Just in Time: Portals of Time (12 page)

“Surely you must have felt this before.”

“I have. But never through clothing. The scrape of material against my nipples is infinitely more exciting.”

Leaning in close, he drawled, “I’ll remember that for when we get to the real thing.”

She couldn’t form a sassy retort as he kept up the tender abrasion.
Tender
. Nothing in her world was ever tender between men and women.

His hands left her breasts; she groaned a protest. His fingers threaded in her hair and he massaged her scalp. How on earth could that feel so good?

When his lips grazed her forehead, she startled. He brushed them across her closed eyes. “Oh, by the godheads.”

She felt him smile against her cheek. “I think our version is
oh, God.
” His mouth went lower. Licked around her lips. Suddenly, she wanted those lips on hers. “Luke, my mouth. Do the kissing thing.”

“All right. If you insist.” He was still teasing, but she was bursting with need.

He pressed his full mouth against hers. Um…she was vaguely disappointed. Not much to this…oh! He brushed his lips back and forth, back and forth. That felt better. Then his tongue probed them. She was meant to open her lips! What the hellor? But she parted for him, and his tongue darted inside. Immediately, she bucked against him. Never had she felt this erotic sensation. And it continued. His lips still pressed to hers, his tongue explored her. He drew away only for a second and said, “Try it. Put your tongue in my mouth.”

He resumed the unfamiliar connection and she eagerly took part. His taste was of alcohol and sweetness. He’d eaten something called a cookie. But then his own taste, his own scent came through, and she was lost in the sensation of him.

Suddenly, his mouth grew more insistent. It seemed as though he was trying to consume her. He tasted, bit (oh, wow!) and devoured. For one of the first times in her life, Dorian experienced helplessness.

And she didn’t like it.

But she couldn’t stop him.

She didn’t have to. Too soon he pulled away. She moaned. “Why did you stop?”

He took her hand rather roughly and pressed it against his jeans.

“Oh, you’re ready to join.”

“Goddamn right I am.” He stepped back. “Let me tell you something, Dorian Masters. For a novice, you knocked my socks off with that kiss. And you didn’t even touch me.”

“I forgot to.”

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t be standing if you had.”

Again, she smiled.

“So,” he said, capturing her gaze as he’d captured her mouth. “Did you like this new thing called kissing?”

“Yes. I want to do it again. Right away.”

Before he could answer, the door flew open, and Luke stepped back. In rushed Alisha. She barely glanced at the shattered china on the floor. “Luke, Dorian, come quick. The computer has the information we need.”

Dorian straightened and tried to calm herself.

“We have the location of the person sending the emails. It’s a female named Kara Krueger.”

THE REVELATION OF
who was sending the emails to Jess had been disturbing Dorian’s slumber for two revolutions, and this evening she’d gone out of inside and dropped down on the seat that swung back and forth on the front porch. But it wasn’t just the situation with Jess that had given her insomnia. She was also trying to sort out the emotions that Luke Cromwell had engendered in the kitchen on Sunday. She could still hear his heart beating close to hers, feel his mouth pressing down on her lips, how he cupped her breasts with an intimacy she’d never known. She wanted to do it again. She longed to join with him. And despite her protestations to the contrary, she liked him, which was a problem. She didn’t want to like men here. The foreign emotion was too confusing.

Luckily, he’d been assigned a case at work that had taken him out of the region, so she wouldn’t have to see him for a few revolutions. She’d have time to let her feelings for him diminish and get back to the woman she was when she’d arrived.

An auto vehicle pulled up in front of the house. From the dim light of the lamp stick rooted in the grass, she could see a man—big and muscular—exit the vehicle. It wasn’t Luke, returning early, she could tell by the walk and stance of the intruder. Wary, she felt her body tense in case she had to take action. The stunner she’d brought from the future was in the pocket of her robe.

When he came closer, she recognized Rick Carson, the Marine she’d muscled Jess away from at church. She didn’t have time to get into the house and avoid him, so this would mean a confrontation. Eying him, she decided she was in top shape and, despite his girth, could probably take him.

Was he the one who would harm Jess? Their documentation showed Jess had been killed in an auto-vehicle accident. Carson couldn’t drive straight through Jess’s bedroom because of the greenery on the front lawn. Then she remembered the day of the taxi near miss. She also recalled the conversation after Helen found out where they came from.
Who knows, we could have changed the method of murder just by being here. One of those paradoxes in time.

Slipping her hand into her pocket, she stood and walked to the top of the steps. “Stay right there. What do you want? It’s late.”

Stopping, he looked up at her from the sidewalk. “I want to know why you’re investigating me.”

Megadamn. “How do you know I did that?”

“I’m a security expert. It’s what I do.”

“Specifically, tell me how you found out.”

He stared hard at her. “I have warnings built into the Internet that flag when my name is mentioned. It lets me know when someone is checking up on me, too.”

“I didn’t know those existed.”
In your time.

“As I said, I’m an expert.” His voice softened. “Listen, let me come up. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She gripped the stunner. “Of course you won’t.” He didn’t seem angered, and she might be able to find something out about his guilt or innocence. Nothing other than working at Petron came up on either the Internet or the computeller after an extensive search. “All right.”

He climbed the steps and leaned against the porch railing, crossed his arms over his chest and his feet over one another. It was not a threatening pose. She stood, too, several feet away from him. He asked, “Again, why are you investigating me?”

What to say? “David Ryan is my friend from a long time ago. I wanted to make sure you were who you say you are, since the church is being threatened.”

He arched a blond brow. “So David said. I don’t believe him or you.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, Mr. Carson.”

“Since you probably know the color underwear I have on, I think you can call me Rick.”

With his joking, his face softened and she noted he was handsome, too. She gave a weak smile. “Honestly, I’m making sure the church is secure.”

“As Jess’s cousin?”

“Well…”

“Try again, Dorian. You don’t look like Jess’s cousin. You’re taller, more fit…and different from most of the women I know. Besides, you own a private security firm.”

“So, you investigated me, too?”

“Tit for tat.”

For some reason, she knew that idiom. “I’d say that makes us evens.”

“Evens?”

“Whatever.”

He shifted a bit and she thought of asking him to sit but decided against it. “I did a search on you because you did one on me. Just tell me why and I’ll forget about this.” She didn’t respond. “Is David in trouble?” The words held genuine concern.

“David? No.”

He nodded. “Then it’s Jess you’re protecting.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she waited to answer. If she confirmed what he knew, Alisha would be furious. “I’ve said as much as I’m able.”

“David wouldn’t tell me anything, either. But I know something’s going on.”

“Can you just let it go? I swear David and your church are not in danger.”

As if assessing her statement, he looked her up and down, probably taking in the short robe, beneath which she wore a skimpy gown. He waited a long time, too, before he said, “Okay, if you have dinner with me.”

“What? Why?”

“So I can get to know you better. Make sure you’re on the up and up. For David’s sake.”

“I—”

“It’s the only way I’ll let this go, Dorian.”

Hellor, how had this happened? She’d have to accept. Maybe she could turn the situation to her advantage. Though she didn’t doubt her findings, talking to him would deal the seals. “All right. When?”

“Thursday night?”

“Agreed. Where shall I meet you?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

That couldn’t possibly mean…“I don’t understand.”

He looked at her oddly, then added, “I’ll drive here and get you.”

“Earnestly? Why?” Maybe it was a custom she didn’t know.

“Like for a date.”

She remembered Luke’s description of the ritual. “This isn’t a date.”

“Whatever,” he mimicked her, squeezed her arm and then headed down the stairs.

By the godheads, what had she gotten herself into?”

IN UPSTATE NEW YORK
, Luke sat in an unmarked car with Jack Marino, a fellow cop, watching a farmhouse. The sedan’s windows were down, and the April air was so clean here, it almost hurt to breathe in. “Go ahead, close your eyes, Marino. We could be here all night.”

“Good idea. You catch some zees, too, after I wake up.”

“Agreed.”

Once Jack fell asleep, Luke’s mind hurtled to Dorian and the kiss they’d shared in the kitchen a few revolutions ago.

Man, he shouldn’t be thinking about her. He
wouldn’t
. He’d think about the case he was on. The NYPD had been asked to do legwork for the RICO Task Force and stake out suspected mob-related connections. Was there one between the man staying in that small structure and a consortium of organized criminals? Luke should be trying to figure this out instead of daydreaming like some lovesick kid.

Or he should be working to solve Jess’s case. His captain had asked him about his preoccupation, and Luke was worried Al Patchet would sense his mind wasn’t on the job. He hated to let the department down, but hell, he needed to be close to his brother now.

And Dorian.

There she was again. Prowling around in his brain. Jesus, he couldn’t believe how aroused he’d gotten from a simple kiss. But it hadn’t been simple. Not to her, and consequently, not to him. Knowing she’d never been kissed had been a big turn-on for him, and his pride has surfaced, too. Some guy might be able to
bring her to release
four times in twelve-and-a-half minutes, but Luke had given her something she’d never gotten from anyone. Was that why it affected him, too?

There was movement in the front of the house, so he picked up the binoculars. He nudged Marino. “Jack, wake up. Somebody just came out. We need photos.” The specially equipped camera Marino operated would take clear shots at night.

Luke stared harder while Jack got the camera ready. “It’s not Curran.” The drug dealer.

“Who is it?”

“Marco Genetti. Looks like we got our connection.”

SITTING ON DORIAN’S
bed, Helen smiled over at the two-piece, silk outfit she’d helped pick out. She’d told them silk was the best, and it had been made by worms. Hellor, before tonight, Dorian didn’t even know what a worm was. But the material was soft, and Celeste said the color went well with her skin tone. At the store, the clerk had called it watermelon. Which Dorian had never eaten, so Helen had stopped at the grocery store and bought one. It was so sweet, it made her eyes mist.

“Turn around so I can see the back,” Celi told Dorian. The clothing was formfitting, tight at the breasts and nipping in at the waist. “Hmm. The clothing looks superb on you.”

“At least the bottom’s pants. They’re comfortable.”

From across the room, seated at a desk, Alisha turned her head. “And practical. If necessary, you can defend yourself.”

“From Rick Carson?” Helen scoffed. “He’s a pussycat.”

“Repeat, please.” Now Dorian was confused. “I thought
pussy
was a crude reference to female genital parts.”

Helen laughed out loud. “I’m afraid it is. But we also call cats that.”

“Why?” Dorian asked, adjusting the belt at her waist.

“I have no idea what the connection is between the two uses of the term.”

Alisha took out her computeller. “I’ll check.”

As Dorian finished dressing—including gold round her neck and hands that Helen had loaned her—she found herself optimistic about this
date
tonight. Perhaps being with another man would get her mind off Luke Cromwell, who had wide shoulders and coarse hair and the greatest hands. After four revolutions of his absence, she’d still been thinking entirely too much about him, about what his mouth felt like on hers, his hand on her breast, how he drew her to him so their bodies were close.

Helen stood and crossed to the bag of things she’d bought when she purchased the fruit. “Sit down at the dressing table. I want to do your hair.”

“Do what to it?”

“Style it. Use some spray.”

“Is that necessary?” Alisha asked. “Aerosol sprays are harmful to the air.”

Helen dropped the can she’d removed from the sack, and it landed with a thud on the floor. “Oh, God, Alisha, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That was the problem of your time. No one heeded the warnings you already had.”

Gently, Dorian grasped Helen’s shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. That’s why we’re here. To change things.”

“I keep forgetting. I can’t believe I don’t think about your mission every minute.” She placed a hand on her belly. “It’s just that I’m so happy about the baby.” She gestured around the room. “And truthfully, it’s fun for me to have you here. And Celeste. I never had any sisters.”

“I can’t imagine,” Dorian mused. “Though we’re not blood bonded, I’m very close to Lisha and Celi.”

Alisha held up the computeller. “I found three meanings. Pussy, as in cat, comes from the German word for puss, which means cat. That explains one. The crude pussy is from
pucelle
, a Medieval French word referring to a virgin, so someone not sexually competent. When applied to men, as in you’re a pussycat, it comes from pusillanimous, meaning tiny spirit, or weak or cowardly.”