by Dana Nussio
“Deep inside you must know that Emily’s abduction wasn’t your fault. You weren’t responsible for being the child who got away, either. Fate or God or whatever you want to call it had a hand in that.”
“I know.”
“But do you really? I haven’t met all the players, but even I know that no one blamed you for what happened. Except you.”
“But I should have—”
“Listen to me, Kelly. Nobody blames you. Probably not even Emily.”
Her eyes widened as his words hung in the silence between them. Then she did the last thing he expected her to do.
She leaned in and kissed him.
Chapter 11
Fireworks. Or at least a mild electrical storm, where only her lips had been exposed to the most delicious spark. Neither of those things came close to describing the impact of touching her lips to Tony’s. Firm rather than soft, with a tickle from his five o’clock shadow at the corner of her mouth.
This was a huge mistake, and she knew it, but when had an error ever tasted this good? Felt this good? He couldn’t know what Emily thought about that time so long ago, about a best friend who’d failed her. Yet his words had been so freeing that Kelly could think only of reveling in that moment of escape.
She’d surprised him. That much was obvious from the way his head jerked back and he stared at her, his eyes wide. Her heart must have beat a thousand times in the few seconds that passed as his gaze lowered to her lips and lifted again to her eyes.
“Oh, hell yeah.”
Tony bent his head and captured her lips in a move as smooth as if they’d practiced it together for a decade or more. No gentle greeting. No tentative exploration. He seemed to taste her without apology, and she eagerly shared in his freedom from regret. It was as if the dam of their self-control had given way, and nothing could stop the flood. Good thing because she didn’t want it to stop.
She should be cautious, an unwelcome thought suggested, its uninvited twin hinting that more than bodies could be involved this time. She ignored them both as her hands gripped strong shoulders and leaned into the solid wall of his chest.
When she’d moved or kicked off her shoes, she wasn’t sure, but suddenly she was draped over his lap, her feet curled into the sofa cushion, her bottom pressed against the fullness of him. It was clear what he wanted from her and what she would happily share with him.
His hands had settled at her lower back and hips, but now they moved past all the places that longed for his caresses to the back of her head, which tingled beneath his touch as well. One hand burrowed into her bun to palm her scalp, while the second mined for bobby pins. He slipped them out, one by one, and tossed them toward the coffee table, some pinging off the wood, some landing silently on the carpet. When most were out, her hair dropped in a mass, and his hands sank into it, tangles and all.
Automatically, both of her hands moved to contain it. “That’s got to be a mess.”
He reached for one of her hands and laced their fingers together before drawing it to her side.
“It’s just how I imagined it.”
“You imagined a mess?”
He didn’t answer. His lips were too busy continuing their journey from her jaw to her ear. He lingered there, his warm breath sending tingles over her earlobe, while his fingertips skimmed her sleeve from cuff to shoulder.
“Hmm, silk,” he whispered.
Then he dabbed his tongue on a place behind her ear that had never been sensitive until that moment but would be from then on.
“Softer than my uniform shirt.”
Was nervousness what kept making her say those ridiculous things? No matter the reason, she’d never been so happy to be out of uniform, but even the clothes she wore seemed too restrictive now. And excessive.
Tony brought his mouth to hers again and again, each kiss longer, deeper and more sensual than the last. By the time his thumbs followed the lines of her collarbones to their juncture at her breastbone, she was ready to beg him to touch her in all the places that had warmed and stretched in welcome.
“Is this okay?” he asked as his thumb and forefinger connected with her top button.
“Yes...okay,” she whispered because she didn’t have the breath to speak the words aloud.
She’d wanted before, but never like this. Though she’d touched and been touched in the past, everything inside told her this time was different.
But instead of ripping all her buttons open, as she hoped he would do, he paused to brush his fingers over the dip in her blouse created by that lone open button.
“Let me.” She covered his hands with hers.
“What’s the rush?”
He chuckled then, the deep masculine sound washing over her and touching her everywhere, though his hands had yet to oblige.
“This.”
She leaned in and took that amazing, perfect chin between her hands and kissed him exactly the way she’d told herself she hadn’t been imagining all week. She’d intended to ignite a flame in him but set herself ablaze in the process. She smiled against his lips as Tony’s hands fell away from her blouse to grip her hips. She reached for the buttons herself, freeing them with unsteady hands.
“Gorgeous.”
His word came on a sigh, though little more of her was visible than the lacy trim of her bra and the flushed skin that peeked over the top. His eyes were darker than normal, his lids hooded with desire. For her. Why did she suddenly wonder what it would be like if he offered more than just sex?
She cleared her throat, pushing the thought from her already muddled mind.
“Here. Let me help you with that.”
She yanked his shirttails from the waistband of his trousers and started on the buttons. Tony finished unbuttoning and shrugged out of the shirt just as Kelly lifted the waistband of his white undershirt. Instead of helping this time, he lifted his arms. She tugged it straight up, but her hands stilled as she unveiled a set of abs and a chest as sculpted as his jaw.
“You’re not going to leave me here like this, are you?”
He waved his hands in the air, his face still buried, and his elbows still trapped.
“Tough question.” She looked from the likely tired arms to the amazing male form she was dying to explore.
The buzz of her apartment’s intercom answered the question for her.
As she wiggled off his lap, Tony yanked the shirt back over his head and caught her hand before she could step away from the couch.
“You don’t have to answer it.”
“I know.”
But the intercom buzzed six more times in a doorbell “Jingle Bells” chorus. She pulled her fingers from his.
“I think I do.” She spoke over her shoulder and then hurried to the intercom next to the door and pushed the button.
“Hey ya, Roberts!”
“Vinnie, is that you?” Her shaking hands worked on her buttons as she waited for the answer. If Sergeant Vincent Leonetti was standing outside her apartment, chances were, he wasn’t alone. Until last week, none of her Brighton Post coworkers had ever visited her home, and now it was becoming a revolving door.
“Sure, it’s me. Letting us in or what?”
“Yeah. Just a minute.”
Instead of hitting the button to buzz Vinnie and whomever else was included in that “us” inside, she shot a look at Tony. He stood by the coffee table, already buttoning his shirt.
“We’ve got to hurry.” She jogged across the room, tucked her feet into her ballet flats and grabbed her bobby pins off the table. “Invasion of my coworkers.”
“They just show up at your place?” He tucked in his shirt.
“Apparently they do now.”
He strode to the door. “Okay, go. You can run in and fix your hair, and I’ll buzz them in when you’re ready.”
�
��Oh. Right.” She shoved her hands through her hair, which felt like a rat’s nest, as she rushed from the room.
“And, Kelly,” he called after her.
She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “What now?”
“Buttons.”
Her hands automatically shifted to her blouse, and she glanced down. The front of the garment gaped where she’d missed a button, and the two sides didn’t match at the bottom.
“Ah, man.” She rebuttoned as she scurried into the bathroom.
She splashed water on her flushed face, wiped at her smeared eyeliner and shoved her hair in the best bun she could manage on short notice.
“You coming out soon?” Tony called from across the room. “We need to buzz them in.”
“On my way.”
She took one last look in the mirror. The lady in the glass looked like someone who’d been interrupted minutes—seconds—out of bed. The image was spot on. She was grateful for the delay, too, right? Her friends had shown up to save her from danger, even if it was self-inflicted.
So, why did part of her—several parts, in fact—wish they’d picked a different night to pop in for a visit?
Chapter 12
“What took you so long?”
Vinnie’s voice beat him through the door as he barreled past Kelly.
“Thought you might be getting busy or—”
Even mortified, Kelly couldn’t help but grin when Vinnie stopped midstep and midsentence as his gaze caught on Tony. Nothing ever shut up Vinnie Leonetti.
“Hardly,” she choked out.
Nick Sanchez followed Vinnie so closely through the door that he bumped into the sergeant when the first man paused.
“Yeah, what was the deal leaving us outside like a bunch of vacuum salesmen?” He leaned around Vinnie to see what had stopped him. “Oh, hey.”
Tony leaned back into the sofa cushion, a sock-covered foot crossed over the other knee. He took a sip of his probably warm beer and waved.
Like part of a train veering off the track, Dion stepped out of line. Others crowded around them, six altogether, grinning as if they’d guessed what she and Tony had been up to. Heat rushed up Kelly’s neck, and it was all she could do not to cover her face with her hands. Great. So much for the trooper who’d made a statement of avoiding office relationships.
“Let me guess. You’re Mr. FBI,” Dion said, finally breaking the awkward silence.
Kelly frowned his way. Of course, Dion and Nick would jump to that conclusion after the conversation they’d had the other day. They’d been right, then and now.
Tony set his bottle aside. “I’ve never been called that before, but I guess it fits. I’m Special Agent Anthony Lazzaro, part of Kelly’s team. You guys must be the Brighton Post. The whole post.”
Delia Morgan-Peterson had been standing behind one of the men, but she slipped around him and stepped closer.
“Not the whole post and, definitely, not all guys, but you already must know that.” She turned to Nick. “And that’s vacuum salespeople to you, sir.”
“Right. People.”
With a sly grin, Delia turned back to Kelly. “Clearly, we should have given you a heads-up, instead of descending on you like a SWAT team raid.”
“I’ve missed you guys.” Kelly moved through the group, hugging each of her visitors. “It’s not a problem. Really.”
“Except that these were the last two beers in the whole apartment.” Tony pointed to the one he lifted again and then the half-filled bottle on the table. “Kelly had invited me over to have one to decompress. You know. One of those days. Anyway, she discovered she only had two left. So when you all showed up, she was running around, trying to figure out what to serve more guests. I told her it wouldn’t be a big deal.”
Kelly sneaked a glance Tony’s way for a few reasons. For one thing, she had to know if he smiled when he lied. He’d already said he was part of her team, and then he’d weaved a story about her delay in letting her guests in. She also was dying to know what he’d done with their other empties, not to mention the other bobby pins she’d dropped on the carpet.
“Of course, it’s no big deal,” Lieutenant Ben Peterson answered for them all.
He stepped closer to put an arm around his wife’s waist. “Delia’s right. We shouldn’t have let them talk us into taking a field trip after work tonight instead of going to Casey’s.”
He pointed to Nick and Dion by turns.
“Since when do you ever listen to them?” Kelly asked, and they all laughed. At least it broke through some of the awkwardness.
Trevor Cole stepped forward and held his hands wide. “Nick said you seemed lonely since the transfer.”
Nick and Dion met her frown with sheepish grins.
“I’ve been fine, but it’s definitely different.”
“And not even close to ranking with the absolute joy of working at the Brighton Post,” Trevor said, his gaze focused on Tony.
“Of course,” Kelly assured them.
Tony leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “From the way she talks about the place, I’m surprised that you don’t have to pay the state to let you work there.”
His comment drew more laughs, but Kelly shook her head.
“The new assignment has been good, too. Everyone’s been really nice and helpful.”
She couldn’t allow herself to look at Tony, Nick or Dion as she told that half-truth. No, Tony hadn’t been welcoming in the beginning, but the other part was true. He’d helped her and challenged her more than he knew.
The lieutenant broke away from the group and crossed to where Tony sat on the couch.
“I’m glad to hear that they’ve been good to you.” Ben turned back to the other officers. “Maybe we should give this guy a break, even if he is one of those FBI cowboys.”
Tony stood, and the two men shook hands as Ben introduced himself.
“I sure hope you’ll cut me some slack since I’m outnumbered here. And I’ll try to keep my spurs in check.”
You could take them. Kelly’s disloyal thought surprised her. These were her closest friends. When had she become Tony’s supporter, as well? When she’d had her tongue in his mouth, that irreverent part of her suggested.
The other officers introduced themselves to the special agent. They were still sneaking side-glances at her and Tony and probably noticing that her hair was messier than usual, but at least no one had continued with the innuendos.
“Why don’t you all take a seat?” She looked around the way the others were. “What? There’s plenty of carpet here. I’ll have to get some folding chairs for the next time you come.”
“Or some regular chairs,” Vinnie piped.
“Maybe.” Certain she wouldn’t be able to sit still, she hurried to the kitchen. “Who’s up for coffee?”
Several hands went up.
“Give me a few minutes. It’s a one-cup maker.”
Tony popped up from his seat. “And I’ll make myself useful by serving as waiter.”
Kelly braced herself for comments about how they were playing a cozy host and hostess, and, as expected, Vinnie gestured toward Tony as he passed.
“Doubt you’ll measure up to Sarah, but then nobody ever does.”
“Sarah?” Tony asked as he stood in the kitchen doorway.
“A waitress and now co-owner of Casey’s Diner. She recently married our coworker, Jamie Donovan.”
“Must have been some great coffee.”
“Or they were perfect for each other.” The words escaped before she could stop them. She turned away, her cheeks burning, tucked the first mug in the coffee maker and popped the pod in the machine.
“You’ll need to get a bigger coffee maker if you’ll be entertaining all the time,” Tony said from behind her. “Do you even have enough mugs?”
“If I use the bunny one and the one that says, ‘Caffeine Addict,’ I do.”
“I take it they don’t visit often.”
“Until recently, none of them had ever been to my apartment.” She set the first mug on the counter in front of him and started the process all over again.
“None of them?” He lifted the mug by its handle. “Even Nick?”
She glanced sidelong at him, but when she found him looking back, she turned to the coffee maker.
“I never date coworkers,” she said and then swallowed over the information she’d just revealed. If she didn’t get involved with coworkers, what had she been doing draped over Tony’s lap?
“Good to know.”
Could Tony be jealous of Nick? That didn’t seem possible. It was a little late for her to argue that Tony wasn’t into her, and guys weren’t blind when it came to Sanchez. She held back a smile.
If Tony only knew. Nick’s calendar-model looks had always been lost on her. But a certain FBI agent, with gray at his temples and eyes that still sparkled, despite all that they’d seen, now, that guy could really make her come undone. And had been well on his way to doing that twenty minutes earlier.
Something was different about Tony Lazzaro for her, but she chose not to analyze it there. She would be better off if she didn’t investigate it at all.
“Your coworkers really seem to care about you,” he said after a long pause. “That’s rare. It says a lot about you.”
Vinnie leaned around the corner into the kitchen. “Did you two go all the way to Costa Rica for the coffee beans?”
“Almost,” Tony said.
He pressed the first mug into Vinnie’s hand on the hot side instead of turning the mug to give him the handle. Vinnie winced but didn’t call him out for it.
“You have a naughty side,” she said to Tony, after Vinnie returned to his spot in the living room.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He leaned out the doorway to speak to her guests. “More coffees are coming right up.”
