They peaked together, he riding the crest of physical release, she a part of the fireworks dazzling his brain. Somehow he could sense her presence, indistinguishable from his own talent, merging with it and soaring in tandem, inextricably linked on a different level of existence even while her mouth sucked him dry and she swallowed hungrily.
The link—if that’s what it was—opened a new dimension for Cheney. Sharing a sexual experience in such a unique way, with such a unique woman…there were no words.
And he still couldn’t find any when he collapsed and fell from the peak, the otherworldly sensations receding into the heart-pounding aftermath of release.
“Oh wow.” Pandora broke the silence as she moved back up the bed to lie beside him and cover them both with the sheets. “So that’s what it feels like when a guy comes.”
“Huh?” He stirred a little, pleased to find most of his body worked, even though his conversation skills were a bit lacking. Perhaps when his heart slowed down he’d do better.
“I felt it. I felt you come.”
“You didn’t have much choice.” Good. He’d managed an entire sentence, complete with a verb and everything.
“I’m not talking about the physical thing, although that was a lot of fun.”
“No kidding.”
“I’m talking about the—the other.” She paused. “The other thing. It was like something drew a part of me out of myself and into you. All of a sudden I could feel my mouth. I could feel what I was doing to you from your perspective.”
“Pretty damn fantastic, huh?” He summoned the strength to turn his head and grin at her.
She thought about that for a moment or two. “It was…strange.”
“Not from where I’m sitting.” He yawned. “Or sprawling, to be more precise.”
“I suppose we should talk about it.” She yawned too.
“There’s time yet.” He let his mind drift pleasurably. “No hurry.”
She obviously agreed, since the only answer was a soft snore.
Chapter Fifteen
Pandora hadn’t realized how much her life had changed in the short space of a week until Friday afternoon rolled around and she began packing up her paperwork.
“You done?” Samantha, her longtime assistant, poked her head in the door and blinked at the sight of her boss tidying up her desk.
“Yes, I think so. Unless you’ve got something else on the schedule for me I don’t know about.”
“It’s only two thirty.”
Pandora glanced at her watch. It was indeed two thirty. “Okay. It’s two thirty.”
“So how come you aren’t asking me for next week’s files to review?”
“Um…”
“If you’re finished up on a Friday afternoon, you always ask me for next week’s files.” Sam looked at her steadily.
“Jesus. I’m that predictable?”
“Yep.” Sam walked into the office and leaned a hip on the desk. “It’s a man, isn’t it?”
That comment surprised a sputter out of Pandora. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Completely at ease, Sam ticked off points on her fingers. “One, you’ve moved in with a friend since the fire and you haven’t moved out to a new place on your own yet. Two…” another finger bent down, “…you’ve been wearing your hair differently. Looser. Sexier.”
“Oh come on…”
“I haven’t finished yet.” Sam cut off her protestations. “Three, you smile when you think nobody’s watching you. And it’s that kind of smile.”
“What kind of smile? Smiles come in kinds now?”
“Sure do.” Sam nodded. “You’ve got that I’m-getting-laid-and-it’s-the-best-sex-I-ever-had smile.”
“Good grief.”
“And four, I caught you humming in the ladies’ room the other day.”
“I did not hum.”
“You did too. A happy hum. Couldn’t mistake it.” Sam grinned. “I know that hum. Hummed it myself a time or two.”
“Oh Lord.” Pandora crossed her hands on her desk and lowered her head with a groan. “You see too damn much.”
“That’s me.” Sam chuckled. “However, the good thing is that I say nothing. Confidentiality is my middle name.”
“No it’s not. Your middle name is Almeria. I saw it on your personnel file.”
“That’s neither here nor there. Stop deflecting, Counselor.” Sam waved away the objection. “You’ve got a man in your life and he’s good for you. I just wanted you to know that I’m happy for you and I hope it works out.” She shrugged. “And if you want to cut me loose early now and again so you can go play with him, I’m all for it.”
Pandora laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I should’ve known there was a personal angle in all this deep girl-insight stuff.”
Sam smirked. “Damn straight.”
“Okay.” She closed her case on the few papers she might need over the weekend with a bit of a guilty snap. It probably wouldn’t be touched until Monday morning, but some habits died a slow and lingering death. “You can go home early, Sam. Thank you. I’m not going to review a damn thing today. But—just so you know—I’m not going home to play with a man, as you so elegantly phrased it. I’m going home to relax and then figure out some of the insurance paperwork.”
“Cool.” Sam eased off the desk. “But, in my girl-insight mode, I believe it’s incumbent upon me to point out that you just used an interesting expression.”
“I did?”
“Yes. You said you were going home.” She flicked a quick knowing grin at Pandora and turned to leave. “Oh, one other thing.” She reached into one of the folders she held and pulled out an envelope. “This came in this morning. Perry wanted you to review the request when you have a chance.”
“All right. I’ll take it with me.” Pandora took the letter and stuffed it into her purse. “Enjoy your weekend, Sam.”
“I will. But probably not as much as you.” She snickered as she left the room.
“You can be replaced, you know,” Pandora yelled after her, smiling at the rude noise emanating from the outer office.
Sam had a point, though. Driving back to Cheney’s, Pandora thought about the conversation and realized she was indeed driving to a place where she felt completely at home. She had none of her stuff, no furniture, books or even towels that belonged to her. And yet there was a rightness about it, a sense of welcome and comfort that enveloped her the minute she pulled into Cheney’s driveway.
It was weird now that she was thinking about it, but weird in a good way.
She was smiling to herself as she opened the door and still smiling as she changed into jeans and a loose shirt, ready to kick back and relax.
Her briefcase sat smugly where she’d tossed it, and it could damn well stay there for all she cared. A cool soda and an absence of shoes—she was good to go. Nothing like getting a head start on the weekend. For her at least. God only knew when Cheney would be able to shake loose or even if he wanted to.
It didn’t seem that they were getting any breaks on the case and she had clearly felt the frustration seeping out of his pores all week. They were both dedicated to their professions. But she was learning to leave hers behind. He was able to do that more easily, but there were still times she sensed he was haunted by what he perceived as his failures.
This whole thing was a real eye-opening experience. For both of them.
She reached for her purse and pulled out that letter Sam had given her. Perry, one of the senior partners, didn’t pass stuff along idly, so he must have had a good reason to ask that Pandora review it.
She unfolded the paper and froze when she saw the signature.
Victoria P. Larson.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it? She sat down at the kitchen table, pushing her drink to one side, checking the name scrawled on the bottom of the page. She hadn’t misread it. It was definitely from Mrs. Larson, a bold scrawl of old-fashioned script that was dark and clear.
With a tingle of apprehension she began to read the letter, which had been addressed to the law firm, not her in particular, thank God.
I am interested in reviewing and possibly altering the conditions of my estate and would appreciate assistance from a member of your staff, since your company has been highly recommended.
Well, nothing out of the ordinary there. Pandora wondered why she’d gotten this from Perry, instead of one of the estate specialists. The next paragraph answered her question.
Since I am now alone, and am dissatisfied with my previous legal counsel, I would appreciate someone from your firm contacting me to arrange for preliminary discussions. I would prefer a woman, since some things are more easily discussed when one is comfortable with one’s lawyer. I shall take the liberty of assuming you have a competent female on your staff. I expect you can understand my concerns, since my estate is considerable and I will not place it in the hands of anyone less than your best.
Pandora read it again, considering the implications. Obviously the Larson estate was huge, and something her firm would be very happy to handle. And it was a compliment that she’d been given the assignment—she didn’t specialize in estate law, but she could hold her own. At least long enough to get the legal end of things into the right hands at the office.
It was the timing that gnawed at her. On the surface, this was a simple request for legal assistance and representation, the sort of thing that arrived on a daily basis. But from Victoria Larson? Someone she felt—along with Cheney—might be a person of interest, as they liked to say in law enforcement.
Glancing at the clock, she realized it was still the afternoon. There was nothing to be risked by calling and setting up an appointment. Whether Mrs. Larson would recognize her or not was immaterial. She would trust in Cheney’s illusion talents. She hoped it would be unlikely an elderly woman could make the connection between young lovers house-shopping and an attorney in a law office.
Her curiosity now thoroughly roused, she picked up her phone and dialed.
“Larson residence.” The voice was noncommittal. A maid? A housekeeper? It wasn’t the lady herself. Pandora would’ve recognized that deep voice in an instant.
“Mrs. Larson please. I’m calling on behalf of Clark, Felix and Merryweather. Our firm received a communication from Mrs. Larson on a legal matter.”
“Yes. Please hold.”
Drumming her fingers on the kitchen table, a minute or so passed until there was a click next to her ear. “This is Victoria Larson.”
“Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Pandora Jackson and I’m with Clark, Felix and Merryweather. I understand we might be able to assist you with some estate matters? Your letter of inquiry was referred to me.”
“Very good.” She sounded almost cheerful. “I’m pleased they found a competent female to handle this matter.”
“Your confidence is very gratifying. We’ll do our best to meet your needs. Now, if you’d care to give me an idea of your schedule for next week, I’d be happy to set up a preliminary consultation appointment for you? How does Tuesday look?”
There was a brief pause. “That long? I really would like to get this business out of the way as soon as possible…”
Pandora thumbed through her schedule. “I can free up some time on Monday if that’s better for you.”
“Hmm.”
Jeez, thought Pandora. Obviously used to getting her own way.
“Why not today?”
“Uhh…” The question caught Pandora off-guard.
“My housekeeper brings me tea every afternoon around four. I’d be most pleased if you could join me. Much more comfortable, don’t you think? Could you work that into your schedule?”
She glanced at the clock once more, rapidly calculating the time it would take to change and drive out to the Larson place. “Well…I think I could make it…”
“After all, this is only a preliminary consultation. But I’ll feel much better knowing the process has begun and that my legal affairs will be in capable hands. And you’ll know what paperwork I should forward to your firm. There seems so much of it, I find it most confusing.” There was a chuckle, a rough sound that wasn’t very humorous. “Probably to be expected when you reach my age.”
Pandora shrugged. She wasn’t really being given much choice in the matter, but then again it was only a cup of tea and some initial consultation questions. How hard could that be? Plus it would give her another chance to check out Mrs. Larson and see if it really was a pure coincidence that all this was happening right now, right when there were a lot of unanswered questions revolving around this particular name.
“Well, if you’re sure it won’t be an inconvenience…”
“Not at all, dear. I’ll look forward to seeing you. Oh…how do you take your tea? Milk or lemon?”
“Milk please.” She smiled at the old-fashioned question.
“Good. Me too. See you around four then. Goodbye.” A click signaled the end of the conversation.
At least they shared something, even if it was only how they drank their tea.
Cheney stretched, a bone-cracking, muscle-tightening stretch that felt good but did little to ease his frustration. “I don’t like it.”
“Me neither.”
The two detectives stood behind the one-way glass and watched the interrogation of the suspect they’d delivered an hour before. He was furtively glancing around, his fingers locked tightly together until the knuckles showed white.
Cheney hit the speaker button and they listened carefully to the dialogue.
“Honest, man. I don’t remember.”
“C’mon, Jantzen.” The officer questioning him was a pro, Cheney knew. Give the perp time and he’d end up hanging himself if he was guilty. “We have your DNA. The clothes from your place were covered in the vic’s blood. Got an explanation for that?”
“No.” Jantzen looked frantic now. “No, I don’t. I told ya before. I went out that night, had some drinks—the rest is a blank. I woke up miles away from that place where that dude got offed. Dunno how his blood got on me. I didn’t even know it was his, for Chrissake. You think I’d have kept those clothes? I ain’t stupid enough to hold onto somethin’ that would make me look like a killer.”
The questions went on as Cheney and Buck watched, both less than happy with the answers.
“My best guess?” Buck glanced at his partner. “He’s telling the truth.”
“I know.” Cheney ran a hand through his hair. “Mind you, he’s no saint. Dodged a couple of murder raps a while ago for lack of evidence and got a sheet a mile long for aggravated everything, assault on a couple of women, armed robbery and so on. He’s done time for some of it, but not enough if you ask me. If he goes down for this it’ll be no great loss.”
“Agreed.” Buck nodded. “But if you’re thinking what I’m thinking…”
“He was controlled? He’d be a real good choice. Yeah. I’m getting that itch that tells me we caught ourselves a perp, all right. Neatly packaged too. I just don’t know if he was at home in his head for this particular killing.”
“So what do we do?”
Cheney was silent for a few moments, considering the options. “It’ll take a while to get anything formalized. They’ll hold him for the standard seventy-two, get him a lawyer, whatever.” He turned to Buck. “I think it’s time for a field trip out to the Larson place. I really don’t give a shit if Jantzen takes the fall. He’s dirt that should’ve been swept off the streets long ago. But if he can’t remember—if he was controlled—”
“Yeah.” Buck shrugged and turned to the door. “Your car or mine?”
“Come in, dear.”
Pandora tucked her briefcase under her arm and walked inside the Larson mansion, following a charmingly friendly Victoria Larson. It was a hundred-eighty degree change in attitude since the last time they’d met, without a doubt. Although with luck Ms. Larson wasn’t aware of it.
“Thank you for your int
erest in our firm.” Politely, Pandora referred to the reason for her visit. Her skin was a little clammy—there was something about the house that made her uncomfortable, no matter how luxurious the surroundings.
She dismissed it as she was led into an airy room ringed with bookshelves and containing an elegant antique desk in front of a window. It was lush, obviously expensive, and the addition of a very modern computer system didn’t detract from the overall impression of elegance. The carpet was thick and rich with bold colors against a highly polished wood floor.
“What a lovely room.”
“I like it.” Victoria gestured to a small table containing a silver tea tray and bracketed by two comfortable chairs. “I work in here quite a bit. And read too, of course. Still a great pleasure in spite of all the technological advancements.” She stroked a book as she walked past to settle herself. “There’s nothing like the feel of a book in one’s hands. Never will be as far as I’m concerned.”
They spent a few moments observing the customary pleasantries and the tea ritual, pouring, adding milk, stirring—all in a manner not unlike an old-time video. Pandora was still on edge, but kept the cup from clattering against the saucer as she lifted it to her lips. “Mmm. Very good. Thank you.”
She sipped, observed Victoria’s satisfied smile, then returned the cup to her table and reached for her briefcase. “I’d like to take a few notes, if I may. Some preparatory information to set up your account with us and make sure the right people are assigned.”
“Of course.” Victoria watched her, back straight, legs crossed at the ankles. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes—well, the word menacing came to Pandora’s mind.
For some reason, she felt rather like a small mouse facing a snake. There was definitely something going on—some aura that was affecting her on a variety of different levels. Which was totally absurd. This woman was over eighty. What could she possibly do to Pandora?
Inside her case, her phone was flashing. Damn. It was Cheney.
Guiltily, she ignored it. She’d left him a message before she headed out, written on a large sheet of paper and positioned prominently on the kitchen counter. Okay, she probably should have called him, but deep inside she knew he’d forbid her to go. Or at least try and talk her out of coming here for this meeting.
Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend: Afterglow, Book 2 Page 15
