He crept into the bedroom to find Jolene under the covers, one bare shoulder visible. At least she’d gotten rid of the blouse. He stripped off his sweats and crawled into bed naked, nestling up to her back. She’d left her underwear in place.
She reached behind him and skimmed her knuckles down his hip. “What happened to your clothes?”
“I only put those on so we could think.” He wrapped an arm around her body and cupped her breast, dragging his thumb across her nipple while the breath hitched in her throat. “We don’t have to think anymore, do we?”
She turned around within his embrace, and pressed her lips to his. She murmured against his mouth, “If I thought about what I was doing, I might stop.”
And as he didn’t want to think about what she had just said, he thrust his erection against her belly and proceeded to make her his own...while he still could.
THE NEXT MORNING, Sam carefully extricated himself from Jolene’s limbs tangled with his. Before he slipped out of bed, he paused to study her face. A small bruise had formed over her left eyebrow, and her bottom lip looked slightly swollen—of course that could be from all the kisses they’d shared. He couldn’t get enough of her.
He tiptoed from her bedroom and into the laundry room where he retrieved yesterday’s clothes from the dryer. He got dressed in the living room, and set about making coffee.
He checked his own phone charging on the kitchen counter—a few texts from Aimee’s mother about Jess and a call from work, but nothing as dramatic as Jolene’s text last night. If only Melody could’ve given them more than El Gringo Viejo’s name. Maybe she didn’t know anything more about him—or maybe she was too drunk to know what she was doing.
The coffee started to drip in the pot, and he raided Jolene’s fridge for eggs, butter, milk, cheese and a leftover pepper and onion. Since the separation from Aimee—the second separation—he’d gotten pretty good in the kitchen.
As the first omelet bubbled in the frying pan, Jolene scuffed into the kitchen, the blouse from last night hanging off her, the first several buttons undone. “Smells good, but it’s lunchtime. I slept so late.”
“You were in a car accident yesterday. I think you deserved to sleep late.” He jiggled the pan. “I’m making omelets.”
“I’m impressed.” She yawned. “But my accident is not the reason why I slept late. I think that had something to do with the man in my bed.”
“At least I’m properly dressed now, which is more than I can say for you.” He waved the spatula at her. “Whoever told you that was a modest blouse was lying, especially when it’s open to your navel.”
She clutched the top of the blouse and yanked the two pieces together. “I’ll go take a shower and get dressed. Don’t get any ideas about joining me in the shower. I’m sore.”
He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “I’m that good, huh?”
She picked up a balled-up paper towel from the counter and fired it at him. “My muscles are sore from the accident. Look at my arms.”
He eyed the bruises from the airbag on her arms. “I saw those, but that airbag probably cut down on the damage to the rest of your body.”
“I suppose so.” She wrapped her hair around one hand. “I already have a million calls from Gran and Wade and everyone else this morning, so I guess what happened to Melody was not a bad dream.”
“I’m sorry it wasn’t.” He slid the first omelet onto a plate. “Any chance you can get into Melody’s apartment today?”
“What do you mean? Isn’t it a crime scene? The sheriff’s department arrested Tucker yesterday. They already had the crime scene tape up before we left last night.”
“You stole onto a construction site and planted some bones. You can’t figure out how to get past a little crime scene tape and into your cousin’s apartment?”
“You’re encouraging me to break the law, Agent Cross?” She folded her arms and tapped a bare foot on the floor.
“You need encouragement?” He cracked two more eggs into the bowl. “Go get dressed, and I’ll finish breakfast.”
“If you think we might find something useful at Melody’s, I’ll get in there. I have to see Gran and the rest of the family first. Do you think you can find out what’s happening with Tucker?”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
Jolene slipped out of the kitchen, and a few minutes later, he heard the shower running. He’d have liked nothing more than to join her, but she needed sustenance and painkillers right now—not another tumble in the sheets.
He finished cooking the second omelet, shoved some bread in the toaster and poured himself a cup of coffee. He even set the table and fed Chip.
When he looked up from placing the silverware next to the plates of food, Jolene was studying him, one hand on her hip. “You’ve become quite domestic.”
“Now that I have Jess on my own, my apartment is immaculate.”
One corner of her mouth lifted. “Never thought I’d see the day. I—I’d like to see you with your daughter someday.”
“She’s funny right now—and bossy.” Should he be bragging to Jolene about Jess? He wanted to share his daughter with Jolene, but it hurt him that Jess wasn’t hers.
“It’s a cute age—which I know from my cousins’ kids.” She grabbed the back of a chair and sat down, picking up a fork. “I know where Melody hid a key to her place, so if the cops aren’t watching her apartment, I can get in. How long will they designate it as an active crime scene?”
He shrugged and took a seat at the table. “Depends on what Tucker’s been telling them. They were already searching her place. May have taken her computer and other electronic devices.”
“I wonder if they found her
