by BJ Harvey
Renee rests her hand around the stem of her glass. ”So, my gram . . .” She tilts her head and looks at me. “She’s the best, most nimble eighty-year-old woman I’ve ever known, and she was there for us when nobody else was.” She pauses and stares into my eyes. “Did we want heavy on a first date?”
“If it was an official, official first date, then maybe we’d stay on the surface, but I want to get to know more about you—all about you—which means we can go as fast or slow as you feel ready to go. The rest can be like an onion.”
“Layer by layer?” she says softly.
“Absolutely. Because I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of delving deeper and discovering all that makes up you.”
She shakes her head. “You’re one of a kind, Lieutenant.”
“And we haven’t even slept together yet,” I say jokingly.
“Things you say aren’t what I’m used to hearing from the men I date.”
“Or you’ve been dating the wrong men, because any man who just wants a quick lay shouldn’t be wasting a woman’s time with false promises of more. Or, worse still, leading her on thinking it’s going somewhere when he’s not in the mindset to entertain anything past convenient sex on tap.”
She stares at me, her breath catching, her fork stopped in mid-air. Quickly recovering, she takes the mouthful then studious eyes watch me, so much going on behind them as she takes another sip of wine.
“Usually, hearing a man say these things—things a woman like me wants to hear—would make me roll my eyes and scoff and write them off as just some guy trying to get into my pants.”
I put my hand up, my devilish smirk unrelenting. “I’m gonna put it out there that I’m absolutely, one hundred percent not opposed to any part of me getting into your pants. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be in. I’d be happy with on.”
When Renee responds with an arched brow and I can see she’s trying hard to keep a straight face, I wink and she cracks up, her infectious giggle making me laugh with her.
“Okay. So let’s stay away from heavy for tonight. I promise I’m not hiding anything. I just like talking with you and eating this delicious food,” she says. “If you were aiming to impress, you’ve succeeded.”
“I wanted to dazzle.”
“You’ve dazzled me.”
“Wait until we see the eclipse. That’ll wow you.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she says, her grin as gratifying as it is satisfying.
I nod to her half-eaten plate as I reach over for the bottle and top up her glass. “Then eat up so we can get this date on the road. Unfortunately, a lunar eclipse waits for no one.”
She gasps dramatically. “Not even the great Sir Marco Rossi?”
I chuckle. “Not even for me. Now, eat.”
She gives me a mock salute. “Yes, Lieutenant.”
I shake my head as I return my attention to my own plate “Smartass,” I mutter.
If I wanted a meek woman, I wouldn’t have been drawn to someone like Renee. And judging by how this date is going right now, I’m so fucking glad I was.
I stand beside Renee amongst the large crowd gathered on the big grass clearing next to the Adler Planetarium.
In front of us, there’s a giant projector screen that’s been set up for those who want a magnified look at the full moon lunar eclipse, which is almost due to start.
Even standing here now, I still haven’t let go of her hand, loving the physical connection. I’ve always been a demonstrative guy in relationships—not that there have been any long-term or even serious ‘I could spend my life with this woman’ ones. Many haven’t been happy with my hours or the danger aspect of my job, or supportive enough to accept my dedication to furthering my career. So when I started getting a little older and looking to make headway in my personal life, I became a lot more selective on my dating choices. This meant fewer options because my focus was on quality over quantity, and two of the most important parts of that are honesty and equality.
“It’s starting,” Renee says, squeezing my hand. I don’t miss the shiver in her voice. It may be late summer but it’s also a crystal-clear night, and there’s a chilly breeze coming off the lake which has brought the temperature down to the high fifties.
I shrug off my jacket and hold it out for her, helping her slip it on and zip it closed.
She turns and puts her hands on my shoulders. I look down and wrap my arms around her back, lowering my head and brushing my lips against hers. Her fingers glide up into my hair and hold me there, her tongue sneaking out and teasing mine before retreating. Accepting her invitation, I tighten my hold and press her harder against me as I deepen the kiss, loving the way she meets me stroke for languid stroke.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my lips when we pull apart, our eyes locked together, and I love the sexy-as-hell lust I see shining back at me. I know she can see the same reflecting back at her because I’m not hiding a single feeling when it comes to this woman—or the incessant hard-on I seem to have whenever she touches me. It would be a problem if I didn’t want her to feel exactly what she does to me.
“You’re kicking ass at this first official date gig,” she says, smiling up at me. She turns her head slightly, burying her nose in the collar of the jacket and inhaling deeply. “It also helps that your cologne smells really good.”
The announcer’s voice fills the air. “The lunar eclipse is due to begin in the next few minutes. It will be visible to the naked eye—thanks to the weather gods for tonight’s clear sky—or you can watch the magnified view from our telescope on-screen.” With the show about to start, I frame Renee’s hips with my hands and spin her slowly toward the screen again, wrapping my arms around her and pressing a barely there kiss to the back of her neck. When she covers my hands with hers and leans against me, I know I’ve read her right.
That’s how we stay as we tip our heads up to the sky and watch the amazing sight of the sun’s shadow being cast onto the moon.
Once we get back to Renee’s house, again, I find myself standing on her doorstep, looking into the same eyes I was on my birthday five nights earlier.
This time, I didn’t save her from a date; I was busy showing her what a date should be like.
And, judging by the look she’s giving me right now as she leans back against her front door, I think I got a passing grade.
“Do you want to come inside?” she asks, her eyes hooded.
Fuck. Do I ever.
I move in, my eyes not leaving hers for a second—not until our hips meet and I let my gaze drift slowly down as her tongue darts out to slowly wet her parted lips. Fuck me.
I touch my forehead to hers. Our bodies are pressed tight from chest to thigh and everywhere in between. I huff out a breath and a frustrated growl escapes me. “You have no idea how much I want to say yes.”
Her lips quirk up as she runs her hand around to my back and slowly glides it lower until she reaches the top of my ass. “Can you be persuaded?” she asks roughly.
I roll my hips against her. “What do you think?”
She laughs quietly, her fingers giving my butt a gentle squeeze. ”So why can’t you stay?”
“Because I have work at seven, and I don’t stay out on school nights.”
I lift my head back as she tips her chin and shoots me an adorable playful pout as Renee moves her hands around to smooth her palms up my chest.
“That is a real shame, Lieutenant,” she says, shaking her head slowly, her eyes warm and understanding yet still full of heat.
I quirk a brow. “Rain check?”
“Oh,” she says. Her smirk proves the amusement I hear in her tone. “Is this a little case of payback?”
“Believe me when I say I have far more creative and satisfying ways of dishing out payback that would make the both of us sleep well tonight—if there was sleep to be had.” Her body trembles against me, and it’s gratifying as hell.
“But,” I say, before leaning in and brushing my
lips achingly slowly against hers. “I want you to keep my jacket until next time.”
She pulls back and scrunches her nose up. “Next time?”
“How about next Saturday? Wear it to my house when you come to cook dinner for me.”
Her eyes flash before they grow hooded and amused. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah? Are you asking or telling?”
“Telling,” I reply without missing a beat.
She hooks her hands around the back of my neck, bringing my face close to hers. “And why’s that?”
“Because,” I rasp, my voice thick with lust. I touch our lips together. “If you cook, I’ll take you to bed after and have you for dessert.”
“Damn, you’re good at this,” she breathes.
“Princess, you give me this rain check and I’ll prove just how true that is at the first opportunity we get on Saturday night.”
Renee flexes her fingers and traces the tip of her tongue along my bottom lip before I growl into her mouth and put all of my sexual frustration into a deep, wet, hard and long kiss, which ends with our tongues tangling together and Renee’s calf hooked behind my thigh. My hips grind against hers as I press her into the door and make out with her like the horny teenager she’s turned me into.
“Saturday,” I whisper.
“You’re on, Lieutenant,” she replies, smiling against my lips. “But you bet my ass I’m doing the dishes this time.”
9
Renee
Fridays have always been my favorite day of the week. Aside from the obvious introduction to the weekend, it is also the conclusion of another week of working hard towards a better future.
Today is especially good because after a private showing of my still-not-sold deceased estate property—the very one that brought Marco into my life—an offer was presented, and following some pretty minor negotiation, I’m now in the office boardroom with my real estate broker/boss, John, and a very happy young family of four, ready to sign on the dotted line.
As with all of my other sales, I haven’t told anyone about this one because I’m superstitious when it comes to counting my chickens. It’s probably why I took my time warming to a certain lieutenant too.
With all the formalities taken care of, I stand and shake their hands, laughing when the wife pulls me in for a hug and whispers, “Thank you,” in my ear.
I walk them out, handing them the bottle of champagne I bought to commemorate their new home with, and wave them off as they disappear down the road.
Returning to the boardroom, I find John sitting back in a chair, hands on his head, manspreading like he was born that way. His eyes and smile are pinned my way. “Another one in the books, Ren. What does that make it now?” John asks.
I grin at him as I gather together all the sales paperwork from the table. “That was lucky number one hundred and fifty in Chicago.”
“Congrats. We should all go out to celebrate,” he says, looking up at me.
John is a nice, respectable, decent man—he’s just never done it for me. I’m a woman who knows pretty early on whether there’s potential for anything past friendship. John is a good friend, an awesome broker to have at my back, and reliable to a fault. What he’s not is a ten years younger Italian American who makes my heart race at the mere thought of him, who turns me into a klutz whenever I’m near, and who has me sleeping next to his jacket just because it smells like him.
He’s also not the first person I’d want to call about good news, like a milestone house sale. A certain Chicago firefighter, however . . .
With the signed contract papers in hand, I straighten and focus my eyes gently on John. “I’m actually having a quiet night in because I’ve got big plans tomorrow night.” Big plans. Huge, if what I’ve felt of Marco so far is accurate.
“Oh. Well, good for you,” he says, standing and walking around the table. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. Make sure you get some downtime this weekend. You’ve earned that much at least.”
“Thanks, John. I’m planning on it.” Sometimes down, sometimes top, and then maybe standing up if Marco has enough stamina.
God, what is with me? Ever since Marco’s dirty promise of dinner and sex, the latter part of that sentence has been the only thing I can think about. I’m not a virgin—far from it—and I’m not a prude, but it’s not healthy to spend an entire week thinking about the sex more than the dinner before it, or seeing Marco’s house for the first time, or even just the man himself again. I almost feel guilty about it but then I realize it’s Marco’s fault for kissing me breathless, pushing me up against my house—something which he seems to like doing—and putting all these dirty thoughts into my head.
“Good. You deserve it. I forgot to ask—has there been much interest in the Gold Coast apartment and the duplex the owners are selling as well?” John asks, referring to Gilly and Ezra’s two listings as he leans against the table
“I’ve given a list of some of my existing clients to Elaine to call; we’ve had some bites on the marketing ads. Now it’s just a case of doing the showings we’ve got planned and then hoping we get offers.”
John nods. “That’s what I like to hear.” He glances down at my black patent leather pumps. “You’ll have ten more pairs of those in no time.”
My love of heels is not a secret around here. My female coworkers make it a point to ask me about my shoe-buying exploits whenever they see me.
“And to help you in that, I might have a few very interested buyers for you. I’ll email you their details and you can follow up if you want to.”
“Absolutely. That sounds great. Thanks so much, John.”
“It’s my pleasure. Now, hand me that contract and get out of here. Go start your quiet night in early and I’ll see you Monday.” He claps me on the shoulder and walks out of the room.
I check the time and see it’s just after three o’clock. Marco is working but he’s also said to message him whenever I want. The other night he had some downtime while on-shift and we were texting back and forth for a good twenty minutes before they got a call-out and he had to go. With this in mind, I pull out my phone.
Renee – Hey, Lieutenant. I have good news and the first person I thought to tell was a certain brown-haired, coffee-eyed firefighter I know. Is he around?
A few minutes pass before the three little dots appear on the screen.
Marco – He just left. Will I be an adequate stand-in?
My lips curve up.
Renee – Maybe. Do you have any jackets I can borrow? I seem to have a new habit of acquiring that particular item of men’s clothing.
Marco – Sorry, I’m all out. I left mine with a sexy realtor to guarantee she’d see me again.
Renee – That’s very sneaky.
Marco – It is, but I made my intentions for our next date very clear so I’m hoping she’ll return the jacket tomorrow.
Renee – And if she turns up without said jacket because it’s now got a new home in her room where she can smell it whenever she wants?
I can see he’s typing his reply but he keeps starting then stopping again. I’m moving toward the boardroom door when my phone starts vibrating in my hand.
“Hey, Lieutenant. This is unexpected.”
The sound of him chuckling in my ear sends a wave of warmth through me. “I couldn’t work out what to say without it sounding dirty so I figured I’d go to my office and call you instead.”
“It’s nice to hear your voice.”
“You too, princess. How’s your day going?”
“I could be cheesy and say it’s so much better now that I’m talking to you, but that would be one of your lines.”
“Still nice to hear it though. It means I was on your mind.”
“When are you not these days?” I murmur, half to myself and—obviously—to him
“If it helps, that affection is entirely mutual and not at all unwelcome on my part. I’m looking forward to tomorrow night,” he says, his voice dropping to that
low and melts-warm-chocolate tone I like. He so knows the effect it has on me too.
“So . . .” I say, trying to redirect the conversation before it gets too deep. I’ll do deep, just not when the man in question is on-duty until seven a.m. tomorrow morning.
When the phone goes quiet for a little too long, Marco’s soft chuckle breaks the silence. “Princess, are we running out of conversation topics already? You said you had good news . . .”
That makes me smile. “No. I mean, yes.”
“Which is it, beautiful?” I can hear his amusement.
I frown. “You distracted me with your sweet-talking.”
“You’re the one giving me thoughts I can’t entertain at work, Ms. Hamilton.”
“I’ll try to behave. Especially if you don’t like it . . .”
“You can give me all the dirty thoughts in the world. Wherever. Whenever. I’ll deal. Especially if you’re the one responsible.”
“And why’s that?” I ask coyly.
“Because then it means I’ll have a stockpile of ideas to play out in person when you’re laid out naked in my bed.”
“Damn. Now you’re giving me inappropriate ideas while I’m at work.”
“Seems like we’re torturing each other then.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because we both have to wait twenty-four hours until we can act on any of these thoughts.”
“Well . . .” I say, leaving him hanging.
“Well what, princess?”
“I can act on some of mine. It’s just, you’ll only be there watching in my imagination.”
“Fuuuuuuck,” he curses, making me smile. “You don’t play fair.”
“What if I promised not to act out anything until we’re within touching distance?”
“That would only make it slightly better.”
“I’ll take it into consideration.”
His low chuckle in my ear sends a shot of heat straight through me. “You do that. Or else I’ll make you tell me in graphic detail while giving me a blow-by-blow re-enactment.”
“Blow-by-blow?”
