She rose to smile at him and he took the opportunity to unbutton her blouse, toss it to the floor, and slip his hands over the satin cups of her bra, molding her breasts in his palms.
“That was a nice move, Officer.” Her throaty comment drew him out to play. He leaned up and latched his lips onto the closest nipple, sucking through the satin. She sank closer, as if her spine wouldn’t hold her erect anymore. He slipped his fingers behind her back. He found the closures on her bra on the first try, unfastened and tossed it the way of her blouse.
“Nothing wrong with your hands.” Her whisper sent shivers down his spine.
“Nothing wrong with your entire body.” His hands skimmed over her from shoulder to hips. He wrapped his arms around her and held her against him. The feel of her breasts against his chest was a heaven he thought he’d never find. She wiggled slightly. The movement slid her nipples through the hair on his chest, causing a delicious friction. He groaned.
She jerked upright. “Did I hurt your knee?”
He pulled her back against him. “No.”
“Are you sure? Why did you groan?” Her muscles tensed, as if she intended to get off him.
He held her in place by whispering in her ear. “Baby, you feel good.”
Once again, she sagged against him. The contours of her body fit neatly against his and sparked a need to be skin-to-skin. “Are you flexible enough to get out of your own jeans?”
She rose up and gave him a considering look. Then she hopped off of him and in two seconds had her jeans and panties on the floor. The morning sun streaming through the partially closed blinds highlighted her fragile bones, flushed skin, and vulnerable femininity.
She put a hand to her hip and a finger to her lips and gave him the once over from his eyes to the bulge in his shorts. “I believe I can beat the world’s record helping you strip, too.”
“Really.” He lifted up onto his elbows. “Need any help?”
“Cooperation is always a good thing.” She sounded so much like the teacher she was, he laughed.
She tugged on his shorts, being extraordinarily careful around his swollen knee. In the next second, he sucked in a breath because she ran a stroking hand over his hardness, cupping him in her hands with hesitant delight. Her mouth followed the way of her hands. He closed his eyes at the sensation and fireworks exploded behind his eyelids.
Her hands were smooth, her mouth hot. He sifted his fingers through her hair and basked in the moment, one he realized he’d fantasized about. Before long, urgency overwhelmed him and he reached for her, coaxing her up his body to his mouth.
“Spoilsport,” she whispered.
“Enchantress.” He nibbled her neck and thoroughly kissed her, an activity rapidly becoming his favorite. She shifted her weight, placing her knees on either side of him. He basked in the texture of her mouth, the sensation of her tongue gliding against him. She reached in the nightstand for a condom. Rolling it on, she took him deep inside. Fireworks went off again, this time inside his head. He pulled his mouth away from hers and shuddered, breathing in hard to keep from reaching completion before her.
She sat up, adjusted her position astride him and started to move, slowly at first, then with more purpose. Her eyes closed in concentration, her teeth chewing on her lower lip. The look of utter bliss on her face stunned him. He closed his eyes and absorbed every sensation. The sex sounds of their bodies together played against the squeak of his bed. He settled his hands on her hips, celebrating the up—and-down motion of her body. His body tightened, anticipating that moment when he could let go. Hopefully soon. He could feel the edge hovering and wanted to throw himself over. Stopping was hard until he looked at Meg’s body, flushed and beguiling.
She gave a little scream at the back of her throat—all the warning he got before she tightened against him. He let himself fall and somewhere over the edge he realized he was in trouble. He was starting to care, starting to love, wanting to keep.
Meg let herself collapse against his body, tempted to fall asleep.
Bret wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She lifted up slightly to look at him. He stared at the ceiling, looking utterly confounded.
She wanted to ask what he was thinking. She wanted to continue her confession by uttering “I love you” in the worst way. She did neither. She tucked her head under his chin and indulged in the moment. There would be time later to argue about their destiny.
They lay silent for several minutes. Meg had to look again. This time he looked uncomfortable, like he was seconds from pulling away from her. Time for a distraction.
She toyed with his chest hair, running a light finger around his nipples. “You know...I have the whole day off.” She drew the words out.
“Oh?” He finally looked at her, his gray eyes sending a message she couldn’t decipher.
She stopped to yawn, spoiling her attempt at seduction.
“How did you sleep on the sofa last night?” His teasing tone pushed her buttons.
She lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Lousy.”
He tipped her face to his. “Don’t ever be afraid to talk to me.”
She wanted to nod, to agree, but she couldn’t. The long-term nature of his words made her heart vulnerable, made her close to abandoning the promise she’d made to herself not to ask him to change. Just saying the words “I love you” would put them on a different footing. She closed her eyes and let herself relax, tired of the whole issue. Almost asleep, she muttered to him. “Don’t let me forget to tell you what Tom said about Esteban.”
“I can call Tom. Sleep.” He rubbed her shoulders, making her sigh.
“Don’t let me sleep past eleven. I’m having lunch with Alessia.”
She didn’t hear his reply.
The cell phone rang dragging Meg out of a sound sleep. Alone in Bret’s bed, she heard the shower running. A quick look at the clock had her relaxing. She’d only been asleep for two hours. She still had plenty of time to get to her lunch date.
The phone started on the second time around for the tune. She pushed back the comforter he must have thrown over her, pulled his discarded T-shirt over her head, and raced to the kitchen counter.
Grabbing the phone, she pushed the accept button. “Hello.”
“Bret?” The strident feminine tone on the other end wasn’t familiar.
“No, I’m sorry. He’s not available. Can I take a message?” Meg danced from foot to foot, the cold air from the air conditioning chilling her to the bone.
“Who is this?”
Meg winced. The shrill voice abraded like sandpaper on metal. “My name is Meg. Who is this?”
“Exactly who are you?”
She pulled the receiver from her ear and stared at it. Jealousy reared its ugly head, running like a broken water spigot. “Who are you?” Her tone must have held a bit of the green monster, because the woman huffed, before answering.
“I am his mother.”
She was about to apologize when she felt Bret hobble up behind her. The man was without his crutches. She turned, ready to admonish him, saw the cold look in his eyes, and instead handed him the phone. “Your mother.”
“Thanks.” He stood with his hand over the receiver until she walked back to the bedroom. She couldn’t help it. She stood at the door and eavesdropped.
“Hello, Mother.” His formal tone made Meg raise her eyebrows. She wanted to peek down the hall to see if he was standing as stiffly as his tone suggested, but she didn’t dare. Instead she stood as still as possible so she wouldn’t miss a word.
“She and I are working together at the moment, Mother. That’s all.”
What? Meg drew back and plopped on the side of the bed. Did he really mean that?
She’d taken a risk this morning even telling him she’d be here if he wanted more. He’d just reduced their closeness back to the job. She meant nothing to him.
Her grandmother’s adage echoed through her. People who eavesdrop never hear anything g
ood. Fury pushed her to her feet. It was a much cleaner emotion at the moment than the hurt. She searched for her clothes and began to dress, swearing at herself.
She was falling for her own pie-in-the-sky dreams, making the sex mean something that it didn’t, expecting him to change, to want her. What was wrong with her? She knew. She promised. She planned to deliver. She wanted whatever Bret was willing to give her. Nothing less. Nothing more. Well, she wanted everything more, but she would not ask for it. Seriously, what did she expect the man to say to his mother? Hello, Mother. I’m in love and having the most amazing sex with this woman. She would barely admit those things to her family.
No. She needed to leave. Before Bret got off the phone. Before he chastised her for answering his phone and she gave him a piece of her mind about their relationship. Lunch with Alessia at Clem’s was in forty-five minutes. Who cared if she was a little early?
Bret mostly listened to his mother or made non-committal comments. She picked up her purse and braced herself. She walked to him and shivering at the sharp coldness in his eyes.
“I have to go,” she mouthed at him.
She kissed his cheek. He didn’t lean in to accept, didn’t move a muscle or utter a word. She whispered goodbye and walked out. For the first time since she began this relationship, on his terms, she wondered why the hell she didn’t require more.
If you wanted to see how a man would treat you, all you had to do was look at how he treated his mother. Another of her grandmother’s adages.
Her heart sank. The thought chilled.
“You haven’t said two words since you sat down in this booth. You want to tell me what’s wrong?” Alessia ripped open another packet of sugar and tipped it into her iced tea. She was dressed in a deep blue sundress with white heels, her makeup and hair flawless. The bright, beautiful sunny day didn’t help either. Next to her and the weather, Meg felt like a worn-out frump. She still wore her jeans and rumpled green shirt from last night.
She took a sip of her drink. “I haven’t said two words because I’ve been listening to you complain about Hanson.”
Most of the time she absolutely loved spending time with Alessia. She was funny. She was a great friend. She was a good confidante. Today, Meg didn’t want to talk. She mentally chewed on Bret’s mother, Bret’s tone of voice,
Bret’s whole conversation with his mother and the “that’s all” thing stuck in her throat like a piece of dry toast.
“I haven’t been complaining.” Alessia straightened in her seat like a princess on a throne. “I’ve been sharing.”
“Right.” She nodded to soften her sarcasm.
“Also, I thought maybe it was time to tell you. I’m moving to Houston.”
Meg dropped the spoon she’d been using to stir her iced tea. “So you finally decided.”
“Yes, I’ve been applying for jobs. I finally accepted a really good position.”
“How did Hanson take it?”
“I haven’t told him yet.”
Meg lapsed into silence again, wondering if she could walk away from Bret and not coming up with an answer.
“What’s wrong, honey? “ Alessia leaned forward in the booth, as though expecting some big confidence to be shared.
Upset and hurt, trapped in a situation of her own making, she toyed with her salad instead of confiding. “It’s nothing. I’ll get over it.” Never.
“Are you mad at me? About the job?”
It isn’t always about you, Alessia. Meg sighed silently, shoving her irritation back. It wasn’t fair to take her mood out on her friend. She reached for Alessia’s hand and squeezed. “No. I think it’s an opportunity you’ve been wanting for a long time. You should go and try it.”
Alessia squeezed back. “You know you can talk to me.”
“I know exactly who I’ll call when I’m ready to talk, but not right now.”
She looked up to see Travis Braddha, a former student and one of the first robbery victims, hovering near her table.
“Hi, Ms. Applegate.” Travis bit his lip, then seemed to decide something and walked to the table.
“Hi, Travis. Why aren’t you in school?” She smiled to put him at ease.
“Went to Amarillo with my Dad. I have to talk fast. He’s waiting.”
Meg frowned, a slew of questions popping into her mind. “Okay. What’s up?”
“Diego said you talked to him about Esteban, where he was living, who his friends are now.”
She slid to the edge of the booth, her problems forgotten. “Yeah, I did. Why? You know something you want to tell me?”
“Well, I know he and Rory Cook are good friends and he’s been staying some at his house. Rory and I had geometry together. He sat behind me. Used to brag about being involved in something that was making him money, that he didn’t have any need for geometry. He’s hanging with the new kid, too.”
“Which new kid?”
“Tobias Gordon.”
Meg shook her head. “I don’t know him.”
“He’s a senior. He moved here last fall. He was in some trouble in California. The four of them walk the halls together like they own the place. It’s weird.” Travis let his voice trail off.
“Four?”
“Yeah, Tawni Weaver has been dating Tobias. She lives next door to Rory.”
Meg considered the new information, trying to anticipate what Bret would want to know. “Do you know where Rory lives?”
“He lives on Mustang Drive over by the cemetery with his mom.” A horn honked outside and Travis looked out the window. “That’s my dad. I gotta go. Anyway, Diego said he thought you might want to know.”
“Thanks, Travis.” Meg watched him rush from the restaurant. He was a country boy, through and through. His family raised champion bulls and Travis did rodeo and FFA. He was honest, dependable, and solid. If he said something was weird about the foursome, then something was off.
She had a vague memory of Rory Cook, dark hair and dark eyes, quiet and an attitude. Tawni might have been the girl she’d seen Esteban with. A sudden need to tell Bret had her reaching for the bill.
“Hey!” Alessia pulled it out of her hand. “My turn to pay and what was that all about?”
“Something I’m helping Bret and Tom with.” Meg reached for her purse. “I have to go. Can I call you later?”
Alessia frowned. “Sure. But you’re going to have to do more talking and tell me what all that was about.”
Meg smiled. “For sure.”
She pulled her keys out and exited the restaurant, walking rapidly to her car. She barely maintained the speed limit driving to Bret’s. She had a feeling she couldn’t shake. A feeling that this was the break they’d been looking for.
But when she pulled in the driveway, his truck wasn’t there.
~~CHAPTER ELEVEN~~
Damn the man! He was supposed to stay off his knee for another few days. She had a substitute in her classroom for the whole week, so she could stay with him to make sure. If he wasn’t at his house, she knew right where to find him. Backing out of his driveway, she drove to the police department.
Sure enough his truck was parked next to Tom’s in the back lot. Meg drove around the front of the building and parked in a visitor’s slot.
She wanted to march into the building and give him a piece of her mind.
But she couldn’t do that. Couldn’t act like a wife, a girlfriend.
“We’re working together. That’s all.” She uttered a pithy word and sat in her car counting backwards from one hundred until she felt calmer. This was business. This was about the case.
She stepped out of her car, tried to brush the wrinkles from her clothes, and finally gave up. She took slow measured steps through the double doors into the foyer of the police department, lecturing herself all the way.
Dana saw her and pushed the button to release the door to the offices in the back. “Tom, Bret, and the chief are in the day room.”
Meg stopped. “Should I wait
until they’re finished?”
“No, it’s fine.” She eyed Meg speculatively, waiting for Meg to admit God knows what gossip.
She didn’t oblige her. She pulled open the door and walked to the day room. The three men sat around the table. Bret’s back was to her and Tom was turned away. But Chief Hudson saw her hovering in the doorway and stopped talking.
“Meg.” He motioned her into the room and reached to shake her hand.
Tom rose and kissed her cheek. “Hey, sis.”
Bret twisted in his chair to stare at her. In the span of a breath, his expression changed from male bonding relaxed to cautious man waiting to get blasted by upset female. It settled her some that his crutches were propped on the table and his leg was elevated on the chair across from him, so she refrained from delivering the blast.
“I saw a student of mine today who had some information about Esteban.”
“He hasn’t turned up at his uncle’s again.” Tom pulled out a chair for her.
Declining to sit, she put her palms on the table and leaned on it. That kept her from deciding whether to rub Bret’s back or choke the life out of him. “He’s staying with Rory Cook.”
Bret lost his guarded look and became all cop.
Tom took out his notebook and pen. “Where does he live?”
“I called Marla. She’s checking. She’ll call Bret. Travis said he lives on Mustang Drive near the cemetery with his mother.”
“Travis who?” Bret asked.
“Braddha. I saw him at Clem’s. His house was robbery number three. Anyway, it seems Rory Cook and Esteban have become good friends and it clicked as wrong for Travis. Add to that, there’s a new kid this year named Tobias Gordon they’ve been hanging with.”
The three men looked at each other. Evidently the name was familiar.
“What can you tell us about Rory?” Tom reached over on another desk for the yearbook she’d given Bret and began flipping through the pages.
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