“What do you think of him?” she asked Will when they were back in the car.
“Not much, one way or the other. Seems harmless enough, not that that proves anything.”
“I saw you examining him. Anything familiar?”
“No. But I wouldn’t bet the farm on my identifying Artie anyway.”
They were nearly to the building when Will took her hand. His touch was warm, sending a thrill of anticipation through her. Tonight was the night. She had come to that decision while staring at Trish’s body, realizing, really realizing for maybe the first time in her life, that tomorrow might never come. She wanted this man, he wanted her, and by God, they were both going to get what they wanted! And the sooner, the better.
“Are we still on for tonight?” he said softly.
“Oh, yes. Most definitely.”
He looked at her, surprised at her tone. Then he smiled, and she could see his own anticipation beginning to grow.
“I’d like to go back to the motel and shower and change clothes,” he said. “What time should I come over?”
“Whenever you’re done.” She paused for a single beat before adding, “And don’t forget your toothbrush and pajamas.”
She thought his grin might split his face in two, and she found herself grinning back. They were still grinning when they got to the building. Then they learned that the hit-and-run victim had died during the afternoon, and for a while, the grinning stopped.
CHAPTER 35
Brandon was waiting for her, his gym bag packed for his trip, his face made older than his thirteen years by lines of worry for her safety. Then she told him that Will would be over in an hour or so, and the worry disappeared. Now that he knew his mother had back up, he could go off with his friend and have a good time. Jen had a sneaking suspicion that she was about to have an even better time than he was.
Will called just after Brandon left, wanting to know if he should pick up food to go so they wouldn’t have to cook. Jen liked the “they”—maybe Will was one of those rare men who didn’t believe domestic chores should be solely in the woman’s domain.
“That sounds great,” she told him, and when he asked what she’d like, her response was, “Surprise me.”
She shaved her legs and armpits, showered and shampooed, brushed her teeth, plucked her eyebrows, filed her nails, brushed her teeth again, applied her makeup, anguished over the fact that there was nothing in her closet to wear, and finally burst out laughing at herself.
“It couldn’t be that you’re looking forward to this evening, could it, Dillon?” she said to her reflection in the mirror as she slid into a forest green jumpsuit. She was eyeing the jumpsuit, wondering if she would be able to remove it gracefully, when the doorbell rang, and her heart jumped into her throat.
Will had on tight jeans and a sweater the same shade as his lovely eyes. A carry-on bag hung from his shoulder. He had a bucket of chicken under one arm and a large bag from a Chinese restaurant in the other. “I couldn’t make up my mind,” he said.
Jen laughed and took the chicken from him. As she walked ahead of him into the kitchen, she felt awkward and gangly, like a kid trying to be cool around a guy she thought was hot. She set the chicken on the counter and turned to find him only inches behind her, leaning over to place the bag of Chinese next to the chicken. He paused, one arm propped on the counter, his eyes darkening with desire, then pressed her back against the counter with his body and took her in his arms, claiming her mouth with his.
She went weak with the want that flowed through her body, and her hands slid under his sweater to grip the rippling muscles of his back. Their lips pressed hard against one another, almost bruising the tender tissue in their hunger. As his tongue sought her own, a thrill of anticipation coursed through her, knowing this small penetration was a teaser of what was to come.
He slid his hands down her back and cupped her buttocks, pulling against his growing hardness. She moaned and rubbed herself against his bulging front. He tore his lips from hers, gasping for breath, and nuzzled against the side of her neck, nibbling and licking. She cried out at the tingle that started where his lips touched and flew like an electric shock down to her feet and up to her scalp.
“I can’t get enough of you, lady,” he whispered against her skin, his voice husky. “I’ll never get enough.”
His mouth found hers again, as one hand reluctantly let go of her bottom and stroked its way to her breast. For a few seconds, he was content to knead it through the fabric of the jumpsuit, then he grasped the zipper pull and allowed himself better access. She ran her hands through his thick silky hair and cried out again at the wave of pleasure that threatened to drown her.
He stopped himself and stepped back. Pulling the zipper the rest of the way down, he slowly removed the jumpsuit from her shoulders, letting it drop to her waist. Under it, she wore a beige teddy. He lowered his mouth and nipped one erect nipple through the lacy fabric, then pulled it into his mouth, sucking and stroking it with his tongue.
The lace barrier maddened her, and she pulled his lips from her with some effort and nearly tore the teddy as she bared her breasts. He groaned and returned his lips to her nipple, one hand stroking the
