by Lacy, Shay
It looked old, like a stone carving, and was flat, which surprised her. When Charlie had said a sculpture she’d envisioned something three dimensional, but this was two. There were two garish seated figures wearing monstrous elaborate masks and headdresses and little else. It was primitive.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It’s a sculpture of the Mayan gods Hunahpu and Xbalanque, the Maya Hero Twins.”
“It looks old.”
“I don’t know if it is or not. My client’s girlfriend obtained it in South America when she was filming a movie.”
“Tomb raiding?”
“I don’t know. She’s an actress. Lots of opportunities get offered to actors on movie sets. Maybe someone sold it to her. Or maybe she bought it in a village. It could be a clever reproduction. She told my client it was a fertility god.” His smile blazed.
Juliana was distracted by that smile and her curiosity about Charlie’s life in California. “Were you offered opportunities on sets?”
He sobered. “Yeah. Drugs, sex, other things. I wasn’t a big star, so I didn’t get huge enticements, but they were enough to get anybody into trouble.”
“Did you get into trouble?”
His sexy smile was wickedly sinful. “Yeah, but not that kind. My family kept me out of most of it. Billy and my parents mostly. And work.”
“I thought I’d seen all the movies you were in. I must have missed a lot of them if you were that busy.”
Charlie shook his head, his blue eyes sad. “Not acting. Jobs that paid the rent like busboy, waiter, studio model, canvasser, things like that.”
“But you wanted to be an actor your whole life.”
“So do thousands of other people who flock to California every year. Roles don’t get cast based on who wants to be an actor the most.”
“But you were good!”
“Thanks for the support. I need to retrieve this sculpture so I can get back to California. Would you see if you can locate it?”
Juliana sensed something beneath Charlie’s easy smile. The Charlie she’d grown up with wouldn’t have let overwhelming odds stop him. But she followed his lead and picked up the photo. A picture of a large white house filled her mind. It was a mansion surrounded by palm trees, which described a lot of properties in Florida.
“It’s a very large white house, two stories at least, maybe three. There’s a large pool in the back, shaped like a four leaf clover, a pool house or guesthouse, lots of property.” She tried to see more details.
“Can you get an address?” Charlie asked.
She shook her head and laid the photo on the coffee table. “It doesn’t work like that. I’ve got a map of Miami. I’ll try to pinpoint it for you.”
“If you had a picture of the house, could you tell?”
“Maybe. You have a photo?”
He nodded. “In the car. I’ll be right back.” Charlie rose and slipped out the door.
Juliana almost wished it wasn’t this easy to find the sculpture. She’d like more time to get to know this sexy man again. But he was itching to return to his life in California. She had no right to hold him back. What they’d shared was in the past. Puppy love didn’t last.
CHAPTER 5
Excitement urged Charlie back to Juliana’s apartment with his file folder of precious photos. If she could pinpoint the sculpture’s location, he might be home by tomorrow, away from his family . . . and her.
That little white top she wore bared a delectable midriff. And the long crinkled melon-colored skirt draped low enough on her abdomen to give him carnal ideas about pulling it down her hips. He wondered what she wore underneath it, if anything. The desire to run his hands up her shapely calves and thighs to find out drove him wild.
He thanked God he’d worn loose black pants; otherwise his hard-on would make it painful to move. He shouldn’t make love with her again. That wasn’t his reason for being here. He should stick to business.
Juliana looked up when he stepped through the door and all his good intentions dived straight toward hell. Her dark eyes were nearly all pupil. His cock hardened even more. It made him hot to see a woman who desired him as much as Juliana did.
Charlie sucked in several breaths as he fought the urge to pull her down onto his cock. Surrounded by the warmth and color of Mexican fabrics and homemade pots, she burned with Latin life and passion. He needed that passion.
Focus, man.
He approached the couch where she sat watching him like a cat watched its next meal. Careful not to touch her, he sat down and laid the three grainy black-and-white prints from the Internet on the coffee table in front of her.
Juliana reached out, and her palm hovered over the first photo. With her other hand she picked up the photo of the stolen sculpture. She placed her palm on the photo. Charlie held his breath. He noticed by her outthrust breasts that Juliana did, too.
A little frown creased her forehead. “I don’t get anything from this one.”
She lifted her hand and moved it to the next photo, where she repeated her performance. He held his breath again. “Not this one either.”
Juliana moved her hand to the final photo, where she hesitated. “I don’t always get something from photos.”
“I understand.”
Still she hesitated, and he glanced up. Juliana looked at him, not at the pictures. “Charlie, what are you going to do if I tell you it’s at this last house?”
“Get it back.”
“You mean steal it?”
He smiled. “How can it be stealing when the sculpture doesn’t belong to them?”
“Charlie, I mean it. I’m a cop’s daughter. I can’t help you break the law.”
“How is helping me different from helping the police?”
“You’re not the law.”
“I’m who people turn to when they can’t go to the police. My client doesn’t want to involve them, and he doesn’t want his property tied up for months or years in the legal system.”
“You really hire yourself out to find things?”
His mouth quirked up on the right side. “Like you. I get a finder’s fee. What do you get?”
“The same. And the satisfaction of catching criminals. It’s the only way I can.”
Charlie caught the bitter note in her voice. “You could become a cop like your father.”
Juliana snorted. “No, I can’t. The accident saw to that.”
He’d seen every inch of her luscious body. He hadn’t seen any impediment to her becoming a police officer. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s this.” She spread her hands over the table. “This ability I have. My father told me you can’t have it and be in law enforcement.”
“Psychics can’t be cops? They are on TV.”
“They can’t be in real life, not if it’s known. Police officers often have to testify in court. I would be discredited immediately because of what I can do. Some people think I’m a fraud. I’ve been called worse. I thought my father was wrong, but I’ve asked other officers I trust and I’ve even called other states. It’s the same everywhere.”
Rage burned through Charlie, hot and startling. It surprised him. Why was he so angry about someone verbally abusing Juliana? Because no one had a right to hurt her. Charlie choked down his rage and asked, “But it’s something you want to do?”
“Yes. I want to follow in my father’s footsteps. I want to be a detective.”
Charlie felt speechless. Juliana had a dream she couldn’t fulfill. In a perverse way, she was like him. Odd that he hadn’t known about it. When she was younger she’d played cops and robbers with him but never mentioned her dream to him. Why not?
Then a thought struck him. “Did you always want to be one?”
Juliana looked away. “No. Only after my mom died.”
Why then? He waited, but she didn’t enlighten him. He probed a little. “That’s when you became psychic.”
She nodded. “I hit my head. Several holisti
c doctors told me that’s sometimes how clairvoyance manifests.”
He sensed the tension in her body. “I never knew.”
“I didn’t know what it was back then. I just knew something was different.”
“So did I.”
Juliana’s smile flitted across her face. “That’s not what I was talking about.” But her stiff posture relaxed.
“Do you resent being psychic?”
“I resent being different, being treated differently or in a negative way. But I like being able to help the police.” She drew in a deep breath. “How about I help you?” She laid her palm on the final photo. A sigh escaped her full lips. “It’s here.”
Excitement surged through Charlie. He scooted forward on the couch and looked at the web page address on the bottom of the paper. South Beach. Dalton Montgomery had it. “Can you tell me where the sculpture is in the house?”
Juliana closed her eyes and frowned. As seconds turned into minutes, she frowned harder. He could feel the tension in her. At last she opened her eyes. “I only get darkness.”
“You mean you don’t see anything?”
“No. I mean it’s dark. Maybe it’s inside something—a box, a drawer . . . ”
“A safe?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell.”
“And you can’t pinpoint better where it’s at in the house?”
“Maybe if I was closer, or inside the house.” She shrugged, the movement doing enticing things to her chest.
Charlie tore his eyes away from how the clingy white top lovingly cupped her breasts. “I don’t know if I can get you in the house or not.”
“I can’t trespass, Charlie. My father’s a cop.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to working on my own. Thanks for your help. You saved me hours, maybe days of stake-outs.”
“You’re welcome.”
Charlie gathered his pictures into the manila file folder. He’d made it through this time with Juliana without making love to her. He’d better vamoose while both their good intentions were intact.
Juliana walked him to the door. He turned, his gaze sweeping from her tousled waves down to her glossy-painted toenails for what might be the last time. Her face hadn’t changed; it was the same one that was branded on his heart. But her body had become a sexy, desirable one, one that he’d explored in the most intimate ways mere hours ago. One he wanted to explore again.
She studied him, too. Her eyes were soft with memories, perhaps the same ones playing in his mind.
Her full lips beckoned. What could it hurt to kiss her good-bye? He knew what, but he couldn’t fight the urge to taste their succulent warmth one last time.
Charlie moved closer and leaned down to her. Juliana’s eyes widened and her lips parted. He took possession of them. Desire surged up inside him. His arm stole around her bare waist and he pulled her to him, pressing her tight against his hungry flesh. He kissed her again and again, trying to assuage a need only she awoke. His erection was a burning brand between them.
Juliana’s arms climbed his back. Her hips strained against his aching cock. She made needy sounds against his lips.
Need clawed at him. He turned with her and pressed her against her apartment wall. The file folder slid from his hand. Her thigh climbed his hip, opening her to him. He tore at his pants fly, snapping off the button in his haste. Juliana’s hands interfered as he worked at getting his pants open. He gave way to her insistent fingers, instead reaching for the condom in his pocket. Had he known, suspected . . . or hoped? Rational thought fled when she thrust her hand into his opened slacks and dived into his underwear to grip his cock. He groaned. It felt so good.
Charlie had enough brains left to push his pants and underwear down. Juliana helped him with the condom, although she nearly ended the encounter with her sensual handling. Then he slid his hands under that inviting skirt—did he have a thing about skirts?—up her smooth, firm thighs to her hips, and hit skin all the way.
“No panties,” he panted.
Juliana lifted her leg in invitation. “They get in the way.”
Charlie pressed his cock between her legs. “Too right.” With one urgent thrust he filled her. They both groaned. Her pussy gripped him tight, her body’s adjustments caressing his length.
God, it felt so good to be inside her again. But he had to move. He pressed her against the wall as he stroked into her tight body. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to bare and suck her succulent breasts. But need overpowered all else, the need to fuse his body with hers.
He felt imminent orgasm and gritted his teeth to hold it back. He wasn’t finished yet. It hadn’t taken long enough. He gripped her bare butt, pulling her hard into his thrusts. But the urge was too strong, and when Juliana’s internal spasms rhythmically milked his cock, he let go of his control. He swore he saw stars his orgasm was so powerful. His groan seemed to echo against the wall.
Charlie collapsed against her and moved his hands from her firm buttocks to wrap tight around her waist. Her heart pounded hard against his chest. Their breaths sawed in and out, slowing gradually.
He’d been fooling himself to think he could come here and not make love to her. And despite just having an orgasm, he wasn’t done with her. He had to have her at least once more.
“I want to do that again slowly, very slowly. And I want it to take a very long time. And I want us to be naked. But first I want to kiss you and suck your breasts, and then I want to suck your clit.”
Her pussy squeezed his still-erect cock. He shuddered.
“You have a lot of wants,” she murmured in a husky voice.
“Yeah. Do you object?”
“No. I have some wants of my own.”
“It might take awhile. Do you have the time?”
Juliana turned her head so she could look at him. “Do you? You’re on an investigation.”
Charlie gave her question serious deliberation. He had a lead he should pursue immediately. But buried to the hilt in Juliana’s exquisite body he knew there was no place he’d rather be.
“I’m not done plumbing the depths of this lead.” He thrust so she could feel he was serious about making love to her again.
“Umm,” she hummed.
Charlie shuddered again, his body hungry to begin what he hoped would take hours. “We can use your uniform again. This skirt is nice, but there’s something about a Catholic girl.” He nuzzled her neck.
Juliana pushed his face away. “Charlie, I’ve grown up. Does the skirt represent the girl you knew back then?”
Charlie frowned. “No. I just think it’s sexy. I think you’re sexy now, too. I think you’re sexy naked. I know you’ve grown up and I love the changes. I’d like to explore the changes if you’ll let me.”
She smiled and pulled him close for a kiss. But when he wanted the kiss to linger, she turned her head away. “I believe you said something about getting naked.”
“Oh, yeah. We can play cops and robbers. You can be a suspect. It would involve frisking.”
“Male officers can’t frisk female suspects.”
“I don’t follow the rules. Especially when the suspect is as sexy as you.”
“You may have to stay the night to interrogate me,” she suggested. “I’ve got a lot to hide.”
Charlie’s smile felt like it split his face. “I believe this investigation is going to take all night. Perhaps a body cavity search is in order.”
“Every nook and cranny,” she agreed.
“Definitely. I have a long nightstick to probe those with.” He thrust with his words.
She gasped. “You’ll have to be ruthlessly thorough.”
“Then I’ll have to probe again and again.” He put actions to words.
Her breath hitched. “Do whatever you have to do. I’ll be interested to see your methods of interrogation.”
CHAPTER 6
Charlie watched the sun rise over Dalton Montgomery’s South Beach estate. Even at this early hour the estate showed
activity. Through his binoculars he saw a delivery van arrive with the rental tables and chairs. A guard waved them through. Aha!
He waited five minutes after the truck disappeared into the estate, then drove up to the gate. With his brown contacts, black goatee, t-shirt and jeans, he looked like a young Latino.
The guard leaned down to the window. “State your business.”
Charlie allowed an exaggerated Spanish accent to color his words. “I’m with Palisades Rentals but I missed the truck. I overslept, see, because I was with my honey last night. You know how it is, amigo.” He didn’t have to feign the effects of a night spent making love instead of sleeping. Two nights in a row. “I been chasing the truck since the warehouse, but the light turned red, see, and there was this cop at the intersection. Please, I’m in such trouble and I need this job.”
“Follow the drive around the left to the pool house.”
“Gracias!” Charlie drove through the gate. He kept his elation in check until he was driving past the manicured green lawn.
The house looked impressive as he approached. Two and a half stories of sprawling white surrounded the huge circular drive. The sheer number of windows should have presented him a daunting task of how many rooms he’d have to search for the sculpture. But he’d grown used to the mansions in Beverly Hills. Montgomery’s house wouldn’t thwart him.
Too soon he saw the split off to the pool house and took it. He parked away from the rental truck and approached it with a confident stride. He’d learned people assumed you belonged somewhere if you acted like you did.
Two men were pushing a cart full of white chairs down the ramp attached to the back of the truck.
“They told me to help,” Charlie said. “I’m Chuck.” He’d left his Latino accent at the gate.
The men looked at one another.
“You can push that cart.” The bigger, brown-haired man gestured to another cart full of chairs off to the side. “Into the pool house. Danny’s inside. Big guy, red hair. You can’t miss him. He’ll show you where to put it.”
Charlie grunted acknowledgement and did as he’d been instructed. The pool house was bigger than his parent’s three-bedroom home. The floors were shiny cream tile. The cart’s rubber wheels made little sound as he pushed it down the short hallway to a room that looked like a small ballroom.
