by JL Simpson
“Sherman.” She smiled. “When did you get home?”
“I'm guessing before you had a chance to put Dad in a better mood.”
Daisy tugged the belt of her robe tighter, thankful Paul had at least pulled on some boxer shorts. “I've got nothing to do with his mood.”
Sherman rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“There are more important things in life than sex.”
Paul's head appeared out of the top of a white T-shirt. “There are?”
“Yes.”
Paul frowned. “Like?”
Daisy grabbed Sherman's arm and dragged him toward the bedroom door. “Like helping Sherman with his homework.”
She was relieved the dog was nowhere to be seen. Thank God for small mercies. Bad enough she'd almost been caught out by Sherman on day one of her no sex rule. She couldn't face the dog, as well. Sherman clomped down the stairs and she followed behind. As soon as his homework was sorted out, she'd grab a shower and get back to her case. With four or five hours of solid research, she could really make some progress.
Sherman grabbed his backpack from the front hall and disappeared into the kitchen. Daisy followed. Movement at the table caught her eye. She turned her head. “Ben!”
The teenager smiled. He looked just like his father. A detective who'd not only accused Daisy of a murder in a past investigation but made no secret of his attraction to members of the fairer sex.
“Mrs. Dunlop.” Ben’s focus shifted down her body. “Nice robe.”
She glanced down at herself. Fuck. She was practically naked. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Looks great with the shoes.”
Sherman sauntered across the room. He opened the fridge and pulled out two cans of soda. With the drinks balanced in one hand, he reached out and flipped the back door open. Johnny stalked into the kitchen. Daisy let out a whimper.
Ben held his hand out. “Hey, boy.”
The dog looked from Daisy to Ben and back again. She took a step toward the doorway and Johnny pounced. She screamed and fled. The dog’s teeth sunk into her robe and she wrestled to get free. With a final lunge she broke away losing her robe in the front hall. She burst into the bedroom and slammed the door shut, leaning back against the cool timber.
Paul glanced up from tying his laces. “Now you want to get naked?”
She pushed away from the door. “Ben's downstairs.”
“Can you explain how come we can't have sex because it's a bad example to our son, but flashing your tits at his fifteen-year-old mate isn't a problem?”
Daisy strode across the room to the bathroom. “Shut up, Paul.” She slammed the door and then reopened it. “And don't think you'll get me to cave anytime soon. You'd better get used to living with a severe case of blue balls.”
* * * * *
Solomon had spent the last two hours trying to find a lead on the dead guy. So far he'd come up empty. None of the bigger heir hunting firms had him listed on their websites as an employee. The police had released a statement but there was no mention of the man's name. He could call Detective Maloney or that pretty PC, Mavis, that worked on his last case but he wasn't in their good books. Dan, was grumpy because Solomon had a habit of getting caught up in his investigations, and Mavis had never really gotten over being handcuffed to Solomon's bed.
He really needed to talk to Daisy's Mrs. Sidebottom. You'd think someone with a name like that would be easy to find, but there were dozens of them within driving distance of Daisy's house in Eastleigh. One of the addresses was two streets from Tomas Jenks' house. Solomon had a hunch that was no coincidence, but he didn't want to waste time when Daisy knew exactly where to find the woman.
He might not be able to make any progress on the murder case, but he could definitely find out more about the elusive Tomas Jenks. His death certificate had shown his age as fifty-seven. Assuming he signed up at eighteen, he would have been in the Royal Engineers from the mid 70’s onwards.
Solomon got up from his study chair and crossed the room to refresh his glass of whiskey. Once he was settled back behind the desk, he reached for his laptop and opened a new browsing window. A couple of clicks later, he was logged into the Forces Reunited website. This would only work if Tomas was a member, or if Solomon stumbled across some men who served with him. He searched around for half-an-hour and got nowhere. There were a few guys who'd been stationed at Maidstone around the right time. Solomon sent them each a message in the hope that one of them would respond. He closed the browser window and contemplated where else to look. His phone vibrating across the desk caught his attention. It was nearly midnight. After checking caller ID, he answered.
“Doughnut. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Can I come in?”
Paul had visited him often enough in the past but never in the middle of the night. “Is there a problem?”
“No, I need your advice.”
“About what?”
“How about you open the gate and I'll tell you over a glass of whiskey? I would be right in thinking you still have that bottle of single malt?”
“You would.” Solomon padded through to the kitchen in his bare feet and hit the button to open the gate.
Paul's car shifted from screen to screen as the security cameras filmed his progress up the driveway. Solomon poured another glass of whiskey and met Paul at the front door. “Bad day at work?”
Paul took the glass from Solomon and then followed him into the living room and sank onto the black leather sofa. “No worse than any other. It's not exactly brain surgery.”
“Ever regret leaving the army?”
“Never.” Paul swallowed a mouthful of his whiskey and sighed. “I sometimes regret not following you abroad, though. Daisy would look great in a house like this.”
“Daisy would prefer you remain safe and close to home.”
“True. Although she's decided she doesn't want me too close.”
Solomon frowned. Daisy and Doughnut were love's young dream. They seemed to be on perpetual honeymoon, barely coming up for air when they were together. “Trouble in paradise?”
Paul sat forward and ran his fingers through his hair. “Remember she got all worked up about Sherman and his girlfriend?”
“Have you not spoken to him?”
“Apparently, speaking to him isn't enough. We have to set him a good example.”
“How's that?”
Paul swallowed the rest of his whiskey before meeting Solomon's gaze. “She says we're not having sex.”
Solomon stared at Paul. “Until when?”
Paul shrugged.
Daisy had seemed a little stressed and now he might know the reason why. “So you've not been having sex?”
“Not since yesterday.”
Solomon chuckled. “I can see that would be a real trial. A whole day without sex. It's a wonder you're still able to function at any level with all that pent-up frustration.”
Paul glared at him. “Very funny. It's alright for you. If you want it, you just need to turn on the Irish charm and women toss their knickers at you. I only have Daisy.”
“Would you want another woman?”
Paul got to his feet, paced across the room and stopped in front of the wood heater. “Absolutely not.” He placed his empty glass on the mantelpiece and met Solomon’s gaze. “I need your help.”
“I assume my help doesn't require me to take you to bed? Because, as much as I love you, I do have standards.”
Paul smiled and then frowned. “This isn’t about my need for sex, it’s about Daisy. I know it’s only been one day but she’s determined. This could go on for weeks, and the longer it goes on the less likely she is to give in. I need to know how you get women to fall into bed with you.”
“Do you want to charm the pants off your wife?”
“Remember when you took her to dinner at Amalfi’s?” Paul asked. “When she got home, she couldn't get enough of me.”
“Well, then, that’s your answer. Take t
he woman out to dinner. Get her tipsy and sweep her off her feet.”
“That’s the best you can do? I’ve seen you in action. You’re not in the habit of taking women to dinner.”
“I’m not in the habit of doing anything with women. I've not had sex myself in three weeks.”
Paul stared at him. “Bloody hell! What's wrong with you?”
Solomon glared at Paul. “Nothing. Everything works fine. I'm just taking a break.”
“So dinner is your only advice?”
“You might like to see if she’s open to a compromise.”
“I tried that.”
“Is she not as fond of sex as you are?”
“More somedays.”
Solomon could believe that. She was a sensual woman, and Paul was a lucky man, or he had been until now. “Then why not go along with her for a few days and let her stew. Then offer her a compromise deal.”
“That might work. A few sex-free days and then she’ll be putty in my hands.”
“I think it needs more finesse.”
Paul's eyebrows dipped in a frown. “What are you thinking?”
“I'm thinking this will only work if you let Daisy believe sex is her idea. You need to keep reminding her that you're not having sex because of Sherman. A few days of you playing impossible to get should do the trick. “
Paul smiled. “I'd forgotten what a devious bastard you are.”
“Had you now? How about a refill so that we can make a toast to the imminent return of your sex life?”
Paul held his empty glass out toward Solomon.
Chapter Fifteen
Daisy rolled over and found the bed empty. When Paul had a late shift, he usually slept until lunchtime. He hadn't woken her up, but she’d assumed he'd come home. She slid her hand across his side of the bed. The sheets were cold and she couldn't hear running water in the bathroom. She clambered out of bed and shoved her arms into the sleeves of her dressing gown, tying the belt and flipping her hair over her shoulders as she crossed the bedroom and wrenched the door to the hall open. The house was silent and there was no aroma of breakfast wafting up the staircase. Her heart sped up. He assured her his job was safe, but they both knew a truck filled with cash was always on the radar of would-be criminal masterminds.
The sound of a key turning in the front door had her bounding down the stairs two at a time. She skidded across the polished front hall and tripped over Johnny who had come running from the kitchen. She landed on her back with her dressing gown over her head. A warm tongue licked between her toes. She screamed and squirmed to untangle herself and get up off the floor. Johnny stopped sampling her feet and jumped around barking.
She heard the front door slam. Hands grasped her around the waist and someone hauled her upright. She shoved her dressing gown down to cover her skimpy sleep shorts and tossed her hair out of her eyes. Heat rushed to her face when she came face to face with her rescuer. Solomon's blue eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Morning, Princess.”
He was still holding her around the waist, meaning he was standing way to close for comfort. She peeled his hands off her person and stepped back. “How did you get in?”
Solomon held up the spare keyring. “Doughnut sends his apologies.”
“Apologies for what? What did you do to him?”
Johnny shoved his nose into the front of Daisy's dressing gown and sniffed her crotch. She tried to turn away but the dog was determined. Solomon grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled him away. “Bad dog.” He glared at the poodle until the creature sat and cowered. Apparently the CIA interrogator stare even worked on animals. Solomon pointed down the hall. “Bed!”
Johnny crawled away with his tail between his legs. Solomon turned his attention back to Daisy. “Paul had to cover for someone. He only had an hour between shifts and didn't want to wake you.”
“And you have the key because?”
“He gave it to me when I started working with you, in case of emergencies.”
Daisy pressed a hand to her chest, her heart racing with fear. “What's the emergency?”
“No emergency. Paul was worried about you waking up to an empty house.”
“It's not empty. Sherman's here, and Johnny.”
Solomon grinned. “I can see you really appreciate Johnny being here, and I somehow doubt Sherman will be making you breakfast.”
Daisy decided to ignore his apparent amusement at her fear of Johnny. It was hard to be mad at a man who claimed to be doing her a favor. “You're going to feed me?”
Solomon picked a plastic shopping bag off the side table. “That's the plan, darlin'.”
Daisy was still suspicious. “I could have made my own breakfast.”
“Then you'd miss out on my superb cooking.”
Solomon had a point, provided he was going to cook something worth eating. He had a disgusting healthy eating habit that she hadn't been able to break. Breakfast could be porridge or something equally vile. She had a sneaking suspicion breakfast was a way of distracting her. He was up to something, and she'd bet her life somehow he'd talked Paul into getting involved. “Why didn't Paul phone me?”
“He did. It went to voicemail.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. Of course it did. She'd forgotten to plug her phone in when she got home last night. Bugger. Maybe she should take things at face value. Paul had covered shifts before. No matter what was going on, she had work to do. Now Solomon was here, she figured she might as well get moving. She'd call Paul later to find out the truth. The one thing she was sure of was that Paul was safe. Solomon would never lie to her about that.
“You know where the kitchen is. I'm going to get dressed.”
Solomon shifted his focus down her body and slowly back to her face. “No need to change on my account, Princess.”
She folded her arms over her chest, meeting his gaze head-on. Other women might melt into a puddle after being visually violated by him, but she was a happily married woman made of sterner stuff. “I'll be done in ten minutes.”
His chuckle followed her up the stairs.
*
Solomon waited in the front hall until he heard Daisy's bedroom door slam shut. As he turned and sauntered toward the kitchen, he tugged out his phone and sent a message to say he was making Daisy breakfast. Paul should be awake by now, if not quite sober enough to drive. It had been like old times. Solomon smiled. Doughnut was such a lightweight.
Johnny's tail wagged slowed as Solomon dropped his shopping on the kitchen table and then crossed the room. He squatted beside the dog's bed and gave him a pat. “Good boy. Do you want to go outside?”
The dog clambered to his feet and followed Solomon. Despite the soft drizzle, Johnny disappeared into the garden as soon as the back door was open. Solomon watched him for a moment before closing the door. He needed to get busy and then make breakfast. A loud thump sounded overhead followed by the unmistakable sound of running water. Daisy must be in the shower. Last time he'd been over, she'd been working in the kitchen. Papers were strewn over the table but he couldn't find anything of interest. What he really needed was her laptop. A search of the lounge came up empty. Solomon toed his boots off and crept up the stairs, being careful to avoid the third step, remembering it creaked the last time he'd had a call of nature while visiting with Paul.
Daisy wasn't likely to be out of the shower any time soon, but he would have a hard time explaining to Sherman what he was doing sneaking around upstairs this early in the day. He somehow doubted Daisy would appreciate any sign of impropriety in front of Sherman. If the boy ever managed to lose his virginity, it wouldn't be due to a lack of effort on the part of his mother to keep him pure and unsullied. Solomon silently thanked God his mother had never had any interest in her son's sexual exploits. As long as he went to confession and cleansed his soul, she'd happily lived in blissful ignorance. A smile tugged at his lips. He'd been two years younger than Sherman when he'd discovered that he could use his dick to do more than t
ake a piss.
Having successfully conquered the stairs, Solomon crept down the hall and silently opened Daisy's bedroom door. A quiet chuckle escaped him. Daisy was singing in the shower. Apparently she was a Katy Perry fan and she’d kissed a girl and liked it. Pushing all thoughts of Daisy in any kind of amorous clinch from his mind, he crossed the room and snagged the laptop off the bedside table. He perched on the end of the bed and lifted the lid. It only took him a couple of minutes to power it up. Her password was a combination of Sherman's name and date of birth. Far too simple.
Unfortunately accessing the computer was the easy part. Finding what he needed would be a lot harder. Daisy's desktop and filing system was as chaotic as most other aspects of her life. Finally he opened a spreadsheet full of the details of her latest failed case. Mrs. Sidebottom lived close to Tomas Jenks, just as Solomon suspected. Engrossed in closing everything down, it took him a moment to realize Daisy had stopped singing. No running water. Shite!
Solomon shoved the laptop back where he'd found it and darted across the room. The bathroom door started to swing open and he froze. He couldn't escape without being seen. He backtracked, flicked open the wardrobe and stepped inside, sliding the louvre door closed behind him. Daisy appeared in his line of sight and he held his breath.
Hiding had been a stupid idea. What if she opened the cupboard to get some clothes? How would he explain what he was doing? Getting caught with her laptop and being accused of snooping would be preferable to her finding him and thinking he was spying on her getting dressed. Not that he was. Besides she was wearing that huge candy-pink dressing gown. Solomon blinked and sucked in a breath. Or she had been. He closed his eyes and held his breath, praying she didn’t find him.
From his hiding place, he could hear drawers being opened and closed. Finally everything went quiet. Solomon opened his eyes and surveyed as much of the room as he could see. Empty. Daisy must have left. Now he would just need a good explanation as to why he hadn't started breakfast, and where he'd been.
He slid the door open and stepped onto the pale pink carpet. Daisy's dressing gown was tossed across the bottom of the unmade bed. Her laptop was missing and the top drawer of the dresser was open. If the black lacy garment spilling down the front was any indication, he guessed it was her underwear drawer. If he got caught in her room, he doubted he could come up with any explanation that didn't make him sound like a sexual deviant.
