“I am kind of hungry,” she admitted.
“I figured you would be.”
If he expected her to blush at that comment, he would be disappointed. She’d gotten just what she’d asked for last night. In fact, a few times, she’d been begging.
“You don’t have to feed me, Stonewall. It’s past lunchtime and I’ve overstayed my welcome anyway.”
“No, you haven’t. I don’t mind you in my space.”
She decided not to go there with him. Not today. “Okay, I’ll stay for lunch. What you got?” she decided to ask.
“Chicken salad made by Granny Kay. You’ll like it.”
“I believe it.”
He came into the room, went over to the dresser and pulled out a T-shirt. He placed it on the bed. “This will fit you like a dress.”
“Umm, we’ll see.”
“If you prefer you can wear nothing at all,” he said, leaning back against the dresser. At that angle she could see the outline of his engorged penis, bulging against his shorts.
“That’s okay. I usually don’t walk around in the nude.”
“Just so you know, it wouldn’t bother me if you did. And I put your things in the laundry room.”
“Thanks. You’re a real nice guy.”
He chuckled. “I try to be. Do you need me to run you some bathwater?”
She shook her head. She’d meant what she’d said. He was a real nice guy. Omar had never pampered her this way. “No, a shower will be okay for me.”
“I left you everything you need on the vanity. An unused toiletry kit. I have quite a few of them.”
She tilted her head and looked at him. “Have a lot of sleepovers, do you?” The moment she asked, she regretted doing so. His houseguests and their number were not her business.
“No. I have a tendency to collect them whenever I stay at a hotel.”
“Oh, I see.” Was he going to stand there until she got out of bed? Why was she hesitant about him seeing her naked? It made no sense considering all they’d done last night. And she couldn’t forget about yesterday morning and the night before at her place. Being shy of her nakedness was the last thing she should have been. Ignoring the fact he was staring, she eased out of bed. If he was intent on looking, she might as well give him an eyeful.
“It wasn’t my intent to brand you.”
She lifted a brow, then she followed his gaze and looked down at herself. Passion marks were practically everywhere. On her stomach. Thighs. Chest. She walked over to the mirror and saw a number of them on her neck and shoulders. She tried downplaying the sensations oozing through her at the memory of when each and every one was made. His mouth had practically left no part of her body untouched. The night had started out hot and passionate, and he’d taken her hard and harder. Then he’d gone tender on her. It was as if he’d tried pulling out emotions she usually kept locked inside. Emotions deeply buried. He had somehow managed to uncover them. She glanced back at him.
“No sweat. I’m sure we both did.” If she remembered correctly, she’d gone down on him twice, loving the feel of him engorged and erect in her mouth while she...
His phone went off, and she watched him pull it out of his pocket. That drew attention to his crotch. Had seeing all those passion marks on her done that to him? She wasn’t blind. It was obvious he’d gotten larger. And why was she standing there staring at it?
“That was Roland.”
His words grabbed her attention and she shifted her gaze from the area below his waist up to his face. He was smiling. He’d known what she’d been staring at. “Everything’s okay?” she asked.
“Yes. News of your promotion made this morning’s paper. He wanted me to congratulate you when I saw you.”
She nodded. “And what made him think you’d be seeing me?”
“A hunch. We were seen at the wedding together.”
“So now everyone thinks...” She didn’t finish because she knew she didn’t have to.
“Yes, they probably do. My close friends know we’d been trying to get that date and it happened after the wedding.”
She wondered how much else they knew about what happened after the wedding. She shrugged off the thought. She was a twenty-eight-year-old woman, and Stonewall was definitely a grown man. Neither of them had to answer to anyone. “When you see Roland again, please tell him thanks.”
“I will. He also mentioned that he saw you on television this morning. I guess it was a repeat of last night’s interview.”
She nodded again. “The media was all over the place.”
“When something like that happens, they would be. There hasn’t been this much happening in Charlottesville since Erickson hired that assassin, so everyone’s interested. I hope you catch the bastards responsible.”
“I intend to.”
And then she grabbed the T-shirt off the bed and strolled into the bathroom.
* * *
NICE ASS, STONEWALL thought as he watched her leave, closing the bathroom door behind her. He wondered how he could get her to stay. Not just through lunch but through the entire weekend. He enjoyed being with her and not just in the bedroom. She might see him as a diversion, but he was beginning to see her as something more. And that was the crux of his problem.
He could pretend nonchalance for only so long with her. In the past, women had been just a means to an end. Mutually so, since he made it a point to date women with a like mind. He should have been jumping for joy at her attitude, but instead, he was discovering that the more time he spent with her, the more time he wanted. She knew how to push all his buttons, even when she had no idea she was doing so. All she had to do was give him one of those luscious smiles, a sexy walk or something as simple as rolling her shoulder in a shrug. All he knew, which had him confused as hell, was that Joy Ingram was getting to him in a big way.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there thinking about it, trying hard to rationalize things, when his cell phone rang. It was Striker. “Yeah, man. What’s up?”
“Margo and I are firing up the grill around six and wanted to know if you’ll come over and hang out with us. I called Quasar, and he and Randi are coming over, as well.”
Pausing a minute, Stonewall said, “I have company.” Why was he saying that when he was pretty sure she’d be gone by then?
Striker chuckled. “Bring your detective with you. We saw her on the news last night, by the way. Tragedy about that doctor and pharmacist. And we read about her promotion in today’s paper. We’re glad for her. I guess now she’s your lieutenant.”
Stonewall frowned. “What makes you think she’s the person who’s here?”
“Seriously? Just bring her. The chow-down starts at six.”
“I’ll have to ask Joy.”
“Ask me what?”
Stonewall glanced up to see Joy. She was coming out the bathroom wearing his T-shirt. It looked good on her. Seeing her in it made him realize he’d never given another woman a shirt of his to wear. And even if he had, he doubted anyone of them could have worn it like this. He’d told her it would fit her like a dress. Well, in her case, not so much. Unless he meant a super minidress. A lot of her skin definitely showed. Skin that, from the looks of all the passion marks, he’d tasted a lot of. The hem hit upper midthigh and the top made her perfectly shaped nipples press against the cotton material.
“Ask me what, Stonewall?” she inquired again. She leaned against the headboard of the bed in what he thought was one sexy-as-hell pose. Long, gorgeous legs, shapely body, beautiful bare arms. He could hardly concentrate on anything, but the look on her face said he’d better.
Stonewall then said to Striker, “I’ll call you back.” He clicked off the phone and put it back into his pocket, not missing the way Joy’s eyes traveled to his crotch when he did so.
/> “That was Striker. He and Margo are setting up the grill around six and invited us over.”
She lifted a brow. “Us?”
“Yes, you and me. He also invited Quasar and Randi.”
“And how did he know I was here?”
“A hunch.”
She nodded slowly as she held his gaze. “The same hunch Roland had?”
Stonewall shrugged.
“Let me think about it. Besides, just look at me.”
He was looking. “And?”
“I have passion marks all over me, some in places I can’t hide. I don’t want anyone to think that we’re—”
“In a relationship. I get it. But just because you have passion marks doesn’t mean they’ll think we’re in a relationship. They might just think we enjoy sleeping together with no ties. That is the way you want it.”
Before she could say anything, he added, “You think about the invite and let me know your decision. I’ll go and prepare lunch.” He then walked out the room.
* * *
THE MOMENT THE woman was handed the baby, she cried. Tears misted her husband’s eyes, as well. Audrey reined in her own emotions as she handed the couple tissues. She glanced over at her husband, and he was smiling, as well. She was glad they were in this together. A team. Making couples’ dreams come true.
Cherita and Malcolm Bellary had tried for seven years before they’d decided to go the surrogate route, after they learned Cherita couldn’t carry a child to term. Beautiful Creations had been their last hope, and Audrey was glad she and her husband could deliver.
At that moment the Bellarys’ attorney, Aaron Singleton, said, “With the paperwork signed, my clients are free to leave.”
Audrey knew it was a statement and not a question. This was an attorney they hadn’t worked with before. He was thorough, and she liked that. Thoroughness now meant no sloppiness later, and she believed in things being in order.
“That’s right,” Oliver said, standing. “Someone from my office will call in a few months to—”
“No calls,” Singleton said. “When we walk out that office we don’t want any connection. My clients prefer it that way.”
Audrey looked to Oliver. He seemed bothered by that, and she understood why. He liked keeping in touch with the parents for at least four months, to make sure things were going fine. It was the Beautiful Creations way.
“Alright. If that’s what your client wants.”
A short while later, after the couple and their attorney had left, Oliver said grudgingly, “I didn’t like him. Aaron Singleton.”
She looked at her husband. “I could tell. Don’t take it personally, Oliver. I’m sure he’s just following his clients’ wishes. They wouldn’t be the first couple who didn’t want further contact.”
“I know, but...”
She lifted a brow. “But what?”
“But nothing.” He glanced at his watch. “I think it will be a beautiful Saturday afternoon. How about if we go grab lunch somewhere and then—”
The phone in Oliver’s office rang and Audrey reached and picked it up. “Beautiful Creations. This is Audrey Effington.”
“Ms. Effington, this is Cathy. I remembered that you and Mr. Effington had an appointment at the office today and was hoping I would catch you.”
Audrey nodded, fingering the pearls around her neck. “Yes, Cathy, you caught us just in time. We were about to leave. What is it?” She placed Cathy on speakerphone so Oliver could listen in.
“Have the two of you been watching television or seen this morning’s paper?”
“No, we left home before doing either. Why?’
“There was a robbery and a shooting. A doctor and a pharmacist were killed.”
“Oh, how awful,” Audrey said, shaking her head. She hated hearing about such tragic news.
“Yes, but the doctor was someone whose name I recognized as having referred patients to us.”
Audrey lifted a brow. Oliver had stopped what he was doing and had walked over to the desk. He asked, “Who was it?”
“Dr. Kelly Langley.”
Audrey drew in a sharp breath and threw her hand to her chest in shock. “Dr. Langley? But how? When?”
“According to the news reports, two pharmacies were robbed last night within the span of two hours. The last one was in the same medical complex as Dr. Langley’s office. She and the pharmacist were working late. I guess the intruders didn’t want to leave any witnesses behind, so they killed them both.”
Audrey closed her eyes, not believing what she was hearing. She’d met Kelly Langley and had found her to be a pleasant person. She had referred at least several couples, and things had worked out nicely for them.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Oliver said. “That’s unfortunate.”
Audrey frowned. Unfortunate? Was that the only word her husband could find to say? What had happened to Dr. Langley and that pharmacist was not unfortunate but barbaric. She did not believe in violence of any kind. Her heart went out to Dr. Langley’s family.
“Thanks for letting us know, Cathy. Find out when the services will be held and order flowers to be sent to the funeral home,” Oliver said.
“Yes, Mr. Effington, I will. You two have a good weekend.”
“Thanks, Cathy. We will and you do the same.”
Audrey hung up the phone and thought it was sad that she and Oliver planned to have a good weekend and the families of those two victims would not. More than anything, she hoped the authorities apprehended the people responsible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JOY WALKED INTO the kitchen to find Stonewall standing at the sink. “Sorry I got detained, but I needed to check in at headquarters.”
He turned to her. “No problem. Any new developments?”
“No. The next of kin of Dr. Langley, the female doctor who was killed, is to arrive later today. Her brother is a freelance cameraman working in Turkey.”
“She wasn’t married?”
“No, she’d been divorced for a good ten years.”
He nodded. “I figured we could have fries with our sandwiches.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ve got the fries in the oven.”
“The oven?”
“Yeah. I can eat fries every day, so it’s better for my health if I bake them instead of frying them. Works for me.”
“You like them that much?”
“Yes, always have. I’ll take a bunch of fries over dessert any day of the week.”
She sat down at the table. “Thanks for taking care of my clothes. When you said they were in the laundry room, I didn’t know you’d washed them.” And he’d done a good job, separating her underthings from her shirt and slacks, and folding everything in a neat stack on a folding table. A part of her wasn’t sure how she felt about a man handling her undergarments. When she and Omar had been together, she’d done laundry for the both of them, but he’d never taken the time to wash any of her things. Would have probably thought it was beneath him to do so.
“No problem. I have a sister and when she was down with the flu, I thought I would help her out and do her laundry. I learned my lesson when I tossed everything into the washing machine. I figured I was saving time. And I added bleach thinking that would get the items extra clean. I guess I don’t have to tell you how that turned out.”
No, he didn’t. She couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. “I guess after that she gave you a class in Laundry 101.”
He chuckled and pulled open the oven door. “Yes, she did.”
The fries he took out the oven looked yummy, and the sandwiches he placed on the plate in front of her looked delicious, as well. She was hungry, understandably so. Last meal she’d eaten was last night, here.
/>
She bit into her sandwich. “Mmm, this is good. Is there anything your grandmother can’t do? Bake cakes. Make apple cider. Put together chicken salad for sandwiches.”
Stonewall smiled as he took a sip of his iced tea. “Not much. She’s an excellent cook. I wished she’d passed some of those skills on to Mellie.”
“Your sister can’t cook?”
“Let’s just say she’s the tofu queen. My grandmother cringes every time she talks about it.”
Joy didn’t say anything as she took another bite of her sandwich. Stonewall didn’t, either. After lunch she would tell him of her decision not to go to the cookout with him. She saw no point in doing so. Like she’d told him, people would speculate about their affair, assume it was the beginning of a relationship. That was not the case, and she didn’t want to go there with anyone.
Stonewall began talking, telling her more about his grandmother’s neighborhood and his desire to buy more rental properties there. She listened and found what he was saying so informative she considered doing the same herself. It was time she considered looking into investment opportunities. In their time together, she’d discovered he was well versed in a number of subjects. She also learned that he worked as a substitute teacher in the school system and as an adjunct professor at the collegiate level. And then there was his community involvement as well as his work at the Sheppard Granger Foundation for Troubled Teens.
Joy inwardly admitted if she had been in the market for a serious relationship, Stonewall would have been her guy. But her work, especially with the promotion to lieutenant, would be even more hectic. The words Chief Harkins had spoken rippled through her mind.
“Get a life. You hang around here too much and you don’t have to do that. Personally, I don’t want the people you will supervise to assume they need to do that, either.”
And then there were the accusations Darren had leveled at her.
“I just hope you begin chilling for a while and not expecting the people you’ll be over not to have a life just because you don’t.”
Locked in Temptation Page 22
