Behaving Badly

by Ursula Whistler

  Before she could set the pastry bag on the surface, his lips devoured the dollop just above her nipple, sucking it into his mouth. “Tasty,” he said as he stood, “and I’d like more. I did, however, promise to eat your dessert.” He pulled her bra back over her breasts and fastened the clasp. With a sigh that warmed her heart, he tied the belt to her shirt so that she was mostly covered. “That might have been the most difficult mental feat of my life, to overcome the insistence of my lower brain.”

  She resisted the urge to caress that part of his anatomy that brought her so much pleasure. “We’ll have to reward you later. And,” she lifted a finger, “with that in mind, I have some performance lingerie that I’ve never worn. I think you’ll love it.”

  “Do I get a private show?”

  “Oh, yes.” She’d bought a silky robe and gloves months ago on a whim and she planned to use them for tonight’s musical striptease. She liked him in control, but she wanted to exercise some of her own power. “Complete with song and dance.” She headed to her bedroom.

  “Jess, the cupcakes?”

  She backed into her room. “You do them. This could take a bit. There’s body glitter involved.” She slammed the door closed and locked it. “Take your time.”

  “Fine, but they will look terrible.” He grumbled. His lack of focus annoyed him. He had a job to complete, and bedding this voluptuous vixen would only get in the way. Ward had warned him about that earlier in the day. He groaned. He shouldn’t have stepped one foot in her apartment. He should make up some excuse to leave. But, she could be involved based on how closely she worked with the corrupt reverend. He had Ward to thank for reviving his suspicions about her. Except, now that he’d had access to the apartment, everything about her surroundings indicated that she squeaked by every month.

  He recognized well-worn house furnishings from his days as a patrol officer. His first pieces of furniture had graced the rooms of others long before they served their purpose in his tiny apartment. He’d noticed the worn hem of her pants this evening, too. She didn’t spend money on clothing or furnishings—just dresses for her performances and the underwear she wore underneath them. Even, then, as she proudly shared this evening, all the garments she sported came from resale shops.

  Still, she could be part of the ring that had stolen money from the church. He could figure that out with a quick peek at her bank account.

  “Is it gold or silver?” He used conversation to gauge how long she would be in her room.

  “What?”

  “The body glitter.” He didn’t have to worry about his voice giving away his location, since she kept her laptop on a table near where she had the cupcakes and frosting.

  “Oh. Gold. It matches my hair.”

  He started to open the computer top when a pile of mail stopped him. He picked through it as he said, “Where are you putting it?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Bills. He wondered why she didn’t pay them online. “Of course, I want to know. I plan to have my mouth on that body of yours.” He found an envelope from a bank. He slid his finger under the flap. It popped open easily.

  “Don’t worry. I got it from the same place I buy my undies. It’s some kind of honey dust that makes you glow. The label says it’s edible, but I can dust some on you first if you want me to be the guinea pig.”

  He unfolded the statement slowly. “I never think of you and animals at the same time.”

  “I’m almost ready.”

  He wasn’t. He’d seen her balance—low—but he needed to see if she’d transferred any large amounts. For that, he needed more time. “I’m enjoying wondering what this honey dust looks like and where you might put some on me.”

  “How about all of you?”

  “All?” The first page had nothing of interest on it.

  “I’ve never seen more than your balls and your cock. You could have scars everywhere.”

  She’d hit right on his weakness. Some had barely healed. “Would it bug you if I did?” Second page. Nothing. Damn, he thought, she lived on very little. She couldn’t be involved with siphoning money from the monthly tithes.

  “Are you saying you do have scars?”

  “I do.”

  “From what?”

  She knew he’d been a cop, but she didn’t know about how deep he’d been undercover. “My last assignment.” He folded her statement and slid it into the envelope. When it came to sex, she wasn’t innocent, but he could at least clear her from any wrong doing in regards to her job for the past month.

  “How?” She jerked open the door.

  His head whipped to face her. Her face showed concern, not desire, although she’d clothed her body for the latter. The robe she wore was topped with wispy feathers the color of ebony. They framed her face and highlighted her honey-colored curls. The white satin of the robe contrasted with the collar and the feather cuffs of the same deep black.

  The ends of the belt that highlighted her cinched waist dangled over one of her white stocking-clad legs. The lace edge of a garter poked out from underneath the hem of the robe. If she wore any of that glittery dust she’d talked of earlier, he couldn’t see any, and he wanted to find each and every place that she’d prepared for him.

  His cock stood at attention and practically begged for her to remove each piece, but he had to cover his activities first. He placed his hand on top of the mail and leaned onto the table.

  “You look fabulous.”

  “Thank you. There’s even more under here that your man there will appreciate.” She dropped her gaze to the bulge in his pants. “But, you don’t get to touch until you tell me about these scars.”

  If he accidentally scattered her mail on the floor, he could hastily stack it and she wouldn’t notice anything amiss. He leaned just a bit more on the table, the envelopes under his hand. “I have a better idea.”

  She took one step in her white stiletto heels. “And that would be?”

  “Having you discover each one on your own.” He leaned a bit more.

  “So, I could undress you first with all this on?” She traced her figure with her hands.

  “I’d like that. Then, you can do your number for me and watch my every reaction.” He wished he meant every word and that he had enough condoms to last the entire night. He’d take her with the robe on. With it off. She could leave the top of the lingerie on, whatever it might look like. Part of him wanted it to have the feathers somewhere. The feel of those things on his skin or the end of that belt on his cock probably had the power to make him hard in an instant. He’d take her anyway she’d let him. Except he needed to keep his hands off her. “Will you sing, too?”

  “Anything for you.”

  That’s when he chose to lose his balance. He really shoved the pile of mail across the table so that it would fall to the floor, leaving a haphazard pile that they could leave until morning. They’d wake up so senseless from endless fucking that she wouldn’t remember what had or hadn’t been opened. He’d make sure about the sex.

  “Well, that kills the mood.” She rushed to where the envelopes landed.

  “Sorry.” He reached for her arm. “Leave them there. We’ve got other things that need attention.”

  “No, this first.” The seductress faded, and the efficient secretary took over. “I’ll just pile them up, and then I won’t slip on them. You mussed my dance floor.” She had half of the stack in her hands.

  “A dance?” He hauled her up by both arms. “That’s it. Start it now and relieve my suffering.” He rubbed the back of her hand across his crotch. “Jess. Please. I’m going to start panting again.”

  “I like you panting.” She kissed him and bent to the ground. “Just two more.”

  One was the bank statement. It had fallen from the envelope. He gritted his teeth. She paid attention to detail, which was why he suspected her in the first place. She would know she hadn’t opened that piece of mail.

  She stood with her back to him and s
quared her shoulders. The heavy-lidded look vanished into a scowl. “Why did you open this?”

  Part of him admired that she didn’t need to ask if he did it. The woman was sure of some of her abilities. Despite the dryness in his mouth, he feigned relaxation. “Curiosity.”

  She turned. “That’s a lie. Curious people poke in medicine cabinets. They don’t open mail.” She shook it at him. “Why?”

  He could lie or tell the truth. He didn’t want to do either. He liked her too much. No, that wasn’t the right word. Cared. He wanted the best for her, a new job, a better apartment, a more honest family, and recognition for her music. With anyone else, he’d invent a story and walk away knowing he’d chosen the best path. Jess, though, deserved better from him.

  “Well?” The stiletto tapped a staccato rhythm on the poured concrete floor. “If you’re stalling to come up with a good lie, forget it. The truth, Drew. Now.”

  “The truth.” He took a long look at her so he could pull on the memory. That’s all he’d have of her once he gave his reason for snooping in her finances. “I’m investigating your brother-in-law for embezzlement. You were considered suspect, too.” He hoped she caught the past tense.

  “And this is why you’ve been fucking me?”

  “No.” Any protest he made would be useless. Her anger rose with each tick of the second hand. He said it again, because he meant it. “No.”

  “Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, ‘Use me?’ I thought you were different. Turns out you’re just like that other asshole. You don’t need to say anything, because I will never let you touch me.”

  “Don’t say that. I didn’t know who you were the first night. You used a stage name. I swear I didn’t know.”

  “But you knew later.” Her whole body shook.

  “After touching you once, and being with you, I couldn’t stop myself.” Even after Ward warned him. He’d made a misstep before in not listening to his superior, and that almost killed him. Watching the desire in Jess turn into hatred hurt worse than the three bullets to the abdomen. No surgeon could fix this. Words would have to do. “You do that to me—make me forget everything outside of us.”

  “There is no us.” She stormed into her room, slamming a fist into the door as she passed it. She returned with a black file box. She slammed it onto the table. “You wanna look at these? See what happened to me the last time I trusted a man.”

  He didn’t need to see them. Although she had motive to steal money, her bank account demonstrated that she hadn’t touched any of the church’s funds. “Jess, I don’t need…”

  “Oh, but you should.” She snarled at him and grabbed a red folder. “This is the relevant one. These I haven’t finished paying. One to my sister. They drew up a contract. Do you need to see that? Hmm? I bet you don’t trust me, just like they don’t.” She shook a yellow folder at him. “This has all the details about when they repossessed my car, and everything you would ever need to know about foreclosing on my condo. That was a lovely time.”

  “I trust you.” Empty words, he knew. He’d looked at her mail. That wasn’t trust.

  “Sure. That’s what the last piece of trash asked for. Trust. He liked how I sang and how I moved. He made me feel like I could do anything, then he took it all. Hacked into my bank accounts, credit cards, everything. It’s taken three years to dig out of it, and I—I finally trust someone enough to let them into my place, my safety zone, and you break it. You,” her lip curled in disgust, “have hurt my soul. Get out.”

  “I’m sorry, Jess.” He couldn’t imagine rectifying his relationship with her or even saving the investigation. With her angry with him, he’d have no access to the office unless he picked the lock, and for that he’d need approval. Despite the big talk he gave earlier on the connections he made in New Orleans, his best chance for discovering who’d been stealing money stood in front of him snarling and pointing her finger at the door of her apartment. He’d beat himself up tonight. Tomorrow, Ward would take over.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jess stared out the window at the white petals that floated to the ground from the pear trees outside the church office. The city couldn’t be more beautiful this time of year, but she felt more like the grime that settles between the cobblestones around Jackson Square. Dark, ugly, angry thoughts traveled through her as they had for the past three days. She’d trusted and given and allowed him into her life, and he’d used her. She hated him, even if her body didn’t.

  She’d stood in her living room, wrapped in that feathery robe, cursing him long after he left. She stomped through the apartment, relishing the clack of her heels against the hard floor. She had pitched all the cupcakes and damn pink icing into the trash.

  When she took the bag to the dumpster, she had left the robe on, but loosened it a bit, so anyone who got close enough could see the mounds of her breasts as they tried to pop out of the lace up bustier she wore. Her body glowed in the soft lights of the courtyard.

  She sat on the bench where he first took her, hoping someone would come by. She wanted to be bad, and that shithead Drew had made it impossible. No one saw her. Half an hour later, the saloon hussy outfit joined her other performance underwear in a box on her shelf.

  Her brother-in-law’s voice brought her back to reality. “Jessica?”

  She said a mental goodbye to the falling petals and mustered a smile. “Yes.”

  “I spent some of Saturday going through the storeroom and found paperwork that the church doesn’t need to keep. We’re going to need to borrow a shredder from someone. Could you send out an email? It will need to be a heavy-duty one.”

  “Sure.” She plopped into her chair. “Would you like to see it before I send it out?”

  “No. Something simple as that can go without me looking.” He stopped before the door of his office. “Is anything bothering you? Your demeanor is different today.”

  Wouldn’t he be shocked to know her problems? Or, should he know about Drew’s investigation? Could Bill be crooked? Was her sister involved? Too many questions. “Slight headache.”

  “That I understand. The time change has me off-kilter. How was the rest of your time with Mr. Favreau?”

  “Fine, but it’s not going to work.” Tears threatened, so she changed the subject. “Did Teresa tell you about the movie deal?”

  “She did.” He grinned. “Does this mean we’ll lose you to the day job?”

  She hated his toothy smile. It brought to mind the television preachers of her youth. She shrugged. “I doubt we’ll get paid enough for that. I do have a lunch meeting with them. We all do.” She tested the waters with him. She knew Teresa’s feelings. “But, it may be that I travel some if they want promotions from us.”

  All he did was shrug. “Then get to work finding that shredder before lunch. I’m eager to clean out that room so the pre-school can have it for the summer.”

  ****

  “Could you have screwed up more, Drew?” Ward’s voice echoed in the nearly empty office.

  “Yes.”

  “How?” He tossed up his hands. “You won’t be able to get to the church now to poke around in the offices. She’ll tell them. They’re her family.”

  Drew didn’t think she would. He said as much. “She’s angry at them. Anything she’s told me about the Townsends has only come out when I ask. She won’t tell.”

  “You think so now, but you’ve accused them all of being crooked. Don’t you think she’d share that juicy tidbit?”

  “Stop focusing on the problem.” He walked to the window, welcoming the distraction of a large ship going upriver. “It’s done. I messed up. Time to fix it.”

  “All right.” Ward joined him at the window. He pointed to the red and black vessel bedecked with cranes, a constant scene on the view they had of the Mississippi River from their office. “I never get tired of seeing that. Let’s figure this out. What do you plan to do to get to the bottom of this?”

  “Think it through. Possibly turn t
o less reputable methods of investigation.” He’d considered breaking into the church office before he’d had the chance to rummage through the place when Jess had left him alone. He wasn’t exactly against it, but he wanted it as a last resort. The PI license didn’t give him a get out of a break in free card.

  Ward tapped the window. “So, think.”

  “The pastor is involved.”

  “Got proof?”

  “His printed report and the secretary’s accounting vary. I snagged that copy.”

  “Maybe you didn’t see the most recent version.”

  “I did. They use cloud documents that auto-save. All her versions were there. He had to have changed the file on his computer with different software.”

  “Okay. We know the man owns more properties than he should be able to support. He’s getting the money from somewhere. You’ve searched the man’s house. Right?”

  “Nothing there, but I didn’t get into one of the drawers.”

  “What other places can you reach?”

  “Just got an email from the church looking for the loan on a heavy-duty shredder. I’m thinking I can volunteer for that job. We’ve got a shredder. It’s not industrial, but I bet they’ll take it.”

  “Two.” Ward narrowed his eyes. “Think you’ll be alone with the documents?”

  “If Jess is part of the job, her revulsion to me may be helpful.” By messing up so badly, he’d achieved what he couldn’t before—distance. He could deal with anger easier than the seductive sideways glances she’d given him all through dinner the other night.

  “Send a reply e-mail.”

  Drew grinned. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll just show up with one. She can’t ignore a person right in front of her.”

  “Good idea.”

  ****

  Jess’s black mood showed no improvement, but the day had. In discussing plans for their lunchtime meeting, she’d mentioned the need of a shredder. The place where Yvonne worked hired a mobile unit for all their papers, and they would let the church bring four file boxes of material. Jess cheered at this. She’d be able to leave later and not rely on the streetcar to get her to the Central Business District. She nearly skipped to Bill’s office.