems at Hastings House continue before Jett catches on? We are hell-and-away out of time.”
The next night, Demar watched the lights wink on in Hastings House, the old brick Georgian-style house probably looking the same as it did during the Civil War, except for electricity, heat and running water. Nice additions.
He waited in the bushes, watched Jett leave, then crept around to the back. Opening the door, he slipped inside. Easy conversation drifted from the front room where Thelma entertained her guests with after-dinner coffee and liquors. Demar made for the back stairs. They creaked under his weight, but then the whole house creaked. At a hundred-and-fifty years old the place had the right.
He hurried down the hallway carpeted in orientals, turned the corner to Jett’s room, unlocked it, pocketed the key and relocked the door from inside. Sweeping his penlight around he tried to get a feel for where she might keep something important. For sure she had her PDA with her but there had to be something in the room that would help. He checked by the phone, no scribbled phone numbers. He held the penlight in his teeth then riffled through the writing desk. Zip. Cops were good at not carrying identifying information on them. Damn. He went to the closet and dug through pants and jacket pockets and heard a key turning in the door.
Holy crap! Jett? Couldn’t three guys keep one woman busy for one stinking half hour? Keefe was not winning any awards for tonight’s performance that was for damn sure. Demar slipped into the closet and drew it closed behind him without latching it. A light went on, he could see it under the door and around the edge.
He heard the phone being picked up, then Jett said, “It’s me. No, still nothing. Everyone’s real closemouthed. I’m meeting Demar at the O’Fallon’s tonight, they’re good friends. In fact, I was half way there and something occurred to me: Rory O’Fallon does not seem all that upset about Mimi. Either he’s not in love with her anymore or he’s got her stashed somewhere near here just like you think he does. I’ll go through his house if I get a chance. I doubt if she’s there, if your bugs haven’t picked up anything. Stay where you are, I’ll call you later.”
The phone clicked into the rest, footsteps, then water running. The bathroom. He had to get out of here. If she went to the closet for a jacket or whatever and found him, it was all over.
Demar inched open the door, crept into the room, reached the main door and stepped into the hall as Sally rounded the corner, his hand on the knob, the door still open, his heart in his throat. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Sally stopped dead, the color draining from her face. “Well, isn’t this a nice little coincidence. I wondered if you were here. When you weren’t in your apartment or at the bar I figured as much but thought I’d check it out anyway.”
“Demar?” Jett said as she came to the open door. “I didn’t hear you come in. I thought I locked this door?”
Demar smiled at Jett. “I came to get you. When you didn’t make it to the O’Fallons I thought you might be sick. I came here to check on you.”
“Well, isn’t that the sweetest thing I ever heard,” Sally said. “And exactly what were you planning on checking, Demar? Jett being such a frail little waif and all.” Anger blazed in her eyes but hurt lingered deeper inside.
Sally came up to him. “I hate your guts, Demar Thacker.” She said to Jett, “I hope you two are happy together because you so deserve each other.”
This time she sounded more sad than angry, and Demar wished it were the other way around. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was make her sad…actually it was the second to the last thing. The very last was to not find Mimi. He couldn’t live with that on his conscience.
How would he ever get Sally back? When this was over he had to—somehow. Jett seemed to buy the situation. In f
act she seemed to revel in it, and that was the good part. Least there was one, sort of. Sally stomped down the hall and he felt his heart crack. Christ Almighty, did life get more complicated than this?
Jett stood in front of him, her face taking Sally’s place—except no one could ever do that. She drew up to him, her chest to his, and purred, “You really came to check on me?” She undid the top button on her blouse. “Well, I think you can check all you want, sugar.”
She dragged him inside and closed the door, leaning against it, blocking the way out. She undid the other buttons, her red blouse parting, revealing her lacy bra against lovely brown skin—except it wasn’t Sally’s lovely brown skin, and that’s what mattered most. How the hell was he going to get out of this?
“Let me show you how much I appreciate you coming for me, Demar.” Jett licked her lips and swayed her hips as she came toward him.
Oh crap! Oh, crap! “We’re supposed to be at the O’Fallons.”
“And I want to go, all I need is just ten minutes, baby, to show my appreciation.”
“Fire?”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Yeah, fire. Don’t you smell it? This place is old, it’ll go up like a match.” He took Jett’s arm and ushered her away from the door so he could open it. “Smell.” He sniffed. “Yeah, fire.” He pointed to the hall. “That way.”
“Demar I don’t smell—”
“Subtle, very subtle. I’ll tell Thelma.”
“But—”
“She’ll take care of it. Got to protect the house and we sure don’t want to be here in a fire. Remember the last time we were together in a fire. We nearly didn’t make it out.”
She paled. It was totally rotten of him to play on her fears but her little plan was headed for bed, and he wanted no part of bed with Jett.
“I think I smell smoke,” Demar said to Thelma as he whisked Jett toward the front door. Thelma’s eyes met his and she gave a slight nod and said, “Got a batch of scones a little over done, that must be it.”
Demar stopped with Jett in the foyer of the big house. “Well there you go. Not as bad as I thought, but you can never be too careful.”
I’ll Be Seeing U Page 19