The Sweetheart Game

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  Soft chuckles. Him.

  “Nothing freaky, okay?” Her again.

  “Maybe a little freaky.” He nipped her nipple beneath her shirt. The wet circle was oddly erotic.

  She moaned. “Okay, a little.”

  Once he pulled back, stood up, and dropped the towel, exposing everything to her view, she couldn’t get out of her slacks quick enough. The man was a hero from a romance novel come to life: trim waist, muscled legs, strong shoulders, tattoos, large erection. Yep, he had it all.

  “Damn, you’re beautiful.” He jerked the slacks off her legs and climbed over her. He brushed his hand between her legs. She didn’t have time to appreciate the touch when it was gone.

  “Tease,” she said.

  “Later, beautiful.”

  She’d heard that same compliment many times, but with Jason, it was more than just an attempt to seduce her. He was already getting that. Over the course of these last couple of weeks, he’d become a friend. He liked her. She sensed it. No, she knew it in her heart. He liked her for more than a pair of double Ds and a quick lay.

  Pressing a kiss against her neck, she squirmed as he tickled her skin. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” The words lacked conviction. It would take a swat team and the jaws of life to get her out of his bed. “I don’t even know your favorite color.”

  “We’re both consenting adults, so what does that matter?” he asked and lifted his head. “You are consenting, right?” She nodded. “Then let’s not worry about anything else now, okay?”

  Summer nodded again.

  “Good.” He ran a kiss trail from the base of her throat to the scooped neckline of her plain blue tee, to gently recapture her nipple through the thin fabric with his teeth. Her fingertips tangled in his hair and she moaned. “Like that?”

  “Mmmm . . . hmmmm.”

  “Good. And it’s blue.”

  She sighed and kissed him again. He tasted of warmth and mint and him. He had a mouth made for kissing.

  Jason pulled back to slide his hands under the hem of her shirt. The feel of his palms brushing up her sides as he removed the garment, had her sighs deepening. He paused long enough to toss aside the tee and stare down at her pale green bra with a tiny white and yellow daisy in the center. Her matching green panties with daisies brought a groan.

  “You’re killing me girly-girl.” His voice was low and harsh, pained almost.

  “Are you complaining? Because I can go.” She lifted onto her elbows in a feigned attempt to get up and gasped when he pushed her back down with a growl, burying his face in her stomach and nipping her skin. She laughed and wriggled beneath him.

  “Leave this bed and I will explode.”

  Still laughing, she reached down to cup his erection. He growled. “That’s quite an image,” she said.

  “What about this image, tough girl.” He kissed down her stomach to her panties then dipped his head between her legs. His tongue lathed her most sensitive spot through the panties.

  “Mmmmmm.”

  She was playing a dangerous game with her emotions with this man. She was already falling for him, but couldn’t stop. Having never completely let her guard down with a man, she wanted to see what happened next.

  Regrets be damned. “Yes. More.” He teased her and left just enough of a barrier with her panties to get her worked up but not enough to push her over the top. “You are a very bad man.”

  The complaint drew a chuckle. “I can stop.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  He did stop. Rising up, he lifted her by her arms and reached for the back clasp of her bra. Her breasts sprang free and she arched against him. Her nipples tickled his chest.

  “I think I just came in my shorts,” he said and went for her panties. He tossed them aside and ran his gaze down her body. “Now, I know I did.”

  “You aren’t wearing shorts.” He eased her back on the bed and claimed a bare nipple. She slipped her legs around his waist and pulled him to her. He rubbed himself between her legs.

  “Details. Details.” He kissed all over her from head to toe and back. When she tried to do the same, he reached into his nightstand for a condom. “Later. I’m dying here.”

  Seconds later, he slid into her heated and willing body. With well-practiced skill, he led her into an orgasm that seemed to go on forever; joining her once he took care of her first. When he found his release and lowered down to kiss her, Summer was boneless on the bed.

  “Thank you,” was all she said as she drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  Jason shook his head and scooped her into his arms, burying his face into her hair. She smelled so damn good, like sunshine and flowers. He wanted to wrap them together in the sheet and stay locked together forever.

  Shit, he was thinking like a poet. Well, a crude and horny poet. There had to be something wrong with that in this enlightened age, but he had nothing. All he wanted was her.

  Damn, for all of her girly clothes and car and swear-free vocabulary, his sexy neighbor had a passionate side. He wondered if deep down she had a little leather and lace in her. The image sent a charge to his drowsy cock.

  He’d have to say today was not only a surprise but he was amused that she fell asleep. Wasn’t that supposed to be the man’s job? If he rolled her on her back for round two, would she look up at him with sleepy eyes and welcome him? Or grumble like a poked bear?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Brushing her silky blonde hair out of her eyes, he leaned and pressed a kiss on her soft mouth. She murmured in her sleep and reached for him. “I can go again but this time I’m on top.”

  Jason chuckled. “I’m okay with that.”

  By the time Summer rolled out of his bed an hour-ish later and pulled on her clothes, he was very sorry that she had a sister to set a good example for. He’d rather she stayed put for the next week and learned all sorts of bad behavior from him.

  “If I sleep over, you might think I’m easy.”

  He leaned up on one elbow. “I already think that.”

  She made a face. “If I want Heather to respect me, I have to set boundaries. I’m going home to make lunch, then I’ll be back to work on the case. That’s all.”

  She pulled on her jeans over the daisy panties.

  “It’s a shame to cover up your ass,” he said. “I’m starting a no-clothes policy in the Parker household. When you visit, you have to strip at the door.”

  “Does that policy include the UPS guy, too?” She looked around for her shirt. It was under his leg. “You know that this was just sex, right?” Summer pulled the tee over her head. “I have Heather to raise and we don’t do relationships. As long as there are no expectations, we’re cool.”

  Deep in his alpha-dog heart he knew he should be glad that she wanted no-strings sex. The other part of him was sort of pissed. He was still reeling from mind-blowing sex and she was acting indifferent. He wasn’t looking for marriage and a house in the ’burbs, but he didn’t like her attitude either.

  Did she think that after she left, he’d head down to his office to shop for engagement rings online? He’d rather have his right nut chewed off by rabid squirrels than make that commitment. Still, he didn’t like being a one-morning stand, either. They were nowhere near done.

  “We’re cool.” He casually leaned back against the pillows as if he wasn’t annoyed inside. “Call when you want another booty call.”

  The crude comment made her flinch. Good. It was the hurt in her eyes when she turned toward the door that stabbed him in the gut. Summer wasn’t as cold as she seemed.

  Before he could apologize she was gone.

  Oh, hell. He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling as her footsteps sounded on the stairs and the front door closed behind her.

  His whole life had been one upheaval after another. His longest relationship had been six months, unless he counted the crazy fan who stalked him for two years. Otherwise, he’d been happy to keep things simple. Now Summ
er had come into his life and kept him up at night. And further, now that she’d come to his bed, he knew he sure as hell wasn’t ready to let her go.

  Chapter 25

  “Do you have to do that on my bed?”

  Summer, having found the front door unlocked had let herself in after her knock failed to get a response. Images of Jason in his towel followed her over the threshold. She tamped them down. This visit was about business only.

  Hearing him talking to someone upstairs, she’d tiptoed to his room to find him scowling down at Mrs. Kravitz who was splayed out on his bed with one paw over her head as she attempted to make headway in her intimate grooming. Unfortunately, her considerable belly made the task impossible.

  Choking back laughter, she stood in the open doorway and watched man and cat. He stood with his arms crossed while she—as cats do well—ignored him and continued on her futile quest.

  Cat: Vigorously licking.

  Man: Disturbed and sighing.

  Or jealous that he wasn’t so flexible. At the moment, Summer wasn’t sure which. Yet, there was affectionate humor in his eyes for the cream-colored feline.

  Her heart hitched. Even though she was annoyed with him, she had to admit that she was at fault. In order to protect herself from falling for Jason, she’d feigned indifference. It was better than going soft and being rejected. She’d had enough loss and trouble in her life. She didn’t want to fully jump off the cliff into a relationship that wouldn’t last. When she gave her heart away, it would be with a safe and stable man. Not the commitment-phobic Jason Parker.

  It was time to make amends. They had a case to clear.

  “Isn’t she the sweetest?” Summer said. Mrs. Kravitz lifted her head, meowed, and went back to licking.

  Jason turned his head. “Just precious. I’ll have to burn that quilt.”

  She stepped into the room. “Nonsense. She’s just being a cat.” Reaching out, she lifted Mrs. Kravitz and nuzzled her face against a furry ear. “She’s going to be a mama soon and wants to look her best for her babies.”

  He grunted. “Her kittens are born blind. They won’t care if she’s missing teeth and has one bulging eye as long as she feeds them and licks their butts.”

  “Is that so?” Was it wrong to hope that Mrs. Kravitz gave birth right in the center of his bed? “You are such a guy. If the father of her kittens was here he’d stand next to her box as she gave birth, chewing on treats and getting high on catnip while she pushed out a dozen kittens. Then he’d go back to his friends and take credit for her perfect little kitties as if he’d done all the work himself.”

  “Is there something wrong with that?”

  “Hmmm.” She moved the cat onto her back and headed for the door. “Come, sweetie. Let’s leave the ape man to consider an evolutionary move into the twenty-first century.”

  After giving Mrs. Kravitz fresh water and a handful of kibble, Summer took over the kitchen table, stole a can of lemonade from the fridge, and opened the file on her laptop as Jason joined her. She worked hard not to look at his hands and remember what yummy things they’d done to her.

  “This is what we have so far.” She moved the screen so he could see. “It’s pretty thin.”

  “Missing wife. Insurance policies. Poison. Affairs.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It sounds like a detective novel. Too bad we can’t tie any of it together.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” Him sitting casually beside her, and a couple of hours of romping in his bed this morning, did nothing to ease the sexual tension between them. If she thought her attraction to him would burn out once she got a couple of orgasms out of her system, she was wrong.

  The man had tattoos, for Pete’s sake. He was all sex and male. She knew she should be evolved enough to want a guy who wept when Harry won Sally, or when that movie chick turned into a wimpy catatonic mess when her freakishly pale boyfriend broke up with her, but that wasn’t the case. Over the last couple of hours she realized that she liked tattoos and big trucks and ape men. Was that so wrong?

  “Summer? Summer?” He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “You drifted off.”

  “Um, sorry.” She flipped her laptop closed. “I think it’s time to bring in the big guns. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  The Ann Arbor Police department was what Jason expected when they arrived and asked for the detective in charge of Mary Crosby’s missing persons case; nicer than a bigger city department but still brick and somewhat sterile. A few officers came and went, as did civilians with business in the building. Summer introduced herself, explained that she was a PI, and after a few minutes they were waved back to the desk.

  “The detective will see you now.”

  They were led to an office, where the detective behind the desk, wearing a white shirt, a loosened tie, and blue slacks, rose to greet them. He shook hands with Summer and Jason as the pair introduced themselves.

  “Detective Wheeler.” They all took seats and the officer locked his fingers together on the desk. “What can I do for you, Ms. O’Keefe? Mr. Parker?”

  Detective Wheeler appeared to be at the tail end of his thirties. He had the tough look of a man who’d seen a whole lot of shit during his career. Probably started on patrol in some crappy neighborhoods and worked his way up.

  Ann Arbor wasn’t exactly the crime capital of Michigan, but there was always plenty of crime in any big city. Jason suspected he may have started elsewhere and transferred in for a better job and a bigger pension.

  Wheeler was the kind of guy that women liked and he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Jason glanced at Summer and saw her mutually checking out the good-looking detective. Annoyance flared up. She’d been naked in his bed two hours ago.

  The detective caught Jason’s eye and smiled. People say that cops carry themselves in a unique way with a cocky confidence. Whether that was true, Jason couldn’t say. But in that second, Wheeler had his number, one cop to another.

  “As I told the other officer, I’m a private investigator from Brash & Brazen, Inc., and am looking into the Mary Crosby case. She is also my neighbor so my name might be in your file. An officer talked to me right after she went missing.”

  “Is your interest in a professional or personal level?” Detective Wheeler asked.

  “Both. Her husband asked me to poke around and I’m worried she may have come to harm. She’s a nice lady.”

  Their eyes locked. Wheeler frowned. “Isn’t your personal connection to the victim a conflict of interest?”

  “Mel Crosby isn’t paying me so my only interest is finding her. Jason and I are working the case with permission from my employer. At this point, I consider Mel a suspect.”

  A brow went up. “Do you now? Would you like to explain why?” He leaned back in his chair and knitted his fingers over his chest. “There is no proof she didn’t just walk away.”

  Jason watched as Summer sent the detective an impatient look. “Come now, Detective. I suspect that you didn’t get to your position by assuming that the husband of a missing wife was automatically innocent. And I also assume that you’ve already discovered the life insurance policies and his cheating.”

  For a moment the detective sat there reading Summer, or checking her out, whatever, before smiling tightly.

  “Believing he’s guilty doesn’t make a successful prosecution.” He sat forward and put his arms on his desk. “I assume you didn’t come here to discuss theories and hunches. If you have something I can use, why don’t you tell me what it is because I haven’t got shit.”

  Smiling smugly, Summer rooted around in her tote bag. Jason watched, amused, knowing she was dragging out the suspense. The detective had irritated her with his condescending tone, so she’d make him wait.

  “Last night, Mr. Parker and I were following up a lead and may have accidently found a clue in Mel’s shed.”

  “You were trespassing?”

  “Are you going to arrest us?”

  “Maybe.” Whee
ler shook his head, annoyed. “You do understand that whatever you found will probably be thrown out by a trial judge. You can’t break into his shed and steal evidence.”

  “Technically we didn’t break in,” Jason said drolly. “The door was broken.”

  He was rewarded with a scowl. Jason held up his open hands, and settled back in his chair. Summer didn’t need his help. She was doing great.

  “Would you like to dump the contents on my desk?” said the impatient detective.

  “No. I’m fine.” She dug deep in the bag. “Wait, I found it. Jason and I have come upon a clue that leads us to believe Mary Crosby was murdered.” She thunked the bottle down on the metal desk. “By rat poison.”

  Chapter 26

  “She’s been killed by vengeful rodents?” Wheeler followed his comment with silence, as the industrial clock high on the wall behind Summer and Jason advanced. It ticked off the seconds while the officer likely weighed whether he should toss Summer and Jason out on their butts.

  Resisting the urge to tell the smartass off, Jason faced the detective and said, “Look, we came to you in good faith. We didn’t have to. If you aren’t interested in the bottle and our information, then we’ll go.”

  Summer joined him and scooped up the bottle.

  “Hold up.” The detective moved his hand indicating they should sit. “I apologize. This case is going nowhere. Your Mr. Crosby is friends with the mayor, who’s chewing my ass. Any information you can provide would be appreciated.”

  Over the next half hour, Summer and Jason told him about the texts and what other clues they had. “It isn’t much, but it’s something to build on if we can link it together,” she said.

  “Can you forward the texts to me?” He gave her his number, then looked at the messages on her phone. “I don’t understand the game playing. If this idiot knows something, why not turn it over?”

  “That’s a mystery,” Jason said. He had some suspicions but kept them to himself. He’d seen corruption in his own career. If Mel was in tight with powerful people, evidence could evaporate.

  Summer twisted her ponytail. Strain showed in tension lines around her mouth. “A map to the body could help.”