Snowfall on Lighthouse Lane

by JoAnn Ross

  “That’s either a Victoria’s Secret runway show, cat edition, or the former owner was a cat serial killer who wanted to memorialize the poor kitties she sent to heaven.”

  “Cat killer was my first thought,” he laughed. “I suggested to the owner that I wouldn’t mind repapering on my own time and dime, but she wanted to keep it just the way it is. It’s her great grandmother’s house and apparently some of her happiest memories were summers here. Her bedroom is across the hall. It’s all unicorns and rainbows.”

  “Maybe you could get that removable wallpaper and cover over the cats while you’re here.”

  “My lease came with an option to buy, which Seth and Mom want me to do. But meanwhile, how about we just open the blinds, turn off the light, let the moon shine in, and get back to what we’re here for?”

  “I like the way you think,” she said as she moved over to him and began to undo his shirt with hands that were far from steady. She let out a frustrated breath as she fumbled with the buttons.

  As if deciding it could take all night before they got to the good part, Aiden pulled her down onto the bed, where they fell in a tangle of arms and legs. Jolene could feel his heat as their clothes landed piece by piece on the carpet, leaving them erotically hot skin to hot skin.

  Even after all this time, and despite their rigid control all the other times they’d been together, the man knew her body as clearly as if he possessed an internal sensual GPS. He remembered that licking her breasts would make her arch her back for more. And that taking her hardened, sensitive nipples in his mouth and sucking on them would cause her to whimper. He knew that moving his tongue from her aching breasts to her navel could make her press her lower body closer, harder, against his.

  Beyond that point had always been unexplored territory. Yet somehow he nevertheless knew that nipping the back of her knees, first one, then the other, would create delicious ripples of pleasure. That stroking the inside of her thighs, over the hot flesh she’d smoothed scented lotion on before leaving the house, would cause them to fall open, and that burying his face against her heat, sucking, licking, tasting would bring out a wild recklessness she’d never realized was hiding inside her.

  The first climax of her life not caused by her own hands or batteries was mind-shattering as it tore through Jolene. How could he have known that this was exactly what she’d been waiting for, dreaming of, ever since that long ago summer of their secret love? She came alive, little explosive charges going off everywhere he touched.

  Feeling wickedly, wonderfully wanton, she touched, then tasted, his sweat-slicked bare skin. Everywhere. As he’d done, and continued to do, to her. She took his erection in her hands, then, when he groaned, her mouth, then murmured a complaint when he buried his clever, wicked hands in her hair and lifted her head.

  “Not yet,” he said in a deep, husky, pained voice that vibrated through her body. “We’ve waited too long for this. We deserve it to last.”

  Jolene wanted to beg. As he continued to tease, torment and thrill, she heard herself begging as he unlocked that secret part of her that no other man had ever found. Because it had always belonged only to him.

  She lost track of how many times she came, like stormy waves crashing against the western cliff where they’d spent that long ago clandestine night. Outside the house a white crescent moon moved across the sky, the wind moaned in the tall firs, rain pelted like stones thrown by a giant hand against the windowpanes. But neither noticed nor cared.

  There was only now. Only him. Only her.

  He paused only long enough to reach into the bedside table drawer for protection. Watching him roll that condom over his rock-hard erection was the most erotic thing Jolene had ever seen. Then, finally(!), he gripped her slick hips and lifted them, entering her as if they’d been created to fit together, so perfectly only with each other, in just this way. He never took his eyes from hers as he began to move. Even when she lifted her legs around his hips and he went deeper, harder, faster, he watched her face with an intensity that claimed her—body, heart, soul. Just as he’d promised he would. Just as, he’d also promised, she’d claimed him.

  Suddenly they were catapulted into a swirling dark universe of shooting stars and fiery comets streaking around them, and despite being truly lost, Jolene felt safe because she wasn’t alone. She was with Aiden, whose name she cried out as the universe exploded.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “WOW,” SHE GASPED sometime later, as she lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling that she hadn’t originally noticed had some sort of glitter sprayed on it. Or maybe it was left over stardust. “I’ve been dreaming for years how making love with you would be.”

  “Well?” Lying on his side, braced on an elbow, Aiden ran a hand down her cheek, across her shoulder, continuing on to circle each breast with a fingertip. “Did it live up to your expectations?”

  She turned toward him and put a leg over his. “Better,” she said. “So much more than I’d ever imagined.”

  “Same for me.” He pulled her on top of him and nuzzled her neck. “But maybe it was a fluke.”

  “Do you think?” Her body was warming, softening, fitting so perfectly against his.

  “It’s a possibility.” This time his stroking touch moved down her back and over her bottom. “I think the only way we’ll know for sure is to try it again.”

  “That was pretty intense,” she said, even as she felt him hardening against her again. “Are you sure we could survive?”

  “Hell, I haven’t got a clue about much of anything right now.” She felt his laugh against her breasts, the same way she could feel his heart, which had coordinated its rhythm with her. “But I want you again, and I think you want me—”

  “I do,” she said on a long, fluid sigh of pleasure as his hand slipped between them.

  “Well, then. I say we risk it.”

  It was her turn to laugh. Another thing she’d never done while having sex. “As it happens, I’m feeling reckless tonight,” she said as she lowered her mouth to his smiling one. “So, let’s go for it.”

  * * *

  JOLENE WAS AWAKENED from a wonderful dream where she’d been reliving her and Aiden’s lovemaking. At first she thought the ringing was her phone. Then remembered she’d left it in her purse in the flowered living room.

  She felt a loss of warmth as Aiden moved away, picking up his phone from the bedside table.

  “Mannion,” he answered in a voice she hadn’t heard before. Not even when he’d pulled her over for speeding or when he’d dropped by his parents’ house for Thanksgiving. It was a cop voice. “Yeah. Give me five, okay? Then call back. Thanks.”

  His smile didn’t match the hardness in his eyes. “It’s some leftover business from LA,” he said. “It shouldn’t take long.” He kissed her, but after all they’d shared last night, she could tell that his heart and mind weren’t totally in it. “Keep the bed warm. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” she said. She considered teasing him by saying to make sure he got back soon or she’d start without him, but every movement as he’d thrown on the clothes that they’d scattered around the room last night radiated a tense, dangerous energy. Whatever had precipitated the call, it was deadly serious.

  She decided to take the time to brush her teeth with the toothbrush she’d tossed in her purse at the last minute before leaving for dinner last night. She opted against a shower, because she’d hopefully get sweaty again when he returned. And she liked the musky, manly scent of him, and their lovemaking on her bare skin. Resisting the urge to eavesdrop, she climbed back into bed. And waited.

  * * *

  “THANKS FOR GETTING back to me,” Aiden said. “Yeah, I had an interesting Thanksgiving.” He knew that news stations around the country had picked up the story of his chase for Eric Palmer, who social media was now calling America’s most dangerou
s rocket science spy.

  “I’m calling for a favor.” Not knowing who to trust in the department anymore, the message he’d left had only asked for the detective to call. “It’s about the ambush.”

  He didn’t have to say which one. It wasn’t that often police from a department as well-trained as LAPD ended up getting lured into a death trap. “I had a thought. It’s going to sound crazy, but there’s something on Bodhi Warfield’s phone that you need to see. I’m guessing it ended up in the evidence locker with his clothing after he was taken to the morgue.”

  Then came the question he’d been expecting. A guy didn’t end up with the highest case closure rate in the homicide department without questioning everything.

  “I didn’t think of it sooner,” Aiden said, when asked. “I was diagnosed with a concussion, so maybe I had some memory loss. I also spent several months trying to drink Washington State dry, so my mind was pretty fogged.”

  The first part could be true. The second part definitely was. “You and your partner, Kendall, are going to have to keep this close between you, because I’m warning you that it could be dangerous. So, if you don’t want to hear the rest, we’ll end this call now.”

  The curse he got back was short, rude and probably anatomically impossible.

  Because he was all amped up, and the fast-moving storm that had blown in from the coast had already passed on toward Seattle, Aiden walked down the steps and began pacing the front lawn. “Okay. Bodhi Warfield was having an affair with the DC’s wife. Right. The wife who coincidentally drowned six weeks after the ambush.”

  That earned another quick question in response.

  “I know, I’d already left the department and the state by then. And I can’t tell you how the hell I know about it. But I remember hearing it.” More truth. “It could’ve been on the news during my blackout time.” It could have. Aiden vaguely recalled the TV on from time to time, though odds were that the channel had been tuned to sports. “There should be texts and calls on that phone proving the relationship. And the fact that she was being physically and mentally abused and was going to leave her husband for Warfield.

  “How do I know? He told me.”

  More rapid-fire questioning.

  “Again, I don’t remember. Maybe when he was dying.” His first lie, that had him cringing and dragging a hand down his face. Any more and not only would he be behaving like a crooked cop, this detective who’d probably interrogated thousands of criminals and witnesses during his career would be bound to pick up on any lies with his well-honed cop sense.

  “Like I said, I’m missing a lot of time and details due to the drinking, but I’m sure about the texts.” Again the truth. Which he was going to have to stick to if he ended up being a witness.

  Yet admitting that he’d gotten his information from a ghost would undoubtedly have the detective bailing on the call from a probably burned-out, possibly still drunk former undercover cop. “When you read the texts, I’m guessing you’re going to want to have a talk with the DC. Because I believe we were set up.”

  Another barrage of questions, peppered by some colorful curses Aiden, in all his years as a Marine, then a cop, had never heard.

  “I don’t have any solid evidence to prove it. And I’d make a lousy witness, because, like I said, my head got all messed up. Partly from some possible PTSD, and definitely the alcohol. Hell, maybe all this was a hallucination.” Hadn’t he tried to tell himself that in the beginning? Aiden no longer believed that, but he was smart enough not to share that his dead partner had been providing the information.

  “But would it hurt to look?” he pressed. “One more thing.” That had just occurred to him as they were talking. “You’re going to need the passcode to unlock his phone. It’s 082584. Why do I have it? Because we shared in case something happened and one of us needed to use the other’s phone in an emergency.” Another truth, and Aiden could remember the day Bodhi had told him he’d changed it.

  “It’s Jess’s birthdate,” a familiar voice revealed.

  Aiden glanced back over his shoulder and saw Bodhi rocking back and forth on the wooden porch swing. “But I’d suggest letting them figure that out for themselves—” he continued his conversation “—because you don’t want to get dragged into this by knowing too much. If they’re as good as you say they are, they’ll make the connection. Since nearly everyone uses a password or phone code personal to them so they can remember it.

  “When they match it with the DC’s wife’s birthday, which his secretary will have, because Jess told me that she was the one who always ordered the roses, it’ll be more proof of my relationship with her. Truthfully, I used it because you know I have a lousy memory for dates and I didn’t want to forget it. You might also want to mention her fear of water.”

  Hell. That was the kicker clue. But how to work it into the conversation? Pressing his fingers against his eyes, Aiden punted. “You might want to also ask her friends and family about her fear of water. I don’t know. I probably heard it somewhere. We were all invited to that Christmas party after the DC got promoted. Lots of conversations float around at parties. Especially when people are drinking too much spiked eggnog.”

  “Good off-the-cuff save,” Bodhi said approvingly. “That bit of bullshit came so easily off your tongue almost have me believing that you really were Mayberry on Puget Sound’s bad boy when you were growing up.”

  Aiden flipped him the bird, which only made him laugh.

  “It’s not funny,” Aiden said after the detective promised to do some digging and get back to him before ending the call. “Illegal gun sales and drugs equal a lot of bucks. The DC undoubtedly wasn’t able to pull the ambush off without help in and out of the department. Tossing adultery into the mix is like throwing a live grenade into a pile of ammunition. If word of this gets back to the DC before they unearth enough to nail him, others could die. Starting with two detectives who happen to be friends. And have families.”

  Bodhi sobered. “Good point. Now I’m sorry I got you into this. Maybe I just should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

  “No. You did the right thing. Dirty cops can spread through the ranks.” Aiden thought how Don James had, in a lesser way, started the same downward slide with those damn courtesy cards. “You don’t have to apologize. You’d do the same for me.”

  “In a fucking heartbeat, dude.” Bodhi’s gesture was his familiar surfer shaka sign, his three middle fingers bent toward his palm, thumb and pinkie extended. “Now that we’ve set the wheels rolling, I think your lady is waiting for you.”

  And then he was gone, like morning mist over the water burned off by the sun.

  Maybe he was crazy, Aiden considered as he walked back into the house. At least one thing he knew for certain. He was still as flat-out crazy for Jolene Wells as he’d once been. But even more, because he was older, more experienced and knew the real thing when he was living it. The challenge, he figured, was to not rush ahead, like he wanted to, but to pace himself and let Jolene get used to the idea to making their relationship permanent. Because no way was he going to screw it up this time around.

  He put the case aside for now, replaced by far more pleasant thoughts of tumbling the woman he loved in those rumpled sheets again. Having hoped the night would turn out the way it had, he’d already put in for the day off, putting his new deputy chief in charge. Jennifer Stone was already a good cop. Now it was time for her to practice her leadership skills. And she might as well learn on the job, the same way he had.

  Unfortunately, instead of waiting for him in bed, Jolene was in the living room, her phone to her ear, her expression serious.

  “You know I was halfway expecting this,” she told whomever was on the other end of the phone. “No, I’m fine. Really. In a way, it’s not that terrible. It’ll just give me more time to work on my skin care line.” She turned when she’d reached the far wall and saw
Aiden. Then held up her index finger, promising to be off the call in a minute.

  “Seriously,” she was saying. “I don’t know if I’ll make a public statement or not. I need to digest it a bit more first. But big smooches for giving me the heads-up. I have to go—someone’s waiting for me.”

  Just as he was wondering who she was sending smooches to, she said, “Yes.” The redhead’s blush he loved to watch rose in her cheeks. “And yes.” She looked at him while she answered the next question. “It blew the scale up.” Despite whatever news she’d received, she smiled. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later. Promise.”

  She ended the phone and let out a breath.

  “What happened?” Aiden could tell that despite her brave words and smile, she was shaken.

  ”That was Shelby. My best friend who’s engaged to that chef that gave me the cheesy corn recipe. We met several years ago on a set in Tucson. She’s a caterer for movie and TV productions. Apparently the word around town is that I’m being blacklisted.”

  “For what? And can they do that?”

  “I signed a letter addressing sexual harassment to those working in jobs that don’t get as much media coverage as the big-name stars. There were over two hundred signatures, and I’m sure I’m not the only person singled out.”

  “But you’re one of them because you have a higher profile due to your Emmy nomination,” he guessed. While he admittedly hadn’t been aware of her receiving that until it had been mentioned at the wedding, he figured it was probably a big deal in her business.

  “Yes, probably. They’re using me to send a warning. And no, it isn’t technically legal, but it happens every day, especially in the shadows. That’s why I signed that letter.”

  “So it’s happened to you?”

  She looked at him as if wondering how naive he could be. “Of course. I’m a woman working in a male-dominated industry. But I’ve never been forced to do anything sexual to get a job.”