For a long time, he stared at her, imprinting every detail, every freckle, every shiver, every tiny emotion that crowded her hazel eyes. Had he honestly thought only a few days ago that there was nothing special about the way she looked? He’d been stupid blind. She was gorgeous. Amazing. She made him want and need and feel.
He hadn’t felt in so damn long.
In the dim light, her eyes widened, and her lips parted, just a little, a small exhalation of oh. Soft. Awed. She raised her trembling fingers to his mouth, and he realized he was smiling.
He hadn’t smiled in so damn long.
“You’re beautiful when you smile,” she whispered, cupping her hands to his face.
Before her last word disappeared into the air, he kissed her, hard and hungry, backing her to the bed, hastily pulling the shirt over her head. In the instant between her lying back on the mattress and his moving over her, he saw that she was naked, too. Like him, she’d efficiently removed her underwear with her jeans.
Naked and gorgeous and his.
There was a time that bright day, standing in the driveway of the Madison house with Maura, that he’d missed this—being with a woman, skin to skin, blood boiling like crazy—so much that he’d almost, almost been willing to take it from anyone. He’d craved the physical part badly enough that he could have forgotten about the emotional part, but some small sane part of him had known he would regret it.
He would never regret this.
He could lie there, his body pressed to hers, kissing her, exploring her mouth with his tongue and everywhere else with his hands, for hours. Forever. Then he mentally snorted. In another minute or two, he would explode into a seething mess of nothing but need, hunger and plain old wanting.
Her fingers brushed across his flesh, dragging from him a guttural noise and stiffening him even more. Breathing in shallow, desperate pants, she said, “I...forgot...condom...”
Sweat dotted his forehead, and hers, too, and heat came off them both in waves, even though in his mind, he knew the room was cool. He admired that she was coherent enough to think of protection and was grateful that the incident with Maura had prompted him, for the first time in more than a decade, to buy a box of condoms. “I have some.”
She grinned. “Thank you, Maura.”
He leaned across to reach the top drawer of the night table, to snag a condom from the unused box there, then returned to her. Before he could free his other hand to open the package, she grinned again, grabbed the edge and ripped. He caught it before it slipped from his fingers, and the wrapper separated neatly.
So many opportunities for awkwardness and clumsiness, JJ had mentioned earlier. At this moment, he decided, hers were the most talented fingers in the world. They had the condom in place in seconds, and then she pulled him into place, tugging, thrusting upward to meet him, and when he was sheathed deeply inside her, he felt a minute of utter peace and comfort and belonging.
Followed instantly by utter chaos.
It was incredible.
Chapter 9
JJ had some experience with waking up and not knowing where she was, but that didn’t happen this time. The instant her brain struggled up to awareness, she knew exactly where she was: in Quint’s bed. In his arms. She thought she might stay there forever.
She lay on her left side, facing the southern windows. Even though it was the middle of the night, the room practically glowed in the pale light, as if it had absorbed all the quiet of the day and reflected it back during the night.
Her body was warmed in back by Quint’s, but her front side was cool and goose bumpy. Should she try to maneuver under the covers without waking him, or just turn over and let him warm that side next? She debated the question for a while, but in the end she decided she was too lazy—too comfortable—to move. Cool was bearable. If she got cold, she might change her mind.
From downstairs came a whimper. Was Chica having bad dreams? Was she lonely, afraid or unsure about her new home? Did she think her humans had abandoned her again?
When she barked once, loud and sharp, JJ figured the disturbance was more along the lines of my-puppy-bladder-is-full. Quint stirred beside her, golden in the thin light, looking tired and wickedly handsome and easy.
He did easy so well.
“Baby needs to go out,” he murmured.
“I’ll take her.” She started to wriggle out from beneath his arm, but it tightened across her middle. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw his eyes were open now, his look so intense she could feel it in a sweet, intimate way caressing her body.
Chica barked again, and he released her. “I’ll go. It’s dark.”
She sniffed disdainfully as she pulled on his shirt, then stepped into her jeans. “I’m not afraid of the dark. My Taser has a flashlight, and Herr Glock keeps me safe.” She patted both weapons, shoved her feet into her boots, then bent over to kiss his cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got plans for you later.”
He grunted, closed his eyes and resumed his deep breathing. With a light from below for illumination, she made her way down the hall and the stairs, grabbed her jacket and released Chica from the kennel. The puppy dashed to the back door, doing an impatient little dance while JJ hooked on the leash, unlocked the door and then hustled down the steps with her.
While Chica searched for the most appropriate blades of grass, JJ unholstered the Taser and turned on the flashlight. Her feet felt icky in her boots without socks, her, um, other parts felt strangely airy without panties and it was a good thirty degrees colder outside than in. “This isn’t going to be a thing, is it?” she asked the dog, who was head down, quivering butt up a few feet away.
Chica pretended not to hear.
“Because I get really cranky being woken up in the middle of the night so someone can pee. I mean, I didn’t have kids for a reason, right?” She rubbed her nose with the hand that held the Taser, making the light bob crazily. “Of course, that’s not the only reason. And I was actually already awake, so you didn’t really wake me up. But come on, you have all day long to pee, and Quint took you out after we, uh, well, you don’t need details.”
She’d been too sated to move anything but her gaze then, studying the long line of his spine when he sat up, and the curve of his butt when he stood, and the lean muscular legs as he walked into the closet. He came back out in sweatpants, but knowing what they covered, she found that view pretty damn nice, too.
It seemed like Chica had taken care of business much more quickly with him. Frost was starting to form on parts of JJ’s body that normally didn’t get that cold, and the dog was still stalking across the ground, burying her nose into every tuft of grass.
But the night was gorgeous. Quiet. Soft. The sky spread overhead like velvet, the stars glittering like randomly scattered jewels and the air smelled fresh and springlike. New, clean, full of promise.
Oh, she did love promise.
Finally Chica settled on a spot, then they jogged back to the house. JJ reholstered her Taser, rekenneled the baby, dropped her coat on the couch and made a semifrozen rush back to the bedroom. Quint had slid under the covers while she was gone, and as soon as she undressed, he opened his arms, holding the linens high enough for her to dive in next to him.
“Next time I offer to take her out, maybe you’ll agree and stay warm.” He wrapped his arms around her, snuggled her tightly to his overly warm body and shifted one leg to rest on her hip and legs.
“Maybe.” But being held like this was so worth a few minutes of frigid air.
“Just for the record...” He nuzzled her hair back and kissed her forehead. “This going out in the middle of the night might very well be a thing.”
She tilted her head back to give him a narrow look. “Were you making sure I was qualified to take Chica out?”
Her scowl didn’t perturb him at all. “I just checked out the window to make sure sh
e wasn’t taking you for a wild dash around the property. I could carry her back if she got worn out. You, I’m not so sure about.”
She was an adult, serious and responsible. She wouldn’t do anything as juvenile as seeing if he was ticklish or poking him in the chest—which was so solid it would probably just hurt her fingertip. Instead, like a thoroughly mature woman, she rolled on top of him, pinning his arms to the bed and straddling his hips, sliding ever so slowly over his penis, back and forth, as his erection sprang to life.
“I’m a cop. I’m strong. My sister’s a firefighter, and I dated several firefighters. I could carry you back.”
As she continued rubbing her pelvis against his, he lifted his head to kiss her. Laughing, she drew back out of reach.
“You know, I could flip you over without even trying,” he pointed out, his tone even, his voice just the slightest bit breathless.
“I know, but remember I said I had plans for you later?” She released his arms then, sitting straighter, and guided his hands to her breasts. The simple sensation of his fingers against her nipples made her gasp and sent a jolt of pure pleasure through her. “Well, sweetie, it’s later.”
* * *
Mornings were different when Quint wasn’t alone in the house.
He hadn’t forgotten that. He’d just become so accustomed to the freaking emptiness that hovered everywhere. No one hurrying him through a shower. No one to offer a cup of coffee. No one to discuss the upcoming day or how well they had or hadn’t slept or about the dream they couldn’t escape.
This morning, JJ didn’t harry him about the shower. She just climbed into the big tub with him. Chica greeted them with excited yips and barks when they finally made it downstairs. Both females went outside with him, both too perky given that it was still mostly dark outside, both tempting him to relax and even smile when they faced off at one point, each menacing in her own way.
“What time is lunch with Maura?” he asked as Chica finally did what she had to and they headed back inside.
“I suggested eleven. She said twelve, so it’ll probably be closer to one.”
“Any idea where you’re going?”
“Nope. I’m hoping for someplace here in town, but I doubt anything’s pricey enough to make her happy. I’ll probably spend a hundred bucks on a sliver of beef, two slices of blue potato and three baby green beans, and I’ll still be starving when I walk out the door.”
He nudged her inside, then cut Chica loose from her leash. “I’ll fix a big dinner.”
JJ grinned. “I’ll eat it.” In a quick change of topic, she asked, “You know anyone in the local FBI office?”
“I do.” He checked the clock. He’d intended to cook breakfast this morning—it had been a long time since he’d hauled out his cast-iron skillet for bacon and eggs—but the shower interruption had put him behind schedule. It was the type of disruption he could happily embrace.
“Could you check on any female Mels who flew from Tulsa to New Orleans in December? Any fed worth his badge will cringe at the idea of searching for only a partial first name, no last name, no Social Security number and no date of birth, but surely there’s a limited number of names that Mel’s a reasonable nickname for.”
“I’ll call when I get into the station.” He cut four thick slices from the leftover bread, buttered them, popped them into the toaster oven and took a tub of cream cheese from the refrigerator while they browned. “You want to come over?”
“Yeah, after I go to the hotel and change. I’d better call Mr. Winchester, too, and maybe even Dipstick. Why don’t you text me when you’re ready?” She slid onto a stool, legs crossed, spine straight. With her makeup mostly gone, her hair in a ponytail and her weapons not visible thanks to the island, she looked half his age and twice as innocent.
But after last night he knew for a fact that she wasn’t innocent at all.
As he started the coffee, he wondered why he didn’t feel more...something this morning. Awkward, maybe. Nervous. Guilty. Just as Linny had been removed from his life, so had any hint of intimacy. He had never imagined he would feel it again. Hadn’t even hoped. Yet here was JJ. A gift from the God he’d stopped praying to.
And he hadn’t lied last night. For the first time in months, he’d awakened with the calm comfort of hope. Even if this thing between them didn’t go anywhere, he would always have that.
They ate quietly, Chica munching on her nuggets while casting longing looks at their toast. With that done, and one last trip around the yard with the pup, he and JJ left in separate vehicles. He wondered if any of his neighbors had noticed the strange car in the driveway. He knew everyone who lived within a half mile of him. Linny had been big on neighborhood cookouts, and they had all come to her funeral. He hadn’t seen much of them since then. Not because they hadn’t tried. He just couldn’t.
After a couple hours of patrol around the school complexes and on the main route to Tulsa, Quint went into the station. He got a cup of coffee, then stopped by Sam’s office, standing in the open door. His boss was on the phone, but he motioned to him to wait.
The phone calls were one thing Quint didn’t miss about the assistant chief’s job. He’d spent most of his time communicating in some way with someone—calls, emails, faxes, letters, meetings—and very little time on the actual police work that had drawn him to the job in the first place. Though he was ashamed of the actions that had led to his demotion, he was glad he was out of the position. He didn’t want to go back.
When Sam hung up, he gestured to a stack of messages on his desk. “JJ’s chief. Is she not keeping him informed?”
“She talked to him yesterday morning.” Quint didn’t mention that she’d ignored a call from Chadwick last night. That would mean explaining everything. It didn’t matter how determined a person was to not tell all, Sam still managed to find it out.
Not that it was a secret. Not that he even wanted it to be a secret. Besides, Rhonda knew, and she would surely tell his mother or sisters soon, if not already, and then Lois would find out, and that meant no hope for privacy ever again.
Sam’s narrowed gaze made Quint offer more of an explanation. “The chief’s running the department, but the lawyer’s running this sideshow. The chief’s decided he wants to cut the lawyer out of the loop. He wants to control whatever information JJ comes up with, and he’ll probably use it to undermine her.”
“So the chief and the lawyer are about to get in a pissing contest with JJ in the mid—” Sam broke off and grimaced. “Damn. Forget I said that. That would explain why Chadwick is wanting a moment-by-moment update. Not on the case, on her.”
“Should I keep a log?” Quint asked drily. 3:00 p.m. Noticed for the hundredth time how pretty she is. 5:00 p.m. Thought about kissing her. 5:10 p.m. Wanted to kiss her. 6:00 p.m. Saw her in wet shirt and really wanted to kiss her. 8:49 p.m. Kissed her. Had good sex with her. Had great sex with her. Slept beside her. Found out “later” is a very good thing.
Yep, that would just delight Chief Dipstick.
Sam shook his head. “I’ll call him later. Maybe I can get him to back off a little. So... I’m guessing she’s not satisfied with whatever she’s learned.”
“She babysat Maura one entire summer. She wants to be sure the kid really is okay. She doesn’t want to just go with the popular conclusion that Maura’s a spoiled brat if there really is something going on.” Quint shifted his weight. “Zander Benson’s living there with her. She bought him a new motorcycle.”
“Mila and I are looking for new wheels, too,” Sam said wistfully.
“Yeah, yours will be attached to a baby carriage.”
Sam nodded, but he didn’t look for one second like he regretted that. He was so ready to be a father, and better suited for the job than just about anyone Quint knew.
“Anytime Zander’s involved, there’s trouble.” The desk phone rang, and Sam gl
anced at it. “Best-case scenario, he’s seduced himself into her bank account. It’s her right to be a sucker for a good-looking guy. But worst case...”
“He might be planning to take every million she’s got. Even the best case is a problem if she’s not competent and he’s taking advantage of it.” Quint backed up. “I’ll be in the conference room for a while if you need anything.”
Sam nodded, already speaking into the phone.
Everything about Maura’s behavior shift traced back to mid-December, the time of Mel’s leaving. One more loss than Maura could bear? With no more of a name to go by, their chances of finding the woman on their own were between nil and none. But as JJ had suggested, the FBI could do an indices search and give them a list of airline passengers traveling during the proper time frame. It might or might not be a daunting list, but he and JJ had the time for the grunt work of narrowing it down. From there, focusing on particular passengers on specific flights, they could view the surveillance footage from the Tulsa airport and, at least, confirm that Mel got on the plane.
It wasn’t much. Just one small part of Maura’s story they could prove.
Before he picked up the phone, he texted JJ. Her response came quickly. Be there soon.
A warm, comforting kind of feeling went through him. It was still lingering while he waited on hold for his FBI agent friend when his cell beeped again.
Who is this woman you cooked dinner for last night? His sister Diane. I can’t believe you told Rhonda about her before us. Usually, her texts were long and rambling, but this morning she must be hitting Send with the completion of every thought, which suggested she was excited or upset.
What is her name?
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