The Cop Who Stole Christmas (Tall, Hot & Texan)
Page 9
While hand-washing the silk robe, Savanna debated whether or not to call. If he was with his mom, then . . . Yet, his note had been . . . well, sweet. And she wanted to know if he’d gotten anything else on the case. So she dialed his number, feeling almost guilty.
“Hello,” Mark answered. “Savanna?”
“Yes,” she managed, feeling tongue tied.
“How was your nap?” he asked.
“Long,” she said. “You should have woken me up.”
“After the last twenty-four hours, you needed the rest.”
She inhaled. “Thank you. And thank you for getting my phone.”
“No problem.”
“Did you learn anything else about the case?” she asked.
“They’re still looking at everyone.”
“You mean my friends?” she asked “They’re wasting their time. They didn’t do this.”
“Someone did, Savanna.”
“It wasn’t them.” She sighed.
There was a long pause. “Have you decided on what you’d like for dinner?”
She pushed her frustration aside. “How do you feel about Mexican?”
“Love it,” he said. “Anything but Juan’s place,” he said.
“What’s wrong with—?”
“I’d prefer not to take a woman out on a date to a restaurant owned by a man who is interested in her.”
“He’s not . . . I mean, he asked me out, but—”
“Which means he’s interested in you.”
“Okay,” she said. “But I wasn’t even thinking about that place.”
“Good,” he said. “How do you feel about Latin food? It’s sort of Mexican.”
“Sounds great.” She suddenly realized what he said. “Is this really a date date?”
He hesitated. “Define date date.”
She searched for a definition.
He spoke up, “What did you think it was?”
“I . . . I mean, I thought it was, but . . . it occurred to me that you could just be acting neighborly.”
“I think we’ve passed that stage.”
A thrill whispered through her. That nap must have done miracles. “What stage are we in?” Her tone came out flirty.
“Uh . . .” He hesitated. She heard the background noise lessen. “What stage is after you’ve seen each other naked?” he asked in a low teasing voice.
She chuckled. “I saw you naked, but you haven’t seen me.”
“Maybe I should tell you about that later.”
“Tell me about what?” Had she forgotten something else? She searched her memory.
“I was worried you’d been hurt, so I . . . checked.” He sounded worried now.
“I don’t remember. . .”
“You were passed out.”
She remembered wearing the white nightshirt with no underwear. “You saw me naked?”
“Maybe I should have kept that to myself.”
“Probably.” Though, she wasn’t mad. Just embarrassed. Again.
“If it makes a difference, at the time I was just . . . concerned you were hurt.”
“I guess that makes a difference.”
She heard him exhale as if relieved. “I’m heading home in a few minutes. Are you up for an early dinner? I never ate lunch.”
“Starved.”
“Good,” he said. “I’ll grab a quick shower and we can go. Oh, and good news. The detective said your house should be cleared tomorrow, so you could just stay at my place.”
“I think it would be best if—”
“In the extra bedroom, of course.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. But Bethany’s expecting me.” Savanna remembered how good it felt waking up on him. If she stayed, she might end up waking up there again, minus the clothes. And while the thought wasn’t unpleasant, it seemed too soon. She really needed to test the waters before she dove into the deep end.
• • •
Mark said goodbye to his mom, paid for the coffees, and within thirty minutes was walking into his place. He hadn’t stopped smiling on the way, either.
Believe it or not, right now, I’m happy.
He recalled his words to his mom. Anticipation buzzed inside him. He shut the door and looked around, eager to lay eyes on her, but even more eager to touch her. “Savanna?”
He heard the shower in the extra bath running. No silence. He liked that. Then he stumbled across something else he liked. The mental image of her naked, standing under the warm steamy shower. Anticipation stirred below his waist.
He needed to chill. Her insistence to stay with her friend told him she wasn’t ready to take it there. Most women had a three-date limit. He had a feeling she’d be worth the wait. Not that he’d complain if she waived her rules. They had slept together. That should count for two dates, but he didn’t plan on pushing. Or pushing that far. He hadn’t even kissed her, but that was going to be remedied tonight.
• • •
Savanna sipped her margarita. The sweet tart flavor combined with the salty rim exploded on her tongue. She looked around the restaurant and the clientele. Upscale. Probably five star. Not that she hadn’t been in some nice places, she had. She made table decorations for a lot of the high-end restaurants, and her and her mom had made a habit of going out to some of the finer establishments every three months.
The hostess, seating another table, turned and smiled at Mark. It had been apparent when they’d arrived that the two new each other. Savanna almost asked him about it, but was afraid it would sound too nosy. Or jealous. The hostess was five stars too.
“I think I might be underdressed,” Savanna said.
“There’s no dress code. You look great. I’m wearing jeans, too.”
“Mark, my boy. They told me you were here.” A Hispanic man in a charcoal suit and tie, his voice slightly accented, walked up to the table.
“Yeah, I thought I’d stop in for a bite to eat, Ricardo.” Mark motioned to her. “I’d like for you to meet Savanna Edwards.” Mark looked back at the man. “Ricardo Gomez owns and runs Mi Casa. He used to cook for my family years ago.”
“What he never tells is that he is part owner here, as well. He helped me get my dream going.”
Savanna glanced over at Mark. “You’re right, he didn’t tell me.”
“I know a good investment when I see one,” Mark said. “The food is to die for.”
“You also know how to get the pretty ladies. Someday you have to teach me this.” Ricardo smiled at Savanna.
“Thank you,” Savanna said.
“What would you two like to eat? I’ll fix it myself.”
Mark ordered and thirty minutes later, she concluded he was right. The food was to die for. They had shrimp and chicken paella, sautéed vegetables and fried plantains, and were sharing some bread pudding with caramel and raspberry sauce.
“This is heaven,” Savanna said.
“Almost. Heaven is Chili Mango Jelly Belly jelly beans,” he said.
She laughed. “You’re a jelly bean guy?”
“Not just any jelly bean. It has to be Jelly Belly, and the only one I’d kill for is the Chili Mango.”
“What makes Jelly Bellies better than other jelly beans?”
“Obviously, you’ve never had them.” He pointed his spoon at her.
She laughed. The conversation and company was right up there with the food and possibly as good as jelly beans. They talked a bit about his travels, his job as a homicide detective, and part ownership of the restaurant. She also found out he worked out three times a week, which explained the great abs. Abs that were now covered by a light-blue dress shirt he wore with casual jeans. The color looked good on him.
“So you bring all your dates here?” she asked, remembering Ricardo’s remark about Mark dating only pretty women.
He had just scooped a spoonful of dessert into his mouth. “No.”
She cut her eyebrow up at him. “Your business partner seems to know they are all pretty.”
He grinned.
“Actually, he’s referring to my younger days. I was seventeen when he worked for my family.”
She tried to envision Mark as a teen. “I’ll bet you were hell on wheels.”
“My biggest sin was speeding tickets.”
She leaned back in her chair. “So what exactly does your dad do in Washington?”
He hesitated. “He’s the White House Chief of Staff.”
Savanna’s mouth dropped open. “Holy crap. David Donaldson is your dad?”
He nodded. “You know a lot about politics?”
“No. But I catch the news a couple times a week so I know who he is. So, have you been to the White House? Have you met the president?”
He nodded and sipped his margarita.
She got the feeling he didn’t like talking about his family. She found that sad, but having met his mom, she figured she’d give him a break.
He pushed the plate of dessert her way. “It’s your turn.”
“No, I’m full.”
“No, I mean, we’ve talked about me the entire time. Tell me about you.”
She reached for her water. “You know everything. You Googled me.” She smiled. “You even checked out my porn site, remember?”
He laughed and she liked the sound of it. Liked how it crinkled his eyes in the corner. There wasn’t anything to dislike about this guy. Well, except him having been a jerk in the beginning.
“There has to be more,” he said. “What do you do in your spare time?”
“I work and meet my friends for long lunches. I do workout at the YMCA a couple times a week at lunch.” She glanced down at the dessert plate with the raspberry sauce. All of a sudden, the image of Clint and his blood flashed in her head. She closed her eyes. “And I . . . find ex-husbands dead in my house.”
“Another flash?” he asked.
She opened her eyes. “How long will it last?”
“Everyone is different. But it gets less and less.” He reached over and dropped his hand over hers. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah.” She reached for her purse. “Can I help pay for this?”
“No, one of the perks of being part owner is free food. I just have to leave a tip.” He pulled out three twenties, then grabbed his brown leather coat. Where was he when she was waiting tables to get through college?
“Thank you,” she said. “It was a great dinner and company.”
“I would have to agree with you,” he said, his green eyes filled with honesty.
They walked out into the chilly night toward the car parked around the back. She slipped on her sweater. He dropped his jacket over her shoulders and then slid his hand around her waist. Warm tingles spread from his touch. His coat felt good; he felt good. His hip brushed against hers as they walked. Those tingles, his spicy male scent, had her wanting to get under more of his clothes. She really couldn’t stay at his place.
• • •
Mark pulled up into his driveway. He should have kissed her before she got into his car. The way she’d sort of leaned against him as they walked told him his kiss wouldn’t have been refused. But the parking lot hadn’t been empty and he hadn’t wanted an audience.
“Crap,” Savanna said as he pulled into his driveway.
“What?”
“I just realized I don’t have the cat carrier. I mean, unless you got it when you got Boots?”
“Sorry, I just brought him over.” He hit the garage door opener. “He can stay here. It’s just one night. For that matter, you can still stay here.”
She shook her head. “No, I need to go, but . . . Are you sure you wouldn’t mind cat-sitting?”
“Nah, I think he likes me.” He released his seatbelt.
When he turned to her, he caught her staring, but that was okay. He’d done his own staring when she wasn’t looking. Or when she was passed out.
She blinked. “He has good taste.”
“You didn’t think so at first. Or that’s what you told Bethany. I think the word ‘jerk’ was used.”
She chuckled. “You were a jerk at first.”
He stared at her smile, enjoyed bantering with her, and wanted to kiss her so bad that he almost climbed over his seat to get to her.
They got out and he walked her to the porch and unlocked the door. She looked at him.
Kiss her. Kiss her now.
“I should get my things.” She walked inside.
“Now?” Disappointment filled him as he watched her move down the hall. “It’s not even eight o’clock.” His gaze lowered to her ass. Damn but she had a body that was as good going as it was coming.
She glanced over her shoulder. “I told Bethany I’d be there around eight-thirty. They’re waiting for me.”
When she walked back into the living room, he met her with the bottle of brandy. “Take this in case you need it.”
She frowned. “No. It’s expensive.”
“I have another.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she insisted.
“Yes, it does. Take it. If you need something to help you with the flashbacks, you’ve got it.”
She frowned. “But . . .”
He put a finger against her lips. “Just say thank you.”
She took the bottle and slipped it into her bag. “Thank you.”
Just as he was about to lean in, she turned for the door.
“Here, let me help you.” He took her bag and walked out with her. As they crossed the street to her driveway where her car waited, he slipped his hand in hers. Her palm was soft against his. She wasn’t getting away before he tasted her lips.
She hit the unlock button. Still holding her hand, he opened her door and tossed the bag into the passenger seat.
She offered him a weak smile. “Thanks again.” She started to pull away, but he gave her a slight tug.
“Not so fast.” He caught her around the waist and pulled her closer.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
She tasted a little like tequila, a little sweet like the dessert they’d shared. He folded his arms around her and brought her closer. Her breasts melted against his chest. He couldn’t remember a woman ever fitting against him and feeling so right.
Chapter Ten
He tasted like margarita. His tongue slipped into her mouth, taking the kiss from simple to sexy. And it was so sexy. The way his hand moved up and down her ribcage.
The way her breasts pressed against his chest.
The way her pelvis fit against his.
Their tongues danced and explored each other’s mouths. He pulled his lips back, almost ending the kiss, then came back a little harder. The push and pull became what made the kiss so hot. The simple motion brought on fantasies of making love—two bodies burning to find release. And she was . . . burning.
She slipped her hand behind his neck and into his hair. The next thing she knew, she was pressed against the back passenger door. His thigh came between hers. Every inch of him was against every inch of her. So close not even the December breeze slipped between them. And she still needed more.
She felt the hardness through his jeans pressing against her and realized they had to stop. Stop before they couldn’t.
Slipping her hand from around his neck, she eased her fingers between their faces, their lips.
He pulled back a few inches.
“I think . . .” Oh, she could hardly think.
“Think you should go,” he finished for her.
She nodded.
He pressed his forehead against hers. “Funny, that wasn’t what I was thinking.”
She grinned. This close, his eyes were so green and so filled with heat.
She felt it too. Her knees barely held her up.
She inhaled. “For the record, there’s a big part of me that doesn’t want to go.”
“Then don’t,” he said. “Stay.” He ran his hand up her waist again—never touching her breast, but making her wish he would.
She blinked. “I . . . it’s too soon.”
She nodded. Shifting to the right, she slipped into her car. Once she was settled, he leaned in and kissed her on the corner of her mouth. Soft. His lips moist.
“Think of me tonight,” he whispered, his warm breath on her cheek.
She looked up. “It’ll be hard to think of anything else.”
His smile came off sweet, and a little sexually frustrated. “I guess it would be wrong to try to talk you out of leaving again, huh?”
• • •
Savanna pulled up at Bethany’s house, her body still humming from the kiss. When she knocked, Bethany called for her to come in. Her two best friends were crashed on the sofa, wine glasses in hand—probably already a couple of glasses ahead of her.
Jennifer ran to hug her. “I’m sorry about Clint. I’m sorry about Mandy dating him.” The hug got tighter. “I’m sorry you found the body. I’m sorry you were suspected of murder.” Jennifer’s hold loosened and Savanna gasped for air. “I’m just full of sorry.”
So maybe Jennifer was about three glasses ahead.
Savanna pulled back a bit. “It’s okay.”
“You can’t be okay after all that’s happened,” Jennifer insisted.
“I’m not completely okay, but . . . I’m dealing with it.” And just like that, a barrage of emotions filled her chest and the image of Clint flashed. Maybe she wasn’t dealing with it. “I mean, I feel almost guilty for what happened.”
“Guilty?” Jennifer asked. “You didn’t do this.”
“No, but the cops keep saying it had to be someone who heard what I said. If I hadn’t said it, then—”
“Bullshit!” Jennifer said. “Do you know how many things I’ve said I didn’t mean? How about . . . Just kill me now. Well, shit, do you think I really wanted to die? Hell, I’ll bet even the Pope says stuff he doesn’t mean. If some fucked-up individual takes something you said literally, that just means they are fucked up.”
Jennifer seldom dropped the F-bomb. Savanna looked at Bethany. “How many glasses has she had?”
Bethany grinned. “This is our second bottle, but she’s right. Seriously, you can’t blame yourself for this.”