Hurley to a game of darts. But my heart isn’t in it tonight and he beats me handily. With my beer now gone, I tell Hurley I’m going to call it a night.
“Okay,” he says, draining the last of his second beer. “I’ll walk you out.”
He gathers both of our coats from our table and holds mine for me while I put it on. As he settles the coat around me, his hands gently grip my shoulders and linger there for a second longer than necessary. I stand frozen to the spot, afraid to move and afraid
The cool night air seems to help some but I still avoid looking at Hurley until I get to my car. As he looks at the vehicle, a smile crosses his face. “How’s it driving?” he asks.
“So far, so good. The engine seems to run well and the seating is pretty comfy. The lingering aroma of formaldehyde is a bit of a bummer but my niece now thinks I’m a truly rocking aunt and wants to know if I’ll give her and her friends a ride in it with them lying down in the back.”
Hurley chuckles. “So are you going to buy it?”
“I don’t have much choice. It’s the only thing I can afford right now.” I pause and look up into Hurley’s baby blues. There’s a twinkle there, but I also see a hint of something else, something hot and smoldering that makes me squirm in a deliciously uncomfortable way. Something impulsive comes over me and before I can think about it, I lean up and kiss him on the cheek. His skin is warm and spicy smelling, and the bristles from his five-o’clock shadow make my lips thrum.
“Thanks for helping me find it,” I stammer as I step back.
When I look at his face I see that his smile is gone. Embarrassed by my boldness, I start to apologize but all I can do is stammer.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean . . . I didn’t want to . . . I just . . .”
Any further attempts to explain myself are cut off when Hurley takes my shoulders and pulls me close. Our faces are only inches apart and since I haven’t bothered to zip up my coat, I can feel his chest against my breasts. I’m close enough to be in touch with several of his other anatomical parts, too, and I’m pretty sure that’s not a nightstick I’m feeling. My nipples harden into exquisite little bumps and I have to fight an urge to grind my pelvis against him.
“No apology necessary,” he says, his voice thick and husky. “I rather liked it.” His face lowers and our lips touch in a gentle spark that quickly explodes into a raging fire. He pulls me into him and my entire body comes exquisitely alive with wondrous sensations everywhere it’s touching his. When his tongue probes its way between my lips, I part them willingly, ready to share every inch of myself. My hormones start flaring like sunspots, and just as I’m about to bodily toss my stud into the back of the hearse and do my best imitation of a kinky cowgirl, I hear a familiar male voice behind me.
“Well, well, isn’t this interesting?”
Hurley pulls away from me and it’s all I can do not to grab him back, wrap my legs around his waist, and rein his lips back into submission. But my ardor dies a quick death when I see the source of the voice: Luke Nelson.
Hurley looks embarrassed; his face is beet red and the front of his jeans make it obvious he was enjoying what we were doing. As was I, and I’m pretty pissed off at Nelson for interrupting.
“So are you two always a team?” Nelson asks, smiling at the two of us. “It makes sense, of course, given your jobs and all. I’m sure you share a lot of interests in common.” He pauses and adopts an exaggerated expression of worry. “Though I’m thinking it might make for some conflict-of-interest issues, eh?”
Hurley’s eyes narrow, as does the tent in his pants. “What do you mean?” he asks. “What conflict of interest?”
Nelson shrugs, his smile back in place. “Well, it seems that your respective investigations would require a certain level of objectivity,” he says. “You two didn’t look very objective just now.”
Hurley’s eyes narrow down to a dangerous glint. He says nothing but the look he’s giving Nelson communicates volumes. I imagine the average person would feel rather intimidated—I do, and he’s not even looking at me. But Nelson is no average person.
He stares Hurley down for several seconds and then shrugs again. “You two have a nice night,” he says, and then he turns and heads into the bar.
Hurley’s eyes shoot darts into Nelson’s back. “I think I understand now why you don’t like him,” he mutters. “He’s a smug bastard.”
“That he is,” I concur, wishing Hurley would shift his attention from Nelson back to me. Some of those delicious tingly feelings he triggered in me are still circulating. But Nelson has successfully killed the mood.
As soon as Nelson disappears into the building, Hurley finally turns to look at me. “It makes me want to try to get a search warrant for his office, just to teach him a lesson. But there’s no cause.”
I frown, realizing that what he says is right but not liking it.
“You okay to get home on your own?” he says.
My hopes sink faster than William did after seeing Ethan’s cockroach. I nod reluctantly, angrier than ever with Nelson. I desperately want to make him pay.
“Drive carefully,” Hurley says. He stands there looking at me and I realize he’s waiting for me to get into my car. I turn and open the door, wishing I could come up with some way to make the evening last a little longer. But the moment is gone, utterly and sadly irretrievable.
As soon as I settle in on the front seat, Hurley says, “See you soon,” and then he’s gone.
I stick my key in the ignition and turn it. The engine starts up without a hitch, purring contentedly. And as I back the hearse out of the parking lot, I find myself wishing Luke Nelson was riding in the back the way most of the prior passengers did.
Chapter 34
My night is filled with dreams about Hurley, some of them erotic, most of them just warm and cuddly. It’s one of the latter that’s interrupted when my alarm goes off. I groan as I roll over and hit the snooze button, praying that I can fall back to sleep and pick the dream up where it left off, but it’s not to be. Nine minutes later the alarm goes off again, and after slapping it irritably, I drag my butt out of bed.
After taking care of my morning ablutions, I head over to Izzy’s house and knock on the back door. Dom answers moments later.
“Good morning!” he says cheerfully. “You’re just in time for breakfast. I made blueberry pancakes.”
Dom’s blueberry pancakes are orgasmic and I figure they might be just the medicine I need to quit mourning my lack of Hurley. I follow Dom into the kitchen—a bright, cheery room with east-facing windows that take full advantage of the morning sun—and find Izzy seated at the table with a cup of coffee and the morning paper.
“Good morning,” I say, slipping into my usual chair. The smell of the pancakes has me practically drooling.
Izzy sets his paper aside and stares at me.
“What?” I say, knowing he’s seeing something but not sure what it is.
“You have something to tell me?”
I shrug. “I don’t think so.”
He stares a little longer, his eyes narrowing into slits. Curious, Dom turns from the stove and starts staring at me too. “I think you’re right, Izzy. Something is different.”
I look back and forth between the two of them, my expression rife with skepticism. “You guys are nuts,” I say dismissively.
“No, no, I can see it,” Dom says. He turns back to the stove, scoops a stack of pancakes onto a plate, and then walks over to me. “Spill it or I won’t let you have any,” he says, waving the plate under my nose.
Thumbscrews and Chinese water tortures have nothing over the aroma of warm, juicy blueberries stuffed into fat, fluffy pancakes. I cave in a half second flat.
“Okay, Hurley and I met at the Nowhere for drinks last night and afterward we made out in the parking lot.”
