"Worse than Becca? Not possible. Who is she? What does she want?"
Good point.
"Did she say why she urgently needs to see me? Or even what her name is?"
"Yeah, her name is Annabeth Olsen. Hold on a minute.” A pause, then, "She wants to talk to you about someone named Hannah Greene.”
My feet slammed to the floor and jumped up, shoving my chair back so hard it crashed against the brick wall behind me.
"Send her in."
I dropped the phone on my desk. Andy reached over to put in back into the cradle.
"What's up, partner of mine?" His tone was casual, belying the piercing grey of his eyes currently trying to probe my brain.
"An Annabeth Olsen wants to talk to me about Hannah."
"Hannah?" Jenkins asked, scooting his chair into the center of the room.
"Shut it," Andy snapped, just as Katie led in a woman, hurriedly closed the door and all but sprinted away.
Shit, she had to be almost full term. Hard to tell as Ms. Olsen was short. I'd never say it out loud, but she was all baby.
“Um. If you don’t mind my asking, how far along are you?”
"Eight months, two weeks. So basically anytime now."
As one, we all took a giant step back.
She strode - more like, waddled - directly up to me. Only then did I recognize her as Hannah's friend. I haven't seen her in a while, since my final undercover op ended only a month ago.
"Is Hannah ok? What happened?"
She stared up at me, her crazily perfect ringlets still swaying, her wide blue eyes glinting with purpose.
"Nothing. And that's the problem. You are going to solve it."
I noticed Jenkins’ avid attention and gently took this primed-bomb by the elbow.
"How about we talk in the break room."
"No time. Too many steps."
Ok.
"Jenkins, get out."
"Hey, I've got work to do!"
Andy had Jenkins up and out before the final syllable dissipated.
"Right. Now, Mr. Cop, who is also my best friend's neighbor. Hannah needs sex. A shit load of sex. With a guy who isn't an asshole. She's been there and got kicked hard. As far as I've observed, you aren't an asshole. I hope. Anyway, back to business."
She huffed, and rubbed at her back. "What does a pregnant woman have to do to get a chair around here?"
Andy hastily produced a chair.
He waved a hand in a 'go on' gesture.
"Don't let me interrupt."
"I'm not going to tally up her attributes because she's not up for auction, you're not blind - and the cop thing too. You are trained to be observant, right? She's pretty amazing. And she needs a man."
"For sex," Andy prompted, not bothering to hide his grin, the jerk.
"Well, her business is booming, so money isn't a requirement. What else does a woman like that need a man for?"
Neither of us chose to answer that.
"She’s refused online dating, blind dates, even a sneaky BBQ set-up my husband tried to arrange. And it’s not like I can drag her into a bar. I mean, look at me."
Eight months and two weeks.
"So," she continued. "I figured proximity. And you are the lucky door prize winner."
I cleared my throat. Awkward didn't even start to cover this situation.
"What if I'm not attracted to her?"
Ms. Olsen scoffed. "I've seen the way you watch her."
I tried another tack.
"Don't you think Hannah might be a little insulted by this - calling her a door prize?"
"She is a prize, alright. And you are right next door. So go knocking, Mr. Lancaster."
I swallowed, stuck for words.
"Besides, I've already threatened to burst my waters inside her store’s vault and splash all her treasures. This encounter has nothing on that."
She heaved herself up.
"And don't dawdle. I mean it. One month and I'm importing an Australian pro surfer. Seven feet tall, ripped bod, and according to my college roommate, he can go all night and straight through the next day. So time's ticking."
With that, she left.
Andy whistled.
"Fuck me, dude. Katie was right. That woman is way worse than Becca."
CHAPTER TWO
HANNAH
Walking home had been a stupid idea.
Sure, that was where my car lived. Expecting a two week trip, instead of four days, I’d left my car at home. I didn't have extra parking space since the apartment only allocated one per tenant, plus the van was too big. So, it stayed behind my shop, a nice little covered and gated area that required an electronic passkey to enter.
Though the walk was only four blocks, I was exhausted, and my suitcase felt loaded with bricks instead of clothes. Stupid. I should have taken a taxi.
I finally reached my apartment building, dragging my suitcase up the three steps to the entrance as I dug out my home passkey. I swiped it across the pad and hauled my suitcase inside. I now felt like a pile of bricks on top of floppy legs.
I glanced along the row of all twenty apartment mailboxes. A partially filled trash can sat next to the perky green fern in the vestibule's corner. Gleaming silver elevator doors. A bright overhead modern version of a chandelier that somehow made everything seem more elegant. The polished parquet floor and scent of lemony cleaning detergent affirmed the entry was well-tended.
Nope, too tired to check for mail.
And the light and lemoniness made my head spin.
I needed a swim to wash away the cobwebs and Annabeth's all-too accurate assessment of my dismal sex life. Followed up by Chinese delivery and a solid night's sleep. I may be exhausted, but that didn't mean life stopped for me to catch up. Until I managed to find a decent replacement for irreplaceable Annabeth, it was all me.
I stabbed the large golden button, and the doors swished open immediately. My suitcase stalled on the ledge, but one heave got it over.
The floor level buttons inside were also golden, but much smaller. I pressed the fifth floor. Not the bottom. Not the top. Middle. That was me - a middle lane girl.
I sighed. Maybe I needed a holiday.
God knew I needed to get laid. Annabeth was spot on there. I did not need a man. Just a holiday on some tropical island, maybe one known for its scuba diving or quality surf. I didn't dive, or surf, but that kind of sport brought men from all over the world, right? Not just men cruising resorts for easy pickings. Although, not having sex in three years probably did make me easy pickings.
I'd be pretty easy pickings for a particular cop next door. Damn Annabeth for putting him in my mind. Yeah, right, like Jake Lancaster ever strayed far from my thoughts. Or fantasies. Passing in the hall, or even just hearing him move around through the joined wall, had my hormones bouncing.
Maybe I should move.
"Jesus, Hannah. Get it together."
Aka, stop moping.
My hard-fought business was booming. I live in an apartment with an excellent pool. I'm still thin, despite eating fast food on the road half of my life, and a little too much fondness for red wine.
What else could a middle lane girl want?
Sex.
"Going crazy, that's what's happening," I muttered as the doors slid open.
This time I dragged the heavy suitcase with more vigor, anxious to slam my door, and the day, behind me with too much force. I stumbled to my knees, hitting the beige nylon carpet hard, accompanied by a loud rip. My skirt. My favorite business suit. Crap!
Damn this whole day.
And of course, Jake's door opened. Of course. He watched me with a half-grin. Or smirk. Hard to tell at this massive height difference from the floor.
Jake Lancaster, the hottest cop and neighbor in the world, was sex personified.
I'd describe him as tall, dark, and handsome if it weren't so cliche and blah. His dark hair was cut short but still had a slight wave. Brown caramel eyes, one shade lighter than his h
air. Chiseled jaw and cheekbones - the kind you see on romance novel covers.
Then his body. Long torso and even longer legs. The length of him made his purposeful walk one of pure sexual heat. I'd seen every woman in the building stop just to watch him walk past.
It hit me every time I saw him, and my tongue tied into one giant knot. Now was not a good time. And not just because I looked like a clumsy idiot.
"Have a nice trip?"
"Oh, very funny."
I struggled to get my feet under me, noticing the rip went all the way up to the waistband, revealing my black lace panties. Yep, I was flashing my cop neighbor. The day just kept getting better and better.
For a moment - I couldn't help it - I imagined him ripping them off and taking me here in the hallway. Up against the wall, not asking permission because it was obvious I wanted it, not worrying about interruptions or an audience.
Damn it, Annabeth.
He grabbed my waist and easily lifted me, holding me against him for a long moment, my feet just off the floor. Against him. His hard body ripped beneath his loose blue t-shirt. It was soft, worn by time.
Heat flushed everywhere, and suddenly all I wanted was to wrap my legs around his waist and taste his tanned neck. I waited, hoping to feel his hands lowering, skimming the black lace. Slipping beneath, cupping my ass as he ground my opened legs against his…
Stop, Hannah!
"Let me go."
"Are your feet steady? I don't want you to fall again. You might rip the other side of that skirt."
Or he could take it off altogether.
"I'm fine. Put me down. Now. Please.”
I may want sex, but we weren't on a tropical island; I couldn't just fly away. He was my neighbor. When I bored him, like in one week, if I was lucky, we'd still have to cross paths. Awkward, to say the least. No thanks.
He slid me down his body, and a tale-tell bulge caught me off guard.
My eyes swung to his. Heat simmered in the brown depths. What the heck? He’d never shown the slightest of interest before. Never more than brief polite next-door neighbor chats. Weather chats.
He leaned down and kissed me. Light, noncommittal, before pulling back.
"What was that for?" I stuttered.
"Just kissing your boo-boo."
"It’s my knees, you idiot, not my mouth."
That smirk reappeared. "I'd be happy to kiss those, too."
My mouth dropped open at the image of Jake on his knees in front of me. I forcibly snapped it shut again.
Be careful what you wish for; the old adage came back to me as I took one massive step back and dug out my keys. I shifted to block his view, not wanting him to see my shaking hands. I was one big electrical current, all from one little kiss.
Three years.
For Christ's sake, Hannah!
I finally got the door open. Not daring to look at Jake, I slammed it shut behind me, slumping against it on the other side.
Only to get a knock.
"No, no, no."
No idea if the words made it out of my mouth, but the knock came again.
I swung it open again. "What?"
Jake held out the handle to my suitcase.
"Forgot something."
Jake
It'd been a risk. I knew that, calculated the odds, and went for it anyway. No more waiting. Annabeth Olsen's visit blasted away all barriers.
I opened my fridge door and let the cold air wash over me. I moved the half-empty milk container to the door shelf and shifted around everything on the second shelf. Having just arrived home minutes before hearing Hannah's fall, I'd dropped the Papa Murphy's white garlic and chicken pizza - they make and you bake deal - on the counter. In this heat, that was a no-no, but Hannah beat out anything and everything.
Now I picked it up, the cling wrap making a suction noise as it left the smooth marble surface, and slid it into the newly opened space.
Papa Murphy's white garlic and chicken pizza was for Hannah. My preference was meat lovers, hands down. However, I'd passed her more than once with that, and always that, pizza. Tonight I intended to offer her a casual, non-date atmosphere to lay down the groundwork. Hopefully short groundwork. A few hours sounded good.
That slow rub of her curves against mine, that flush of heat, her unconscious response when she felt my hard-on. That way too short kiss. I'd been seconds away from dragging her into my apartment.
I had to face it. Simply wanting her in my bed faded a long time ago. Now, I craved her in a way that kept me erect for hours after seeing her. I wanted - no, needed - to fuck her on any and every surface, in any and every way.
I didn't even bother to pretend interest in other women. No sex since I'd met her. Not a single prick of interest in another woman. Being a cop, hanging out in cop bars with a few friends, meant women were easy to pick up.
I think my friends were worried - I haven't breathed a word about Hannah to anyone but Andy. Not because of any ribbing I'd get, but because I didn't want other men sniffing around my woman.
Yeah, my woman.
I planned on getting my dick deep inside her hot, tight, wet pussy, and let her know she belonged to me - body, mind, and soul.
Not some asshole Australian. Or any other man. To me.
The loud hum of my aircon kicked in, rattling the windows. It needed replacing. I threw the bottle into my recycle can and grabbed the remote. Off. I was listening for one specific sound, and my dying aircon would mask it for sure.
Within fifteen to twenty minutes of arriving home, Hannah always went down to the pool. I could only guess that it was her stress-reliever. Unless she was out of town, she kept to the same schedule without fail. She was the most time-predictable woman I've ever met. Who'd guess I'd find punctuality so sexy?
I snagged a beer from my bar fridge in the middle kitchen island bench cupboard. Before closing the door, I checked to make sure the white wine I'd picked up on the way home was chilled. I didn't know what she liked, or even if she drank alcohol at all, so I stocked everything. Red and white wine. Vodka, lime, and soda. Soft drinks and juices. Better to be prepared and all that.
Her door opened, paused. Maybe checking if the coast was clear?
Well, honey, it won't be for long.
A moment later it closed, and the lock tumbled. I slowly twisted the cap on my Wild Yak pale ale, tucking it into my jeans pocket, and went to my balcony.
A good-sized balcony, and one of the main selling points for me. Wide enough for a BBQ, two comfortable chairs, and a small glass table. I had a magnificent view of the mountains and sunsets while I kicked back and relaxed, but the opaque glass barrier blocked the view to the pool.
I usually stood to the far right, hidden in the shadows like a proper stalker. Or Peeping Tom. Not sure which sounded less creepy.
Not tonight. I wanted her to see me watching. I didn't miss the awareness, the sexual arousal in her eyes when she'd felt my erection. I'd been careful, until now, to hide my desire for her, but Hannah didn't have the same shield.
Hannah was attracted to me, and that was all I needed.
Whether I considered her mine or not, I wasn't the kind to go after an uninterested woman.
She was interested, though I doubt she realized how far my interest went. Sky-high. I was still aroused from earlier, and anxious for the imminent strip show. Lack of sex and wanting one specific woman was hard on a guy - in more than one way.
Hannah appeared at the gate, opened it and walked in, the gate slamming shut behind her. She dropped her towel on a lounge and peeled off her cover-up. My mouth went as dry as a desert.
Hannah didn't go the string bikini route. She came to swim laps. A sexy black one-piece with several straps crisscrossing her back, and high-cut hips.
Hannah was all legs. Not hard to imagine them wrapped around my waist, wrapped over my shoulders, or one either side of my head and she sat on my face as I licked and sucked until she came all over me.
Hannah pulled her ha
ir into a ponytail, which brought my gaze back up. She may be all legs, but her breasts equaled that endowment. I'd give a large portion of my soul to strip her bare, and play with those beauties.
Shit, I could spend hours just there.
Hannah strode to the edge of the pool, dropped her goggles on the side, and smoothly dived in. Coming up for air, she stroked back to the edge. Her body no longer in view, but I was no less mesmerized. Water dripped, making her face sparkle. Her expression relaxed, as if her day had washed away with one dive. I loved that. I haven't found that yet - an instant switch-off trigger.
I'd bet anything that my trigger was the woman swimming below.
She looked up, directly at me. Neither of us waved. For a breath of time, neither of us looked away.
Then Hannah put on her goggles and ducked under the water's surface, pushing off the wall. She started up an even stroke, swimming from one end of the twenty-five meter pool to the other. Sleek, unhesitating. Probably a competitive swimmer growing up.
I stopped myself from doing an in-depth background check, so I didn't know. She was an antique acquisition dealer. She ran a small storefront, but most of her income came from private buys and sells. Beyond that, I knew she was squeaky clean legally, and I wanted her more than I wanted to breathe.
Oh yeah, I was done with waiting.
Tonight. Pizza seduction prelude be damned. I wanted her naked and wild tonight. If she needed food, I'd feed her while we fucked.
My phone rang. On silent, it vibrated in my butt-pocket. Angry and resentful, I pulled it out. Andy.
Turning away, I slipped back inside.
"What?" I barked.
"Sorry to pull you away from your perving, but we got one. Saddle up, partner. I'll be there in ten."
CHAPTER THREE
HANNAH
I didn't sleep much last night.
Reliving every second, every sensation, hoping for a knock on the door. By the time I crawled out of bed and into the shower, I was an exhausted strung out horny mess.
Seeing Jake on his balcony, watching me swim, flipped a switch in me. He wanted me. Crazy, right? Nerves or not, that flipped switch said, go for it.
Hunting Hannah Page 2
