She blanched, knowing Crystal had her. The photo had been taken several moments
“This could ruin his career, you know.”
Sidney worried her lower lip with her teeth.
“You give me a sit-down interview, and I promise to keep the most incriminating pictures out of the news.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No way.”
“You don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation, Miss Morrow. I have proof of sexual misconduct.”
“Why do you think I care about his career?” she bluffed.
“Oh, please. You’re so soft you probably cry watching
Her temper flared. “Living in the slums has toughened me up.”
Crystal looked her up and down, reassessing her as a competitor.
“I apologize for the lowbrow remark. You’re-” she swept her eyes over Sidney, arching a brow at her attire “- not his type. Perhaps I was jealous.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He broke my heart.”
Sidney believed her, and resented her for being honest. Marc might think Crystal had wronged him, but she apparently felt it was the other way around. “Even if I wanted to help you, I couldn’t,” Sidney said, feeling depressed and confused. “I don’t know anything.”
Crystal made her last play. “Sign the release for this photo,” she said, handing her a pen and paper, “and I won’t destroy him in the papers.”
After a moment of indecision, Sidney signed the form, knowing from the smug look on Crystal’s pretty face that she’d just been manipulated.
The interior of his house was stifling.
Marc turned on the A/C as soon as he came through the door. He tore off his shirt, shoulder holster and sweat-dampened undershirt, wondering when the weather would break. The shady motel room he’d been living out of for the past two days was more comfortable than this. Along the coast, the air was cooled by refreshing ocean breezes. Ten miles inland, where he lived, it was muggy as hell.
Tossing his discarded items on the living room couch, he strode into the kitchen, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, popped off the top and took a long pull. He desperately needed something to take the edge off.
He’d never felt so keyed-up.
Staring out the window above the kitchen sink, he noted that his backyard needed attention. The grass was dry and sunburned, the plants slowly dying. Groaning, he rubbed a hand over his weary face. His fatigue went bone deep.
“Hell with it,” he said aloud, abandoning the kitchen in favor of sprawling out in front of the TV on his leather couch. 10:00, the blinking red numbers on the DVD player read.
“Christ,” he muttered, taking another fortifying swig. Only losers drank beer by themselves on a weekday morning.
Instead of finding something more productive to do with his time, Marc indulged himself further by replaying every moment of his kiss with Sidney in slow motion. It was the reason for his “vacation,” after all. Why not reflect upon it?
Hell, why not embellish, while he was at it?
This time, as he explored her wet, hot mouth with his tongue, he gave his hands, and his imagination, free rein. He didn’t just reach underneath her T-shirt, he made it disappear, along with her bra, and feasted his eyes on her luscious breasts. He didn’t just brush his thumb across her tight little nipples, he flicked his tongue over them, enjoying the soft gasp of pleasure she made while he tasted her.
His cock stretched and swelled, pushing against the fly of his pants the same way it had pushed against the cleft of her thighs.
Groaning, he lifted the bottle to his lips, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat as he considered his options. There were women he knew-skillful, enthusiastic women-who would come over and take care of him if he asked. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d called a woman just for sex.
More often than not, when he was between girlfriends, like now, he went without. Sometimes, even when he had one, he took matters into his own hands, so to speak. Calling another woman to slake his lust for Sidney didn’t appeal to him in the least.
He didn’t want to touch another woman. He didn’t want to look at another woman. He didn’t want to think about another woman.
He wanted to think about Sidney touching herself.
With his free hand, he released the buttons on his pants, picturing her lying naked on her wrought-iron bed. He saw her as he thought she’d been, eyes closed, head thrown back, breasts jiggling slightly as her hand worked feverishly between her sleek, open thighs.
While he watched, and enjoyed, her brow puckered in concentration and her slick fingers moved faster. Moaning, she arched her back, thrusting her dusky-tipped breasts forward as she shuddered her exquisite release.
God, what he would have given to really have been there. To watch her come.
He stroked himself slowly, extending the fantasy until he was in the room with her. Leaning over her, he brushed the damp hair off her forehead, touched his lips to the fluttering pulse point at the base of her throat, lapped a drop of perspiration from between her breasts. When she smoothed her fingers over his hair, he caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, tasting her, inhaling her scent.
Needing more, he lowered his head to the silky black curls between her legs and tasted her there, too, savoring the sweet aftermath of her orgasm.
In her, he found his own release, and it was so intensely satisfying he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pleasure of it. With his head pounding, and dark flashes pulsing across his eyelids, he wondered if the reality of touching her could ever live up to the fantasy.
Too bad he’d never find out.
Greg called during her lunch break. “Where are Samantha and the girls?”
Sidney pressed her fingertips to her aching temple. “Still at my house, I suppose.” If he was really worried, why hadn’t he called earlier? “She came in late.”
He cleared his throat. “Did you two, uh, get a chance to talk?”
“No.”
His relief was almost palpable. “Listen, Sid, I’m sorry about last night. I don’t really remember what happened, but I do have the vague notion that I made a total ass of myself. Forgive me?”
She didn’t, and his insincere apology, in which he couldn’t even own up to what he’d done, let alone take responsibility for his actions, only salted the wound. “Since you called, I need help,” she said, refusing to pardon his behavior. “You know my…boyfriend-” she felt her cheeks heat, even though no one could see her “-the investigator?”
“Yeah. I don’t like him.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“He threatened to beat me up. I think. Details are a little fuzzy.”
Sidney was absurdly pleased Marc had bothered to defend her.
“Well, he’s been, um, videotaping me. And recording me. Is that legal?”
“Not if you don’t agree to it, baby.”
She frowned into the phone before she caught up with his dirty mind. “Oh! No, not like that. I mean I’m under police surveillance.”
“What the hell for?”
Sidney told him about finding Candace Hegel’s dog and falling under suspicion. Like most of her family members, Greg knew about Sidney’s “special abilities” and dismissed them as hysterical female silliness, so she didn’t go into too much detail.
She never should have given Blue that first, comforting pat, she thought with a sigh. Her need to touch and be
