by Karen Rose
“I changed my mind.”
“I didn’t.” Sensing her mood, Jean-Luc curled up at her feet and she could feel a low growl vibrating through his body.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, right,” she said bitterly. “We seem to have had this conversation before.”
He took another step closer and she could smell his cologne. He smelled so good. “I’m an idiot,” he said, looking so good. So damn good. Her heart kicked up a notch and she felt her skin sizzle. And cursed the fact that she was so easy when it came to him.
She looked down into the ice cream, fighting the urge to forget his tantrum and throw herself into his arms, to simply take up where they’d left off before Davies spoiled everything. No, she corrected herself. Before Steven thought the worst of her. “I figured that out the day we first met.”
“You were right then.” He came closer until his hand closed over hers, sending the spoon back into the ice cream and a current straight down the middle of her body. “You were right tonight. I was a jealous jerk. I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him and knew she’d be lucky to hold out for a reasonable explanation. She was a done duck. “Why are you a jealous jerk?”
He tugged on her hand and she let him pull her to her feet. “Because I never had a woman look at me the way you do,” he said softly.
Damn. Slick words. “Save your rehearsed lines, Steven,” she managed. “I’m not interested.”
“They aren’t rehearsed lines,” he said sharply. “It’s the truth.” He closed his eyes and she watched his lips move as he counted backward from ten. When his eyes opened they were calm. And vulnerable. “I was hurt,” he said. “I saw the way you looked at Davies and I . . .” He shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to be different.” His lip quirked self-consciously. “Special.” He rolled his eyes. “It sounds really stupid when I say it out loud like that.”
Her heart touched, Jenna shook her head. “No, Steven, it doesn’t. You are different.” She reached up and rested her fingertips against his jaw. “Special,” she whispered.
His brown eyes flashed. “How?” His whisper was fierce. “Tell me how I’m different.”
In that flash of a moment Jenna remembered the Italian place on Capitol and her own jealous feelings when the waitress brushed too close to Steven’s side. And the way he just kept looking at her, Jenna, as if the waitress didn’t even exist. He was wrong about Neil, but now she understood his pain. Something caught in her throat, making her voice shaky. “Because of the way you look at me,” she told him. “Like I’m the only woman in the room.”
His hands trembled as they gently framed her face. “You are,” he whispered, then all she saw was his brown eyes as he came closer.
Then she closed her eyes and saw nothing at all. Just felt his mouth on hers, gentle at first. Then he groaned and she groaned and the kiss went wild and his hands were on her breasts through her sweater, then under her sweater and under her bra and finally on her bare skin. His fingertips plucked at her nipples and she heard the sharp intake of her own breath as she pulled her lips away from his. She looked up at him, panting just as he was, sure her eyes were just as aroused as his. But he was still holding back. She could sense it.
“What do you want, Steven?”
He never blinked. “Everything.”
“So take it,” she challenged in a whisper and that seemed to finally crack the hold of his control. Grabbing at the hem of her sweater he pulled it over her head, taking the bra with it. She could feel the burn of his eyes on her bare breasts as he yanked off his jacket, his shoulder holster, his shirt. Until he stood before her naked from the waist up.
His chest was covered with the coarse hair she’d only felt, but never seen. Golden, it shimmered in the light, beckoning her touch. Then he was kissing her again, hot openmouthed kisses that stole her breath even as he flattened her hands on his chest, moving her palms back and forth across the nipples that were almost hidden within the golden hair.
She wanted to feel the hairs on his chest against her own nipples so she slid her arms around his neck and pressed closer, her body drifting side to side, feeling the friction. It was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. But not enough. But he took care of that, too, grabbing at her butt and pulling her higher until she wound her legs around his waist and felt him pulsing against her. Ripping her mouth away, she looked into his eyes, panted his name. “Steven.”
“Which room?” he asked hoarsely, settling her legs around his waist.
“Back one on the left. Steven,” she said as he took the hallway back to her room at a near jog.
“What?” he said, sounding slightly out of breath.
“I bought condoms.” Her cheeks were red, but she didn’t care. “A whole box.”
“Good,” he muttered and pushed open her bedroom door. Taking the three steps to the foot of her bed, he dropped her so that she lay sprawled before him. “I only brought one.”
“So we’ll do this more than once?” she asked, meaning to tease, but hearing the question come out as sexy foreplay.
Roughly he pulled at the snap on her jeans and in three seconds had her stripped to the skin. His eyes started at her face and explored every inch of her body, while the muscle in his cheek jerked and spasmed and she felt more erotic than she’d ever felt in her whole life.
“God, yes. As many times as you’ll let me.” His eyes returned to her face and she felt another rush of moist warm heat between her legs. “I dreamed of your silk stockings and garters,” he said softly, his voice smoky with desire. “Next time I want you to wear those for me. Only those.” Blindly, he pulled at his belt, dropping his pants, kicking off his shoes. The boxers went next leaving him naked before her eyes. His erection jerked and she could see how engorged it was. He was ready. For her.
Blindly she reached for the box of condoms in her night-stand, wishing too late that she’d taken off the plastic wrap. As she struggled with the box, Steven slid between her legs, sliding his body up along hers, then leaned forward, bracing one hand on either side of her head. And kissed her. Hotly, erotically, his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth in a prelude of what was to come. She ripped at the box and the plastic and cardboard came apart at once, sending a shower of condoms across the bed. She picked up one and tore the foil.
“Here,” she said raggedly against his lips and unbelievably she felt him smile.
“Now?” He leaned back on one elbow and ran his hand down her body, over her breast, her stomach, his fingertips teasing against the juncture between her legs and she lurched up, a shiver making her hot and cold all at once. “What about foreplay?” He slid one finger up into her and she wanted to scream. Because she was close, so close. And because she wanted him inside her when she came, but her body moved against his hand of its own volition. She groaned and he shuddered.
“Now,” she demanded, feeling the throbbing in her body, in her head. Everywhere. “Now.”
Sobering, he raised up on his knees, looming over her, and she watched him slide the condom down his length. Slowly. Down his very long length.
“Steven!”
Then slowly he aligned his body with hers and whispered, “Now,” and plunged, entering her fully in one stroke. She cried out and he groaned her name and then he was moving, in and out, harder and harder. She lifted her knees to bring him deeper, feeling her body tighten and climb higher and higher, rocking against him until she couldn’t bear it another minute longer. Until she arched and came apart, flying, truly flying, his name on her lips even though her throat didn’t make a sound. Gasping, trembling, she fell back against the bed, her eyes focusing on his face tight with unspent passion, on his eyes, filled with a myriad of emotions. She trailed her fingertips down his back, the only movement she had strength enough to do. With a feral growl he followed her path into oblivion, his body straining, his muscles quivering, his face a thing of beauty in his release.
He collapsed against her, shuddering as he buried his
face in the pillow. She held him, stroked his hair while his finely honed body jerked from the aftershocks. She’d heard it called afterglow, but after such an earth-shattering experience, aftershock seemed a more appropriate term. Finally he lifted his head and kissed her, making them both shiver anew.
“You came,” he murmured, as if unsure she would, and even after everything they’d just done together, Jenna found she could still blush.
“I did,” she returned, unsure if she ever really had before. Certainly not quite like she had tonight. And if her first real orgasm was on the night of the second anniversary of Adam’s death . . . She pushed the thought to the very back of her mind, resolving to deal with the guilt later.
He moved his lips down her neck and she stretched to one side to give him better access. “I’m glad,” he murmured against her skin and she smiled.
“Me, too.”
He lifted his head and kissed the side of her smiling mouth. “How do you feel about seconds?”
She ran her hands down his back, cupping the very taut cheeks of his ass. He had an incredible body. “I don’t know,” she said and almost laughed at the disappointment in his eyes.
“Okay,” he said although it was clear it was anything but.
“It’s just that I don’t know where we’ll find any more . . . you know . . . protection.”
His eyes gleamed and he reached out and grabbed a handful of foil packets and dumped them on her head. “I think we’ve got that covered, Jenna.”
“Then yes, please. Seconds would be very nice. But I suppose we have to leave room for dessert. You owe me after all.”
His brows snapped together. “How so?”
“You left my Rocky Road to melt all over the table.” His eyes crinkled at the edges. “I’ll buy you another pint.”
“Make it a gallon and we’ll talk thirds and fourths.” “Jenna, are we talking about ice cream?”
She smiled up at him. “We’re talking about anything you want.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Sunday, October 9, 6:30 A.M.
THEY SNUCK INTO STEVEN’S HOUSE THROUGH the laundry room, holding hands like teenagers late for curfew. After the night they’d shared it was small wonder either of them could still walk. They’d made love twice more in the night, dozing until four A.M. or so. They planned to shower and get back to Steven’s house so Jenna could get Jim and Casey’s truck and be gone long before sunup.
Jenna squinted in the semidarkness. The sun had just started to come up. They were arriving home later than they’d planned, through no fault of her own. Steven had instigated the delay in the shower. She grinned to herself. She just helped. A lot. Her body still tingled from all the helping. She’d helped all night long. Altruism certainly had its benefits.
“What are you grinning at?” Steven murmured, looking down at her with a tender smile that made her heart do crazy things in her chest.
She lifted a brow and said nothing, which made him grin, too. “You’re a pervert, Dr. Marshall.”
She gave him her prim look. “And this is a problem how?” He laughed softly. “Who said anything about a problem? Come on, let’s find your dog and get you guys out of here before one of the boys discovers us. Or even worse, Helen.”
“You’re already trying to get rid of me,” she grumbled playfully, following him through the door into the kitchen where she abruptly ran into his back. Because he’d abruptly stopped. Jenna peeked around his shoulder and immediately saw why.
“Oh, little boy,” she murmured, experiencing a rush of something that felt suspiciously maternal. Nicky sat at the kitchen table, eyes closed, one freckled cheek plastered to the wood veneer, clutching something in his fist, next to his cheek. He was guarded by two hairy soldiers, Cindy Lou at his feet and Jim behind his chair. Jim lifted his head and Jenna swore the dog smiled.
Jenna took a tiptoed step closer to see what Nicky held in his hand and frowned. It was a rubber worm. A fishing lure. She turned around to find Steven looking stricken.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Last Friday I promised I’d try to take him fishing this weekend,” Steven replied, his eyes glued to his little boy. He swallowed hard. “But I can’t. I have a staff meeting at eight.”
Jenna could practically touch the tension coming from him, and thought about all the responsibilities on his head. Three teenaged girls, two gone forever, one missing. A serial killer out there somewhere, still stalking his victims.
On the other hand, his own little boy was just starting to show sparks of life again after his own traumatic experience six months ago. His own little boy who he was going to have to disappoint. Feeling a bit like Solomon, Jenna put her arms around Steven’s neck and hugged him hard. “Go to your staff meeting, Steven. Do what you need to do to keep our girls safe. I’ll take Nicky fishing. When you’re done you can come and meet us at the lake.” She pulled back to find doubt written all over his face. “Don’t worry, I am a very capable fisherman.” She smiled up at him. “We might even catch something.”
He shook his head. “Of that I have no doubt. There isn’t much you can’t do, Jenna. But are you sure you want to take an active boy fishing? You don’t have to.”
Jenna looked back to where Nicky sat sleeping. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Then a disturbing thought seized her. “But if you don’t want me to, I’ll understand. I know you’re worried he’ll get attached too fast.”
Steven crooked his finger under her chin and pulled until she looked up at him and her disturbing line of thought was squashed by the look in his warm brown eyes. “He already is, Jen. So am I.” He covered her mouth with his, so gently, so...lovingly, her heart clenched. A wave of wanting hit her, so intense she felt paralyzed in her tracks. Not sexual wanting. He’d more than satisfied her in that way. This was more, this was a wanting of everything he represented. The man, the children, the instant family.
A family who would need her as much as she needed them. A family she could love. A real family of her very own. She wanted it, wanted it all so intensely she could only stand there, her heart pounding as he kissed her in his kitchen, as if she belonged there. When he lifted his head, his eyes narrowed slightly in concern. “Are you all right?”
Jenna drew a trembling breath, feeling the literal earth moving under her feet. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” She made herself smile at him. “Go get ready for work. I’ll make you breakfast.”
Sunday, October 9, 8:05 A.M.
He should have been exhausted, Steven thought, but he wasn’t. In fact, his skin still tingled from her good-bye kiss. There was certainly something to be said for the rejuvenating powers of sex. He felt like he hadn’t felt... ever. But playtime was over. His team had assembled themselves together early on a Sunday morning to find a murderer and hopefully to keep him from raising their tally of dead teens to three. Steven wasn’t sure how close they were to doing either. “Good morning,” he said and the murmuring quieted. “What do we know?”
Harry opened his notebook with a yawn. He’d been responsible for following Rudy all night. “Well, Rudy had quite an evening. Three parties, none of them keggers.” He looked up with a baleful glare. “I really wanted to arrest him for underage alcohol consumption.”
“That would have been too simple,” Steven said dryly.
Harry shot him an amused look. “He left the last party with a girl who looked a lot older than high school. They went to her place and Rudy didn’t come out until three A.M. Looking very rested I might add. The girl dropped him off at his house just before four A.M. and he didn’t leave again.”
Steven looked over at Davies who looked frustrated but said nothing. “He’s had Alev Rahrooh for two days now,” Steven said thoughtfully. “He kept both Lorraine and Samantha just under a week. I doubt Alev’s already dead, so he’ll have to go to her sooner or later. That’s still assuming Rudy’s our man. Sandra, how far did you get with the list of athletes with priors?”
Davies
now looked both agitated and frustrated but still said nothing.
“About three-quarters of the way,” Sandra answered. “No obvious connections. But I did check the cheerleading schedules of each of the vics’ high schools. All three played Roosevelt High at Roosevelt within a week of each girl’s disappearance. That makes a pretty strong case for Lutz.”
Davies’s smile was just the tiniest bit smug. “It’s him. I know it.”
Steven pushed back from his chair and walked over to stare at the photos on the bulletin board feeling his own frustration grow. “Davies, any progress on the tattoo design?”
Davies’s smug smile faded. “No. I’ve asked every cop I know. But I know it’s him.”
Steven gritted his teeth. “We have a prime suspect and we can’t touch him. Dammit. I think we all need to take a break from the case,” he said. “I know there’s someplace I’d rather be today. See everybody tomorrow morning.” Everyone filed out, Davies bringing up the rear, fidgeting with the change in his pocket.
“I called Jenna this morning to make sure she was all right after last night,” Davies said.
Steven’s defenses went straight up. “What about last night?”
“You were pretty angry when you left the bar. I wanted to be sure she was all right. That nothing happened. But she wasn’t home.”
Steven felt a smug smile of his own curve his lips and watched Davies’s black eyes flash with fury. “Whatever did or didn’t happen is none of your business,” Steven said, “but if you must know, she’s not home because she took my boys fishing. Which is just where I’m planning to go myself.” He’d made it to the door when Davies spoke. Bitterly.
“Did she take her fiancé’s ring off while you did it?” Steven froze. She hadn’t. He’d noticed. He’d also told himself she’d take off Adam’s ring in her own time. Steven might be jealous of Davies, but he’d be pretty low to be jealous of a dead man. Making his feet move, he walked away without dignifying Davies with an answer.
