Behaving Badly

by Ursula Whistler

  Teresa took the other chair. “You haven’t been nice at all this week.”

  “You and Bill have worked me like a dog, or worse, all these days. I went to rehearsals tired. I go to bed tired. I wake up tired. I have no room for nice.”

  “You could try.”

  Jess wouldn’t look at her. Instead, she studied the curls of the black iron railing. “I’ll try on Monday.”

  “Why then?”

  “Because then I’ll be high off of my gigs. We perform the first of the movie songs on Sunday for the producers. After that, they make their decision.”

  “This is the happiest I’ve seen you in months.”

  “It’s big, Teresa. Really big. We may even get a cameo in the movie, but even if we don’t, this makes everything else possible.”

  “Like?”

  “An album with national distribution and real PR. Gigs outside of New Orleans and Gulfport and local festivals.”

  “Are you saying you’ll leave us?”

  “Yes.” That one word would hurt her sister—angel to fallen souls and those living in hard times. Jess had been one of those, once. Teresa and Bill had taken her in and supported her through all the legalities of bankruptcy. She couldn’t ever thank them enough for believing in her.

  “It had to come sometime, although I had hoped you’d choose something more stable after all you’ve been through. You’ve discarded us, dull and always there, for the shiny man offering only a possibility.” She stood. “And, that’s the end of that conversation as the devil who is luring you away just drove up.”

  Jess smirked at that description and let it stay. If Drew were the devil, she’d go willingly.

  ****

  When it came to awkward situations, Drew relied on the field experience he’d gained from going undercover. He had to be comfortable with anything said or done to keep his cover. He’d gauged the situation as dicey when he parked his car in front of the Townsend’s house; the tight line and crossed arms of Teresa compared with the satisfied smirk of Jess as she walked down the steps to greet him with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

  The atmosphere hadn’t changed throughout the dinner. He’d been in stranger and more dangerous meetings, so, the tension at the Townsend household seemed light, easy, and manageable. In some way, it was. Jess hid any annoyance she had with her sister better than the disdain she had for her brother-in-law. Teresa could have won an award with her easy manners toward everyone. Only Bill did a poor job of concealing his wariness.

  Drew played the clueless happy man as they ate, glad to be included in a family’s time together. He filled any silence with laments about being so far from his family when he lived in Baltimore. He told them of plans to have a big dinner for his family from St. Charles, Louisiana, once he found the right house. He complained about not doing a good job of creating his own community when he was a cop.

  “There’s something about this place, an openness,” Drew answered when Bill asked him how he liked the city. “Everyone is nice to newcomers.”

  “You think?” Teresa appeared to comment instinctually from her place beside him, just to have something to say.

  “I do.” He nodded and pushed his chair at an angle to put some distance between them. He’d finished all the dinner he could eat, and took the opportunity to fulfill the image of a happy, easy-going guy with everyday intentions.

  Bill picked up the conversation. “How wonderful. It is a place where people value community.”

  “You’re so right. I’ve made so many connections already.” Drew clicked off a few on his fingers. “The alderman I met this past Sunday has a son who is a judge, and his daughter works at a company interested in better security. We exchanged numbers, and I had lunch with him Tuesday. I got another contract lined up for my boss to sign. In a few short days, I got business. Got to love that about a place.”

  “News does get around fast,” Bill agreed.

  Drew kept talking. “Then the neighbors…” he said over the bits of steak he couldn’t finish. “The networking is amazing, and Jess here tosses in another layer with all the musicians she knows.”

  Bill nodded and added, “Though they can be a disreputable lot. They mix around with quite a bit of the riff raff of the city.”

  The dismissal of creative types as a bad crowd caught him off guard. Was the reverend trying to shift guilt that he might have onto Jess and her crowd? Drew could tell him a few stories about riff raff, and none of them involved musicians. He stayed neutral with a cliché. “Beat of a different drummer is how I see it.”

  The other man grimaced a bit. “Perhaps Jess hasn’t told you all that she’s encountered.”

  She hadn’t, Drew thought, but he’d found out about the bankruptcy, or Ward had. They’d used their connections to search for any records that Jess or the Townsends had after Drew noticed her revulsion to his handcuffs. He figured anyone with a reaction like hers had a bad memory of them. He was wrong about that. She just didn’t like that kind of kink, and neither did he.

  Judging by the jerk her leg made against his under the table, Jess didn’t want to mention the man who stole her money and never got caught. Drew admired her for being able to move past an incident that had to have shaken her confidence. The doorman at the office building had told him of how Jess and he used to discuss patching clothes and shopping at thrift stores, and he didn’t mean the higher end consignment shops.

  You forget that I’m a former cop. I’m not unfamiliar with what can happen out there. And,” he covered his mouth as part of his feeling sick plan, “I hate to stop the conversation, but I need to excuse myself.” He heard Jess release a breath as he left. He wouldn’t let them control when and where she told him of that trauma. These people had to let go of this woman. She could do fine on her own.

  He took short, hurried steps across the brick patio to the back door. Once inside, he made a beeline for the room with the closed door. He assumed correctly and wasted no time opening the file cabinet. He got through three of the four file drawers before he heard the screen door pop on its hinges. He rushed to the bathroom and pretended to wash his hands. When he got to the living area, Jess greeted him.

  “Teresa wanted me to offer you medicine.” The pained look on her face bothered him.

  He took her hand. “You know there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Yes.” She looked at her feet.

  “Whatever your brother-in-law wanted to say about you is not his to share. I don’t need to know all your history unless I’m going to possibly get a disease from it.”

  She looked up from her study of the floor. “I’m clean. You?”

  “Yep.” He gave her a peck on the lips. “Ready to go?”

  “Can you handle a bit longer?”

  “I don’t know. It’s strained out there.” Keeping of the act of the perpetually happy business guy had begun to wear him down. “Kind of like the time my cousin stomped off stinking drunk after she insulted everyone.”

  “April?”

  “Yeah. She’s trouble. This tension is nothing compared to that, but there are only four of us. We’re bound to reach the uncomfortable silence phase.”

  “True. We don’t need drunk relatives. It’s always this way since they don’t approve of some of my life.” She shrugged. “Most of my life. They don’t want you to encourage that part, you know, the one where I get up and sing and prance around on stage. This movie thing is already taking me away.”

  “I’m the cause of some of this tension, because I like your singing? Wonderful.” He tossed up his hands and put one to his forehead. He joked, “I tried my best to be the good guy.” In truth, relief filled him. He thought that suspicion of him as a possible investigator brought about the change in attitude of the Townsends. That they worried for Jess took away some of the pressure.

  She curled her arm around his and pulled him closer to her. Her hip brushed his. “I like you bad.”

  “Mmm. Good.” He drew her into the circle of
his arms. “What else should I do to make it easier for us to leave?”

  “You’ve already done that.” One hand snaked up his chest and played with his tie. “You sang the praises of my performances in the wild.”

  “Is that what they call it when you don’t perform in the church?” She smelled wonderful in a scent that reminded him of clean clothes dried in the sun.

  “Yep.” She added another hand to his chest and spiraled her fingers over his nipples. “Teresa thinks the unrestrained atmosphere leads to unrestrained behavior.”

  Her attentions sent sparks through his body and woke that part of him that he promised to lock away for the evening. “Which is what got you in trouble at some time.” He loved the comfort of her hips against his. She relaxed him. He worried for nothing but her happiness when any part of her touched him.

  Her fingers moved elsewhere and then stilled. “Something like that.”

  “It’s amazing that the two of you are sisters. You are nothing alike.”

  “Same mother, at least. I don’t think I believe the father part. I’m all Mardi Gras, and she’s Ash Wednesday. She’s been there for me when I needed her, even if she gets preachy. In fact, I bet she’s worried that we’re in here alone together.”

  “Bringing sin to her house?”

  “Let’s take our sin somewhere else.” She wiggled her hips as she nipped at his earlobe.

  “My place is mostly clean.” He’d changed the sheets while he fussed that he wouldn’t be doing anything but sleeping tonight.

  “No. Mine.” She grabbed her purse from the table near the front door. “I whipped up a real dessert for you, but you have to promise to taste it.”

  He missed the heat of her body against his. He planned to walk her home, take one bite of what she had made, and say goodnight. But, his body had alternative plans. “If I do, do I get other delights?”

  “Yes.” She flashed him a look over her shoulder that he hoped meant she wanted an entire night of dessert. “You stay here. I’ll make your excuses for you.”

  “Not sure I can wait that long.”

  “You better or you’ll scare my sister with that enormous hard on you’re sporting.”

  Damn, he thought. That woman will be the end of me. I’m not doing anything but talking to her tonight. As he left the living room for outside, he chanted, “investigation, investigation, investigation” in his head.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jess unlocked the gate to the courtyard and led him past the bench they’d anointed the first night they met. She still got thrills every time she touched it. That night, all she’d wanted was a really good fuck. Drew had done that. He’d also succeeded in making her want more out of every facet of her life. No more settling for what was right in front of her on the path her family set her upon. She wanted the stuff available at any exit along the way.

  “Too bad you’re wearing pants.” He winked as he pinched her ass.

  “I wore them so we’d get through that dinner without entertaining any thoughts about a quickie. Your hands have a tendency to roam.”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “No, but since you suggested it on Monday, I’ve wanted one all week. I tried to find a reason to visit you at your office.”

  “That would have shocked my partner.”

  She pulled him to her as she leaned on her door. “One look from you compels me to drop my panties and lift my skirt. Are you sure you’re human and not some sex-starved god preying on innocent women?”

  He pressed into her as he kissed her neck. “You’re not innocent now.”

  “No.” She breathed in the spice of his cologne. She dropped her head back to touch the door. She remembered the reason that they’d come to her house. “We came here for dessert.”

  “You are dessert.” His head dipped lower to plant kisses on the deep vee of her wrap top. “There’s two scoops right here.”

  “Drew.” With effort, she pushed his head away. She’d left work early to get the cakes baked in the tiny excuse of an oven. He had to indulge this bit of domestic effort. “At least taste what I baked before you turn me into a quivering, moaning mass of flesh. Please.”

  “Please make you quiver?” He regained his position between her breasts. “I accept the challenge.”

  She gave him a shove. She wouldn’t cave to the pleasure of his mouth. “The price of admission to touch any part of me is at least three bites of my dessert.”

  “As you wish.” He bowed and asked, “What did you make?”

  “Mini cupcakes, but they weren’t cool before I left. I have to put the frosting on the top.” As soon as she said it, she thought of her straddling his lap while she slid up and down his cock. Heat spread to her pussy and had her wishing she wore nothing.

  “I like that idea.”

  She turned from unlocking the door. “What idea?”

  “Putting you on top of me.”

  “I said no such thing.”

  He grasped her hip with one hand and the door handle with the other. “You didn’t have to. You said on top. I have all types of delicious images of you forming in my head. Let’s make a few of them come true.” He pushed open her door and followed her through into the space she called the kitchen. “Is it icing or frosting?”

  “How did you change gears so quickly?” Her mind focused on where she’d place her hands while she rode him. He thought of cooking?

  “I didn’t.” He stood behind her at the counter. “I’m thinking of which one would work better spread on parts of you. Licking it off a nipple is the first idea, but why stop there? I could make little frosting flowers down the center of you to right about here, getting an amuse bouche before taking a bite of the main course.” He drew a line from just below her breasts as he talked and ended his hand’s journey with his fingers pressed between her legs.

  “Oh.” She tried to focus on the task in front of her. In her mind, she envisioned him feasting on tiny cupcakes spread along her spine. She had no idea how to answer his question. She managed a sentence, “Aren’t they the same thing with different words?”

  “No. One is thicker and makes a peak.” He reached around her and gave her nipples a tug.

  The pinch of his fingers on her nipples made her mouth water. She wanted him to spend time suckling them, biting them, or even squeezing while they orgasmed together. “Behave.” She said it, because it sounded good. She didn’t mean it.

  “Do you really want me to?”

  “No.” He knew it. He got her. She’d not said a thing to him about how she didn’t like to be restrained, and he’d assured her that he wouldn’t ever use his cuffs on her.

  “The other stuff you put on cakes drips from the top down the sides to pool at the bottom.” His hands echoed his words. He left one hand on her ass and placed the other one on the side of her, trapping her between his hips and the counter. “Which one did you make?”

  Her nipples hardened and she arched her back. She summoned all her self control to keep her fingers from undoing her pants so he could take her from behind. After a deep breath, she answered, “The kind that makes pretty peaks on the top.” She dangled an empty pastry bag from her fingers. “I only had red food coloring, so it’s pink.”

  “I don’t mind. A guy like me can handle some pink.”

  “Good.” She took the top off the container and scooped some into the bag with a spatula. The hand rubbing lazy circles low over her hip distracted her. A dollop of icing landed on the hand that rested on the counter.

  “How do you plan to get that off?”

  She batted her eyelashes at him. “I can’t believe you didn’t just tell me how you wanted it removed.”

  He squeezed her ass cheek and pressed his hips to her other cheek. “You like me telling you what to do.”

  She thought about each time he’d grunted out a command during foreplay or sex. Wetness pooled between her legs. Yeah, she liked it, especially since he didn’t restrain her. She flicked her eyes at the p
ink confection on his hand and connected with his heavily-lidded eyes. “I’ll do it how you want me to.”

  His cock pressed deeper into her hip. “Lick it, gently.”

  She twisted from her waist. He stopped her with a quick shake of his head that she felt more than saw. She leaned down as his hand rose and took a tiny lick off the top so that she didn’t touch his skin. She wasn’t about to give him instant gratification. Where would the fun be in that?

  The hand on her ass traveled up her rib cage to her breast. She licked her lips and bent for more of the frosting. This time she drew a line with her tongue around the edge of the drop. He pinched her nipple, sending thrills through to the tips to her fingers and toes. Using her free hand, she lifted his to her mouth and sucked, mimicking how he had latched on to her breast in the dressing room.

  He got the hint. He turned her around and captured her lips with his. “My turn to taste, but I want a different dish.” His eyes rested on her cleavage. “Will you take them out?”

  She smiled. She’d made him breathe heavy with only her mouth on his hand. She placed the pastry bag on the counter behind her, sucked a bit of frosting from her finger, and rested a hand on the tie at her waist.

  “What’s taking so long?”

  “It’s so nice to watch you. You’re nearly panting.” She knew her desire had to be showing, too, in other ways, but she had control over her breathing if nothing else.

  “You do that to me.” He raised an eyebrow. “Pull it.”

  She tugged at the belt and shimmied her shoulders so the fabric slid down her arms. With one hand, she released the front clasp of her bra.

  “Delicious.”

  “You’ve not even tasted my recipe.”

  “I’m sure that will only add to the flavor.”

  “Me?” She tossed a look over her shoulder to the bag of frosting. “Or you?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You.”

  She walked her fingers over to the bag and slid her hand around it like it was his cock. Her gaze never left his face. He licked his lips. She picked up the bag and twirled her finger around the top to push the frosting to the tip. With a squeeze, she drew a delicate spiral peak on her left breast.