Consequence (8 page)

“You nut. What are you doing in here?”

“I missed you,” he said, dipping his head,
running his tongue over her nipple. Then he sank to his knees and
his hand slipped behind her. His tongue trailed down her belly and
into the small triangle between her legs.

“Boone! Stop that,” she blurted, but seconds
later she put her hands in his hair and leaned against the tiled
wall.

She closed her eyes to the spray and let go,
feeling exquisite tenderness as his tongue flicked and stroked,
darting in and out. Her hips began a rocking of their own. Her
nipples hardened at the intense pleasure. Soon she was gasping and
pushing his head away. “Stop, stop. Oh my!” she begged, as her
climax ebbed.

Weary, she sank to her knees until she was
level with Boone and lifted her arms to rest on his shoulder.
“Boone. I don’t know how much more I can stand. What’s come over
you?”

She shook her head in wonder and leaned in to
kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her small waist and crushed
her to his chest, rejoicing in the feel of the naked woman in his
arms.

“I won’t apologize, Bridget. You’re beautiful
and I’m crazy about you.”

She trembled hearing his words. Standing, he
pulled her to her feet and turned off the water. He handed her a
towel and helped her out of the bathtub, then began stripping,
dropping his wet, sloppy pants on the bathroom floor.

“Baby, I need a cold shower.” He reached to
turn on the water, but Bridget’s hand stayed his, adjusting it to
warm. Then, she stepped back into the shower. “I wasn’t finished,”
she said. Lifting two containers of soap she asked, “Apple or
strawberries?”

“You decide,” he said.

She squirted a handful of liquid soap into
her hands and began rubbing them on him, lathering the dark hair
covering his chest and abdomen. She reached lower and continued her
caresses, this time with a little more enthusiasm. Soon, Boone was
grabbing at the side of the shower stall gasping. She sensed he was
close to climax, but Boone had different plans. He cupped her
bottom and speared her, wrapping her legs around his thighs. She
rocked, trapped between him and the wall, until she heard his
strangled groan, then felt him stiffen with release.

Bridget’s legs relaxed and she slid into the
tub. She sat, legs crossed, and looked up at Boone.

“I think I’ve lost my mind.”

The red sky in the morning had presaged a
snowstorm, which fell for several hours. Boone radioed police
headquarters, confirming Neil was on call and the snowplows were
running. Then he and Bridget settled in for a long nap.

While Boone snored beneath the down quilt on
Bridget’s bed, she stared at the tiny black curls resting against
his neck. She was exhausted, aching and enthralled. She had never
felt better in her entire life. Boone was magnificent. He wanted
her and he loved her.

Well, he sort of loves me, she thought. I
mean, as a friend, I know he loved me. But now, as a lover? Does he
love me?

Now, Boone was here, where, as a teen in
love, she dreamt he would be. Lying in bed, surrounded by mementoes
of her youth, she realized the décor was too girlish. She hadn’t
bothered to toss away any of her old belongings when she moved back
home. Her bedroom was for sleeping, not entertaining.

Entertaining. Would she be doing a lot more
now that she and Boone were lovers? Would he want to come back?
Would he want to make love again? What if last night was a fluke?
Okay, last night and this morning. Then this afternoon. What if
they were all flukes?

“Stop grinding your teeth,” Boone said.

“I can’t help it. I’m worried.”

He flipped over, his eyes serious. “What are
you worried about?”

“Boone,” she began, then scooted closer and
touched his cheek. “Boone,” she repeated. “I’m worried this will
change how we feel about each other.”

“Of course it does.” Boone closed his eyes
and lay on his back, crossing his hands on his chest. “Is that
all?”

“What do you mean ‘is that all?’ That’s all
there is, Boone. What if you don’t… what if you aren’t … what if I
can’t?”

“Bridget,” he whispered, fondling her hair.
“You know what this is. Why are you questioning it? Accept it.”

She raised her head and gazed in his eyes.
She’d been holding her breath, avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t know what you want now.” She let out
a sigh, and Boone chuckled.

“Baby, I’ve been aching to touch you. To kiss
you and to make love to you. To play motorboat with these great
boobs of yours, to bury my face in your …” his last words were lost
when he dove under the covers and blew a raspberry on her stomach.
Bridget began to laugh and twist, knotting up the sheets as she
tried to escape his tickling.

“Stop, stop,” she panted. She pulled the
cover from his face. “So, I’ve got great boobs, eh? Tell me more,”
she commanded.

“Ah, here we go. Women. Always the man has to
do the work. Why don’t you tell me what you like about me instead?”
Boone suggested.

Bridget sat up in bed to think.

Boone pulled her back to the pillows. “It’s
not a thesis. Don’t take it seriously.”

“But that’s just it, Boone. I do take it
seriously. You should know by now, I couldn’t be here with you, not
like this, if I didn’t ….”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. She
couldn’t say “I love you” because she worried this was all about
being horny. She was available and they had a history.

“I know,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
“Now, can I go back to sleep?”

So, he couldn’t say it either, could he?

It was a draw, and since Bridget wasn’t sure
how to play this game, she decided to hold her thoughts close.
Soon, she was asleep and the snow piled higher.

It was dark. Bridget had a headache and her
stomach growled. They hadn’t eaten all day and most likely were
dehydrated. She got out of the bed, leaving Boone to sleep. She
dressed in a pair of boxers and a T-shirt and went downstairs to
the kitchen. Morty and Squirt were happy to see her and even more
happy when she used the broom to brush the snow away from their
doggy door. “Sorry fellas. I didn’t know it was this deep,” she
apologized.

She opted for a relaxing cup of chamomile tea
instead of the usual coffee. The last twenty-four hours had found
the world turned upside down. Day was night and night was day, most
of the hours spent in some form of lustful contact with Boone.

She scrambled eggs and made a platter of
toast. Instead of tea, she made a cup of cocoa for Boone, then
carried the food upstairs on a tray. Kneeing the door open, she set
the tray on the foot of the bed and turned on her beside lamp. It
was a ballerina bear in a tutu. That, she decided, has to go. She
turned the bear’s face to the wall, thinking about the abandoned
sex it had already witnessed. She leaned over Boone and kissed his
ear.

“Wake up, sleepy head. I’ve made breakfast,”
she whispered.

She moved the tray before his stretching foot
kicked it off. Boone yawned and stretched again, then sat up in
bed.

“Mmmmm smells good.”

“Cheesy eggs and toast. Isn’t it amazing how
good toast smells? I’m so hungry. You must be hungry, too. I made
you a cup of cocoa. I hope that’s okay.”

Boone smiled at her nervous chatter. He had
not been this relaxed and happy in years. It’s something she has to
work through, he told himself. He knew he wasn’t going anywhere. As
soon as she figured it out, she would be fine.

Boone glanced out the window and saw the
snow. “Holy cow! How deep is it?”

“The weather man said we could have two feet
by morning. I had to make a tunnel for the dogs. Their little door
was frozen shut. Poor darlings, having to hold it so long.”

“Yeah, poor darlings,” Boone echoed, thinking
of Morty’s teeth as he chewed a piece of toast.

“Boone. Do you still want me working the
case?”

“Sure. Why not? Don’t you want to?”

“Yes; I think it would make a great column,
too. I didn’t know if you wanted to mix business with pleasure. You
know what I mean,” she said, looking at the bear lamp. “I want to
make sure we stay focused on the case. That there aren’t any
distractions.”

“You mean like this?” Boone asked, tossing
the toast aside and pinning Bridget to the bed. Seconds later, her
T-shirt followed the toast to the floor. He slipped his thumbs in
the waistband of her boxers, tugged them down her legs, then tossed
them aside. Soon, she lay naked on the bed with Boone stroking
her.

“There,” he said. “That’s better. No
distractions.”

Bridget opened a wary eye and saw Boone,
dressed and tying his boots. She stretched and yawned. “Are you
going somewhere?”

“The orgy is over, baby. I’ve got to go to
work,” he said. Crossing the room to the bed, he sat on the side
and leaned in for kiss. Bridget tried to convince him to join her
for “a little while.”

A rueful Boone stroked her hair. “It’s hard
for me to leave you. Why do you try to make it harder?”

“Boone, hard is the way I like it,” she
quipped, batting her eyes at him. The texture of his clothing
against her naked, warm skin excited her. Her long, wavy hair
spread out on the pillow.

“I know, why don’t you meet me for lunch?” he
suggested, trying to sidetrack her. “The road’s been plowed and I
radioed for one of the guys to clear your driveway. You know, since
my cruiser is here, buried under several feet of snow.”

Bridget yawned again. “Thanks. I hate using
the snow blower. So, meet you downtown again?”

“Sure. I have to run home first and get some
clean clothes, then I’ll drop by the station. Make sure Neil has
things under control. Wouldn’t do to find out the chief is holed up
with his woman while the town burns. Call me on my cell.”

Boone strode out the bedroom door and clomped
down the stairs. Morty, for once, growled and left his pant leg
alone. He found his keys and wallet, picked up his jacket and let
himself out the kitchen door.

Upstairs, tucked under her quilt, Bridget
hugged herself. Boone called her “his woman.”

A vision of the future flashed through her
imagination: She and Boone getting married in his father’s small
chapel, the two of them making love by firelight, babies with curly
black hair, school plays in the fall and baseball games in the
summer.

Don’t be naïve, she reproved herself.

She heard Boone’s engine start and jumped to
the window to wave goodbye. He was cleaning snow from the roof of
the car, brushing off the police lights. He saw her standing, half
hidden by the sheer curtain and gave her his long-lost killer
smile. She raised a timid hand and waved. Boone lifted his fingers
to his lips, blew her an extravagant kiss, then started the cruiser
and drove off.

Maybe I’m not naïve after all, she
thought.

CHAPTER EIGHT

All eyes turned to the front door of the
bookstore when the bell rang. Before Bridget could enter, a car
honked and pulled along the curb. Boone opened the passenger door.
“Caught ya,” he said. “Ready for lunch?”

Bridget let the shop door close then slid
into the car and into Boone’s arms. Her hands slid up his broad
chest and they kissed feverishly, ignoring the curious looks of
passersby.

Inside the store, Marcel whooped and flung a
dishtowel from the upstairs cafe to the front counter aiming for
June and Tim. They turned towards the jubilant chef and
frowned.

“Hah! Pay up, June Bug!” he taunted, pointing
through the bay window at the police chief and Bridget.

June crossed her arms and pinched her lips.
She gave a theatrical gesture, lifting a shoulder and rolling her
eyes. Then she punched keys on the cash register and the drawer
slid open. She lifted the money tray and removed a pink envelope.
She tossed it on the counter.

“Bring you smart butt down here and get it,”
she growled.

Daisy dashed to the mezzanine railing. “Did
they do it?”

June cleared her throat loudly.

Daisy grinned. “I mean, did they ‘fall in
love?’“

Marcel floated down the staircase and pranced
to the counter, Daisy following behind him. He picked up the
envelope and opened it, counting the twenties aloud. “... One
hundred eighty, two hundred, two hundred twenty, two hundred forty.
I see Clay joined the pool.”

He tucked the money back into the envelope,
then handed it to Daisy. “Bon Voyage, sweetie. Use this for some
new clothes when you get to Virginia and see what the locals are
wearing.”

Daisy squealed and hugged Marcel. “Thank
you!” She leaned back and pouted. “I think I’m going to miss you
most of all.”

He pinched her cheek at the reference to “The
Wizard of Oz.” Daisy knew it was his favorite musical since he
always played “Somewhere over the Rainbow” at closing time.

Boone adjusted his rearview mirror before
pulling into traffic. “Where would you like to have lunch,
sweetheart?”

Bridget couldn’t stop smiling. First the
kiss, then the endearment. Boone slipped into the role of boyfriend
easily. For him, the transition was effortless. She still battled
with shyness, unease and anxiety.

“Frankie’s?”

“Nah, we ate at the diner a couple days ago,”
Boone said.

She thought for a minute. “Well, there’s The
Brewery or the City Deli. Beano’s is around the corner, or we could
go to Encounter’s, the French bistro.”

Boone looked out the window, scanning the
people on the sidewalk. “How about Dante’s?”

Bridget’s eyes widened. “You are kidding,
right? Your Mama will kill you if she finds out you’re eating
someone else’s Italian food.”

He wrenched the steering wheel to the left,
making a rapid turn into the city parking deck. Driving to the back
of the lot, he jumped the curb and slid between two large delivery
vans. “I’m not worried about Mama,” he said, turning off the
ignition.