Fatal Evidence

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Fatal Evidence Page 3

by Kari Lemor


  Rolling her eyes, she pointed to the pile of rubble in the corner. “Okay, tell me all about the great transformation that will take place.”

  As they walked through the space, Scott highlighted where each condo would start, end, and how he envisioned the final product. It came to life as his excited voice described the woodwork, cabinetry, and fixtures.

  “Let’s go upstairs. The fourth floor condos will have cathedral ceilings and we may be able to put a few loft spaces in as well.”

  As they entered the stairwell, her heel stuck on a loose board and she stumbled. In barely a second, Scott had her in his arms, her feet off the floor.

  “What are you doing?” she squealed as he trotted up the stairs, her arms around his neck for balance.

  “You’re going to kill yourself in these shoes. I’m merely protecting my investment.”

  He was also copping a feel on the side of her breast. Not that she’d complain. A girl had to get her thrills someplace. Scott Holland was definitely thrilling. The strong arms that held her were the result of years of hard labor. It was like she weighed nothing as his muscled legs jogged up the stairs. At the top floor he didn’t put her down, simply gazed at the space.

  His eyes lit up and a smile appeared on his face as he looked around. The dimple in his chin stood out against the stubble surrounding it. Too clearly she remembered how that stubble had left marks on her body everywhere it had touched. Oh, God, stop mooning over the construction guy. What was wrong with her that she got turned on by the smell of sawdust and manly soap?

  “What do you have planned up here? Anything different?” Why the heck was her voice all breathy and soft? Where the hell was her rough exterior? The one that had made Scott start calling her Xena, Warrior Princess to begin with? Not that she’d ever tell him she secretly didn’t hate the name. It wasn’t great, but it was far better than what some of her other boyfriends had called her. Sugar Tush. Poochypoo, Scooter Pie.

  Whoa! Boyfriend? No, he certainly was not her boyfriend or even anything close. You did sleep with him. Fine, they’d had sex. Un-freakin-believable sex, but that’s all it was. It didn’t mean anything, obviously, since they hadn’t done it again. And whose fault was that? He called you, texted a few times, and got blown off.

  Wiggling in his arms, she tried to get down. Get the voices in her head to stop arguing with her was more like it.

  “Hold still,” he scolded and pulled her tighter to his chest. “Now listen up while I give you the run down on the condos up here.”

  He walked around the space as if he wasn’t carrying a full-grown woman in his arms. Damn impressive. The pectoral muscles beneath her hand weren’t too shabby either. Continuing on with his description, he seemed to not even realize she was there. At the windows, he set her down and stood behind her looking out, pointing to certain landmarks in the small mill town that you could see from here.

  He had been affected by carrying her. The erection digging into her back was evidence enough. Good to know. Not that she wanted anything to happen. They were business partners now. They had to be professional.

  “Ready to go?” His gravelly voice sent goose pimples crawling across her arms, and she rubbed them.

  “Cold? You should have worn a warmer coat. You’ve lived in New England all your life. You should know April can be chilly. Plus the heat hasn’t been on in this building for years.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. The cold wasn’t getting to her. It was him and his annoyingly sexy presence. She wouldn’t tell him though.

  “I’ll make sure to let you know when the permit comes through. If I don’t have it by next week, I’ll call and check on it.”

  “Perfect, but remember I’m in on this too. If you need me to do anything, you only need to ask.”

  “I will.” His sexy smile was back as he glanced up and down her body. “Ready for your ride down.”

  “You don’t have to carry me. I’m fine walking.”

  “And killing yourself by falling down three flights of stairs. Then where does my funding for this project go?”

  “You already have access. You don’t need me.”

  “Stealing from a dead woman, though. That just seems…wrong.”

  The chuckle escaped before she could stop it. He seriously had a warped sense of humor at times. Moving closer, he placed his hand on her hip.

  At her indignant look, he said, “You could always ride piggyback if you don’t like me carrying you.”

  Scanning her slim skirt, she scoffed. “A piggyback ride? In this?”

  “You could hike up the skirt then jump on.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  His eyebrows went up and down. “Very much.”

  Closing her eyes, she sighed then held out her arms. “Fine, come get me, my prince. Rescue me from the dangerous crumbling castle.”

  Scott sidled closer then ran his hands down her hips. One hand continued down her leg until it slipped under. His other hand caressed her back then he scooped her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he trotted back down three flights of stairs. At the bottom he didn’t release her right away. And for some reason she didn’t tell him to.

  His eyes roamed over her from head to toe and lingered on those heels. Slowly, he allowed her feet to slide to the floor, her body rubbing against his hardness, sending fluttering sensations through her blood stream. As her shoes touched the ground, he leaned in close, his manly smell assaulting her nostrils. Inhaling the scent, she waited for his next words.

  His breath drifted across her cheek. “Next time, you should think about wearing a sensible pair of shoes.”

  * * * *

  “What are you doing here?”

  Scott looked at Heather as she paused in the doorway of the municipal office. Her usual sexy business attire in place. Slim skirt, high heels, and today she had on a snug-fitting top that caressed her curves and dipped low in the front, allowing him a peek at her cleavage.

  Raising one elegantly plucked eyebrow, she replied, “You said you still hadn’t heard about the building permit so I decided to come check on it.”

  Shuffling the extra blueprints into one arm, he planted his hands on his hips. Here she was taking charge again without discussing it with him. “I told you because you wanted to be kept informed. But I also told you I’d be taking care of it. There’s no reason for you to miss your weekly tennis game for menial labor.”

  Her eyes drilled holes in him.

  “What? Not tennis today? The nails and hair look great so I figured it wasn’t them.” He stepped closer, right into her space then glanced down at her skirt. “Waxing.”

  “I don’t…”

  It was his turn for the raised eyebrow. He’d been downtown with her and she most certainly did. Had she forgotten what they’d done already? Her cheeks tinged a lovely shade of pink and she took a deep breath.

  “Why don’t we simply do this together and get it over with? The sooner we get the permit, the sooner the building renovations get started.”

  “After you.” He swept his hand out to indicate she should go in first. He was a gentleman. And he liked to watch her sweet ass in the tight skirt sway from side to side. It was pure poetry.

  The young man behind the counter looked up as they walked in and his face lit up. Yeah, Heather had a way of making people take notice. Maybe she could get further than he’d been able to. He’d already spent over an hour on the phone with someone, and they hadn’t told him anything about what had happened to the permit application.

  “Hi, I’m Heather Silva. My partner and I have been waiting on a building permit, but it seems to have gotten misplaced. Perhaps you could help us.”

  Scott pulled out his receipt then handed it over. “This is a copy of the application.”

  The man frowned. “That would have b
een sent to the Division of Building Codes. It’s down a flight in the basement. Room Twenty-Seven. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  His expression said he hoped there was. But it was directed exclusively at Heather.

  Moving forward, Scott leaned against the counter. “I talked to someone in that office earlier and they have no record of it ever being there. They said it might still be here.”

  “I sent everything we got to the appropriate offices. There’s nothing here.”

  Heather leaned over the counter. “Room Twenty-Seven, you said?”

  He merely nodded, his eyes slipping lower. Scott grabbed her elbow and muttered a “thanks” as they walked out the door.

  “You didn’t have to be rude,” she said, pulling her arm out of his grasp and marching down the hallway. He whistled, heading in the other direction. Her heels clicked on the linoleum behind him.

  At the top of the stairs, he turned and grinned. “Did you want a ride down these? They don’t seem to be as rickety as the mill, but I certainly wouldn’t want you to fall.”

  “I think I can manage.” She held tight to the banister as she went down, though. He controlled his tongue. There was only so far he could push her. He knew his limit. For now.

  They passed several empty offices and at Room Twenty-Seven, Heather gave a soft knock before she turned the knob. A thin man, approximately in his fifties, sat at one of the desks, his glasses resting low on his nose.

  “Hi there.” She went into action. “We’re looking for someone who can help us with some blueprints sent here for a building permit.”

  The man waved around the room. “We’re all about blueprints here. I’m Ted Farmer. What can I do for you?”

  “Heather Silva.” She extended her slender hand and shook Ted’s. “This is my partner, Scott Holland. We sent some drawings here a few weeks ago with an application for a building permit. They seem to have disappeared.”

  “They’d be listed under Holland Construction,” Scott informed him.

  Ted scanned down a page in a large book sitting on his desk. He flipped the page and scanned some more. “Nothing with that name in the last month or so. When was the check cashed?”

  “It wasn’t. Not yet.”

  Ted’s mouth twisted. “Then we must not have gotten them. The check usually gets cashed within a day or two. You sure they came to this office?”

  Ted’s eyes stayed on Heather, but Scott answered. “I delivered them upstairs myself.”

  Bending over, Heather placed her hands on the desk in front of Ted. “Do you think you could take a look for them? They might have gotten misplaced.” Her voice was soft and sweet. Damn, she knew how to play.

  “Sure.” Ted took a few minutes sifting through the stacks of plans then turned back and sat down, his eyes on Heather once more. “Sorry. You’ll probably need to fill out another application and resubmit the plans.”

  Pulling the plans from Scott’s arms, she placed them on the desk and leaned over Ted. “Can’t you put them in your system from down here? We’d greatly appreciate it.”

  “I really shouldn’t.”

  “Please.” Her whisper floated across the desk and Ted visibly swallowed, his eyes skimming her figure. “It’s already been three weeks. I hate the thought of waiting another month to get it going.”

  Scott held back the snort that fought to come out.

  “I guess I could, but I’d need the application filled out.”

  Keeping her body facing Ted, she twisted enough to hold out her hand for the form. Handing it over, Scott stepped back toward the door letting her do her thing. God, he’d never had to stoop so low to get something through. Not that he was doing any of the stooping.

  “Here’s a copy of the application and here are the plans. When do you think you could get to them? This project has already taken too long.”

  Her voice was still sugar-coated and Ted was buying every ounce of it. Looking around the desk and the overflowing table behind him, he placed the plans in the bin on his right.

  “This is tomorrow’s pile. That’s the quickest I can get to them. Will that do?”

  “Thank you so much for all your help.” Reaching out, she patted his arm then stood. “I’ll remember this, Ted.”

  Ted gave a little smile and stared until Heather exited the room. Scott moved back and started down the hall after her.

  “Nice moves there.”

  She rounded on him, her eyes flaring. Looking around the hall, he pulled her into a deserted room and kicked at the door.

  “I managed to get the job done.” Her voice was low, dangerous.

  “Maybe you would have gotten it done even faster if you flashed your tits at him. They’re quite prominent and lovely today.”

  “What an ass.”

  “I suppose you could have flashed him that too, though he sure did like the view he had.”

  “Don’t be crude. I was simply being nice.” If her eyes could shoot flames he’d be cinders.

  “You can be nice to me.” Walking closer, he pressed her against the wall. “Then I’ll do things faster.”

  Her breath hitched. “You’re fast enough.”

  “Too fast? Is that why we haven’t repeated the experience? I didn’t take enough time with you?”

  She avoided his eyes.

  “I could have sworn you enjoyed it, but I’m not an expert on women, so what do I know?”

  Her breathing increased and he pressed closer, sliding his hand down her hip to the edge of her skirt. The skin beneath his fingers was soft as silk as he skimmed his hand up her leg.

  “I can go slower if that’s what you want.” Feathering his lips over her cheek, he whispered, “I can take all night pleasing you.”

  Her skirt had traveled up her legs. Had he done that? His hands on the outside of her thighs indicated he had. No complaints from her so far. Shit, he wanted to take her right here against the wall. Grinding his arousal against her, he ran his tongue over her ear.

  When his hands reached the lace of her panties she shook her head and inhaled sharply.

  “We’re in business together. We shouldn’t do this.”

  “Great reason for now, but what about before we formed this partnership? What’s your excuse for that time?”

  She only stared, her expression unreadable.

  Stepping back, he dropped his hands. “I guess everyone’s got to slum it once, huh? You tried the blue-collar thing and got it out of your system. Time to move on.”

  Turning away, she straightened her skirt then adjusted the neckline of her shirt. “Let’s go.”

  Catching up to her on the stairs, he couldn’t resist one last jab. “Your friend in there was certainly willing. If you gave him the sign, you could have checked municipal worker off your list too.”

  He chuckled when she didn’t even glance over her shoulder.

  Chapter 4

  “I cannot believe he did that.” Heather stormed through the back door into her best friend’s kitchen. Callie sat wiping what looked like peanut butter from the hands of her son, Jonathan.

  “Did what? Who?”

  Heather took a deep breath and kissed the little boy’s head. Moving away so she didn’t frighten him, she mumbled, “And I simply stood there and let him. What the hell is wrong with me?”

  Lifting the two-year-old down from his chair, Callie scooted him into the living room. “Play with your blocks before you have to take a nap. Make sure I can see you from here.”

  The dark-haired child, so like his father, shuffled through the archway and settled on the carpet with his toys. Callie cleaned up his lunch then put some water on to boil. “Tea?”

  Nodding, Heather sat at the table and clenched her hands on the surface. “I have no control when he’s around. I can’t be that stupid, can I?”

 
As her friend got cups and tea bags, Heather let her mind wander to what happened this morning. How had she not punched him in his gorgeous face? You liked it. Admit it. No, she hadn’t. He was groping her. And you wanted him to continue. Wanted his hands to slip inside your panties. Oh, God, she had. It had taken all her control to tell him to stop.

  Callie set two cups on the table before she sat in the chair next to her. “You want to tell me about this person who has you all worked up?”

  Glancing into the front room, Heather shrugged. “Maybe I shouldn’t say anything.”

  Cocking her head, Callie leaned her elbows on the table. “Really? After three years of carrying around my biggest secret, you’re not going to tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Three years of being there whenever Callie needed her. Okay, she might need someone right now. If only to vent and tell her she needed psychiatric help.

  “Give.”

  It would be much easier if Callie wasn’t now married to the cousin of her problem. “Scott.”

  “What about Scott? What did he do that you can’t believe, and what did you do that made you stupid?”

  “This morning we were trying to get the building permit issued. We’ve had some problems. I may have…flirted a little to get it done quicker.”

  A smile appeared on Callie’s face. This was why she loved her friend. She never judged and always held her tongue if she had an opinion.

  “He made some crude comment about it.”

  “And that surprises you? Why? You’ve known Scott for a while now. Sarcasm is a second language to him.”

  “It’s not the crude comment, but the crude action that followed it.”

  “Crude? As in sexual?”

  “Yes, up against the wall. Practically felt me up while I simply stood there.”

  “You didn’t say anything?” Callie’s voice held confusion. “Or clock him one?”

  Staring into space, she shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

  An unladylike snort burst from her friend’s mouth. “Heather Silva, speechless. Oh, I wish I had seen that.”

  “Laugh all you want. I’m still so damn frustrated.”

 

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