Hot Water

by Maggie Toussaint

  “I want that, too.” Her fingers clutched his shirt.

  He kissed her again, feeling the thrust of her nipples in his chest, the heat of her lean hips molded to his. “Inside,” he managed as she fought him for the embrace.

  “Outside,” she said. “I can’t wait.”

  He realized she was caught in the same fever. Unlike her, he wasn’t far enough gone to want their first time to be in the yard. Without another word, he scooped her into his arms and hurried up the back steps.

  “Door,” he gritted, trying not to think about the pain in his hurt arm.

  She opened it. The dog followed them inside.

  “Which way?” he asked as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

  “Second door on the left,” she muttered between the feathery kisses she placed on his chest. “But I can walk. I’m too heavy for you to carry with that arm.”

  He stopped in the hall to taste her again. His blood heated to the flashpoint. “You’re just right. Everything about you is perfect.”

  She writhed in his arms and sensuously flowed down his length. He held his breath as she encountered the part that was rock hard. The firm curves of her hips and breasts burned into his skin.

  A rush of desire shot to his knees, causing him to slump against the wall. Like a fiery backdraft, the sensation stole the air from his passion-starved body. Who needed air? Flames tinged his carnal thoughts.

  Laurie Ann’s hands stilled. “Are you all right? Is it your arm?”

  “My arm’s fine. It’s you. The heat of you. The smell. The taste of your kiss.”

  “Good.” She planted a kiss on him that made his head spin. Then she lifted her arms and tossed her shirt to the side. The sight of her went straight to his groin, and the stroking of her hands on his chest didn’t help keep things in place.

  His cop didn’t do anything halfway.

  Neither did he.

  They needed a bed. He needed—protection. He hit the brakes, moisture beading on his brow. He didn’t carry a condom in his wallet, a practice he needed to reinstate. “Laurie Ann. I don’t have protection with me. Do you have anything?”

  “I do. Indeed I do.” She reached back, unclasped her bra, and tossed it on the floor. “Follow me.”

  She stopped at a bedside table and withdrew a box. Economy pack. Unopened. His heart raced faster. When she couldn’t get the box open, he snagged the package and bit through the plastic wrapping. She grabbed it back and shook it over the bed, as if the prophylactics were scented rose petals.

  With a deep chuckle, Wyatt drew her into his arms and tumbled onto the queen-sized bed, sending the cat on a fevered exit as Wyatt took the brunt of the fall, then rolled to be on top. “I love preparedness in a woman.”

  He levered his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her. She locked her legs around his waist. “In a hurry?” he asked as she rolled them and took the top position.

  Her fingers mussed his hair. She shifted urgently against him. “Can’t wait.”

  He skimmed her breasts, caressing the peaks of her nipples. He kissed her again, drawing in her sweetness and warmth, her wholesome enjoyment of lovemaking. How was he so lucky?

  He stopped to gaze at her again. From her creamy skin to her chestnut hair, she was all woman. And she was on fire for him.

  “Wyatt.”

  “Patience,” he said, opening her cargo pants, feeling the swell of moist heat against his palm.

  Her fingers sank into the tight muscles of his shoulders. “Nice. So nice,” he whispered.

  She stroked down his bare chest and over his pants. He closed his eyes to the pleasure. God, her touch lit him up like a wildfire.

  When she reached for the fastenings of his pants, he stayed her hand. They were about to go super nova, and he had more areas to taste.

  “Need—” His thoughts shattered as her fingers closed over him. “More,” he said greedily, luxuriating in the touch. “Need more. Touching, I mean,” he finally managed as he stroked her steamy depths.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered, opening wider for him.

  Sweet tension knotted his body as he discarded the rest of their clothing. He fondled her full breasts, lavishing them with kisses, savoring their dusky tips. He kissed a trail down her flat belly.

  So muscular, his cop.

  She shrieked with laughter and need as his lips followed his hands to her sweet spot. The scent of her drove him wild.

  His name rolled off her lips with a keening sound. He donned the condom and moved back up to kiss her again.

  She pointed to his arm.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s minor. I have a higher priority here. Us. This is our moment.” With that, he sheathed himself in her. He’d never felt anything so exquisite.

  He kissed her and caressed her until she shimmered like heatwaves on beach sand. She was so beautiful.

  “Please,” she whimpered.

  He set the rhythm, his hands on her hips, his eyes full of her. They were so close. He felt the ripples inside her. Moments later, she arched and climaxed. He followed her over the summit, a fiery joyride to the stars.

  Chapter 26

  Laurie Ann clung to Wyatt’s chest, drifting languidly through time and space, wanting this relaxed and connected sensation to last forever. Air from the ceiling fan swirled in lazy eddies across her bare back. Shadows stretched across the room. A sheen of moisture sealed her front to his.

  They’d made it to her bed, barely. She blushed remembering the brazen way she’d been with him. That wasn’t how she acted. At least, not with anyone else. Something about Wyatt made her bolder, demanding, and playful.

  She’d never felt so exhausted or satisfied. Lying here with him seemed the most natural thing in the world.

  Maybe she should handcuff him to her bed. The thought made her smile.

  “What?” he asked, his fingers massaging the back of her head.

  “I feel…good.”

  “Must be going around. I’ve caught the same bug.”

  She pushed up to study him. He seemed so at ease in her bed. The shadow of a beard gave him a rakish look. The burn scars on his lean and muscular torso were marks of honor. He was a hero.

  Her hero.

  She bent down to kiss his scars.

  “Don’t,” he said, looking away.

  She touched her lips to another badge of courage, then caught his hand. “Why?”

  He took his time answering. “My scars. They’re…ugly.”

  She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand until his gaze met hers. “No, they’re not. Each one is who you are. What you gave of yourself for the job. You should be proud of them.”

  “Huh. Never thought of it that way.”

  Her eyes strayed again to his crimson bandage. “As wonderful as this is, I should be thinking about dinner and changing the bandage on your arm.”

  He plucked a condom package from where it had stuck to her side. A knowing glint filled his eyes. “Not just yet.”

  She felt him stir down there, and her thoughts veered in a different direction. A wanton direction. Sitting astride him, she straightened, arched her back, and stretched like a cat. “Should we?”

  He reached for her. “We should.”

  Chapter 27

  Laurie Ann scrambled eggs with a joyful song humming in her heart. The notes ebbed and flowed like ocean waves, buoying her as she worked. Everything about today seemed shiny and bright. The notes soared, and so did she.

  Wyatt’s song.

  He’d changed her.

  For better or worse.

  She’d never felt so happy.

  The muffins popped up in the toaster. She buttered and stacked them on the platter. She transferred the bacon and eggs onto the dish.

  How bizarre to stand here cooking when she wanted to be stranded on a desert island with Wyatt. But her rumbling stomach wouldn’t last long in paradise without food, so breakfast it was.

  And work. />
  Though she’d already put on her uniform, thick-soled shoes, and gunbelt, she didn’t feel the least bit professional. How could she be a tough cop today when she felt all marshmallow gooey?

  She carried the breakfast platter to the sun-drenched table. “It’s ready,” she called, pulling off the apron she’d worn to protect her clothes.

  Wyatt appeared in the doorway, his dark hair gleaming from his shower. His unbuttoned shirt sent her thoughts in a delicious direction. And those bare feet looked so intimate. She tried not to drool at the appealing picture he presented, but it was hard, especially when she wanted to leap into his arms.

  “Smells great,” he said. “What can I do to help?”

  “I’ve got it. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “No problem in that department. I could eat a horse.”

  “You’ll have to settle for bacon and eggs.” She set a plate before him.

  He dug right in. “This is good. Thanks.”

  Her thoughts wouldn’t settle as she ate her food. Could she set aside her morning-after glow? How did Wyatt do it? He looked focused and ready to face the day. How did he transition from lover to co-worker so quickly?

  Going by the way he attacked breakfast, he wasn’t thinking about making love.

  Pity.

  His fork stopped halfway to his mouth and he studied her.

  “What?” she asked, certain her wayward thoughts glowed like a fluorescent billboard.

  “Just watching you eat.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “I noticed.” He grinned. “We worked up quite an appetite.”

  “Yes, we did.” Heat rose to her face as she saw that knowing glint return to his eyes, the one she now knew meant he was thinking about making love to her. “Will that affect our working relationship?”

  He reached for her hand. “I’m good with it. You?”

  His touch soothed her anxiety, but nothing slowed her racing pulse. “I don’t know if I can look at you and not think about sex.”

  “Okay by me.”

  She laughed at his waggling eyebrows. “Folks will notice. Like my boss. We have to be discreet.”

  “That’s a given. Look, we knew we’d have to strike a balance. Let’s take it one day at a time. The what-if game invites trouble.”

  “You’re right, but the truth is, I feel different around you. More feminine, so these worries are unusual for me.”

  He leaned across the table and brushed the tenderest of kisses on her lips. “You are a woman, one hundred percent. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “You’re welcome.” He spooned up another mound of eggs for his plate. “I have to maintain my strength. The woman I’m seeing is very demanding.”

  She wadded up her napkin and threw it at him. “Treat me right, or I’ll whip out my handcuffs.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Absolutely.” She munched on bacon and marveled over her change in perspective. Everything felt so wonderful, so picture perfect, so freshly-scrubbed new.

  “Today’s the day,” he said.

  “The day for what?”

  “The day we start interviewing arson suspects.”

  “We could solve this case today?” Her hopes hung on a wobbly tightrope.

  “Perhaps. I’ll check my laptop after breakfast. It should have coughed up some names after running all night.”

  Her pulse punched into turbo drive.

  She wasn’t ready for him to pack his bags and head back to Atlanta, not by a long shot. She tugged at her uniform collar, wrestling with her thoughts.

  You knew this would happen. You knew he wouldn’t stay. But last night meant something. To both of them.

  Didn’t it?

  Deep breath.

  Be calm.

  Her pulse slowed, but the niggle of doubt remained.

  Woodenly, she did the dishes and hung the dishtowel to dry. All too soon, Wyatt returned with his laptop. “We’re in business.”

  “Great.” She propped a hip against the counter. “Who are we putting under a microscope today?”

  “First up is Deandre Jackson. What do you know about him?”

  “He’s a shrimp wholesaler. Decent sort. Family man. But your search engine must be flawed. I thought you were looking for white males of a certain age. Deandre is black, and he’s sixty if he’s a day.”

  “Very little about this case follows a standard profile. I kept Deandre in the pool as a failsafe. I don’t want to eliminate anyone with a fire background at this point.”

  “What kind of fire is in his past?”

  “He’s been a volunteer fireman for years. Records indicate he was first at the scene at most of the fires.”

  “I thought firefighters were the good guys.”

  “Mostly they are.”

  Laurie Ann reached for the phone book. Deandre wasn’t listed but his mother was. “I’ll call his mom,” she said.

  Wanitra Jackson said Deandre was visiting his daughter in L.A. He’d been there a week already.

  “No dice on Deandre,” Laurie Ann explained. “He’s staying in Los Angeles, so he couldn’t have started the Pirate’s Cove fire.”

  Wyatt made a notation. “That was easy.”

  “Who’s next?”

  “Bird Prince. Says he lives in the next county, but he fishes in Tidewater County frequently. His house burned about ten years ago.”

  “I don’t know Bird, but I bet my dad does.” Laurie Ann reached for her cell phone. “He knows everybody who fishes these waters.”

  “Let’s run through the rest of the names before you call him in case we have other questions. The search also turned up Miller Everly, Jacob Whitman, and Vernon Carter.”

  “Miller’s in jail. Couldn’t bond out for his last assault charge. He’s been in our custody for a month.”

  “What about Whitman or Carter?”

  “Never heard of Whitman. I think the Carter boy works for the logging company.”

  “Whitman reported a brush fire near his north county home last year. Carter is another volunteer firefighter.”

  “I’ll ask my dad about all three.”

  Her father answered on the first ring. Laurie Ann got right down to business. “What can you tell me about Bird Prince?”

  “Never heard of him. Wait, and I’ll ask Lester.” A few seconds later, her father came back on the line. “Got nothing for you¸ sorry.”

  “It was worth a shot. I hoped you might know him through fishing. The arson investigation gave us a couple more names. You ever heard of Jacob Whitman or Vernon Carter?”

  “Whitman. I know that name. Something about a property dispute with a neighbor. Out at the north end of the county years ago. There was a problem with the access road to Whitman’s property. He got arrested for the incident, but the charges were dropped. The other guy turned out to be a lunatic. Whitman’s low profile. The experience soured him on people. Watch your back if you go down to his place. He’s armed to the gills.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Laurie Ann took notes as her father talked. Whitman sounded like a strong possibility. “What about Vernon Carter?”

  “I don’t know Vernon, but there was a Carter family that used the private hunting lodge way up in the Mossy Bog Swamp a coupla times. We responded to several drunk and disorderly conduct incidents for out-of-control Carters about twelve years ago. Can’t say as I remember a Vernon in the bunch. Oh and there is a Carter out at the mid-county marina. Has an old Boston Whaler as I recall, but I don’t know his first name. Lester, you know a Vernon Carter? Nope, Lester doesn’t know him either.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Y’all having any luck up there?”

  “We’ve caught a few fish, but we’re not done, not by a long shot. How long’s it been since we did this?”

  “A long time. My job keeps me busy most weekends.”

  “You work too hard. How’s that arson investigator treating you?”

  “
We’re working the case, Dad.”

  “Don’t forget to enjoy yourself.”

  “Thanks for your help.” She ended the call and relayed the information to Wyatt. “Sounds like we have three viable suspects. When I get to the station this morning, I’ll run them through our computer files and see if I turn up anything new about them.”

  Wyatt fiddled with his coffee cup. “We have four suspects.”

  “Four? How do you figure that?”

  “My search is only as good as the information provided. While networking in the community I came across another lead. This person travels a lot. He has a fire history. He has no steady income. He’s accountable to no one.”

  “You described half the county. Folks here take extreme pride in their independence. They revel in eking out a living and paying the least amount of taxes possible. They don’t like anyone to be in their face or their business.”

  “Perhaps the profile is not specific enough, but not all of your residents have a history of fire association. That’s what caught my eye.”

  “All right. Enough with the suspense. Spit it out.”

  “My other suspect is your cousin. Lester Church.”

  Chapter 28

  Laurie Ann felt the strong invisible kick to her gut. She grabbed hold of the table to keep from falling out of her chair. “No way. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  “Lester fits the profile.”

  Wyatt’s soothing tone irritated the crap out of her. “Lester did not do this. He wouldn’t kill a flea.”

  “He’s on a trip right now. You think he’s out there observing nature with a butterfly net or a camera? He’s got fish hooks and sharp knives. He’s probably got a gun. He’s capable of killing.”

  “I know Lester. He’s like a brother to me. He wouldn’t harm another person. That’s so wrong. That’s not how he was raised. He helps people. He helped my dad with a load of firewood the other day.”

  “I’m looking into his financials, same as I am for my other suspects.”

  She couldn’t sit still. Laurie Ann jumped out of her chair and paced the kitchen, her long strides forcing many turns. “This is my family we’re talking about. How would you feel if I was investigating your family?”