All That Sparkles (Siren Publishing Classic)

by D. Morrissey

  “Um…thank you for the bath,” I say, immediately correcting my choice of words. “I mean, for letting me take a bath. I feel like a new person.”

  He points the remote at the television where a football game is going into overtime and clicks it off. “It’s the least I could do.” He stands and saunters toward me. “Here. Your glass is empty. I’ll get you some more.”

  “I really don’t need anymore,” I protest as he takes the glass from my hand once again and heads for the kitchen.

  “If we don’t drink it, it will just go to waste. And I may not be a connoisseur of fine wine, but I hate to see anything go to waste.” He pours me another glass, trying to empty the bottle and apparently succeeding.

  He hands me the glass and ushers me back toward the sofa. I sigh.

  “So, Cal. How long have you lived here?” I look freely around the room now, feeling much more relaxed and welcome.

  He sits beside me, pulling his knee up between us and resting his head on his hand, his elbow propped comfortably against the back of the sofa. “A few years now. But it took me seven years to build it.”

  “Seven years? You must have had a crummy builder.”

  He smiles. “Yeah. You could say that. I was on a build-as-I-go plan. I did most of it myself, using every spare dime and dollar I could scrape together for materials.”

  I cringe, hoping my poor choice of words hadn’t offended him. “I’m sorry,” I say, blaming the wine. “Still, I can’t believe you did all this yourself. That’s amazing.”

  “Well, I hired some of it out, like the plumbing and the electrical. But, yeah. All the woodwork and carpentry, I did myself.”

  “I’m impressed.” I smile. “What about that table?” I point toward the dining room.

  “A hobby,” he says, as if it’s no big deal.

  “You made that, too?” I get up and walk over to the elegant table and run my fingers over it admiringly as I continue to hold up my pants with my other hand.

  He swivels around on the sofa to watch me, seemingly pleased, as he props his head against his other hand now. “You like that?”

  “Like it? I love it.” And, I really do. “You did the bench, too?”

  “Yes, but not the chairs.”

  “And, the mantle?” I walk over to the fireplace.

  “Yes, I made that, too. But that was easy. It’s really just a plank.”

  I run my fingers across the intricate carving on the front. No, it’s not just a plank. “I can’t even build a birdhouse,” I mumble as I admire his talent.

  “So, how do you feel, Ellie? Are you okay?”

  I turn to look at him, not quite sure what he means.

  He plucks at a sofa pillow as he goes on. “I’m sure Detective Logan turned out to be quite a…surprise. And I’m sure you…” He pauses.

  “I’m okay, I guess. I still haven’t quite processed all this.” I walk over and sit back down on the sofa next to him, a little closer than I mean to, but a little off-balance from all the alcohol.

  “It’s a lot to process. You look like you feel better, though.”

  “Oh, I do.” I nod, sipping my wine and knowing that I shouldn’t drink anymore. But it’s so good I can’t resist. “And, thank you for the clean clothes, too.”

  “They’re obviously a little big, but I don’t have anything else that would come even close to fitting you.”

  “They’re fine. I just wish I had—” I bite my tongue. Stop talking!

  His eyes narrow and he prods. “Wish you had what?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Really. These are perfect.” I adjust his T-shirt around my shoulders and boobs. Then I remember I’m not wearing a bra and I blush.

  “Tell me,” he orders, and I find I kind of like this commanding side of him. “What is it that you wish you had?”

  “Clean underwear. I just wish I’d known that I would need fresh clothes. I hate going without underwear.” I blurt it out, because I blurt when I’m drunk. I’m a flittering-blurter.

  “You’re not wearing any underwear?” he asks, surprised, his eyes sparkling with excitement as I curse my floppy tongue.

  I roll my eyes and smile, embarrassed, and I feel my whole body turning red. “No. I’m not.”

  He gives me a sexy grin and I feel a surge of liquid excitement building up in my lower quadrant. Oh no.

  “You know, I think those just might be my favorite pants now.” he says, apparently relishing my embarrassment.

  Shocked by this brazen comment, I stare at him blankly for a moment. I can’t do this. Can I? Then, I smile meekly and decide to bring the conversation back to a PG rating. “Well, I’m hoping I can go home in the morning and get some fresh clothes of my own.”

  He shakes his head as he casually repositions the front of his pants with his fingers. What the hell? My eyes are drawn to his crotch like it’s made of magnetic material. He’s obviously turned on by the underwear discussion, and I can tell he’s hard by the huge, honking bulge in his jeans.

  Why can’t I just be more like Misty and Rachael? He’s obviously into me. I’m here in his house, taking a bath in his tub, wearing his clothes, looking at his hard-on. I just need to step up and take control of my own sexuality. He clearly finds me attractive, too. I chew on my lip, suddenly imagining myself crawling like a sleek jungle cat between his legs, unbuttoning his pants as our flaming eyes meet in a long, burning gaze, and I take his hard, beautiful…

  “You can’t,” he says suddenly, interrupting my naughty fantasy.

  “What? Can’t what?” I’m flustered, afraid for a second that he’d read my mind again.

  “Go home. You aren’t going to be able to go home until we find them both uncle and pick them up.”

  “Oh,” I squeak, almost relieved. But then the full force of his words weigh on me. “Well, what am I going to do then? I can’t stay here forever.” Can I?

  “I just talked to my partner while you were in the bath. We have a few leads we’re running down now, and we think we know where Logan’s going.”

  “Back to Louisiana?” I ask, remembering our conversation on the way to the restaurant earlier.

  “Louisiana?”

  “Yeah. Where he’s from. Where his parents live.” He did say Louisiana. Right?

  “Ellie, Logan’s from Michigan. And, as far as I know, his parents were never married.”

  “Well, that lying sack of …” I don’t finish my sentence because I hate to appear unladylike. “Figures. At least you have some leads.”

  He looks at me, nodding. “I’m sorry. I really did try to warn you.”

  “It’s fine. I’m sorry I made such a big mess of everything,” I say, embarrassed about the whole thing.

  “You didn’t. All this has just moved up our timetable for busting Logan and now, with your testimony, we get to put Everett away, too, kind of as an added bonus.” He looks at me with pity again and smiles.

  “What if you can’t find them? What will happen to me?”

  “We’ll find them,” he assures me. “In the meantime, we’ll move you to a safe location. But, for tonight, you can just stay here.” He looks at me sheepishly. “If you want to…”

  “I’m guessing you don’t have a wife tucked away anywhere who’s going to object to this. But what about your girlfriend or, I don’t know, your family or your boss, even? What are they going to think about me spending the night here with you?” Am I really concerned about what they’ll think? Or do I just want to know if this guy is free and unattached? I’m not so sure.

  He smiles, possibly aware of my impure motives. “No wife for several years. No girlfriend for the past year or so. No family to speak of. And my boss will think I’m doing my job. I’m all alone here.”

  All alone? Photos! That’s it! That’s what’s missing. I glance around the room again just to be sure, checking the tables, the mantle, and the walls carefully. Nope. No photos of friends, or family, or graduating relatives, or swimsuit model girlfriends. Noth
ing. I have tables and walls, and drawers, full of pictures. Some of the people I barely know, mostly cousins whose parents feel compelled to send me pictures every Easter and Christmas, religiously. Pun intended.

  “What about you?” he asks, turning the tables.

  “Me? Let’s see. No wife. No husband, either. No boyfriend for a couple of years now. I have my aunts and my uncles, and a few cousins, but no parents. And my boss couldn’t care less where I spend the night.”

  “Your parents died in a car wreck when you were…twelve. Right?”

  I stare at him incredulously. “I didn’t tell you that. How could you possibly know that?”

  “I work for the Attorney General, remember? I read your file.”

  I have a file?

  I sigh and reach for my wine, afraid my head just might be ready to explode. “How did you know I was wearing a blue dress earlier? Was that in my file, too?”

  He chuckles and looks down at his lap. “No. I was watching your house. Just in case. I saw you open the door when Logan got there.”

  I nod, unsure whether I can argue with his reasoning. I need to think about it some more. “So, this Lou Baum…” I pause, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

  “Louise Baumgarten.”

  “Yes. So, what is it that she was doing with Danny?”

  “We think they were stealing from Everett, but we don’t know how much or where the money is now. We were watching them both, hoping one of them would lead us to it.”

  “But, then…” I pause again.

  “But then Everett apparently caught on, at least to Lou’s part, and he killed her. He just didn’t count on you witnessing all of it.”

  “What happened to her body?”

  “Well, now I think Logan grabbed it, along with Everett, and then cleaned up the scene before taking off in his own car.”

  “That would explain how he got to the club so fast,” I muse aloud.

  Cal nods. “And, why he was so keen on having the case assigned to himself and finding out how much you saw.”

  I sit quietly, staring at the fire, and absorbing all the information Cal has given me. Now, exhausted, I yawn.

  “You’re tired,” Cal says softly.

  I turn to look at him, smiling weakly, and I lose myself in his eyes. Damn those dark, devil eyes. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, he reaches his hand forward and smooths a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His hand lingers, and his thumb softly strokes my cheek. I stop breathing again. Kiss me! I command you!

  “You can have my bed,” he says suddenly, and then stands, rearranging the front of his pants again. Bah! Dammit! Clearly, I’m no Kreskin.

  I stand up, too, testing my balance. I definitely drank too much. Drunk with a different man two nights in a row. I’ve definitely reached skanky ho status!

  “Here. I’ll help you up the stairs.” He holds out his hand, motioning for me to take it. But I hesitate.

  I’m about to tell him that I can make it by myself when he pulls me to his side, wrapping his arm around me tightly, so that his fingers grip me just below my breast. I quickly change my mind, relishing the feel of his hand on me, wondering if he can feel my heart trying to thump out of my chest.

  With each step of the stairs, his fingers seem to work their way upward until they’re actually resting on my breast by the time we reach the top. If he wanted first-hand confirmation that I’m not wearing any underwear, at least on top, he definitely now has it.

  He makes no attempt to move his hand when we reach the bedroom. Instead, he steers me over to the bed, and I follow more than willingly. The room is surprisingly well-lit, even though there aren’t any lamps on. Then I remember. I look up and smile at the sparkling stars shining in through the skylight.

  He smiles at me and reluctantly moves his hand, letting it slide down gradually, so that it gently grazes my breast, my side, my waist, and my hip before it totally withdraws. I close my eyes, enjoying the fleeting tease of his fingers on my sensitive places.

  He sighs deeply as he leans over to fold back the covers for me. “Well, here you are. The sheets are clean, and I think you have enough blankets. You shouldn’t get cold.”

  “Thank you. It’s perfect.” I try to think of something else I can say to make him stay with me a little longer. “I feel really bad about turning you out of your own bed.”

  “It’s okay. I feel really bad about Danny Logan jerking you around that way.”

  “Jerking me around?” Is that what he thinks? I laugh. “Believe me, Cal, I figured that guy out early on. That jerk didn’t jerk me anywhere.”

  He looks surprised. “So, you weren’t…you didn’t…” He seems unable to finish his thoughts. “You’re not…”

  I shake my head slowly. “No. Not at all. In fact, I was afraid I might punch his lights out before he drove me home.”

  His face is a reflection of pure relief and then a broad, mischievous grin appears slowly.

  “Well, I got to do it instead.” He laughs.

  “Is that what happened? In the parking lot? You punched him?”

  “Knocked him smooth on his ass.” He smiles proudly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time now.”

  “Well, technically, I think you knocked him smooth on my ass.” We both laugh, and stare awkwardly at each other.

  Finally, he raises his hand and tentatively strokes my arm. I close my eyes as chill bumps run rampant up my arms.

  “I have to admit,” he says, softly tugging on my sleeve. “I didn’t realize I liked my old T-shirt so much. I don’t remember it looking quite this good.”

  I smile. “Are you sure you want to part with it? Because if you don’t, I can always take it off.” Ho! Ho! Ho!

  He grins. “Well, now that I think about it, I would be pretty sad to let it go.”

  I look at him nervously. “I guess we couldn’t have that. Right?”

  Chapter Twelve

  I pause, and then grab the bottom of my shirt, lifting it slowly and tugging it over my head. I toss it behind me, shake out my hair, combing it with my fingers around my shoulders, and then I stand for his inspection. I can feel my nipples grow hard and I’m not sure if it’s from the cool air or the attention they’re receiving from my mega-sexy hitman.

  He stares silently, his smoky eyes studying me for what seems an eternity. And then suddenly, a dam breaks. He groans and pulls me roughly to him, burying his face in my neck, one hand clutching my hair while the other roams unrestrained across my back, my waist, my ass.

  I lean my head back to give him full access, loving the feel of his breath and his lips on my neck, and I run my fingers down his back.

  “Ellie.” He moans into my ear as if it’s a painful plea.

  Oh, yes. I definitely want this man. My body demands him. I press my writhing hips into him, leaving no doubt between us that he is what I want.

  He sighs, as if it were the confirmation he needed, and then draws his tongue up my neck, kissing my chin, and gently biting my bottom lip. Ah! I twist my fingers in his hair, letting my other hand drag slowly across his ass, that glorious ass I’ve been watching all night.

  He moans, moving his mouth to mine, softly kissing and nipping. His tongue travels slowly across my lips, and I open my mouth to invite him in. His lips press harder, as his tongue dives deeper, and I run my fingers beneath the bottom of his shirt, exploring the soft tuft of hair on his stomach and chest.

  “You. Feel. So. Good,” he whispers into my mouth, pushing my hair behind my shoulders as his hands find my naked breasts, caressing and fondling, and then sliding down to my waist, and around to my back. He sighs and then grips my ass firmly with both hands, crushing me into him as he grinds and groans.

  Then abruptly, he lets go and steps back, breaking our embrace, and definitely leaving me confused and wanting more. We stand there staring at each other, our chests heaving from the passionate interlude. Oh no! Did he change his mind?

  “Ellie,” he says softly, and my hea
rt speeds up a few more knots. “We need to slow down, or I’m afraid we’ll be done before we ever get started.”

  He seems almost embarrassed by the admission. But the thought that I could get him that excited, even with all of his clothes still on, just turns me on even more. Lust, combined with liquid courage from the wine, makes me more determined than ever to fulfill the delicious fantasies from my dream.

  I step forward, my nipples barely grazing his chest and I begin undoing the top buttons of his shirt. His breath quickens as, impatiently, he starts to fumble with the buttons on the bottom, his hungry eyes roaming across my breasts. His breathing deepens until, finally, he gives up on the buttons and tugs the shirt over his head, slinging it somewhere behind me.

  He steps into me, kissing me hard and deep, and crushing my breasts into his bare chest. Gently, I pull my lips away from his, planting soft kisses along his jaw, and running my fingers across his broad chest as I trail my tongue softly down his neck. He moans with pleasure as I continue down the length of his stomach, kissing and nipping as I go.

  I kneel, unbuttoning the top button of his jeans. He stands stock still looking down at me, his eyes half closed with desire, his hands softly stroking my hair. I unbutton the next two buttons, and the answer to boxers or briefs is revealed to me. I tug down his boxers so I can kiss the dark patch of hair around his cock.

  He steps back impatiently, undoing the final button of his jeans and yanking them off enthusiastically. My goodness! Then he grips the waistband of his boxers and pushes them down, his big hard cock making an enthusiastic appearance. He kicks the shorts away.

  I gaze at him, his beautiful naked body standing here in front of me, needing me, desiring me, and I am in awe. Awed, not just by the sheer size of him, though neither Steve nor Joey ever compared to this, but awed by the sheer raw sexiness of him. He steps toward me slowly, staring at me and rubbing his cock with anticipation.

  I tremble with excitement, feeling the familiar tickle of wetness rushing down to my pussy. I reach my fingers between my legs and drag them through my wet lips, pleasuring myself for his pleasure. His cock jerks and twitches.