Tap Dance (5 page)

So she wasn't actually a blood relative, which kind of accounted for the fact that she was about six inches taller than me and outweighed me by … well, let's just say quite a bit.

I'm only bringing this up to show how her robe didn't fit me.  Like, at
all
.

After wrapping myself almost twice in the warm chenille, I made my way downstairs holding the robe away from my feet on my way downstairs. 

Yep, just like one of the heroines in the bodice ripper books that I enjoy reading.

"Hey, Ram," I said coming into the front room and seeing him stand up at my entrance.

Why would such an old fashioned gesture mean so much?

"MG," he said with a chin lift, but his eyes were scooting up and down.  "Sorry to wake you.  I could've come by tomorrow if I'd known you were sleeping."

"No worries," I replied, doing the same kind of visual sweep, noting he was still in his uniform and police jacket.

He is so gorgeous.

"Ah, is there some place we can talk?" he asked, pointing his head towards the doorway and I turned to see Aunt Estella standing there.  I couldn't very well ask her to leave since it was her house.

"Uhm…" I tried to think but my brain was only working with about three of its six cylinders.

"My truck?"  Yeah, that'd work.

"Okay."

I saw him glance down at my bare toes just poking through the trailing edge of the robe.

"I'll have her back straight away, Mrs. Gibson," Ram said as he took a couple of steps towards me.  The next thing I knew, I was swept up and he was carrying me.

Ram was carrying me
.

And my aunt even opened the heavy front door for him.

Chapter Five

After about two seconds, I realized that I could continue to revel in the shock of being carried by Ram or I could settle in and just enjoy being in his arms, held close. 

You better
believe
I went for the second option.

"Can you get the handle?" he asked as he stopped by the passenger door.

Once we were inside, he started the truck up and turned on the heater.

"Cold?"

You've got to be kidding me, right?  I may have been shaky and maybe he could see my hard as a rock nipples showing but none of that,
none of that
, was due to the temperature.

I shook my head.

Ram pulled out a large thermos and poured a cup before handing it to me.  One whiff and I knew it was the delicious tea he'd made me last night. 

Last night. 

"Thanks."

"I came by to see if you were okay and if there is anything I can get for you from your apartment."

"So I'm guessing I'm not going to be able to go there for a while yet, huh?"

"I'm sorry, but, no."

I glanced out the windshield and saw my aunt framed in the large picture window of her living room, watching us.  I'd tried to tell her many times before that, at night, anyone and everyone can see you clear as day if you have the lights on and the drapes open.  But, Auntie was of the mind that if she couldn't see them, then
them
couldn't see her.

I've often wondered what it would have been like to play hide and seek with her when she was a little girl.  Was she one of those kids that stood there with their eyes closed, incorrectly assuming that they were invisible because they couldn't see?

"Yeah, there are a few things I could use, if you wouldn't mind."

He looked out the windshield and brought his eyes back to me.

"Want to go for a ride?"

"Now?"

"Why not?"

"Uh, because I'm not really dressed for it?"

I watched as his eyes did another roam over me.  I swear to God it was like his hands were touching me, not just his eyes.

"You won't leave the car,
Pyari
.  I promise," he said and there was the glitter of teasing in his dark chocolate eyes.

The only sound in the truck was the purr of the engine and the soft hum of the heater as we just sat there staring at each other.

"What's that name, Ram?" I whispered finally.

"What name?"

"The name you keep calling me.  Pea-yar-ee,"  I tried to pronounce it like he did and I thought I did a pretty good job even if I had to say each syllable slowly.

Ram broke the connection of our eyes and looked back towards the house before answering.

"It's just a term of endearment, like a nickname," he muttered softly.  "Let's go to the apartments and I'll get what you want from there."

*.*.*.*.*

"Okay, Ram," he heard her whisper.  God, he loved her voice, the way she said his name
especially
when she whispered.

He drove her over to the apartments feeling only slightly guilty about not giving her the true meaning of '
Pyari
'.  The full meaning.  The meaning that might give himself away.

He used his little notebook to make a list of what she needed and where exactly to find it.

"I'm sorry, but as I explained, I can't bring out anything of fabric."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing made of cloth."

"Oh.  So my favorite pillow is out?"

"Yes."

"My robe is out?"

"Yes."

He watched her sigh as she turned to look out the truck's side window at the apartment building. 

Even her profile was perfect, the slightly upturned nose, her full lips and her defined jaw line.  And all that hair, her beautiful, curly, blonde hair that tumbled around her shoulders.

It didn't take her long to process the no cloth rule so the list, as she dictated, was about four items.

"Could you see if anyone has seen Floyd?"

"Floyd?"

"The cat.  The cat that used to have Cait as its Mom but is now mine."

"The cat that you were worried about last night?"

I watched her nod.

"None of us saw a cat."

Her head turned back to the window and she had caught her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Maybe he was just scared," she said softly.

He placed his hand on her arm.  "I'll take another look for him and then get one of your neighbors to take care of him. Okay?"

He watched her nod as she distractedly placed her hand over his and patted it.

Ram saw that the front door had already been repaired and he pressed the buzzer for apartment one, knowing that Marianne hadn't brought her keys. 

Hadn't brought her shoes.

Just that weird oversized robe and whatever she had on beneath it.

He swallowed thickly as his mind imagined all sorts of wonderful things she could have on underneath. 

Or what she might not have on at all.

No answer from apartment one, so he tried apartment three.

She had looked beautiful in his
kameez
last night, just as he knew she would. And while it may seem strange, he loved that she wore the top, and he the
salwar,
the bottoms of the set.  It had made him feel connected to her somehow.

Ram was buzzed in by Sara in Apartment Three.

"Hey, Chief!" she yelled from the top of the stairs.

"Just here to get some stuff for Marianne," he explained. "Sara, have you seen Marianne's cat?  He saw that the door to MG's apartment had the crime scene tape on it, but it was at least closed.

"You mean Floyd?"

"Yeah."

"No, I haven't.  He wasn't in her apartment?"

"We're still looking for him."

"I'll get the word out."

"Thanks, Sara."

He ducked and went into the apartment, turning on lights as he went. 

It was still hard to look around at such destruction, he hoped detectives Tim Bell and his partner, Jeff Trusdale could get everything wrapped up quickly.  When Ram had spoken with them earlier they said it might take awhile for the results from the lab to come back but, they were still actively working the case.  

It was a shame that their town had to share a lab with Cortez but from a budget point of view, it made sense.  Still, it was hell to have to wait so long for the results.

It didn't take long to gather up the items she needed but he didn't find the cat and he looked through the one bedroom apartment thoroughly, even under the furniture.

When he was leaving, he saw that the initial area on the floor next to Marianne's front door had several envelopes and a Fed Ex envelope scattered around.  He shoved them into one of the plastic bags he was taking out.

The truck was warm and the air inside had taken on the scent of Marianne as he handed her the carrier bags that he had shoved her stuff in.

"I didn't see the cat," he said folding his long length into the seat. 

She raised her head at his words and glanced back at the building.  "I'll call Julie and have her get the word out."

"But I did see envelopes all over your floor that I didn't see last night."

Marianne stopped her rummaging through the bags and glanced at him.  "Oh.  It's what the girls and I do.  When one of us checks the mail, we sort it and shove the letters and stuff under each other's door."

"Did I get what you needed?" he asked softly putting the truck into gear.

"Yeah, Ram, you did.  Thanks."

He just nodded as he drove, taking the long way back to her aunt's house.  He was about two blocks away, though, when he pulled the truck over and shifted into Park.

Marianne looked out her side window then glanced at him.

He cut her off before she had a chance to speak.

"I want to kiss you again," he said softly.  "And I would prefer not to have an audience."

Marianne's mouth, that he was sure had initially opened to ask him why they had stopped, now reshaped itself into an 'O' and her eyebrows were raised.

Ram reached over and undid her seatbelt and the release of it, released Marianne from her stillness.  She was up on her knees in the seat and leaning over the console before he even had time to move back.

He felt her tug on the open edges of his jacket, pulling him towards her.

No.

Last night she had initiated it.

Tonight, it was his turn.

He released his seatbelt with one hand as he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her over the console until she was on his lap. 

Which again surprised her, if he was reading her expression correctly.

He brought his head down as he softly instructed, "Slow,
Pyari
."

And his mouth dropped to hers. 

Kissing her the way he wanted to, with a slowness and thoroughness that was no less exciting than what they shared last night, building the same fire but doing it slowly.  Which he could tell from her wiggles and her mewls was driving her crazy.

Or maybe she was just reacting to not being in control. 

Because from what Ram had seen, Miss Marianne Gibson liked to be in charge of just about every situation.

*.*.*.*.*

I have never, ever in my life been kissed like that. 

Ever.

And I started kissing boys in sixth grade. 

So I have experience with this subject and, not to blow my own horn, I'm pretty good at it. 

But Ram's kiss. 

Holy
shit.

It wasn't just a bunch of little kisses with some tongue action.

Oh, dear God,
no
.

First of all, I was sitting on his lap. 

His
lap.

He just picked me up and placed me in his lap as he wrapped his arms around me, one at my waist so that I was tight against him and the other fisted in my hair.

In my
hair
.

To point my face up to his.

As he devoured my mouth. 

No other way to say it.

Ram Patel devoured my mouth
. 

His lips moved slowly but with firm, wet pressure over mine, sucking at my lips as his slick tongue licked at the seam, the second time in successive nights.

Oh, hell.

Yeah
.

He swallowed my groan as I opened my mouth to him the tiniest bit and his tongue plundered, his head slanting to get closer, get wetly deeper.

And it just never seemed to stop.

It went on
forever
.

Dear God.

For-
freaking
-ever.

I had never been this turned on before.