by Karen Kelley
Ring. Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Jessica, open up. Jessica are you awake?” Trudy cried.
“Son of a bitch.” Conor jumped to his feet, grabbing the falling blanket and scooping up his pillow. He hurried to the hall closet.
“What’s Trudy doing here?” Jessica whispered franti cally as she flew down the stairs.
Conor shoved the pillow and blanket inside the closet, slammed the door, and wheeled around. His breath caught in his throat when he took a good look at Jessica as she skidded to a stop beside him.
Forget trying to talk. Hell, he could barely breathe. The flimsy blue gown was a far cry from that damned bunny suit. Wispy satin outlined every curve and hollow. The lace-trimmed neckline dipped low, accentuating full breasts. He could only stare at the vision clinging to his arm.
“Conor, didn’t you hear me?”
Mentally shaking himself, he tried to keep his mind on what was happening around him and not what stood so temptingly beside him. He tried to tell himself he was on the job, but the mental warning didn’t quite reach his brain. Right at this moment, his thoughts weren’t focused on putting criminals behind bars.
She frowned. “Quit staring. Surely you’ve seen a woman in her nightgown before.”
“A few,” he admitted. “I like what you have on now a lot better than that other thing you wore.”
“I… uh…” She tugged at the material.
He enjoyed seeing her flustered. Made him wonder if she was immune to him after all. He’d begun to think he’d imagined the signals she sent out. Even if Jessica didn’t realize it, she wasn’t unaffected by his presence.
He liked that thought. He probably shouldn’t. She was an obstinate, opinionated female, and she didn’t want to get involved with a cop, and he wouldn’t give up law enforcement—an impossible relationship.
Another explosion of noise erupted. Ring. Ring. Knock! Knock!
“Are you awake in there?”
Jessica turned the lock and opened the door a crack. “Trudy, is everything okay?”
Conor hoped Trudy talked a long time. Jessica was using the door to shield her body from any curious neighbors. The way she’d angled herself, her short gown rode up in the back. A lot. The sweet cheeks of her ass were rather delectable. Leaning against the door-jamb, he admired the view, which got better and better.
Trudy slammed her way inside.
Jessica hopped to the left.
Conor caught the door before it banged him in the face.
“Oh, Jessica,” Trudy blubbered into a tissue, stopping just short of bumping into the banister. “George doesn’t love me anymore.”
Jessica turned pleading eyes toward him.
He shrugged. What was he supposed to do? Shoot George? He’d like to catch him with the stolen goods before he resorted to violence.
After sending him a men-are-good-for-nothing look, Jessica put her arm around Trudy’s shoulders and guided her into the living room. “Now, now, I’m sure you can both work out any misunderstanding you’ve had.”
“No! It’s over. He accused me of flirting with the salesman at the jewelry store. It was only a little harmless teasing, but George blew up. And he refused to buy me the bracelet,” she finished on a loud wail.
Conor wondered what she was more upset over, the loss of George, or the bracelet?
“Please, can I stay? Just for tonight? I’ll sleep on the couch. And I promise I won’t be a bit of trouble. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Stay here? Downstairs? The couch? His hormones raged, causing his brain to malfunction. This was going to be his lucky night! He wanted to kiss Trudy… on second thought, he didn’t think he would go that far.
Damn, what was he thinking?
He reined in all the testosterone flowing through him before he went berserk. He was on duty.
But Trudy couldn’t know that. What would any normal husband do for a neighbor’s wife who had nowhere to go?
“Of course you can stay,” Conor told her. He hurried to Trudy’s side and patted her on the back. “We can’t have you sleeping on the sidewalk, now can we?” He glanced up and met Jessica’s glare. His eyebrows rose. “Can we, dear?”
Play the game, Jessica. One wrong move and Trudy would suspect something wasn’t quite right between him and Jessica.
“Of course not,” she responded between gritted teeth.
Okay, that was better than nothing. A sudden, malicious gleam entered Jessica’s eyes. He backed up a step. What was she plotting?
“But I’m sure Conor won’t mind sleeping on the sofa. You can sleep in our bed with me.” She smiled triumphantly.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t hear of any such thing. I’ll be fine on the couch.”
Conor breathed a sigh of relief. The sofa was at least a foot shorter than his frame.
And there was only one bed upstairs. His mouth went dry as once again erotic thoughts swept him away— right into a fantasy of Jessica’s hot little body pressed tightly against his.
On duty! On duty! On duty!
“But…” Jessica began.
Trudy shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right. You two go back to bed, and I’ll be fine. And come first light, I’m going home to Momma.” She sniffed loudly.
Jessica looked ready to blow their cover. He couldn’t let that happen. “Don’t we keep an extra pillow and blanket in the closet, sweet pea?” He rushed over and pulled them out. “Here they are.”
His smile faded when he turned around. Jessica’s eyes had narrowed to mere slits. Was it his fault Trudy had decided to come over, dragging her problems with her?
“Now go on, you two,” Trudy said, taking the blanket and pillow. “Just pretend I’m not even here.”
Bringing the tissue to her nose, she blew loud enough so the windows rattled. Okay, Conor conceded, the wind might have picked up just a little at the precise moment she snorted into the Kleenex.
“Maybe I should stay here with you.” Jessica took a step toward Trudy.
Conor grabbed Jessica’s hand. He didn’t want any un necessary interaction between Trudy and Jessica. She just wasn’t experienced enough. “I think she wants to be alone.”
“You don’t know that.” She squeezed his hand.
The woman had a grip! His little finger was slowly being crushed. He yanked. Jessica stumbled into his arms.
“See, dear?” He smiled down into Jessica’s furious eyes. “You’re so tired you can’t even stand. I’m sure Trudy understands.”
“He’s right. Y’all don’t pay me no mind. I’ll be okay.” She tossed the pillow and blanket on the sofa.
“Let’s go to bed, hon.”
Conor slid his arm around Jessica in what he was sure would be construed as a husbandly gesture. Her shoulders stiffened. No, stiff was a mild word. Her shoulders felt as tight as a rusty gun barrel. Maybe insisting Trudy stay hadn’t been a good idea, after all. Then again, the alternative would’ve been to kick her out.
Jessica jerked away and stomped up the stairs.
He followed. Even in anger, Jessica’s hips moved seductively, the blue satin brushing across the back of her upper legs. He tugged at his jeans. Her shoulders weren’t the only thing stiff.
At the door of the bedroom, Jessica spun around. He stopped right before he plowed into her. She glared at him. With that look, she should’ve stayed a cop. Freeze criminals right in their tracks. Sure did a lot to ease the ache in his lower regions.
She stepped across the threshold without another glance in his direction. Hesitantly, he slipped in behind her. As soon as the door closed, he realized his phone was downstairs. He had no connection with the chief. He strode to the window. Damn it, he couldn’t see the suspects’ house from this angle.
He ran a hand through his hair. What were the odds that anything would happen with Trudy in the house? What choice did he have? The idea of going downstairs to retrieve his phone didn’t appeal to him. The way Trudy looked at him made him more than a little nervou
s.
One look at Jessica’s expression and he was tempted to go back downstairs and insist Trudy sleep in here and he’d take the sofa. Jessica didn’t look at all pleased with the turn of events.
But then, he knew the signals were there. She wanted him. Was that what worried her about them staying in the same room? Was she afraid something would happen? He’d give anything to know exactly what she was thinking.
Anger slowly coursed through Jessica. She wanted to kill him. A hundred different ways came to mind.
Conor had manipulated the situation, and she didn’t like being coerced into doing anything. How could she have been such a fool? And to think she’d been harboring romantic thoughts about the man.
Oh, he’d pulled out all the stops tonight. Maneuvered his way upstairs and into her bed. Okay, technically it was his bed, but he’d destroyed her air mattress! And it damn well wasn’t fair.
Going to the closet, she reached up and yanked down extra pillows, flinging one at him. He caught it in one smooth motion like there hadn’t been a bit of force behind her throw. That irritated her even more. The least he could’ve done was stumble backward a step. Instead, he frowned at her like she was the one in the wrong.
“What’d you want me to do? Throw her out the front door? That would’ve looked real good. Don’t forget the reason we’re here, Jessica.”
That didn’t make the situation any less difficult. Or her any less angry. She didn’t want him in her bed. She wanted him on the sofa. Where it would be safe.
Safe for whom?
The thought scurried through her mind. She could eas ily get used to him snuggled in bed next to her. The full length of her body pressed against his. Her hands exploring his chest, his back, his… she swallowed. A flash of heat stole over her. And him a cop. Someone she’d sworn to keep at arm’s length. Someone she would keep at arm’s length.
She jutted her chin and met his gaze. “No, I didn’t want you to throw Trudy out. And yes, I know why I’m here. But that doesn’t mean I have to like the circumstances I now find myself in.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Damn right you will!”
He reached for the blanket she still held, and flinched. For a brief second his face screwed up in pain.
A little niggle of fear swept over her. Conor always seemed so strong, but there was definitely something wrong. “What’s the matter?” She put her hand out to steady him.
“Nothing.” He grimaced and shook his head, pulling away from her.
“No, you’re hurt.” It had been a fleeting look of discomfort but it was there long enough for her to notice. When he’d stepped away, he favored his right leg.
“It’s not a big deal. I injured my back a few years ago when I was taking down a perp and every once in a while it acts up. Must be the change in beds. Mine is a little softer at home. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ve slept in worse places than the floor.”
Guilt felled her quicker than an axe to a tree. She nibbled her bottom lip before finally coming to a decision, but she couldn’t look him in the face when she told him what she was thinking. She certainly didn’t want him to read more into the situation.
“Well, you won’t be sleeping there tonight. We’re adults.” She pulled the covers back and bent over to arrange her pillow. “I’m sure we can act in a mature fashion.”
When she straightened and turned, Jessica caught the expression of longing on Conor’s face. His gaze had fastened on the lower half of her body. As soon as Conor realized he’d been caught staring, he cleared his throat.
“Yes, I’m sure for one night we can manage to sleep in the same bed.”
Cops were supposed to be people you could trust. They were good at instilling that feeling. Trained, in fact. She should know. But in this case, Jessica didn’t trust Conor any more than she would trust George inside a bank with the vault door open and everyone gone to lunch.
Going back to the closet, she grabbed three more pillows and lined them end-to-end down the middle of the bed.
“What are those for?”
“A reminder.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
She didn’t give him a second look as she crawled beneath the covers and pulled them to her chin. “Not as far as I can throw you, Officer Richmond.”
Was that a chuckle? Was he laughing at her? Well, as long as he stayed on his side of the bed, she didn’t really care.
Dresser drawers opened before Conor went into the bathroom.
When she was starting to get comfortable, the mattress shifted and Conor crawled under the covers.
“Go to sleep, Jessica.”
Sleep? That was the last thing on her mind. She probably wouldn’t sleep a wink. No, what she would be doing is thinking about the man on the otherside of the bed.
That was another thing. How could the mattress have shrunk? She could almost feel each breath he took. In and out, in and out. Oh, this was going to be a really long night.
Chapter 12
Heat swirled around Jessica. Nice, snuggly warmth, pulling her closer. She rubbed her face against her pillow and vaguely wondered how it could’ve grown hair.
And it thumped. A steady thump, thump rhythm.
What did she care? She was having the most erotic dream. In her dream someone was stroking her breast. Gently massaging, scraping his finger back and forth across her nipple. She strained closer to her fantasy lover’s hand as the itch for just a little more grew inside her.
But damn it, voices kept trying to intrude upon her de licious fantasy. Very annoying voices. Well, she wasn’t into a threesome or group orgies. No more than two people were allowed in this dream, so they’d better go away.
They didn’t. She yawned, struggling past the last vestiges of sleep.
“Trudy! Trudy, my leetle buttercup! Pleeze forgive-a me!” George yelled.
“Go away, George. Tomorrow I’m going home to Mother! I should’ve listened to her and never married you.” A loud wail followed. Ee -yuck! How did George and Trudy get in her dream?
She dragged her eyes open, then blinked rapidly. Where was she? It was clear to her that she wasn’t on her air mattress. If she were, it had grown a wide chest and a very large, warm hand that cupped one of her breasts. Apparently, her gown had ridden up after she went to sleep and someone had placed a nice heating pad on one cheek of her ass, too. Had she walked through a looking glass?
She really wasn’t at her best when awakened in the middle of the night. Damn it, and she’d been having a really good dream.
Last night’s events came creeping past her muddled, sleep-induced fog.
Or was it a dream?
Realization slowly dawned. Her fantasy lover wasn’t a fantasy, after all. She should move away. She really should. It was obviously Conor who caressed her breast. She really should—God, that felt good—move away. She gasped as his hand again brushed across her nipple, this time bringing it to perky life. She inched closer, biting her bottom lip.
“Pleeze, my leetle love muffin, you are-a breaking my heart. Pleeze, come home.”
Conor’s hand suddenly stilled, as if he, too, realized something wasn’t quite right in his dream world.
Damn George and Trudy. Her body ached with unful filled need, but apparently George and Trudy yelling at each other had awakened Conor, too, because the mattress shifted slightly and his hand disappeared. She bit back a groan of disappointment. The worst thing about the situation was that she cared more about Conor moving his hand than the fact it was there in the first place.
“What’s going on?” she finally managed to ask, but wished they could go back to cuddling… and stuff.
“I believe George is on our lawn, and he’s come to col lect his bride,” Conor explained in a voice still heavy with the last dregs of sleep. “If he can talk Trudy into opening the front door.”
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and focused on Conor’s face. Plenty of moonlight streamed in through the window,
so she could clearly make out his features. It was kind of hard not to. Their noses were almost touching.
And their lower limbs intertwined.
He’d changed into pajamas before climbing into bed. Very thin pajamas. So thin she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Or maybe that was her heat, because she was definitely feeling warm. Okay, more like hot, as in heat wave, as in an inferno, as in she really wanted to get laid.
Deep breath, she told herself. She wasn’t involved with the man lying next to her. She was only sleeping with him. Not exactly with him, more like next to him. Crap, she couldn’t even make sense to herself. She drew in a calming breath.
She was only here to help her father out of a sticky sit uation. Speaking of which… she was in one right now. At least, she might have been if George hadn’t interrupted.
Deep breaths! Lord, he would think she was panting for him. Brain to respiratory system: stop deep breaths.
Meditation. That’s what she needed. Think of the spir itualist’s soothing voice. She closed her eyes.
Yom-da-da-da-da, she silently chanted, letting her body become one with the universe.
“Are you going back to sleep?” Conor whispered.
The spell was broken. Not that the short meditation had helped. No wonder the stupid CD was in the bargain bin.
“No,” she murmured, at the same time slowly extract ing her leg from between his.
They would just forget that any of this ever happened. Of course she’d gotten a little horny when Conor caressed her boob. It could happen to anyone. Now that she was wide awake, she wasn’t even thinking about having sex… well, maybe she was still visualizing it just a smidgeon, but that didn’t mean she’d act out her fantasy.
When she brought her leg upward, her knee brushed against something hard and unyielding.
Conor grunted.
She hoped her face wasn’t glowing bright red. Jeez! She hadn’t just… She had. Without a doubt, she knew exactly what her knee had bumped. “Sorry,” she murmured and scooted a safer distance away.
Lot of good the pillows were. She’d practically thrown her body over them. Well, it wasn’t her fault. She’d forgotten her stuffed huggy bear. The barrier between them made a good substitute. The living, breathing man on the other side had been even better.