Caitlin was studying the menu as if it were the key to passing an exam. She didn’t look up once at him. Alex’s jaw muscles bunched as he slid the sheet of butcher paper away. He looked up at their server. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
“Don’t be silly, Alex,” Caitlin said coolly. “Order what you want.”
“No. No, I’m fine with whatever you’re having.” She was trying to make him feel like a chauvinist pig, a control freak. He wasn’t. He’d give her control over every aspect of his life, if she wanted. She could choose his diet, his wardrobe, his furnishings. She could choose every film they saw for the rest of time. Just not this. He didn’t want her hurt in any way. He didn’t want her even near a place where she could potentially be hurt. He didn’t want her near a place where someone could think about hurting her.
“They have burritos. You like burritos.” Still not looking at him. Damn it! Her face was as smooth and expressionless as a doll’s.
“No, I’ll have what you’re having,” he repeated stubbornly.
“All right.” Calm, collected, Caitlin tilted her face up to the server. “We’ll be having the cream of broccoli soup. And the steamed broccoli salad with blue cheese dressing.” She smiled faintly.
Alex hated broccoli. And Caitlin knew it.
“And to drink?” Sergio asked, pen hovering over his pad.
“Two glasses of celery juice, please,” Caitlin said with relish. She was enjoying this, getting her revenge. Alex barely suppressed his shudder. Celery juice. Gah. Whoever heard of drinking celery juice?
Caitlin didn’t say a word until the food arrived. Alex didn’t open his mouth, either. That way he couldn’t stick his foot in it.
For the first time, Alex realized how much he counted on Caitlin smiling every time she saw him. How much he liked it when she hung on his every word. How important it was that there be softness in her gaze when she looked at him.
No smile, no softness now. Her face was closed to him. For the first time, she was cool and reserved. It was as if a chasm had opened up between them.
The food arrived and Alex was reminded once again why he hated broccoli. It was so goddamn sour and…and green. He managed to choke down half the soup before he pushed the bowl away and attacked the salad, trying surreptitiously to eat the dressing lettuce and leave the other vegetables.
Caitlin was steadily making her way through lunch in silence. Alex had a bitter taste in his mouth and it had nothing to do with broccoli. He took a big swig of the celery juice and nearly gagged. How on earth could anyone be expected to drink something green that wasn’t dyed beer on St. Patrick’s Day?
“Something wrong?” Caitlin asked sweetly.
Alex bit his lip. And then—maybe it was all those vitamins in the fucking glop he’d chugged—inspiration struck.
He heaved a huge sigh, as if in defeat. “Okay, honey, you win.”
“It’s not a contest, Alex.” Caitlin’s voice was low. She patted her mouth with the napkin. “I understand your reasons for not wanting me to ride in a patrol car. I don’t agree with them, but I understand them. You are, of course, free to do as you see fit. And, of course, I am free to try to do whatever is necessary to complete my study.”
“Like I said, you win.” Alex held up his hand. “Okay, okay, it isn’t a contest. It isn’t a test of wills.” Like hell it isn’t. “So listen, how about this? Pederson and Martinez are going out on a special mission this afternoon. How about if you tagged along with them?”
It was worth it to see that smooth, impersonal expression disappear and her face light up. “Oh Alex. That sounds wonderful!”
Caitlin got up in a rush and threw her arms around him—tipping the rest of the green crap in the glass onto his pants. Better on my pants than down my gullet, Alex thought philosophically.
“Sorry, Alex,” Caitlin said automatically, mopping up the mess with the little napkins she tore out of the holder. Her smile could have lit the deli. “Let’s get going. I can’t wait to go out on the special mission. I knew you weren’t as pigheaded as everyone says you are. I just knew it!” She was hopping with excitement.
“Yeah, yeah,” Alex said wryly, taking the napkins out of her hands. She was making the mess on his pants worse. “Thanks. I think. Just don’t let word get around. My reputation as a badass comes in handy and I don’t want to spoil it.” He took her elbow. “But you owe me, Caitlin. I want a really special dinner since you made me eat this crap.”
* * * * *
That evening, they had grilled chicken breasts, steamed green beans with sesame seeds, garlic bread and lemon mousse for dessert. It was delicious and Alex ate every bite.
“You thought you were so smart,” Caitlin said, watching Alex as he loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. She lowered her voice in a very bad imitation of his bass growl. “‘Pederson and Martinez are going out on a special mission’. Special mission, my foot. A special mission to give a talk at a middle school. When Pederson and Martinez told me where they were going, I could have strangled you with my bare hands! But then I started listening to what they were saying to the kids and it was really interesting, you know? And the question and answer session was fascinating. What the kids said fits right in with Huntington’s theories.”
“That right?” Alex didn’t have a clue who Huntington was, but if this Huntington kept Caitlin happy, he was Alex’s newest favorite author.
Happy and replete, Alex wiped the counters and watched the sky over his garden turn flamingo pink. He switched the dishwasher on and turned around to look with pleasure at Caitlin sitting at his kitchen table.
The kitchen was filled with the glowing light of sunset and Caitlin seemed to glow in the light as well. In the mornings, she managed to beat her hair into a semblance of submission, but by evening she gave up the attempt and let it curl wildly around her head like rays around the sun. She’d changed into a tee shirt and shorts and was barefoot. She looked about twelve as she rambled on about theories of community policing. As always, she made a lot of sense—when what she was saying could penetrate through Alex’s fog of lust.
Jesus, if he could just keep his head out of his pants and listen to her more, it would be like getting himself another master’s.
It was hard keeping his hands off her. The sex they’d had in the past couple of days should have slowed him down some, but he stayed in a constant state of semi-arousal around her. He was aware of her, always, as if his skin had become this sort of receiving station for whatever it was she emitted.
He and Caitlin had slipped into an easy domestic routine. Caitlin set the table and cooked, and he cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up.
If there was going to be any order in his kitchen at all, he was the one who was going to have to create it. Caitlin was a messy cook, though a fabulous one. Cleaning up after her was a small price to pay for the delicious meal he’d just eaten.
She was talking earnestly, something about community relations as understood by Horace Westin who said something about community policing, which was different from what whoosis in England postulated. Alex listened with half an ear, too delighted at the picture she made to take in much of what she was saying.
God, she floated his boat. During the day, he managed to keep his mind off his cock by immersing himself in the details of the hunt for Lopez and he knew she worked hard to stay out of his way. He was glad. She tried to stay out of his way as a professional courtesy, but he avoided her because just watching her breathe was enough to give him a hard-on. Like he didn’t have enough problems at work. But at home, well…
Like right now. She wasn’t wearing a bra. The red tee shirt she wore was ancient, faded to a dull pink and baggy. It had been washed so many times it was also very soft and outlined her gorgeous breasts lovingly. He could even see the tiny mole on her right breast through the soft material. Her breasts were perfect. He just loved them. Loved touching them, nuzzling against them. Soft yet firm, slightly large for her
narrow rib cage and all hers.
He resolved never, ever to go to bed with a woman with plastic sacs of silicone under her skin. Ever again.
Actually, it was getting harder and harder to imagine any other woman pleasing him as much as Caitlin. Well, he didn’t have to imagine it. She was right here, and welcomed his every touch.
“Don’t you think?” she asked, when she came to the end of her point, whatever it was. She looked up anxiously at him out of enormous blue eyes.
“Absolutely,” Alex said firmly. “Couldn’t agree more.”
“I’m so glad you feel that way,” she said with relief. “Not everyone does, you know. Why, Willard Bates argued that— What are you doing?”
Alex cupped her elbow and urged her to her feet. “There’s a fantastic sunset. Let’s go watch it.” He took the bottle of unfinished white wine, grabbed two clean stemmed glasses from the cupboard and opened the door into his garden. He breathed in deeply. The air was fragrant with evening dew and pine from the big pine tree in his neighbor’s yard.
“Come here.” Alex sat down on the top step and patted the place next to him.
“This is nice,” Caitlin said as she sank gracefully down next to him.
“Mmm, very.” Alex poured them both a glass of wine and set the empty bottle down. His garden faced west and the sky was spectacular. Light cirrus clouds floated lazily across his neighbor’s treetops, their underbellies painted a bright pink slowly fading into purple. A deep sense of peace seeped into his soul.
When was the last time he’d watched the sun set over his garden? He’d bought the damn place because it had a garden and he never used it. As a kid growing up in a rented, broken-down, filthy hovel of an apartment, he’d dreamed of a house, a proper one with a garden and maybe even a dog. And here he’d done it, paid his house off even, and though there was no question of having a dog, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been in his garden.
He’d been pulling double shifts for so long—what they called eight-to-eights down at the cop shop—he’d come to think of a twelve- or fourteen-hour day as normal. And yet they’d been warned against overdoing it at the academy, and even Ray had chewed his ass out over and over again.
“You’re going to burn out, boy,” Ray had growled, his bushy gray eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “You’ll crash and burn and for what? The bad guys will always be there. They’re forever. Working yourself into the ground won’t change anything.”
Ray was right, Alex suddenly realized. He’d started coming home later and later simply because there was nothing for him to come home to and it was easier to stay at work than face the emptiness here. But the last hours of his day weren’t productive and he always came home beat. Today, he’d worked efficiently all day, quit at five and he felt great.
And here he was, watching a spectacular sunset with a spectacular woman. He sipped his wine. Things were definitely looking up.
“You know what?” Caitlin asked.
Alex made a “hmmm?” sound in his throat, too lazy to even form words. This was such a perfect moment. The last rays of the sun had turned her skin a delicious pearly pink, like the inside of a seashell. He turned his face to her and pulled in a deep breath. He could smell her soap and shampoo, mixed in with the Chardonnay and pine. If sunset had a smell, this would be it. Caitlin and wine and his neighbor’s big pine tree. Especially Caitlin.
It was so perfect. The dramatic, darkening sky edging toward night. The soft sounds of evening. A dog’s bark carrying faintly from far away. A cicada revving up, ready to start the nightly concert. The dark, exotic smell of coming night. There was magic in the air.
Alex wasn’t a fanciful man, would have scoffed if anyone had said that he was susceptible to romance, but there was definitely something in the air. It was as if the world had taken a huge breath, ready to make a leap into something new, something almost frightening in its intensity.
He was a practical man, not given to fancies—and he hardly recognized himself. But what the evening offered him was too enticing to resist. Alex opened his heart and took it in.
Caitlin waved her hand at the garden. “I think you should plant an herb garden. Herbs are pretty, low upkeep and you can use them for cooking.” She slanted him a teasing glance. “Not that you do much cooking.”
No, she took care of that, he thought with satisfaction. She wanted an herb garden? Hell, he’d give her an herb garden. Long as she did all the work. It would be fun to watch that cute little ass bending down over the plants. “Okay. What do you want planted?”
“Mm. Well, rosemary, sweet basil, parsley and sage, for starters.”
He hummed “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme”, off-key. “And thyme. Don’t forget thyme.”
“And cilantro and chervil, and dill and mint.”
“Gotcha.” What the hell was chervil? No matter. Alex gave in to temptation and brought his mouth to her neck. Each time he touched her, the softness of her skin surprised him all over again. She felt like silk against his mouth. He planted a necklace of soft kisses along her collarbone and when she tilted her head slightly, he took it for the invitation it was. His mouth rose along her neck, feeling her heartbeat speeding up under his lips. He put his glass down behind her, taking hers away as well, and ran his newly freed hand under her tee shirt to cup her breast.
He was right. No bra. Oh God. Just a soft, round breast. He was going to hide her bras so she never wore one at home.
Her breath sped up further as he slowly, gently circled her nipple in exactly the same rhythm as his tongue circling her ear.
He could feel her heart beating fast now against his hand, her lungs expanding as she started panting.
Jesus, he was hard as a rock.
“We need to take this inside,” he whispered in her ear. “If we do what I want to do out here, I’ll have to arrest us.”
“Okay,” she whispered, turning to put her arms around his neck.
“Come with me,” Alex said, his voice thick. His mouth closed over hers, the kiss deep and hard. He rose, his hand under her elbow, taking her up with him. Two short steps and they were against the kitchen door, Caitlin’s hands on his back, under his tee, fingers curled into his skin.
They stumbled inside. Alex closed the kitchen door with his foot and walked her, lips still locked together, into the living room. He hurriedly stripped off his tee shirt, letting it fall to the floor as he scrambled to pull her tee off too.
His hands covered her breasts, firm and smooth. “Don’t ever wear a bra again,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Never,” she whispered. “Ever again, I promise.”
“Burn them. Give them to charity,” he said between nibbles of her mouth.
“Okay.”
Her shorts, his pants…somehow he got through the barriers between his flesh and hers. Their mouths never parted. It was impossible to leave her mouth, so soft and welcoming.
But he had to leave her mouth because he wanted to kiss something else.
It was amazing to him how little foreplay they indulged in. It was like he was always in this race, eager to just get inside her and start moving. And yet he knew better. He’d been fucking since he was twelve, when he’d nailed Maddie Harrison standing against her back door. And he’d been developing his technique since his early twenties. He knew what women liked. God knows they stated it clearly enough. Some of his lovers gave directions like backseat drivers. To the left, now the right, a little lower, there you go…
Alex was a cop. He was a listener and an observer. If you’d asked him, he’d have said he knew exactly what women wanted, how they wanted it and where.
So why did he always behave like a rabid wolverine with Caitlin, of all women? Caitlin, who still had that aura of innocence about her, who was actually smaller than most women? All his self-control just melted around her. In the sack, his basic technique was to jump her bones and stay inside her as long as he could, like a horny eighteen-year-old. Gah.
Oh yeah.
He batted down the heated images in his head before they got out of control. Before he got out of control. He needed to take it slow this time, if only to prove to himself that he could.
She sat on his couch, naked, soft, looking up at him with a smile on her face. Her eyes traveled down his body and blinked when they got to his cock. Yeah, well, he knew what she was seeing, he didn’t have to look down. He was hard as a club.
Her breathing sped up as she looked at him and damned if he didn’t swell a little, just from her eyes on him.
Oh Jesus, no—his spine was tingling and his balls start to rise. This wasn’t good. He was going to blow his wad the instant he got inside her. He’d done that too many times.
Alex recited a few sections of the Traffic Code in his head and dropped to his knees, taking his dick out of sight range.
“Oh.” Caitlin’s startled gaze met his. She was surprised he wasn’t jumping her bones. This wasn’t good. He’d trained her to think that his erection meant instant fuck. Well, how was she supposed to know otherwise? It had been his MO up until now.
That had to stop.
He put his hands on her knees and gently pressed her legs apart. Ah. She opened up like a little flower, pink, puffy girl flesh, already shiny and slick and he hadn’t even touched her there yet.
The color of her little cunt was delightful—a deep rose matching the color of her nipples and mouth. Everywhere else she was as pale as moonlight but here, oh yeah. Here she was the color of passion.
Unable to resist, Alex bent and put his mouth on her, feeling her jolt with surprise. He drew in a deep breath, nearly dizzy with delight. Caitlin always smelled good but here, her scent was wild, concentrated. When they had sex, their smell had a sweet undertone—and it was all her.
He tasted her, an experimental lick, holding her down easily as she nearly came up off the couch. God he loved how incredibly responsive she was. So prim and proper and scholarly outside the bedroom—or in this case the living room—but wild in his arms. She tasted wonderful, like sunshine and honey. He didn’t usually like going down all that much—it was awkward and uncomfortable—but right now he was as excited as she was.
A Fine Specimen Page 16
