“Gee, you’re pretty good at this,” Amy said.
“Yeah, and I don’t even have a script.”
“I’m afraid to ask what comes next.”
Jake looked at his watch. “Dinner comes next. We’ll wait until it gets dark to do our detecting.”
Amy took two potatoes and two rib steaks from the refrigerator. “We? As in you and me?”
“You know where Turner lives?”
“Oh no! Forget it. I’m not going skulking around his house. I’m in enough trouble.”
She scrubbed the potatoes, punctured them, and put them in the microwave. “Besides, I don’t know where he lives. And if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Hmmm,” Jake said, stalking her around the kitchen table, pinning her to the counter. “There are ways of making a woman talk.”
He nudged her with his knee and stared into her wary blue eyes with his laughing brown ones. “I could torture it out of you.”
Amy’s gaze dropped to Jake’s mouth. It was smiling and very close. Close enough to kiss, if she wanted. Her hands were splayed across his chest, originally put there to push him away, but now they felt more inclined to caress than rebuke.
She moved her hands over the material of his button-down shirt, straightening his collar, touching her fingertips to the heated skin of his neck. He was nice to touch. Warm and firm. She watched his mouth soften, his lips part ever so slightly. She felt him lean into her just a bit, fitting himself into her curves.
“You don’t seem like the torturing type,” she said, lacing her voice with false bravado.
“Oh? What type am I?”
The loving type, she thought. She didn’t mean it in the physical, sexual sense. She simply thought that he was a lovable person, and she understood why the checkout ladies had given him such an enthusiastic recommendation. His positive good humor inspired good feelings in others. She was sure his success as a veterinarian was partially due to this. With the possible exception of Mr. Billings’s cat, animals immediately responded to him.
She heard his breath hitch and realized she’d drawn a line across his lower lip with the tip of her finger.
“Criminy,” she said, pulling her hand away as if it had been burned. “I didn’t mean to do that! Gee, I’m really sorry. I mean, you don’t go around fondling your employer. It was just one of those unconscious nervous gestures… like cracking your knuckles or drumming your fingers.”
She was going to be struck down dead for lying. It had been seduction, plain and simple, and they both knew it. And if that weren’t bad enough, she’d panicked like some preteen dimwit.
Jake frowned. “Why do I still make you nervous? I thought you only got nervous on the first kiss.”
“Sometimes on the second kiss,” she said breathlessly, surprised at how badly she wanted that second kiss.
“I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any unnecessary stress,” Jake said, moving his lips lightly across hers, more of a caress than a kiss, more tantalizing than satisfying. “How about the third and fourth?”
Amy felt intoxicated by his nearness, by the prospect of more kisses. He ran his finger across her lip, just as she had done to him, and the gesture was almost unbearable in its tenderness. “Not many men get to the third or fourth,” she answered honestly, watching his mouth slowly descend to hers. It was a gentle kiss, velvety soft and languorous. The kiss deepened, almost enveloping her in its dreamy intimacy
He pulled away and watched her for a moment, enjoying the desire he found in her eyes. There was something special going on between them. They both knew it, though she was more reluctant to act on it. He suspected her personality was more cautious, tidier and more analytical than his.
He tentatively explored the curve of her spine and the angle of her hipbone with a gentle hand. The silk shirt was slick under his touch, the woman warm beneath it. He kissed her again, moving his hands along her rib cage until his thumbs rested on the underside of her breasts.
Now what? He wanted to go on. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and make passionate love to her, over and over again, until they were too exhausted to continue.
“Oh hell,” he muttered.
Amy blinked at him. “Pardon?”
“Don’t you have some steak to cook?”
Amy stiffened in his arms. One minute he was all lovey-dovey and then he was grumpy. “Boy, you sure are moody.”
“It’s my stomach. It’s hungry. And I’ve got this chicken thing on my mind.” And I’m in love, he thought. I’m trying to do the right thing, here, but it’s damn frustrating.
Amy took the steaks from the counter and carried them to the grill on the back deck.
“Yeah. I guess I can understand that. I’m upset about the rooster, too. Poor thing. I hope it’s okay.”
It was twilight when they finally rose from the picnic table and carried their dinner remains into the kitchen. Amy made coffee and handed Jake the cookie jar. “Did the police ever figure out how the thief got into the building?”
Jake nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie. “It looked like he just came in through the front door. The police said our locks aren’t especially secure. In fact, they showed me how to open them with a credit card. First thing Monday, I’m having a locksmith change all the locks. And I’ve hired a night attendant. This isn’t going to happen again.”
“Do you suppose it could have been an inside job? Someone with a key?”
Jake shook his head no. “Allen and I are the only ones with keys.”
“I don’t like Brian Turner, either,” Amy said, “but I can’t see him stealing a rooster. I can’t see him getting his hands dirty with something like that.”
“Maybe he didn’t actually do the taking. Maybe there was someone else involved.”
Amy served the coffee and took a cookie from the jar. “Who’d you have in mind? Henry Chickenhawk?”
“How about Veronica Bottles?”
“Why would she want to steal her own rooster?”
Jake shrugged. “She’s dumb enough to do anything. I’m open to ideas.”
“Good. Here’s my idea. How about we forget this whole thing and go for a nice, relaxing five-mile run.”
Jake choked on his coffee.
Amy worried her lower lip. She really wasn’t the dashing, daring detective type. She was early-to-bed, early- to-rise, dependable Amy who liked children and small dogs. She had no aspirations to be Wonder Woman, and she didn’t think her honor was in imminent danger, but she did care about Jake’s reputation as a veterinarian. Darn that chicken. He was nothing but trouble.
With a resigned sigh, Amy presented Jake with the phone book. “I suppose you’re determined to do this.”
Jake sent her a sheepish smile and thumbed through the alphabet. “Turner, Brian. He’s on Ridge Road. Bet he lives in a condo with a Jacuzzi. Bet we find feathers on his driveway.”
His eyes traveled the length of Amy. “I think it would be best if you changed your clothes. Wear something dark. Jeans and sneakers, in case we have to run.”
Amy grimaced. This was going to be a disaster. They were going to get caught and arrested and sent to prison. What would she tell her mother? Who would feed her cat?
Ten minutes later they were seated in Jake’s car. The engine churned, the car backfired twice. Amy suggested, for the sake of a fast and silent getaway, that they use her car.
Jake looked over at the sleek, low-slung red sports car and smiled wide. “Can I drive?”
Amy hesitated. There was something in his voice, in his eyes, in the way he leaned forward when he looked at her car. It was the way she looked at cheesecake.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you? It isn’t paid for.”
He ran his hand over the front fender. “Bet this baby can really move.”
“I don’t know, actually. I don’t drive very fast. I bought it because it was pretty.”
“Oh man! Teakwood steering wheel!”
Amy held the keys tight in her fist. “Except for the steering wheel, the whole car’s fiberglass. They tell me it’ll tear easily. Just crumple at the smallest bump.”
