by Liliana Hart
Unfortunately, I was left all alone with Lorna. She still wore her church clothes—a dark navy dress that would have been in style forty years ago, with an eyelet lace collar and matching Mary Jane heels that were a tasteful one-inch in height. Her stockings didn’t have runs in them, and her mousy hair was pulled back severely from her face and fastened in a tight bun at the base of her neck so it looked like she had a bagel attached to the back of her head.
I knew I’d be meeting clients today, so I’d at least thought to put on something besides my old jeans and a ratty t-shirt. I felt fairly presentable in gray slacks and a dark red silk shirt, but women who wore pants were no better than prostitutes by Lorna’s way of thinking. I’d also gotten a little blood on the sleeve of my shirt at Doc Randall’s house, and her gaze kept straying to the darkened stain, but I hadn’t had time to change to protect her delicate sensibilities. I’d even bothered with makeup, though that might have had more to do with the fact that sex tended to make a person stupid, and I wanted to look nice for Jack. Just in case he decided this morning wasn’t a fluke and wanted to do it again.
I pushed the pamphlets across the desk to Lorna, but she just stared at me, her hands pressed together primly in her lap.
“These are the casket selections in your budget,” I said. “I have most of them in stock. I’ve already spoken with Mrs. Grainger at the florist, and she said to tell you she has a lovely selection of white roses and greenery she thought you’d find acceptable.”
Lorna nodded stiffly and looked briefly at the pamphlet. “Mrs. Grainger has excellent taste, so of course, I’ll go with her recommendation. These caskets are all overpriced,” she said. “But I’ve come to expect that you’d try to swindle good Christian folk in their greatest time of need. I suppose if I have no other choice, we’ll take the mahogany.”
She shoved the pamphlet back at me and stared at my neck until I felt heat washing over my skin. I fought the urge to close my collar tighter, but that would only tell her I felt guilty I’d been caught with beard burn on my neck.
“Is there a problem?” I asked instead.
“Other than the fact you’ve brought another good man down in the gutter with you?” Her pale blue eyes spat fire at me and I was taken aback by the vehemence I saw there. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I beg your pardon?” I asked, raising a brow. I was surprisingly calm considering the insult, but maybe something of what Jack had said yesterday was starting to get through. I didn’t share my parents’ blood. I wasn’t guilty of their sins. Sure, I was guilty of plenty of my own, but my burden had eased some since I’d stopped lumping the sins of my family on top of mine.
“You killed that nice writer with your whorish ways, and now you’ll do the same with Jack.”
“Technically, I didn’t kill the writer with my whorish ways. Jeremy Mooney shot him, in case you’ve forgotten. Now as far as Jack goes, we haven’t killed each other with sex yet, but we’re giving it our best shot.”
Lorna sputtered and her eyes bulged out. I think I offended her, and I knew what I’d said was petty, but I was tired of taking cheap shots and being the “nice guy” just because I felt like I had to make up for the rest of my family.
“He’ll see you for what you are eventually,” she spat, “And God will forgive him for straying and provide him with the right woman.”
“But God won’t forgive me?” I asked, wondering the same thing myself. “That’s not very Christian of you, Lorna. Jealousy is an unattractive trait. You should probably ask your own forgiveness and mend your wicked ways.”
Lorna squeaked once, and two spots of furious color dotted her cheeks before she tucked her handbag beneath her arm and stormed out of my office. I wish I could’ve said I felt better after our exchange, but I didn’t. Maybe revenge wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
***
I’m not sure how long I sat behind my desk, doing mindless paperwork, and making the necessary calls for Reverend Oglesby’s funeral on Tuesday morning. Mrs. Perry’s funeral was scheduled for Tuesday afternoon, and both were supposed to have their viewings on Monday night at the same time. When it rained it poured.
In all honesty, I was dreading it. The funeral home would be packed, and I would be on display as much as the bodies—though Reverend Oglesby would be having a closed casket. Murder had a tendency to bring in a combination of true mourners, the curious, and the morbid, and considering how the Reverend was killed, there would be plenty of all three in attendance.
I had a crew digging the graves over at the cemetery, and I knew it would be awful, muddy work because of the rain we’d had. And according to the weatherman, there’d be more rain overnight. I wondered briefly if I should go ahead and have them dig George’s grave while they were there to save a little money, but his body hadn’t been released for burial yet, so I held off.
I made a final call to Martha Phelps—owner of Martha’s Diner—and occasional caterer for Graves’ Funeral Homes. I needed to make sure we were set to feed the masses when they showed up the following night. Mourners were always hungry. I made another call to the florist, and then I went downstairs to make sure the bodies were as good as they were going to get before we placed them in their coffins.
The families would want to say goodbye, and the most important thing I could do for them was make sure their family member looked as close to their live self as possible. I’d made the mistake once of parting a woman’s hair on the opposite side from how she normally wore it, and by the reaction the family had you’d have thought I’d chopped off the tip of her nose.
Getting the bodies maneuvered into the caskets would be the hard part. Reverend Oglesby was a big man, and I tried to think of the best way to bribe Jack into helping me. I needed to get a couple of more interns from the college as soon as possible. It was hell trying to get everything accomplished and make sure the bodies still looked good with only one person doing all the work.
I went back upstairs and into my office, and I thought about stretching out on the blue couch against the wall to rest my eyes, but I shrugged off the idea. First of all, it was a really uncomfortable couch, and I made a mental note to buy a new one with the money I made from selling my house. Secondly, the thought of going to sleep without Jack beside me wasn’t all that appealing.
I decided to make a fresh pot of coffee instead when I heard the key turn in the kitchen door and the muted sound of men’s voices. My gun was in the center drawer of my desk, only a few feet away, but the sound of Jack’s voice stopped me from running to get it.
I let out a breath and wandered into the kitchen. My eyes immediately went to Jack, hungry for the sight of him. He quite literally took my breath away. It was crazy to think that something so beautiful and good could be mine, but he was, and the thought didn’t terrify me as much as it had even a day ago. He wanted me. And he loved me. No strings attached. Except marriage, but I still wasn’t thinking about that.
He’d stripped away his jacket with the warming temperatures, and I noticed he’d changed clothes some time after our visit to Doc Randall’s. Things must have gotten messy. He wore jeans and a faded denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his weapon secure at his side. My gaze wandered over him, and when I finally met his eyes they were so filled with lust and need that it made my breath catch. It was then I remembered we weren’t alone, and I was very probably making a fool out of myself.
“I just came in to start a fresh pot of coffee,” I said.
I broke eye contact so I didn’t give into temptation and jump Jack’s bones. He sent every hormone I had into overdrive. I hadn’t thought about sex this much since—no, best not to go there. Even with Brody it hadn’t been this intense. This important. I’d known the difference real love could make from the first moment Jack had touched me, and it was a disservice to Jack in the here and now and Brody’s memory to pretend otherwise.
I ducked my head and hurried over to the counter where the coffeemaker sat, kee
ping my back to the room until I got my emotions under control. I found comfort in the simple task of measuring coffee grounds.
“I could drink a cup,” Jack said. “How about you, Carver?”
“I’d rather have a beer myself, but I guess coffee will do.”
I turned at the mention of Agent Carver. We’d spoken on the phone once when he’d helped us gather information on Jeremy Mooney, just before he tried to kill me. But I’d never actually met Carver in person. I knew he was a close friend of Jack’s, and that they’d served together in the military. My knowledge ended there.
Carver wasn’t a big man, skimming just under six feet, and he wasn’t as broad as Jack through the shoulders. He was leaner, with a runner’s body, but he held himself with an awareness that was inherent in all cops, and he carried his weapon comfortably at his side. His black slacks and white dress shirt were travel worn, but his shoes were shined to a blinding polish. His sandy blond hair was short and his eyes were a misty green that missed nothing.
“So you’re Doctor Graves,” he said with a smile, holding out his hand for me to shake. “Ben Carver. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He cut his eyes to Jack and wiggled his eyebrows.
“Call me J.J.,” I said, taking his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Yeah, well, I would have come down to meet you sooner if I’d known you were beautiful. Jack told me what he and his friends did to you in third grade,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “I’d be happy to help you find a decent man. You don’t want to get stuck with this loser,” pointing to Jack. “I can finally understand why he keeps himself secluded in this Godforsaken place. Wasting his talent, if you ask me. Not that he ever asks, mind you, but I like to give my opinion when I think it’s needed.”
I smiled because I couldn’t help myself, but I looked at Jack and arched a brow. “Have you secluded yourself because of me, Jack? I had no idea.”
He winked and gave me a smile I knew was just for me. “I’m right where I want to be.” He reached up to get mugs down from the cabinet and brought them over to me.
“Jack always did have all the luck,” Carver sighed, looking forlorn. “I don’t suppose you have a sister? Twins would be even better.”
I laughed. “I’m an only child, thank God. But the women in this town are always looking for eligible bachelors. I’d be happy to throw you to the wolves.”
“Thanks anyway. But I wouldn’t want to piss off my wife. She knows how to shoot.”
Jack and I both laughed at his deadpan delivery, and I poured coffee into the mugs.
“So how’d it go with the mayor?” I asked Jack. “Do you still have a job?”
“For now,” he answered. “But only because the mayor is conveniently out of town.”
I warmed my hands around the mug and looked at Jack in surprise. “How long has he been gone?”
“Almost a week,” Carver said, taking up the conversation. “He’s at a fundraising convention in Atlanta. We’ve already confirmed with TSA and the hotel.”
“They have conventions for fundraising?” I asked.
“That was my reaction too, but Mr. Civilized here tells me it’s common among politicians to seek help around campaign time. On the taxpayers’ dime, of course.”
“Of course.” My eyes caught Jack’s again, and then dropped to his mouth. It had been hours since he’d kissed me. I was pretty sure Carver was still speaking, but it sounded like water rushing past my ears. And then I remembered I needed to breathe.
“I guess that’s my cue to go,” Carver said, finishing his coffee in one long gulp. “I need to read through all the information from the crime scenes, and get settled at the bed and breakfast.”
“I told you you’re welcome to stay with me,” Jack said. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he made the offer.
I watched Carver look between me and Jack and roll his eyes. “Yeah, that’s going to happen. I’ll catch you crazy kids later.”
“Five o’clock,” Jack said. “I’ll introduce you to the others and we’ll have a briefing.”
Carver nodded and let himself out the kitchen door. And Jack and I were all alone. Nerves gathered in the pit of my stomach, and tingles skittered across my skin until every part of me was aware of our complete solitude. I reached for his cup to take it to the sink, just so I could keep my hands busy, but he touched my wrist and I froze.
His mouth quirked in a half smile, displaying his dimple, and every rational thought in my head evaporated. He scooted his chair back from the table and brought me slowly to my feet. The temperature rose twenty degrees, and I suddenly knew what it felt like to become prey. Jack didn’t let go of my wrist, and I looked behind me to see if I had room to maneuver.
“Nowhere to run,” he whispered, pulling me closer. His arms came around me in a loose circle and he nuzzled at my cheek. “It’s been three hours since I’ve kissed you.”
My throat was as dry as dust, and I licked my lips. This time was different. We weren’t waking up to romantic morning light, caught in each other and the soft touches that new lovers shared. This was primal. Carnal. Energy crackled in the air between us, and the need to mate was so strong my fingers clenched in his shirt before I made myself relax them.
“It seems like forever,” I breathed out, the words barely forming.
Jack nipped at my jaw with his teeth and I moaned, trembling in his arms as my body came to attention.
“Forever,” he agreed. “It’s been almost eight hours since I’ve been inside you.”
“Much too long,” I moaned, tilting my head back so he had better access to my neck.
The room spun around me and my eyes fluttered closed to fight the dizziness, but it didn’t help. Jack did this to me—made my knees weak and my body liquid—so time spun around us. It was only the two of us at the center of the universe. And then his mouth took mine in a scorching kiss that nothing to do with patience or seduction and everything to do with ravenous need.
My back hit the wall and I heard something crash, but I was too far gone to care or notice what we’d broken. Our tongues twined and my legs wrapped around his waist—searching, searching—for the hard heat of him to press against the one spot that would make me scream.
“Jesus,” he panted, his hand finding my breast—squeezing, tweaking—until the throbbing between my thighs became almost unbearable.
“Windows,” he gasped.
I didn’t care that we were in the kitchen in a public building, where anyone could walk in. I found the energy to open my eyes, and found myself staring into Jack’s—molten black and glazed with desire.
“Don’t care,” I panted. “Now.”
I worked frantically at the button of his jeans, ignoring the fact that he still wore his shirt and weapon. He kissed me again and carried me a few steps, trying to make it to the privacy of my office, but my hand found its way inside his jeans and any sensible thoughts he had vanished.
“Or here’s good,” he said.
“Hurry, hurry,” I begged.
He flicked the clasp of my trousers and they fell to my knees, and I gasped as he tore away my underwear. We were both in motion now, trying to relieve the aching pressure that kept building inside of us. I kicked off a shoe and freed a leg from my pants, and then Jack’s hands grasped my ass and hitched me up. My legs wrapped around his waist and then he was finally inside me, and we both let out a satisfied moan at the feel of our flesh joining.
My heart thudded inside my chest and my head knocked against the wall as he moved into me, over and over again. Sweat dampened our skin and our bodies were so hot I was surprised they didn’t burst into flame. My fingernails dug into his shoulders as he rocked higher and higher, and my legs turned into a vise as I felt the first trembling shocks rocket through my body.
My hips bucked wildly and I cried out as the rest of the world spun away. Jack stiffened and shuddered against me, and we held on to each other—survivors of a passionate storm—our hearts pounding
as one.
I didn’t know how much time passed. My vision cleared, and I wondered if I’d had a stroke because everything was sideways. I lifted my head as high as much as my strength would allow and realized we were lying down.
“How’d we end up on the floor?” I croaked out. I dropped my head back to his shoulder and decided I could probably fall asleep on top of him if he’d just be still.
“I think I fell down,” he said. “I have blank spots in my memory. And my legs might be broken.”
“Thank you for being a gentleman and not landing on top of me.”
“My mother brought me up right.”
I giggled against his chest and rose up so I could see his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his smile satisfied, and I couldn’t help but take his face between my hands and kiss him softly.
“It’s nice to see you smile,” he said. “I want you to be happy.”
I hugged him close and realized I was happy. In this moment I was as happy as I’d ever been. “You make me happy,” I said. “Thanks for being persistent.”
He swatted me on the backside and lifted me up, and a small tremor went through me as our bodies separated. I crawled on my hands and knees, without a shred of dignity whatsoever, and gathered my scattered clothes. At least I was still wearing my shirt.
“You owe me new underwear, Sheriff,” I said, holding up the tattered white lace and giving him a wide-eyed stare. “Police brutality.”
He grinned and hitched his jeans up. “Make sure you go in and file a report. The men don’t have enough to do.”
I snickered as I put my clothes back on. My muscles were starting to protest, and I stretched a little, gleeful when Jack’s eyes got that look again that meant good things were coming.
“You’re very inventive,” I said. “I’m going to be expecting something new and exciting from here on out.”
“Or maybe just regular sex would be okay too,” Jack said, helping me stand. “I’m not sure we’ve gotten to the point in our relationship where things have gotten old. I don’t usually break out the trapezes until the fourth or fifth time.”
