Twin Surprise

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Derek touched his mouth to her left leg above the knee. She lay motionless as he followed the scar higher, then traced a second scar and a third.

  When he transferred his attention to her vulnerable core, the last trace of embarrassment vanished, replaced by sheer longing. Marta forgot her inhibitions as he removed her panties and his trunks.

  She remembered the need for precautions. “Shouldn’t we…?”

  “Yes. In a minute.” Derek rose above her, his ridge pressing her most yielding point. “Sure you’re ready?”

  She reached up to caress the line of his jaw. “Yes.”

  Their mouths met, but Derek hesitated. She didn’t understand why, unless he’d stopped to put on protection. No, he simply balanced there, immobile.

  A second later, she discovered the problem. He’d lost some of that rigidity.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  Failure to perform? She hadn’t expected that of Derek. But then, any guy could have problems.

  He rolled over and lay with his back to Marta. When she touched him, she felt him tense.

  “Those darn hot tubs,” she said. “They get you all excited and wring you out at the same time.”

  “Guess that’s it. Sorry to let you down.”

  “No fair hogging the blame.” She massaged the taut muscles between his shoulder blades. “I’ve been out of the game for over ten years. Maybe if I knew the right moves, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “It isn’t your fault.” Turning to face Marta, he touched her cheek. “You look very appealing naked.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Hey, who’s the expert here?” he said.

  “Okay, I yield.” She ran her palm over his stomach. “You must lift weights. You’re like a rock down there.”

  “Wish that were true.” Spoken ruefully.

  Her hand moved lower, daring to touch him. Then, with a boldness she hadn’t suspected she possessed, her mouth followed.

  A groan ripped from Derek’s throat. For a while, he lay still as Marta tantalized him into readiness, and then he took over. Flipped her to lie beneath him. Nuzzled her and, poised above, joined them with a thrust.

  Waves of pleasure washed over Marta as she wrapped her legs around him. At the periphery of her awareness, she recalled that they ought to wait, ought to stop and put on protection, but a self she’d almost forgotten had sprung into life, and there was only this flash of exquisite pleasure.

  Every inch of her pulsated with sensation as Derek’s pace quickened, and when he cried out his release, a burst of white light transported Marta beyond herself. The edges of old wounds drew shut, deep-seated fissures healed, and the last of her psychic injuries vanished into elation.

  She clung to Derek. Without him as anchor, she feared her molecules might scatter across the universe.

  Only as the heat dissipated did she register what a wonderful and scary thing had just happened. She’d given Derek a piece of her soul. What she’d experienced transcended physical love.

  But she’d known the rules when they started. Somehow, despite this sense of rightness, she had to let him go.

  *

  He finally understood what he’d been waiting for these past months of self-imposed isolation: desire coupled with trust. For the security of being with a woman who wouldn’t judge or reject.

  Derek held Marta beneath the covers, savoring the embers of lovemaking. If only they could continue this way for weeks or months, until their passion waned. “Change your mind?” he inquired.

  Sleepily, she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “About what?”

  “A return match,” he explained. “We’re lovers. Might as well play it out.”

  He could have phrased that more romantically, Derek conceded. But he had no intention of trying to fool Marta into believing he might become the kind of steady, reliable guy she deserved.

  “You’re not getting rid of me that way.” Slipping from his grasp, she raised herself on one elbow.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m onto you, Sarge,” Marta replied tartly. “We had fun in the sack so now you’re ready to stick me in column A—temporary playmate. Satisfying your masculine urges until we exhaust each other, or until I get clingy and whiny. Then you say sayonara.”

  “Unfair,” he protested, although she was right.

  “Eat your heart out.” Throwing off the covers, she scooted out of bed. “I’ve been dying to use your bathtub since Thursday. You can shower or not, but once I’m presentable, you’re driving me home.”

  “Already?” He’d never had a woman essentially kick him out of bed before.

  “We have a deal,” Marta reminded him. “That includes staying friends. Somebody has to sell you snacks at the hospital and set you straight when you get full of yourself. Go ahead, shed a few tears into the pillow, but eventually you’ll thank me.”

  With those words, she collected her wet clothes and whisked out of sight. A moment later, she called, “You can fetch my jeans and sweater when you bring my glass of wine.”

  Derek had to laugh at her audacity. He’d quit stocking alcohol at his doctor’s suggestion, however. “How about grape juice?”

  “Sure. Or a hot toddy. Isn’t that what people used to drink when you were young?” she taunted through the door.

  “Watch out, wench, or I’ll come in there for an instant replay.”

  “Promises, promises!”

  He couldn’t pass up the chance for what might be their last intimate encounter. This time, Derek remembered to bring a condom. While the odds of encountering problems from one mistake were small, he saw no point in pushing his luck.

  *

  “Sure, we slept together!”

  Elise beamed at the trio of riveted young women around the restaurant table. She’d been regaling them with details of her evening with Mike Federov, from the vegetable lasagna he’d fixed to their dancing in his living room to the sophisticated music of Michael Bublé. Rachel had braved an indiscreet question, which Elise had just cheerfully answered.

  Until her friend conveniently took the spotlight, Marta had worried about how to keep from revealing too much of her personal adventures last night. She’d been so worried, in fact, that, had this not been her birthday, she might have changed the venue from the conversation-friendly China Queen to a noisy pizza place.

  Impossible to avoid the topic entirely, of course. On arrival, Marta had sketched her adventures with Derek in a lighthearted vein, omitting any hint of mind-blowing sex. She’d then shifted the focus to Elise, who had more than risen to the occasion. According to her, the child psychologist possessed not only great prowess in bed but also the patience of a saint and the wisdom of Solomon.

  “He listens to what I say!” she enthused as the waiter set aromatic platters on the table. They’d ordered dishes to share: candied walnut shrimp, Mongolian beef, kung pao chicken and sweet-and-sour pork. “He has insights into how to bring up children, too. Can you imagine?”

  “Well, yeah.” Rachel plopped a clump of steamed rice onto her plate. “That’s his specialty.”

  “I keep fearing there must be a fatal flaw,” Elise admitted. “Has Russ mentioned Mike’s past involvements? I mean, whether he has a bad record with women?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Rachel rarely took much interest in gossip. “He’s a great guy. Here’s a word of advice, though—let things develop naturally. I see that ‘cuff ’em and book ’em’ look in your eye.”

  “Doesn’t work with guys,” Connie agreed. “Except for Rachel and Russ, but that was different.”

  Elise piled a heap of beef and pork onto her plate. “I guess you’re right. I’m so excited, I’m likely to chase him away.”

  Connie measured out a small portion of chicken and kept it separate from the rice. A neat freak, she’d had to relax her housekeeping standards since Skip and Hale moved in. Marta used to nurse a sneaking sympathy for Joel, who’d complained during their marriage that he couldn�
�t fix a snack without his wife insisting he sweep the floor afterward.

  Diving into her own generous helpings of food provided a welcome cover for Marta’s thoughts. She hated keeping secrets from her friends, but her reactions to last night hovered between exhilaration and agony.

  Their second lovemaking session had left them both gasping and laughing from the logistical challenges posed by the bathroom. In the shower, on the mat…She beamed at the memory and stuffed a forkful of shrimp in her mouth before having to explain.

  “You really love this food,” Rachel remarked, misinterpreting her smile. “I’m glad we came here.”

  “You guys went way beyond the call of duty with that present,” Marta added when she’d finished chewing. “I can’t believe your husbands let you spend that much.”

  “It was for charity,” Rachel said.

  “My income is my business, as long as I contribute my share to the household,” Connie added.

  “Isn’t it great to meet a man who isn’t macho?” Elise chimed in, and segued into yet another anecdote about Mike.

  Marta had read in a magazine that love affairs tended to have a honeymoon period, followed by a period of adjustment as the lovers displayed their less endearing traits. She hoped Elise didn’t abandon ship at the first splash of water on the deck.

  No danger of that in Marta’s relationship with Derek. They’d both jumped off while still at full sail. Happy memories of a shipboard romance, and no risk of hitting the rocks.

  No chance of sailing into the sunset, either. But the sense of healing remained. Last night’s encounter with Derek had restored her self-image as a desirable woman. After she earned her degree, she might be ready to look around for a keeper. By then, surely Derek would have quit dominating her thoughts.

  “You’re glowing,” Connie observed. “You honestly expect us to believe that all you and Sergeant Hit-and-Run did was nibble baklava and watch belly dancing?”

  Marta couldn’t summon a single response that didn’t reveal how much she’d enjoyed sex. Mercifully, fate gave her a break as a group of diners vacated a central table and she glimpsed the couple in a booth beyond.

  “Can you believe that?” she said. “It’s your ex-husband and Tracy!”

  Connie, who had her back to the room, measured out a portion of beef. “Big deal. She paid for him.”

  “She’s sitting in his lap!” exclaimed Rachel, usually the most unflappable member of the group.

  Startled, Connie craned her neck to look. Elise bumped the table as she angled for a glimpse.

  Across the restaurant, the couple remained oblivious. The reporter, her brown hair loose over her shoulders and her skirt bunched high on her thighs, curled against Joel, who wore a goofy grin. Empty dishes in front of them testified that they’d finished dinner and, Marta mused, had started on dessert—the do-it-yourself kind.

  “I can’t believe it! Joel’s usually such a grouch.” Of course, Elise dealt with him mostly as a supervisor during her patrol shifts.

  “I can’t imagine what he’s thinking.” Connie returned her gaze to her companions. “Or perhaps I should say, what he’s thinking with. Obviously nothing above the waist.”

  Rachel poured a second cup of green tea, to which she added two spoonfuls of sugar. “Tracy’s more the type to throw herself at a story than a man.”

  “All the same, there’s a girl in there somewhere.” Connie signaled to the waiter for more hot water. “She does buy my rose-scented soap.”

  Unwillingly, Marta entertained a less charitable view. Although she wished Tracy and Joel well, perhaps things weren’t as they appeared. “I hope he understands she’s planning to write about their date.”

  Dismay greeted this remark. “How awful!” Rachel said.

  “Just what the police department needs—more bad press,” Elise grumbled.

  Connie did a slow burn. “I’ve had my issues with Joel, but he deserves better treatment.”

  Marta couldn’t believe Tracy would dally with a man sexually in order to exploit him. She felt a bit guilty, too, since she’d recommended Joel as a good subject. And, uncomfortably, she recalled Tracy commenting on his reputation as a controlling male who deserved a comeuppance. “Maybe she intends to leave the fun parts out of her story.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Elise muttered.

  At the booth, the couple disentangled and rose to leave. Judging by their snuggling, they didn’t plan to go bowling.

  “Should we warn him?” Elise asked.

  “I could walk by and kind of trip him,” Rachel suggested. “Or her.”

  “Connie, can’t you find an excuse to give him a hint?” Marta asked.

  Her cousin waggled her fingers in a count-me-out gesture. “I’m the last person he’d listen to.”

  A troubled silence fell over the table as Joel and Tracy exited with their arms around each other. Marta wondered if she ought to call Derek, as public information officer, and alert him to a possible scandal brewing. Still, his job didn’t involve lecturing a lieutenant about proper conduct in private life.

  Connie’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Also, we’re ignoring an important point.”

  “Which is?” Rachel asked.

  “Joel’s perfectly aware that she’s a reporter. He’s not a rookie. Surely he can see the potential for trouble.” Connie stopped as the waiter refilled the teapot and their water glasses. When they were alone, she continued, “Perhaps he has an agenda.”

  “Seducing her into going easy on the department?” Elise said. “It’s possible.”

  “Pretty funny if they’re both laying traps,” Rachel added.

  “You’re making my head hurt.” Marta said. She found intrigue confusing.

  “Anyway, they’re gone,” Rachel announced. “I vote for letting matters run their course.”

  “I wonder what Mike would say.” Elise wasted no time returning to her favorite topic.

  For Marta’s part, despite her resolve, she itched to call Derek, ostensibly in the interests of the police force but mostly to hear his voice. Recovering from their encounter, she supposed, was like going on a diet. You had to fight the cravings until they subsided.

  She intended to do exactly that.

  Chapter Eight

  On a Thursday morning a few weeks later, Derek arrived at the office early. He liked to scan the weekly paper before heading to his meeting with hospital staff.

  During the months since launching the prevention sessions, he’d completed a review of major types of symptoms of abuse to watch for. However, as he’d written in a recent update to the chief, he believed the program remained valuable in reinforcing awareness and encouraging the staff to discuss incipient problems.

  Derek hadn’t mentioned how much he looked forward to seeing Marta at the hospital. In addition, since their lovemaking, he often dropped by between outings to purchase snacks and simply say hello. Just passing through. Touching base. Letting her boost his spirits.

  She’d been right about the friendship thing. Derek doubted he’d behave well had the two of them planned a continuing involvement. Getting intimate activated a deep-seated protective mechanism. Well, they were both safe on that score.

  He turned his attention to the Villazon Voice, scanning the front page. When he first took this post, he’d had a tendency to lose his temper. After completing several training seminars, however, he’d learned to respect the fact that reporters, no matter how obnoxious, were simply doing their job.

  This week, Tracy had aimed her guns at the chamber of commerce. The current president was pushing the city council to require business licenses of individuals who worked at home. The reporter had interviewed artists, medical transcribers and a freelance writer, who objected to paying fees when they received no special services and didn’t generate traffic.

  Good reporting, in Derek’s view. A far cry from the story she’d written about her date with Joel.

  The main article concerning the auction had port
rayed the officers and other bachelors in a positive, if slightly humorous, light. The same couldn’t be said of the sidebar headlined “My Night with Lt. Hunk.”

  Although Tracy hadn’t identified the man in the story, anyone who’d attended the auction knew his name. She’d cast Joel as a muscle-bound stereotype who spent his weekends decimating woods and streams. “On the job, Rambo may protect us good guys from the crooks, but when he’s hunting, does he spare a thought for the poor little animals?”

  On the plus side, the woman had omitted any reference to extracurricular activities on her date. Derek gathered from Joel’s initial comments that the pair hadn’t exactly called it an early night. In any case, while Joel had considered the entire outing off the record, Tracy obviously hadn’t.

  She’d phoned him later, apparently expecting him to treat the story as a joke. According to Joel, he’d informed her that from now on, he intended to guard his privacy by staying as far away from her as possible. Thus had ended what, according to Marta’s observations of the pair canoodling in a Chinese restaurant, might have been a promising romance.

  Luckily for Joel, Chief Lyons had taken the incident well. Still, he’d agreed with Derek’s recommendation that they schedule a refresher series of training sessions for watch commanders, desk officers and detectives about coping with the media.

  Great. Other cops took down stalkers and armed robbers; Derek provided tips on how to watch yourself with reporters. Not exactly what he’d set out to accomplish when he began this career.

  Feeling restless and with time to spare before the hospital gig, he strode down the hall. Although the chief’s assistant kept a pot of coffee brewing in her office next door to his, Derek preferred detouring to the lunchroom to soak up the sights and sounds of the station.

  At 9:00 a.m., the place lay quiet, unlike the bustle at shift change or the hubbub on a weekend evening when drunk drivers and troublemakers got processed and put into holding cells. The desk officer fiddled with a crossword puzzle, the dispatchers were discussing the plot of their favorite soap opera, and in the watch commander’s office, Joel sat with his feet on the desk.