Dead Girl in a Green Dress

by Loucinda McGary

  Knock it off, Madison! But even as he scolded himself, Byrony licked a smear of chocolate off the side of her finger, and the sight of her little pink tongue almost sent him over the edge. Stifling a groan, Tate turned away and stared out the window, trying to rein in his rampant lust.

  "Tate." Her voice was a breathy whisper behind him.

  A second later, her uninjured arm circled around his mid-section, and he felt her cheek resting against his back. What precious little bit of control he’d mustered disintegrated faster than sugar in hot coffee. In the space between heartbeats, he whirled and hauled her against his chest.

  "Byrony." He breathed against her mouth in the split second before his lips claimed hers.

  Blazing heat surged through Tate as he plunged his tongue into her warm, sweet mouth. Just like last time, she tasted of rich chocolate. And just like last time, she responded eagerly, her hot silky tongue gliding between his teeth and dueling with his. But unlike last time, Byrony didn’t pull away, and the moan of pleasure from deep in her throat burned away his last nagging thought of this being a bad idea.

  Nothing bad could feel this damn good.

  As he continued his sensual exploration, one hand pulled her closer while the other dropped down to cup her very fine ass. Through the haze of desire, he felt Byrony’s hand curling around his neck, her fingers caressing the hair on his nape. Then a hard piece of plastic whacked the side of his head, and he jerked away reflexively.

  "Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!" Byrony gasped, a deep crimson flooding her cheeks.

  "A simple stop would have done it, Sunshine," he quipped, backing away and rubbing the area between his ear and temple.

  "Maybe stopping wasn’t what I intended, Cowboy. But this stupid brace is so awkward." Golden eyes sparkling, she closed the gap between the two of them. "Now where were we?"

  Tate held his hands up defensively. "Whoa, Sunshine. I said your virtue would be safe, but if we keep this up, I’m not so sure it will be."

  With a coy smile, Byrony placed her uninjured hand on his chest. "I think you better stop worrying about my virtue and worry about your own."

  Laughter burst out of him. "Do I look worried?" Carefully, he eased her plastic encased arm behind her back and dropped his hand down to her butt. Meanwhile, Byrony’s fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. "Need some help?"

  "Doing buttons with only one hand is the pits," she admitted with a sexy pout.

  "Then allow me." Tate shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it toward the chair. While he struggled to pull out his shirttails, Byrony nibbled his neck and caused another white-hot flood of desire to race though him. He nearly ripped the buttons off his shirt removing it.

  Reluctant to take their mouths off each other, the two of them stumbled toward the nearest bed. Tate’s shirt landed on the floor, and he kicked off his shoes. Then he let go of Byrony to shuck his T-shirt on the floor too. She sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the button on his jeans. He closed his hand over her fingers.

  "You first." His voice sounded raspy with need, as he grasped the edge of her T-shirt and lifted it over her head. As she worked her arms out of the sleeves, her small, perfect breasts sprang free. Blood roared in Tate’s ears and a groan of pure desire tore from his throat. He savored the satiny feel of her bare skin against his as he sank onto the bed with her.

  The plastic brace on Byrony’s injured arm bumped awkwardly between them and she flinched with obvious discomfort. The flicker of pain in her eyes cooled his ardor more effectively than a bucket of cold water.

  Stop acting like a horny caveman, Madison! She was already injured, and here he was manhandling her. He drew in a ragged breath and rested his palms on her shoulders – such fragile feeling bones under his oversized hands. "Slow down, Sunshine. We don’t need to rush." He eased her back onto the pillows and carefully arranged her braced arm beside her. Her creamy breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing, causing his erection to throb against his zipper.

  "Just don’t change your mind," she panted, reaching for him.

  "Not a chance. But I also don’t want to embarrass myself." Tate hooked his thumbs under the elastic waistband of her sweats and eased them down and off her legs. If he’d thought he couldn’t get any harder, the sight of her red lace panties proved him wrong. "Don’t move," he ordered, and she giggled.

  "Whatever you say, officer."

  Standing a bit unsteadily, he closed the curtains and turned off the bedside lamp. Willing himself to move slowly, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and dug out his ‘always be prepared’ condom. Slow is seriously overrated! He shucked his jeans and boxers in one swift movement, and his cock jutted toward the ceiling. Had he ever wanted a woman this much?

  He rejoined her on the bed and she welcomed him with a breathy moan while he relieved her of those sexy underpants. "Red lace on a bean counter? You’re just full of surprises, Sunshine."

  "So are you." Her index finger skated down the center of his chest. "That’s a very nice set of abs you’ve been hiding under those wool shirts."

  "Speaking of a nice set…" He cupped her breasts in his hands, rubbing both thumbs across her dusky pink nipples.

  Byrony rewarded him with a breathy moan. Then he replaced one hand with his mouth, sucking and raking his teeth across her pebbled nipple while she gasped sharply and arched off the bed toward him. Taking his time, Tate moved to her other breast, and she dug her nails into his shoulder, groaning his name. Determined to draw out the pleasure, he moved away from her breast, and kissed his way down her stomach. He gave her hip bone a little nip and his fingers played over her hot, moist center.

  She writhed and gasped beneath his hands. "Tate, please…"

  "Soon," he promised in a thick whisper. "But not quite yet."

  He trailed his lips down her inner thigh while his thumb continued the sensual massage and two fingers plunged into her hot center. Small animal sounds escaped her and he felt her inner muscles clenching as she twisted and moaned with uncontrolled desire. Unable to wait any longer, he pulled away just long enough to roll on the condom before he buried himself in her heat.

  Pleasure exploded within him as he thrust deep into her, and melded his mouth with hers. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Byrony urged him deeper still. Driven by blinding need, Tate thrust into her a second time, then a third and fourth before she exploded in his arms, crying out his name. With a soul-jarring shudder, he joined her.

  Chapter 9

  A surprisingly short time later, Tate felt the unmistakable stirrings of desire again. If he stayed much longer with Byrony’s sexy little rear snuggled against him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Not that he intended to control himself, but first he had to make a quick trip to the pharmacy. With a sigh of regret, he rolled over and sat up.

  "Tate?" At Byrony’s query, he looked over his shoulder. Leaning on her good elbow with her mussed dark hair framing her face, she gave him a seductive smile. "Come back to bed." Her husky invitation sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin.

  Trouble with a capital T!

  "Not a good idea, Sunshine." He pulled up his boxers and jeans, then snagged his shirt off the chair. His T-shirt appeared to be MIA. "I have to get some more protection first."

  "Not everything requires protection."

  God help him! Images leaped instantly into his mind, causing his fingers to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. "You are a very wicked woman," he scolded. "So wicked that anything I start with you will end up needing protection."

  Byrony giggled and scooted closer, the sheet dipping below one breast. "Not even a shower?"

  Tate looked away fast, but not before the glimpse of her pert little nipple sent another blast of heat that hardened him like a rock. "Especially not a shower." He moved to the chair to put on his socks and shoes. "While I’m gone, why don’t you call Mrs. Giroux and let her know you won’t be back tonight."

  Pulling the sheet back up to her shoulde
rs, she gave him a coy smile. "Way ahead of you, Cowboy. I called her before you ever got back. I told her I was checking out and would pick up the rest of my things later."

  ***

  Byrony was still wrestling with the blow dryer and hair brush when she heard Tate return. Too late, she realized she’d left her yoga pants on the bed. She definitely wanted another round with Tate, but a few minutes ago, her growling stomach reminded her she’d missed lunch. Berating herself for suddenly feeling self-conscious, she walked out clad in a T-shirt and her red panties. Then, seeing his back turned to her, she snatched up her pants and scampered back into the bathroom.

  "Hello to you, too." Tate called as she struggled to put on the pants.

  "Sorry." She emerged still tugging her T-shirt down. "Getting dressed with one hand is the pits."

  His smoldering gaze made a slow trip down then back up her frame. "So that’s why you’re wearing my T-shirt?"

  No, because it smells like you. But rather than tell him the truth, she said, "I didn’t think you’d mind."

  "Looks much better on you than me." He held out a paper cup. "I brought you a smoothie."

  "Thanks, but I was hoping we could get an early dinner." As she took the cup, her hand brushed his and the heated current that coursed up her arm made Byrony reconsider her own suggestion.

  His dimples flashed and her pulse kicked up a notch. "You know I never turn down a meal. Just give me a few minutes to clean up."

  Regretting her choice to have dinner first and Tate second, Byrony sat at the desk, sipped her strawberry smoothie, and listened to the shower running. If it wasn’t such a hassle to get undressed, she’d barge in and join him. Luckily, the water stopped after about five minutes, and about three minutes later, Tate stepped out, running a comb through his still damp hair.

  She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, not trusting herself to remain in close proximity to him and a bed. "I hope the diner’s open."

  As they covered the short distance between the motel and the restaurant, he teased, "Glad to see you’ve made a rapid recovery."

  "Thanks mostly to you." She admitted, slanting him a salacious look. Now that she’d thrown caution to the wind, she intended to enjoy every moment she could grab.

  He wagged his finger at her in a mocking scold. "Keep that up and we’ll be getting this meal to go."

  "But we have to pick up my things from the B&B, otherwise I may have to wear your boxers." Tate stifled a chuckle while she blushed at the thought of him sans boxers.

  "Is that a promise?" He winked as he held the door for her.

  The flirty waitress from the morning had been replaced by a grandmotherly type who poured coffee and suggested the chicken pot pie. They both followed her recommendation, but before their order arrived, Tate’s phone rang.

  Frowning, Tate glanced around the restaurant and rose to his feet. "Sorry, I’ll just take this outside."

  As he slipped out the door, Byrony realized that he hadn’t said a word about his visit to the Grand Hotel. This phone call had to be connected. She fidgeted and tried to see where he went, but to no avail. The waitress arrived with their meals just when Byrony had decided to go in search of him. The yummy smell of the pot pie made her reconsider waiting for Tate a few more minutes.

  She’d nibbled half the top crust off the steaming pot pie when he slid back into the booth opposite her, a perturbed expression clouding his face. He reached for his fork, but she grabbed his hand to stop him. "What’s wrong?"

  "That was Shaffer." He looked decidedly displeased. "They’ve made an arrest."

  Shock and disbelief coursed through Byrony’s system and she gasped. But his negative reaction confused her. "Isn’t that good?"

  "It would be if they had the right guy." Tate’s narrowed eyes made another sweep of the room. "Finish your dinner, Sunshine. We’ll talk later."

  Alarmed, she nervously looked over her shoulder. But none of the dozen patrons seemed to be paying any attention to them. "At least tell me a name," she hissed.

  "Finish dinner," he insisted, and dug into his pot pie.

  Byrony watched him shovel food into his mouth for several long minutes before she fully comprehended that he really wasn’t going to tell her. Damn stubborn man! Blowing out a frustrated sigh, she took a bite, and then another. She couldn’t taste a thing but forced down three more bites and watched him with an icy glare.

  "All right." Tate signaled the waitress, who hurried over with the coffee pot. He gestured at Byrony’s barely touched entrée. "Can you package hers up and bring the check?"

  "You’ll thank me later," he said, taking a sip of coffee. Then, after the waitress disappeared he muttered, "Justin Saunders."

  "What?" Byrony thought she must not have heard correctly. "But –"

  Tate gave her a silencing look as their waitress wended her way in their direction. "Call us a cab, Sunshine. I don’t want you walking anywhere."

  Swallowing down the thousand protests rising in her throat, Byrony pulled out her phone while Tate paid for their meal. "Can we at least wait outside?"

  "Sure, after you."

  Once they were out the door, she couldn’t hold back any longer. "Why in the world did the police arrest Saunders?"

  "After Shaffer found out about the key, he got a warrant." His voice was so low, Byrony had to lean close to catch his words. "He found some texts to Jessica on Saunders’s phone. One of them warned her something bad would happen if she didn’t break it off."

  Still incredulous, Byrony bit her bottom lip, but couldn’t help stating the obvious. "But Saunders is gay. Why would he care if Jessica was having an affair with Michael Prince?"

  Tate gave an enigmatic shrug. "Looks like Prince swings both ways and he and Saunders had a thing. Though Saunders denies it, Prince doesn’t."

  "That makes no sense," she insisted, confusion scrambling her thoughts. She could come up with no reason why Michael Prince would want to cast doubt on his own sexuality.

  Shaking his head, Tate muttered. "Told you, they got the wrong guy."

  Stepping into the street, he waved his arm at the approaching horse and buggy. Byrony knew he wouldn’t say anything else until they were alone again and she silently cursed in frustration. Since she knew Tate was too stubborn to sway, all she could do was wait and fume.

  When the cab pulled up in front of the B&B, she crawled out the moment the driver stopped. Behind her, she heard Tate asking the driver to wait, they wouldn’t be long, but she didn’t slow down until she reached the front door. Then she had to set her purse on a table in order to dig out her room key with one hand.

  "Miss Long?" Mrs. Giroux opened the front door and came outside wringing her hands. "I’m so glad you’re all right but so sorry you were hurt. We have so few accidents with horses, and here it happened to you twice."

  Bryony gave the woman a frosty look. "Trust me, Mrs. Giroux, what happened to me was no accident, and I will be pressing charges when we find the perpetrator."

  Favoring his left leg,Tate huffed up the front steps. "And we will find him, or her."

  Giving the innkeeper a curt nod, he held the screen door open. Byrony ducked under his arm and strode quickly to her room. He caught up and followed her, giving an exaggerated shudder at the room’s frilly décor.

  She held up her good hand to silence him. "I know, I know. I’m hurrying."

  Opening the armoire, she took down her suit and the other things she’d hung up. Meanwhile, Tate tossed her suitcase onto the bed and zipped it open. As Byrony struggled to fold her things, she paused. "Why did you say we’d find him or her?"

  After a long moment, he asked, "Do you remember anything about the horse that ran you down? Did it have white stockings on its front legs?"

  "I… I’m not sure." Just thinking about the incident again rattled her nerves. "Why?"

  "This afternoon, Mrs. Cristina Woodleigh-Prince was riding a big black horse with white stockings." He took over folding clothes, a thoughtful exp
ression on his face. "That horse looked familiar to me, but I’m not totally certain."

  Eyes bulging in surprise, Byrony paused in the midst of shoving her extra shoes into protective bags. "Do you think she – "

  "I’ll finish up here," Tate interrupted, one eyebrow raised. "Why don’t you get your stuff out of the bathroom?"

  Snapping her mouth shut, Byrony stumbled into the bathroom, her mind still whirling. Had the snooty blonde attacked her? Was the woman trying to protect her husband? Or was Cristina Prince the killer?

  Byrony’s hand shook as she dumped her toiletries into a plastic case. This could be it! They might have solved Jessica’s murder. She balanced the full case with her brace, zipped it shut, then hurried back to Tate. Unfortunately, Mrs. Giroux appeared before she could say anything.

  "I’ve brought your final bill," the woman said, waving a sheet of paper. "I’m sorry to see you leaving under these circumstan…" Her voice trailed away as her forehead creased. "Actually, I’m sorry about the circumstances that brought you here. Maybe you’ll come back at a happier time."

  The woman’s obvious discomfort made Byrony feel a bit guilty about the unkind things she’d thought of her. As she finished up with Mrs. Giroux, Tate took her suitcase to the waiting cab. A few minutes later, Byrony joined him.

  "I hope you have a plan," she muttered as he helped her into the carriage.

  His dimples flashed. "You can count on it, Sunshine. Of course I do."

  Darkness grew rapidly as the horse and buggy plodded back to the Harbor View. Byrony kept her lips pressed in a tight line, but questions bubbled furiously inside her. Shifting from foot to foot, she waited impatiently for Tate to pay the driver and open the door of their room.

  "Okay, Cowboy, spill it!" She demanded as soon as they were inside. "Do you think pretentious Mrs. Prince is a murderer? Or is she trying to protect her philandering husband? And what about your plan?"

  "Slow down, Sunshine." Taking his time, Tate placed her suitcase on a stand and zipped it open. "Stick the leftovers in the fridge and I’ll help you unpack."