by Jo Goodman
Sullivan followed her eyes to his feet. He wiggled his toes. “Christmas gift from Aunt Kay. Not what I would have chosen myself but I appreciate the effort she made.”
Ramsey wondered if Kay had stolen them and then immediately felt petty for entertaining the thought. “Nice,” she said, taking his coat and hanging it on the coat tree. “Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Beer? Water?”
Sullivan rubbed his hands together, warming them. “Coffee.”
“How about hot cider?”
“Even better.”
“Give me a couple of minutes.” She left him to get comfortable in the living room while she disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, he was sitting in the leather armchair with his feet up on an ottoman. He was holding her Kindle, swiping the screen with his index finger to peruse her library. It felt weirdly personal, more like an intrusion than a casual interest, and it occurred to her, not for the first time, that she was the one with the problem, not him.
Ramsey stood beside the ottoman and extended the hand holding the cider mug. When he took it, she kept her hand extended until he got the idea that she wanted her Kindle back.
“Favorite book?” he asked, giving it over.
Ramsey closed the cover and returned to the sofa, resuming her curled position in the corner. “Right now, it’s The Count of Monte Cristo.”
“Right now?” he asked. “It changes?”
“Sure. It’s a terrific revenge story. Today I’m thinking about how to get some of my own back, so it’s my favorite.”
Sullivan nodded, thoughtful, and sipped his cider. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. Did Paul fire you?”
“No. That would have brought him all the attention he was trying to avoid. He lectured me. Blah blah this. Blah blah that. He used to be tolerable, even reasonable. I don’t know if Ridge management has him by the balls, but he’s hard to like these days, harder to respect.”
“Is that a shared opinion?”
“I don’t know. I avoid conversational complaining with my coworkers. Too toxic.”
“Have you decided on a particular manner of revenge?”
“If I had, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Probably a good idea.”
Ramsey reached for the folded throw on the back of the sofa and pulled it over her legs.
Watching her, Sullivan said, “If we were at my house, I would build a fire.”
It was as if he had plucked the thought right out of her head. His mind reading abilities did not endear him to her. She had not yet decided how close she wanted him to be. Surely, she had some say in the matter. Didn’t she? “What happened to your report,” she asked. “Did you bury it?”
“No. I spoke to the chief. He’s going to handle it.”
“He’s friends with Owen Holloway?”
“Friendly at least. They play poker together.”
“I wonder what Janet Holloway will think about it all being handled on the side.”
“Relieved, I expect.”
Ramsey shrugged. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“You don’t?”
“Maybe her motive wasn’t theft. Maybe it was attention. Now she’s been deprived of that. Public attention, at least. If she wanted to embarrass her family, that hasn’t happened. If I’m wrong, there won’t be another incident. If I’m right, she’ll up the ante. Just something to consider.”
Sullivan kept his hands around the warm mug and regarded her over the rim as he raised it to his mouth. “I bet no one’s ever accused you of being a Pollyanna.”
She grinned cheekily and let that serve as her answer.
“You’ve probably seen people steal for all sorts of reasons.”
“Sure. Need. Thrill. Drugs, which is a need for some. Attention. Boredom. Double dog dares. Cash. I don’t ask why any more, but I think about it sometimes. Like with Janet Holloway. She’s curious, but I don’t know if she was lucky.”
Sullivan took another sip of cider. His eyes went to Ramsey’s security panel beside the door. “Do you always set your alarm when you’re home?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I don’t have one. I figured people just set their system before bed or when they leave home.”
“Maybe. I only know what I do.”
“Was the alarm here when you moved in?”
Ramsey considered lying and thought better of it. “I had it installed.”
“Single woman. New community. Long hours at work. Makes sense.”
“I am so gratified that you approve.”
Sullivan’s smirked. “Yeah. I could tell.” He finished the cider and set the mug on a coaster on the side table. “You’re cautious too. You looked out the window before opening the door.”
“I’m not sure these are casual observations,” she said. “Are you going somewhere with this?”
“You know.”
She sighed. “You still think I’m running. I told you I wasn’t.”
“And I told you that I didn’t believe it.”
“Then we’re at an impasse.”
“Not quite. I’ve revised my thinking a bit.”
“Oh?”
“I think you’ve stopped running. I think you’re hiding.”
Ramsey said nothing, simply stared at him.
“So that’s how it is,” he said.
“Yes. That’s how it is.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust anybody, Sullivan. It’s not personal.”
“You slept with me. It feels personal.”
Ramsey pressed her lips together and breathed deeply through her nose. Her mouth parted infinitesimally as she slowly exhaled. “Are you trying to make me regret it? Because—fair warning—that’s where this is headed.”
“No,” he said. Sullivan closed his eyes, rubbed the area above them with a thumb and forefinger, and opened them again. “God, no. I only want…” His voice trailed off as he considered what he could say that wouldn’t have her showing him the door.
“What?” she asked. “You only want…what?”
“To make sure you’re safe.”
“That’s very Dudley of you.”
“Dudley?”
“Dudley Do-Right.” When he looked at her blankly, she explained, “You know. The Canadian Mountie who is never ethically challenged. From the old cartoon.”
He shook his head. “Never saw it.”
“I’ll YouTube it for you. There’s a movie too.” She put up a hand when he opened his mouth to comment. “Forget Dudley. I don’t need you to assure my safety. I am safe. Not running. Not hiding. Safe.”
“Am I allowed to be skeptical?”
“I can hardly control what you think.”
“Would you tell me if you had reason to be concerned?”
“I’m concerned about climate change, infrastructure, and whether the Pens will win another Stanley Cup.”
“You can’t help yourself, can you? Being glib, I mean.”
“It’s like breathing.”
Now it was Sullivan’s turn to slowly exhale. “I guess I have my answer.” He started to rise but sat down again when she shook her head and waved him back.
“The truth is…I was going to say ‘complicated,’ but’s it’s not complicated at all. It’s simple. I want to trust you, Sullivan. I believe I can and I also know that I’m not ready. I hope you hear me saying that I am working toward being ready. I have to get there on my own. Be at peace with it because there are consequences. Do you understand?”
“There’s nothing I can do, then, to speed the process?”
She smiled, rueful, and shook her head. “Not overtly. No prodding or poking. Be Dudley. A good man. That’s enough.”
Sullivan’s eyes narrowed and he regarded her skeptically. “He’s a blockhead, isn’t he?”
Ramsey winced. “A little bit.” She added hurriedly, “But I don’t think of you that way. You’re no blockhead. I wasn’t making t
hat comparison.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I wasn’t.” She crossed herself. “I swear.” Ramsey threw off the blanket covering her legs and practically leapt off the sofa. She shoved the ottoman to one side and put herself squarely in Sullivan’s lap. “Swear,” she said softly, slipping hands around the back of his head. “Swear.” This time she murmured the word against his mouth. “Kiss me.”
“Well, if it’s that important to you.”
“Shut up.”
He did. In fact, it was a long while before either of them spoke. What began as a healing balm became hard and hungry. The slant of their mouths changed; their tongues tangled. She lifted her face to give him access to her neck. He lightly kissed her along the jaw and then sipped her skin. She made a sound at the back of her throat that vibrated against his lips. He groaned softly. Her fingers wound in his hair. Her nails gently scraped his scalp. She tugged on his earlobe with her teeth.
One of Sullivan’s hands slid up Ramsey’s thigh. Her black leggings were merely a second skin and her oversized cable knit sweater offered no resistance to the fingers that slipped under it. She arched her back and delicately shivered as his fingertips climbed her spine. Once he discovered that she wasn’t wearing a bra, his hand advanced to her breast. He wasn’t even stealthy about it, but he figured it wasn’t exactly a surprise. She expelled a breathy little sigh as his palm covered her and when his thumb made a sharp pass across her nipple, she sucked that breath back in.
Ramsey worked the buttons on his steel blue poplin shirt. She’d noticed right off that the color was a close match for his eyes and wondered if he realized it as well or if it was simply a happy accident. The thought was only fleeting. He had both hands under her sweater now, and she attended to the sensations he was provoking at her breast and at the small of her back.
She laid her palm flat against his chest. His skin was deliciously warm and her hand lingered over his heart before it rose to his shoulder and her fingers traced the line of his collarbone. Under her hip, she felt his cock rise. It stirred her as well and she kissed him deeply to let him know.
“My bedroom’s upstairs,” she whispered.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. I think I know where my own bedroom is.”
His chuckle was rough, somewhere between a groan and a growl, as she removed herself from his lap. He let her take him by the hand and pretend to pull him to his feet. When he was standing, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him, and then she led the way to the promised land.
Ramsey flipped the light switch, which turned on the bedside lamp. She was pleasantly surprised that she’d made the bed that morning. She didn’t always, and until she saw that the duvet was smoothed over the top of the matching ice blue sheets and the pillows were all neatly arranged, she hadn’t been certain.
She tossed the decorative pillows in the direction of the corner wing chair. One of them actually landed where she intended. The others lay scattered on the hardwood floor. She gave them a glance, shrugged, and turned back the heavy duvet, cotton weave blankets, and the top sheet.
“Awful lot of work,” Sullivan said.
Ramsey turned, saw that he had stripped out of his shirt and socks and was preparing to step out of his jeans. “You’ve been busy.”
Sullivan grinned, shuffled forward, and gave Ramsey a nudge that toppled her backward onto the bed. He shucked the jeans and followed her down. “Your turn.” He rolled onto his side and came up on one elbow so he could watch her wriggle out of her clothes. She came out of her oversized taupe sweater as easily as a butterfly leaving its chrysalis. The leggings, though, proved to be a bit of a challenge, and her gyrations were entertaining if not exactly sexy, but the lacy black thong she was wearing underneath made the waiting worthwhile.
“Nice,” he said.
Smiling, Ramsey invited him under the covers. She removed the thong and dropped it over the side of the bed. A moment later, she watched Sullivan’s boxer briefs sail in the same direction.
“I would have helped you with those,” she said, rolling into him. “Delighted to do it, in fact.”
“Ah, maybe next time.”
“With my teeth,” she said and nipped his lower lip. Ramsey chuckled because whatever he said was completely unintelligible by virtue of her teeth worrying his lip. She released him and pressed a kiss against his mouth, which he reciprocated with enthusiasm.
They rolled, and rolled again. She was on top, then he was, then she was stretched out beside him, one leg raised over his hip and he was coming into her. She held her breath until he was seated and then gulped air and contracted all around him.
“Mother of God,” he whispered, and to Ramsey’s ears it sounded like a compliment. This time when he toppled her onto her back, she stayed there, hugging him with her raised knees and lifting her hips when he thrust. It occurred to her that they were a good fit, maybe better than that, though she stopped short of thinking about perfect. Still, he felt awfully good.
Rocking, their breathing joined in short bursts. Ramsey pressed her fingertips into Sullivan’s shoulders. The muscles of his back tensed and bunched when she spread her hands wide. She stared up into his face, watched his beautiful eyes darken but never glaze. He returned her stare with an intensity equal to hers.
His mouth twisted wryly. “We…forgot…the…condom.”
“I…know.”
He nodded. “I…guess…we’ll…just…oh, God…have to…” And his voice fell away.
“Yesss,” she said on a thread of sound, although whether she was commenting on her own spiraling pleasure or the fact he was no longer speaking, even she wasn’t sure of in the moment. But then she felt sparks of heat somersault under her skin, touch her fingers, her breasts, the sensitive back of knees, and she thought it was probably pleasure that she’d been foreshadowing with her soft cry.
His strokes came rapid and shallow and Ramsey went with him, skimming the surface of everything that was right about indulging her senses, then diving deep, throwing her head back and closing her eyes when the pinwheel of fireworks began to unwind.
Sullivan gave a shout that was wholly uncharacteristic of his usually quiet lovemaking and collapsed on top of Ramsey. At first, he thought she was still shuddering in the aftermath of what had been a pretty spectacular climax, but then he realized she was laughing and trying hard to keep it under her breath.
“Good thing my ego doesn’t bruise easily,” he said, pushing off her and flopping onto his back.
Ramsey pressed the back of one hand to her mouth and reined in her amusement. She turned on her side and tucked herself against him. “You have to admit that was some kind of shout there at the end.”
“What? You never heard someone cross the finish line?”
“Well, when you put it like that. You definitely earned it.” She was grinning again. “Do you suppose the neighbors heard?”
“Funny.”
She raised herself up on an elbow, leaned over, and kissed him full on the mouth. “Just so you know…I liked it.”
A touch embarrassed, he offered up a lopsided smile.
Ramsey dropped a kiss on the corner of that smile. “You’re a funny guy, Sullivan Day. And I mean that in a good way. You are definitely outside my experience.” She tapped his square-cut chin with a fingertip. “Before that goes to your head, recall that my experience is limited.”
“You possess the uncanny ability to give and then take away in a single breath.”
“I know. Remarkable, right?” She punctuated this with a cheeky grin, sat up, and announced she was hungry. “You want to order pizza?”
26
Sullivan realized he must have been in some kind of peculiar trance when Buddy stopped by his desk and waved a hand in front of his face. Blinking, he lifted his head and stared at his fellow officer.
“You okay?” asked Buddy. “You were in a little deep there. Something up?”
Sullivan shook his hea
d. He tapped his chest with his fist. “Heartburn.”
“Heartburn? See? That’s just strange. No one I know ever went catatonic because of heartburn.”
Sullivan shrugged.
Buddy shook his head. “If I didn’t know you grew up in the panhandle, I’d say you were definitely new to the planet.” He took a seat at his desk behind Sullivan. “You been out to the Ridge lately?”
Sullivan swiveled his chair around. “Yesterday. Why?”
“Just wondered. I got wind of something about the mayor’s daughter. His youngest. I thought maybe you might have taken the call.”
“Huh. What did you hear?”
“Well, you know Butz has a sister who’s a cashier out there.”
“Yeah. Heather. So?”
“So she saw Ramsey escort Janet Holloway and a cart full of stuff to the office. Then she got busy and never saw what came of it. I asked Marlena over at dispatch about a call, but she didn’t know anything.”
God bless Chief Bailey, Sullivan was thinking. The man covered all the bases. “Then why are you supposing there was a call?”
“Because it was Ramsey,” said Buddy. “She’s required to call. I’m not familiar with her letting things slide, and she’s not from around here so she wouldn’t necessarily connect Janet Holloway to the mayor. Thought it seemed strange.”
“Maybe so.”
Shrugging, Buddy picked out a pen from the terra cotta flowerpot on his desk and tapped it lightly against the plastic blotter. “You ever get up the nerve to ask her out?”
“Why?”
“Just wondering. Well, have you?”
Sullivan didn’t like lying and besides, Buddy was a ferret. His curiosity was not easily brushed aside. Sullivan doubted Buddy was finished with Janet Holloway. “I asked her to be my plus one at my cousin’s wedding back in July.”
“Your cousin’s wedding? Jeez, Sully, was that the best you could do? And why am I only hearing about this now?”
“You only just asked. It wasn’t exactly a secret.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, what did she say? Did she go to the wedding with you?”
“Yeah, she went.”
“And? Don’t make me go full interrogation on your ass.”
