“If I get called in the next thirty minutes, there’s going to be some very choice words spoken. God, that feels good.”
“Mmmm.” I worked my way down until I knelt on the floor in front of him. Keeping my eyes on his, I hooked the waistband of his boxers and slid them down his legs. His cock jutted up, hard and long and demanding my attention. I was happy to oblige.
I took him in my hand, stroking up and down. I held him at the base and circled the head with my thumb before I leaned up to take him into my mouth.
Lucas threaded his fingers through my hair, moaning words I couldn’t quite understand. I figured most of them were along the lines of ‘don’t stop’ and ‘oh God, oh God, oh God.’ I moved down further, slowly bringing in more of his hard length until the head touched the back of my throat. I swallowed, and he groaned my name.
I hollowed my cheeks as I brought my mouth back up, surrounding him with the suction at the same time that I used my tongue to stroke. His hips began to piston as my rhythm increased.
“Jackie—” He pulled at my hair. “Get up here. I want to be inside you when I come.”
I was loath to stop what I was doing, but Lucas hauled me up, bringing my lips to his and kissing me open-mouthed, his tongue plunging in to tangle with mine. He broke away just long enough to whisper into my ear.
“My wallet’s in the pocket of my shorts—condom in there—can you get it?”
Instead of answering, I leaned away to fumble for his shorts. My hand closed on his wallet, and I gave it to him. When he found the small foil packet, I took it and tore it open with my teeth, rolling the rubber sheath over him.
“Jackie—let me touch you.” He spread his fingers over me as I lifted up over him. “God, you’re so wet.”
I wrapped my fingers around his. “My show this time, remember?” I positioned him at my entrance, and with my eyes still fastened on Lucas’s, I lowered myself, impaling myself on his cock.
He growled, gripping my hips and bringing my breasts to his mouth. He sucked one turgid nipple between his lips, over the lace, using his teeth to worry it and make me cry out. I ground myself against him, seeking friction at the right spot.
“God, you feel so good. So tight on me. Just—ahhhh.” He shifted, and that tiny bit of difference made him stroke my interior walls in the precise point that sent me over the edge. I arched my back, pulsing around him.
As I floated down from the peak, Lucas flipped me onto the sofa on my back. Kneeling between my legs, he licked me hard once, his tongue setting fire to my sensitive sex. He sucked the small knob of nerves into his mouth, using the tip of tongue to rub up and down. As I lifted my hips to get closer to him, he replaced his mouth with his fingers, and I felt the briefest burn of his teeth on my skin, the undeniably sensuous feeling of him sucking there, humming as I came again.
And then he was above me again, plunging into me, hard and fast and calling my name. I didn’t think I could possibly get any higher, until his fingers covered me, pinching my clit as he slid inside me. I bucked toward him, and Lucas froze over me, muscles tensed as he ground out my name one last time.
He fell onto the couch next to me, both of us breathing hard in a tangle of sweat-covered limbs. I rolled just enough to lay my head against his chest, smiling at the pounding of his heart.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Lucas murmured the words, and I laughed.
“No thanks necessary. I think I’m the one who needs to be expressing gratitude.”
“Well, I definitely appreciate you, don’t get me wrong, but I was mostly saying thanks to whatever powers transport me to a Reckoning. If I’d gotten called in the middle of that, someone was going to pay.”
“I’m with you.” I curled around him, and he slid his arm beneath me, pulling me tighter.
“Can I stay tonight?” He sounded a little hesitant, and I smiled against the slick skin of his chest.
“I think that can be arranged. That is, unless you’re rushing off to clean your andirons or something.”
His body shook as he laughed. “No andirons. You have to admit, running off to determine the final destination of a soul is a much better excuse than andirons.”
***
“I’M GOING TO write Al’s cookbook.” I was lying on my back, with Lucas’s head on my stomach. Neither of us had anything pressing this morning, so we could afford to sleep in a little. Lucas had been called to a Reckoning just after midnight. I was vaguely aware when he transported away, and when he came back, he woke me up in the most pleasant way possible. We’d both fallen back to sleep after.
“Good. I think he’d want that.”
“Yeah, me too. I checked it out with Dena, and she’s thrilled. I’m going to work on that today.” I ran my fingers through Lucas’s hair. “I just don’t know who I can get to be my taste tester.”
I felt his smile against my skin. “Does it have garlic?”
“It’s Italian food. What do you think?”
“Maybe you need to enlist Mrs. Mac.”
“Or maybe I need to find a boyfriend who’s not allergic to garlic.” I froze for a minute, my hand still on his head. I hadn’t meant to use the b-word. Even after our discussion last night, I was leery of assuming too much too soon.
“Isn’t it enough to have a boyfriend who gives you five orgasms a night?”
I grinned, relief filling me. “I guess you might have a point.” I resumed stroking his head. “So what’re your plans for the day?”
He moved his shoulder in what I assumed was a shrug. “Writing. Research. I’ll probably call that chick from Carruthers to set up an appointment. Would you want to ride up there with me when I go?”
I bit the side of my lip. “Depending on when, sure. Though I’m not sure how happy Cathryn would be about that.”
“She’ll be cool, I promise.” He closed his eyes. “Mmm, that feels good.”
“What’re you writing about? If it’s okay for me to ask.”
“Of course it is. I have no secrets from you.” He picked up my other hand from where it lay at my side and kissed my knuckles. “I was going to write an epic Civil War family story. You know, generations, brother against brother, all that. But given everything I’ve experienced in the last few months, I’m thinking of maybe trying to write paranormal. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a good idea. Lots of inspiration in your life. I can’t wait to read what you come up with.”
Lucas rolled over and put his feet on the floor. “I guess I should get started.” He glanced back over shoulder at me. “Are you getting up?”
I stretched, yawning. “Yep. I was thinking of making French toast. No garlic. Any one you know who might be interested in that?”
Lucas leaned over me and dropped a kiss on my lips. “That’s definitely a dish I can get behind. You cook, I’ll take pup duty.”
Lucas and I fell into a rhythm with very little effort. Most nights we ate at my house, since that was where the food lived. After dinner, we took Makani for a walk around the block and then came back to sit on the porch. Some nights, we watched movies or just sat on the sofa talking.
More often than not, Lucas was called to a Reckoning at some point during our evening or in the middle of the night. I joked that it was like sleeping with a doctor who never knew when he might have to go into the hospital for a patient. Lucas rolled his eyes.
“True, except the docs are making the big bucks. If I’m getting a paycheck for this gig, they’ve been sending it to the wrong address.”
We had breakfast together nearly every morning, unless one of us had an appointment. We took turns cooking, though Lucas’s culinary expertise was limited to omelets.
“You and Lucas seem to be getting pretty cozy.” Mrs. Mac had stopped over for coffee one morning after Lucas had gone home to work.
I smiled. “I thought that’s what you wanted. All you interfering matchmakers.”
“Oh, honey, I’m thrilled. The boy seems a little odd to me
sometimes, but I guess that’s because he’s one of those creative types, isn’t it?”
“Probably.” I sipped my coffee. “He’s pretty wonderful, Mrs. Mac. I think Nana would’ve liked him, don’t you?”
She covered my hand. “Jackie, sweetie, all Maureen wanted was for you to be happy. She’d be tickled.”
We were both quiet for a moment, remembering, and then Mrs. Mac cleared her throat. “Of course, I won’t say I haven’t noticed that he leaves here most mornings in the same clothes he wore to your house the night before. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, but remember what they say about the cow and getting the milk.”
I flushed. “Mrs. Mac. Really. And don’t you dare say anything to Lucas about cows and milk, do you hear? We’re getting along very well. I don’t need any interference.”
Lucas came over early that afternoon. “I finally nailed down a date to see the psychologist at Carruthers. Can you ride up with me tomorrow morning?”
I was in the middle of staging photos for my column. “Uh, sure, I guess. Kind of last minute, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “I guess she’s on call for the Carruthers agents quite a bit. She set aside three hours for me tomorrow.” He leaned down to scoop up Makani, giving him a rough pet. “I hope she can help me. Seems like a long ride for an iffy situation.”
“Think positive.” I bumped my shoulder against his. Movement outside the window caught my eye, and I smiled. “Oh, look, Nichelle’s here. Let me see if I can catch her before she hauls that cooler to your door.”
The blood delivery woman and I had gotten to be friends over the past weeks. I handed off as many cookbooks to her as she wanted, and she gave me feedback on my columns. I was surprised to see her today; I knew the baby was due any way, and she’d planned to stop working deliveries until after maternity leave.
“Nichelle!” I called her name as she bent into the back seat of her car. “Hey there, you crazy woman. What’re you doing here?”
When she turned around, I saw that her face was red, and her forehead was dotted with perspiration. “Delivery. One. . .last. . .delivery.” Each word came out in a tiny puff of breath as though she were toting a heavy load. But she didn’t have anything in her hands.
“My God, Nichelle, are you in labor?” I yelled the words. “What the hell are you doing?”
She leaned against the car, pressing her back against the door. “I started feeling contractions this afternoon. I was planning to go to the hospital, but Lucas’s package was late getting in. I wanted to wait for it. I figured I could drop it on the way.” She bared her teeth, breath hissing. “This one’s coming faster than the other two. Oh, my God, George is going to kill me.”
George, I knew, was her husband, the man who’d been nagging her to stop working a month ago. He swore she’d end up giving birth at a delivery stop. The man must’ve been psychic.
“Who should I call?” I glanced around, hoping that Lucas had followed me out. But being a man, he tended to give the pregnant lady a lot of room. “You can’t drive. Here.” I stood next to her and pulled her arm over my shoulder. “I’ll get you to my car and drive you over to the hospital.”
“Okay.”
We began walking across the grass toward my driveway, two women doing a clumsy approximation of the three-legged race. We’d gotten a few steps from my car when Nichelle cried out and doubled over. A gush of liquid soaked my feet, and I gritted my teeth against the bile rising in my stomach. Eww.
“I can’t wait! I gotta stop.” She squatted on the ground next to me and began making the most god-awful grunting sound I’d ever heard. I stared at her, horrified.
“For the love of God, Nicelle! You can’t have that baby here on my lawn. Come on, get up. We’re almost to the car.”
But Nicelle was lost in some world that my voice couldn’t penetrate. She growled low in her throat, and I saw her face turn even redder. I’d seen my share of soap operas and medical dramas, and it dawned on me that she was pushing. The fool was pushing her baby out, right here in my yard.
“Lucas!” I screamed his name, and he flew out the door, his eyes wild. Those same eyes went wide with shock when he caught sight of his blood delivery woman on the ground.
“What the hell is she doing?” His voice was belligerent.
“Pretty sure she’s giving birth.” Duh.
“Well, tell her to stop it! She can’t do that here.” If I were alarmed by this turn of events, Lucas was downright panicked.
“I think it’s too late for that.” Some semblance of calm had come over me. “Call 911 and tell them what’s happening. And then. . .I take it you don’t know anything about delivering a baby?”
His face told me that answer loud and clear.
“Fine. After you call, go get Mrs. Mac. She used to be a nurse.”
Lucas disappeared around the front of the house, cell phone in hand as he walked. I shook my head. Men. And then I knelt next to the woman at my feet.
“Nichelle, honey, can you get up so I can get you into the house? You don’t want to have the baby here.”
“No.” She was still growling. “It’s coming now. Now!” The last word was a shriek, and her hands moved between her knees as she curled her body in on itself. I managed to lower her to the grass and take position in time to catch the slimy, screaming bundle of new human that shot into my hands moments later.
By the time that Mrs. Mac and Lucas arrived, I had Nichelle’s new son wrapped in my T-shirt, holding him against chest. A small crowd had gathered a respectful distance away, drawn by the commotion.
Lucas took in the situation and gallantly peeled off his own shirt, shielding me in my pink lace bra from inquiring eyes. The ambulance screeched in moments later, and I was pathetically grateful to hand over baby and mama to the EMTs.
“You were amazing.” Lucas circled his arms around me. “How did you know what to do?”
“I didn’t do anything but catch him.” I leaned back against his chest, suddenly exhausted. “Nichelle did all the work.”
A large man with a shaved head pulled up and ran to Nichelle. George, I assumed. He kissed her, examined his new son, and then turned to Lucas and me.
“Thank you so much. I knew this was going to happen, since she won’t ever listen to reason—” He leveled a glare at his wife. “But I’m glad it happened here, where she had friends to make sure she was okay. Thank you for taking care of them.” He grasped my hand and pumped it.
As they began to move Nichelle and the baby toward the ambulance, she beckoned to me. I leaned over to hear what she was saying.
“We’re naming the baby Jack, in honor of you.” She paused and a hopeful gleam shone in her eye. “Just think. This little adventure would make a wonderful column: How I Delivered My Boyfriend’s Blood Supplier’s Baby.”
***
WE WERE ON the road the next morning, bright and early, heading north to where the Carruthers headquarters was located. I drove, since I had my reservations about what could happen if Lucas were transported to a Reckoning when he was behind the wheel.
About an hour into the trip, my phone buzzed. Lucas retrieved it from my purse and handed me the headset. I frowned when I saw the name on the screen.
“Dena, hi. How’re you doing?” I hadn’t talked with Al’s daughter since the day of the memorial service. I’d sent her a few email updates on the cookbook’s progress; we’d found a photographer, and I was slowly making my way through the recipes.
“Jackie, I’m sorry for bothering you. But we’ve come across a sort of troubling situation here, and I need your input.”
The police still hadn’t solved the mystery of Al’s murder. I knew they were leaning toward calling it a botched robbery, claiming that the perpetrator had gotten scared off after he shot Al. I wasn’t buying it. I wondered if Dena’s troubling situation had anything to do with that.
“Of course. You know anything I can do, I’m more than happy to help.”
She
sighed, and I could almost feel her worry. “We’ve been going through Dad’s paperwork and accounts. You know, all the estate mess. He’s done a wonderful job of keeping everything in order, but there is one entry that we can’t figure out. Dad was making a monthly payment, a fairly large one. The accountant can’t tell us why or for what—he just sent the cashiers check—but he did say it’s been going on as long as he worked for Dad.”
A vague uneasiness filled me. “Do you have copies of the checks? A way to trace where the payments were going?”
“Yes. They went to a woman named Lucinda DiBartola. The address is a PO box in New Jersey.”
“DiBartola.” The name rang a bell. I thought for a few minutes before it clicked. “Dena, remember the woman at the repast? The one who I was sitting with at the counter? I’m almost positive that was her last name. But her first name was Antonia.”
Dena was silent for a few beats. “Jackie, I don’t know what to think. My dad. . .you know what he was like. But why would he be sending this woman money for years without telling any of us about it?”
“I don’t know.” I had some pretty good ideas, but I didn’t want to link any of them with Al, my friend. “Listen, Dena, let me do some poking around down here. That woman said her mother lived around us. I bet I can dig her up and figure out what’s going on.” I paused. “Try not to let this upset you, okay? I’m sure it’s nothing. You know your father. He wouldn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m trying to hold onto that thought. But sometimes when a person isn’t around to defend himself, it’s easy to build monsters.”
I tried to reassure her again before we hung up. Once I’d pulled out my ear buds, Lucas took them from me. “That didn’t sound good.”
I ran down the gist of the conversation with her. Lucas winced. “You know what it sounds like, don’t you?”
I cast him a sideways look. “You think Al had another child, don’t you? Outside his marriage. One the others didn’t know about.”
Death Fricassee Page 14
