She was startled to meet a glare of sizzling hatred. Not just you bitch, but I keel you feelthy.
Yow. Okay then.
o0o
At lunch, everyone but Sovay commented on Randy’s absence.
“No clue,” Jewel said more than once. “He just disappears from time to time. I never worry.”
o0o
“Clay,” she hissed when the meal ended an hour later. “I need to talk to you.”
Of course he dawdled getting away from the table, and then Griffy wanted her opinion about the food she was ordering for a block party to be held on Virgil’s birthday Saturday night, and then Kauz showed them fifty-seven pictures of the aura of a bowl of fruit. By two-thirty, Jewel was beside herself.
“What’s up, officer?” Clay said when she had dragged him into her room.
“Where’s the tracking unit that goes with those anklets? I need it. Now.”
“It didn’t come yet.”
She grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him nose-to-nose. “Don’t mess me around. This is urgent.”
“Buzz can’t have gotten in trouble alrea—” He stopped. “Randy?”
“Randy,” she said through her teeth. “He was in Sovay’s room before lunch, I’m positive. Virgil surprised them together.”
“That must have been interesting,” Clay drawled.
“Well, he didn’t get the door open and see them. But if Randy heard his voice—”
“Catch Randy zapping into a bed because some guy walks in on him with his girlfriend? I doubt it.” Clay looked thoughtful. “Unless he knew you were about to catch him.”
She considered this. “He might have. I was talking to Virgil by the door.”
Clay nodded. “We have to get into that room.”
“That’s why I wanted you. You can watch while I, uh, look for Randy.”
He blinked. “That’s a real nice offer but I pass.”
Jewel almost pasted him one. Then she realized what he meant and only socked his arm. “Watch the hallway for people who might catch us.”
“Right. I’ll get my tools.”
Jewel followed him upstairs. When they got to his room, she found that Clay’s tools were lockpicks. “You brought burglar’s tools with you?”
“Undercover 101. I take it you cut class that day.” Clay leaned up against Sovay’s door, looking left and right over his shoulder, and in two jifs he had them inside the room.
Jewel relocked the door.
“There you go,” he said, gesturing at the bed.
Jewel looked at the fancy gold brocade coverlet and wrinkled her nose. “I guess I have to.” Now that she was here, she didn’t want to do this. “Damn Randy,” she muttered.
She sat down on the bed.
Clay wandered around, poking into drawers, going through the closet, fiddling with makeup on the dressing table. “You know, if I’d been more prepared I could do some real damage here.”
“Stop snooping and go watch the door.” Jewel closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, feeling for a tingle, a zing, some sign of her errant stealth fuck.
“Little stink juice in the perfume. Hair remover in the shampoo.”
She sat up. “Could you please go outside? Like, lurk down the hall, and if she comes this way, you distract her. You’re good at that.”
“Hm. What if a maid comes to make the bed while I’m distracting her? Jeepers, how many shoes does a woman need?”
Jewel flopped back down. “At least keep quiet.”
“Relax. She went shopping.”
With an effort Jewel shut her eyes and relaxed. Time passed.
Clay puttered around the room.
Jewel prayed he wouldn’t lift Sovay’s jewelry.
He started humming. She jammed a pillow over her head.
Randy? Are you in here?
He had to be. The rhythmic thumping. The look on Sovay’s face when she opened the door to Jewel was proof of that. Plus Virgil knock-knock-knocking and then taunting Sovay, since he was not a senile horndog but a razor-sharp con man on the hunt. Yep, she’d been banging Randy in here, all right.
Jewel thought of Sovay’s smug smile at lunch, rolled over, and punched the mattress. I do not care who he fucks.
Who was she kidding? She owned this guy. It was a dirty little secret that got bigger and messier every day, like a big old cow plop, spang in the middle of her conscience. She hated him screwing around. It was like sharing your toothbrush. She herself had him every single day of her life.
Except last night, when he’d been paying her back for the night before, when she also didn’t fuck him. Payback. Another excellent reason for avoiding a long-term relationship.
She groaned and held still, trying to clear her mind.
In the silence she heard little clinks and rustles.
She lifted the pillow two inches off her face. “Quit searching her stuff. I mean it.”
“You must have been a big sister—”
“I’m an orphan. No siblings.”
“—In a past life. You’re so bossy. Well, well, well. What have we here?”
Sweaty and annoyed, she sat up again. “I don’t know, what? A class one felony in progress?”
Clay was riffling through a mahogany-red jewelry box. “Checkbooks. Six of them. All in different names.” He looked over at her. “How’s it coming? Any sign of Lord Barenaked?”
She scowled. “No.”
“Go to sleep. That’ll fetch him,” he said.
“I hope so. I think he’s sulking. He was pretty mad at me.”
Troubled, she lay back down and put the pillow over her head. Rustlings sounded, even through the pillow, so she wrapped her arms around it and squeezed it against her ears.
She tried to think about something sexy. Fancy underwear? She liked lingerie, but it seemed like a waste of money when she spent so much of her guy time naked. Speaking of which, where the fuck is that sex demon? Concentration wasn’t working.
What would draw him?
A horny woman.
What would make her horny?
About a million things, but she’d recently found a whole new side of herself, i.e., a girl too shy to come screaming and have her clothes explode all over the room in front of people.
In fact, the one time Clay had ever been nearby when she was doing Randy—
“Ah-hah.” She sat up again.
Clay took his hand out of his pocket and turned around. “Ah-hah what?”
“I know what’ll get him to stop sulking.” She looked at Clay guiltily.
“What?” He drew near the bed. “You intrigue me, officer. What’s that look about?”
She remembered how he had refused to have sex with her, two nights ago. This will be fun. She stared at the sheet. “Um, remember when we were in your hotel suite and Randy walked in?”
“Why, yes. Yes, I do.”
Always so noncommittal. It was the con artist in him, making the mark do all the work. She set her teeth. “Well, he couldn’t resist, um, showing up that time. I think it was more than knowing he had to, um, do something for me, or he’d be stuck in that couch forever. It was like, there’s a woman right here who wants it, so he had to, like....”
Clay sat on the end of the bed. “Hm. I see what you mean.”
“I mean, I realize you’ve sworn off sex. With me. Because of the partners thing. Which is wise, since you’re insubordinate and in another minute I’m liable to phone in a green sheet for your file.” She gasped and took a long, slow, calming breath.
“Oo, a green sheet! I’m trembling. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, partner,” he drawled, not moving. God dammit, he was always trying to get in her pants.
Until two nights ago.
She swallowed, not looking at him.
“You’re not used to asking for it, are you?” he said with a smile in his voice, and she wanted to punch him so bad that her arm jerked by itself. “All you have to do is look at a guy and he sits up and begs. And th
at was before the Venus Machine kicked your green tones into high.”
She looked up and said sharply, “I don’t want to d-do anything with you any more than you do. But we do not leave our people trapped and alone.”
“He won’t be alone by tonight.”
Right. Sovay would be back in this bed.
She eyed Clay. “Are you having fun?”
He crinkled his blue eyes at her. “Why yes, I’m having a ball. I haven’t had so much fun since we hid under a thirteen thousand dollar sofa at Field’s and then burgled the joint.” She drew air across her clenched teeth. “But you’re right. We don’t leave our people trapped and alone. Very praiseworthy. So, uh.”
He looked at her, looked at the space between them, looked at the bed, cleared his throat, and scooted a couple of inches closer to her. Hesitantly, he reached out with both arms, circled her in an awkward hug, then let his arms drop.
“Uh, I’m experiencing a little performance anxiety here.”
If she killed him, she wouldn’t have any way of flushing Randy out of his hiding place. “I could understand that.” She heard embarrassment in her own voice.
“Let’s hold hands until we think of something.”
Gratefully, avoiding his face, she scooted over and he boosted himself onto the bed beside her. She put one hand out and he took it. They sat side by side, leaning against the headboard, holding hands, looking straight ahead.
She said, “Will we get caught? We’re gonna get caught.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I pennied us in.”
“Excuse me?”
“Didn’t you do that in college? Tons of fun. You stick a penny in the door crack and it won’t open.”
She was touched. “That was thoughtful. Thank you.”
They didn’t say anything for a minute. This is so awkward.
“Now I’m having performance anxiety,” she said.
“You can’t expect me to do all the work here. You’re the one who insists—”
“I know, I know!”
“I’d seduce you in a New York minute, if it was my idea.”
“Well, it wasn’t my idea to go to your room two nights ago!” she burst out and then bit her lip. “I mean,” she said more quietly, “it wasn’t. I was so drunk I couldn’t think straight.” She considered saying, And I thought you were taking me to my room, but decided it wasn’t true.
He said, “Okay, you’re right, I made a mistake there. I had this foolish plan to, I dunno, break the ice between us. Get you to loosen up a little.”
“I do not need to get any looser,” she stated.
He looked at her and she turned her head warily to meet his eyes. In a gentle tone he said, “You can get tense on the job.”
“That’s because it’s a job, not a con or a game or a—”
He said hastily, “But I saw how wrong I was when you explained it. So I want to stay your partner.”
He didn’t say any more. She digested this. He’s not pushing for sex. He wants to stick with me.
That felt weird. Weird, but good.
“Is that why you’re... not helping me here?”
“I’ll help you. I want to help you.” He said with quiet sincerity, “I just don’t want to wreck our working relationship.”
She drew a deep, shaky breath. “Okay. Here’s the thing. Once you can tell Randy’s starting to, um, manifest, would you be willing to go outside and wait til we’re done? He’s not, like, solid, like, fully in this world, until I, um. But maybe you can tell before, um. Because you don’t like when he’s between us, anyway, right?”
“Sure. I wouldn’t want to be in the way,” he said in a saintly boy-next-door voice.
She squeezed his hand. “Thanks, buddy.”
Then he smiled.
“You booger! You are so yanking on me!” She dove at him and stuck wriggling fingers into his armpits.
He squirmed and ducked his head. “Hey! Quit!” He tried to cover his armpits with his hands.
“You’re conning me and yanking on me and messing with my head!” When he tried to turn on his belly she threw a leg over him and pinned him between her thighs, going for his stomach, his sides, and the backs of his ears.
“I’m very ticklish! Help! Help, I’m being assaulted!”
“Shut up, do you want to get caught?” she said, laughing.
“Help!”
His belly was all muscle, which made it a lot easier to tickle him, and she threw herself down on him and stopped his mouth with hers. Those big poochy lips met her halfway. He stopped protecting his armpits and put his hands on either side of her face, so tenderly that she forgot to tickle him, and she thought, Okay, I can do this, and then he made a little happy sound in his throat. She settled over him so the banana in his pocket made contact at the right spot between her legs and then his kiss opened up and she forgot about other things.
She wondered if he was getting off on this the way she was.
I don’t want to figure you out, she thought, I want to get you hothothot. If she could peel away his fake humility and his fake boy-next-door innocence — she popped the fly of his khakis and he pulled the red silk tee over her shoulders — if she could make him be real for just twenty minutes — she tossed away the top and then wriggled as he tickled her under the elbows and went for her bra.
She took her mouth off his to say, “In front.”
“Ah.” Their eyes met as he worked the front clasp on her bra and she realized with a start that she didn’t have any pictures in her head at all.
All she saw was a humble, innocent boy next door. Huh. Was that the secret to being a great con artist? Be yourself?
That, and lie a lot.
He got her torso naked and she pulled off his khakis. She kicked her twisted panties and jeans down to her ankles. Then she snuggled down against him, still breathing hard. He patted her back. Her heartbeat slowed to a hard, hot thump. Thump. Thump. Cuddling. Why have I never tried that?
“You’re being too nice,” she murmured. “I think I’ve been ruined for nice men.”
“Bet?” He kissed her forehead and her eyes closed. She moved against his smooth skin, enjoying his warmth and the uncomplicated way his big hands kneaded her buns, stroked up and down her back, squeezed her buns, and stroked back up again, as if he too loved the feel of acres of skin on skin.
Honestly, she wouldn’t mind if he speeded up a little.
“Didn’t you have something for me?” She bumped her pubic bone against his woodie, smiling at the way he squeezed her all over when they hit.
“No rush.” He slid his hand up her side, warmly cupped her nipple, then cradled the side of her face. The look in his eyes made her breath catch.
I can’t be feeling this, she thought in rising panic. I don’t know you. You’re a crook. You’re not my type. You—
He kissed her and she shut her eyes against her own thoughts, clasping her thighs around him, willing him to enter so that she could stop feeling so close. One of Randy’s favorite questions came to her: Are you afraid because you are aroused, or aroused because you are afraid? Caught in the paradox, she let Clay kiss her, kissed him back, My God, I’m kissing him back, like, duh, why was this scarier than the fifty-seven crazy things she’d done with Randy and fifty-seven guys before him?
But it was. And he kept doing it over and over, the kiss that made her hothothot, letting her squeeze tight against him but never squeezing too tightly in return, the skin-on-skin marathon of their hands all over each other, then the pullback and that look in his eyes, until she couldn’t take any more and had to kiss him, so she could shut her eyes and not see it, not feel the rise of something bigger than fear inside her. Her heart heated up in her chest. I know you.
What a lie!
But panic couldn’t talk louder than the things he made her feel.
She struggled for self-control. So this is what being conned in bed is like. The haze was too pleasant, too confusing. She knew she was bein
g conned. Her breath came short. She could let it happen, go along for the ride the way she did with every other man. Appreciate it.
So she appreciated it, wallowing in the slow kisses, marvelling at their power, as wild as doing it under a restaurant tablecloth, as potent as sex with a firebreathing dragon. Her lips swelled and grew so sensitive that she felt the pressure of his lips like a hot, firm thumb on her trigger, how did he do that? Was she going to come from kissing? Her whole body throbbed. For some reason she could barely breathe.
And then he pulled away and looked into her eyes again and she forgot to be afraid. Her heart thudded in her ears. She forgot her name.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” Her breath began to come in long, slow, deep pulls, and she knew she was one inch away from orgasm.
To her relief, he glanced at her mouth. “Thank goodness. I was hoping one of us did,” and leaned in for another kiss as she started to laugh.
Technically, she came one half-second before their lips met. She forgot to shut her eyes. This close, his eyes were wild and white-rimmed as a panicking horse’s and, at the thought that he too was scared, the throbbing spasm in her hoochiesnatchie bounded ahead, faster, harder, making her breathless, shutting down her brain. She waited it out, thinking, I’m fine, this is okay, I’ll breathe again later, but when he pulled back for another look, another kiss, she shut her eyes and turned her head away, trembling, sucking air in great heaves. To her horror, she felt a tear leak out of one eye.
They held each other in silence.
She said, “Can we fuck now? I need to clear my head.”
“Well, sure,” he said, sounding as calm as ever, which had to be a lie. She’d seen the panic in his eyes. She couldn’t look again.
She heard foil rustle. A moment later he was sliding into her, and she hooked her chin over his shoulder so he wouldn’t see the tear, and they banged and banged and banged.
And that was good, too.
Some time later, Clay rolled his head on her bare shoulder and said, “I think he’s embarrassed.”
“Your dick? Whatever for?”
“Randy,” Clay said.
“Ohmigod. What time is it?” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I have to see if Nina sent me a swimsuit before this beach picnic thing. To hell with Randy.” She pushed him off her and sat up. “I think he’s not here at all. No way could we have got away with all that and not a peep out of him.”
The Hinky Velvet Chair Page 14
