Temperature's Rising (20 page)

She jutted her chin and met his gaze. “No, I didn’t want you to throw Trudy out. And yes, I know why I’m here. But that doesn’t mean I have to like the circumstances I now find myself in.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Damn right you will!”

He reached for the blanket she still held, and flinched.

For a brief second his face screwed up in pain.

A little niggle of fear swept over her. Conor always seemed so strong, but there was definitely something wrong. “What’s the matter?” She put her hand out to steady him.

“Nothing.” He grimaced and shook his head, pulling away from her.

“No, you’re hurt.” It had been a fleeting look of dis-comfort but it was there long enough for her to notice.

When he’d stepped away, he favored his right leg.

“It’s not a big deal. I injured my back a few years ago when I was taking down a perp and every once in a while it acts up. Must be the change in beds. Mine is a little softer at home. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ve slept in worse places than the floor.”

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Guilt felled her quicker than an axe to a tree. She nibbled her bottom lip before finally coming to a decision, but she couldn’t look him in the face when she told him what she was thinking. She certainly didn’t want him to read more into the situation.

“Well, you won’t be sleeping there tonight. We’re adults.” She pulled the covers back and bent over to arrange her pillow. “I’m sure we can act in a mature fashion.”

When she straightened and turned, Jessica caught the expression of longing on Conor’s face. His gaze had fastened on the lower half of her body. As soon as Conor realized he’d been caught staring, he cleared his throat.

“Yes, I’m sure for one night we can manage to sleep in the same bed.”

Cops were supposed to be people you could trust.

They were good at instilling that feeling. Trained, in fact.

She should know. But in this case, Jessica didn’t trust Conor any more than she would trust George inside a bank with the vault door open and everyone gone to lunch.

Going back to the closet, she grabbed three more pillows and lined them end-to-end down the middle of the bed.

“What are those for?”

“A reminder.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

She didn’t give him a second look as she crawled beneath the covers and pulled them to her chin. “Not as far as I can throw you, Officer Richmond.” Was that a chuckle? Was he laughing at her? Well, as long as he stayed on his side of the bed, she didn’t really care.

Dresser drawers opened before Conor went into the bathroom.

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When she was starting to get comfortable, the mattress shifted and Conor crawled under the covers.

“Go to sleep, Jessica.”

Sleep? That was the last thing on her mind. She probably wouldn’t sleep a wink. No, what she would be doing is thinking about the man on the other side of the bed.

That was another thing. How could the mattress have shrunk? She could almost feel each breath he took. In and out, in and out.

Oh, this was going to be a really long night.

Chapter 12

Heat swirled around Jessica. Nice, snuggly warmth, pulling her closer. She rubbed her face against her pillow and vaguely wondered how it could’ve grown hair.

And it thumped.

A steady thump, thump rhythm.

What did she care? She was having the most erotic dream. In her dream someone was stroking her breast.

Gently massaging, scraping his finger back and forth across her nipple. She strained closer to her fantasy lover’s hand as the itch for just a little more grew inside her.

But damn it, voices kept trying to intrude upon her delicious fantasy. Very annoying voices. Well, she wasn’t into a threesome or group orgies. No more than two people were allowed in this dream, so they’d better go away.

They didn’t. She yawned, struggling past the last vestiges of sleep.

“Trudy! Trudy, my leetle buttercup! Pleeze forgive-a me!” George yelled.

“Go away, George. Tomorrow I’m going home to TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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Mother! I should’ve listened to her and never married you.” A loud wail followed.

Ee-yuck! How did George and Trudy get in her dream?

She dragged her eyes open, then blinked rapidly.

Where was she? It was clear to her that she wasn’t on her air mattress. If she were, it had grown a wide chest and a very large, warm hand that cupped one of her breasts.

Apparently, her gown had ridden up after she went to sleep and someone had placed a nice heating pad on one cheek of her ass, too. Had she walked through a looking glass?

She really wasn’t at her best when awakened in the middle of the night. Damn it, and she’d been having a really good dream.

Last night’s events came creeping past her muddled, sleep-induced fog.

Or was it a dream?

Realization slowly dawned. Her fantasy lover wasn’t a fantasy, after all. She should move away. She really should. It was obviously Conor who caressed her breast.

She really should—
God, that felt good
—move away. She gasped as his hand again brushed across her nipple, this time bringing it to perky life. She inched closer, biting her bottom lip.

“Pleeze, my leetle love muffin, you are-a breaking my heart. Pleeze, come home.”

Conor’s hand suddenly stilled, as if he, too, realized something wasn’t quite right in his dream world.

Damn George and Trudy. Her body ached with unfulfilled need, but apparently George and Trudy yelling at each other had awakened Conor, too, because the mattress shifted slightly and his hand disappeared. She bit back a groan of disappointment. The worst thing about the situation was that she cared more about Conor moving his hand than the fact it was there in the first place.

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“What’s going on?” she finally managed to ask, but wished they could go back to cuddling . . . and stuff.

“I believe George is on our lawn, and he’s come to collect his bride,” Conor explained in a voice still heavy with the last dregs of sleep. “If he can talk Trudy into opening the front door.”

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and focused on Conor’s face. Plenty of moonlight streamed in through the window, so she could clearly make out his features. It was kind of hard not to. Their noses were almost touching.

And their lower limbs intertwined.

He’d changed into pajamas before climbing into bed.

Very thin pajamas. So thin she could feel the heat radiat-ing from his body. Or maybe that was her heat, because she was definitely feeling warm. Okay, more like hot, as in heat wave, as in an inferno, as in she really wanted to get laid.

Deep breath,
she told herself. She wasn’t
involved
with the man lying next to her. She was only sleeping with him. Not exactly
with
him, more like
next to him.

Crap, she couldn’t even make sense to herself. She drew in a calming breath.

She was only here to help her father out of a sticky situation. Speaking of which . . . she was in one right now.

At least, she might have been if George hadn’t interrupted.

Deep breaths! Lord, he would think she was panting for him. Brain to respiratory system: stop deep breaths.

Meditation. That’s what she needed. Think of the spiritualist’s soothing voice. She closed her eyes.

Yom-da-da-da-da,
she silently chanted, letting her body become one with the universe.

“Are you going back to sleep?” Conor whispered.

The spell was broken. Not that the short meditation TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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had helped. No wonder the stupid CD was in the bargain bin.

“No,” she murmured, at the same time slowly extract-ing her leg from between his.

They would just forget that any of this ever happened.

Of course she’d gotten a little horny when Conor caressed her boob. It could happen to anyone. Now that she was wide awake, she wasn’t even thinking about having sex . . .

well, maybe she was still visualizing it just a smidgeon, but that didn’t mean she’d act out her fantasy.

When she brought her leg upward, her knee brushed against something hard and unyielding.

Conor grunted.

She hoped her face wasn’t glowing bright red. Jeez!

She hadn’t just . . . She had. Without a doubt, she knew exactly what her knee had bumped. “Sorry,” she murmured and scooted a safer distance away.

Lot of good the pillows were. She’d practically thrown her body over them. Well, it wasn’t her fault. She’d forgotten her stuffed huggy bear. The barrier between them made a good substitute. The living, breathing man on the other side had been even better.

“I will-a buy you the bracelet tomorrow. I promise.”

“You accused me of flirting, George.”

“I’m a red-blooded Italiano. You are a hot-a woman.

You make-a me crazy with the lust-a! Can you blame me that I am so jealous,
bel amore
?”

“The lust-a?” Conor asked.

“Shhh. I want to hear what they’re saying.”

“He promised her the bracelet. Ten dollars says she’ll take him back.”

“You’re on.” She’d already pegged Trudy. “I say she’ll hold out for the necklace.”

“How can you be jealous when I told you I’d never look at another man?” Trudy wailed.

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“And what about our-a wedding night?”

“Trudy was unfaithful on their wedding night?” Jessica whispered.

“Do you blame her?”

Conor had a point.

“I told you that was a mistake, but you can’t seem to forgive me. Mother was right. I should’ve married an American.”

“Pleeze, my love.
Mio amore.
I will-a buy you the earrings you wanted so much-a, too. The bracelet and-a the earrings. Both of them-a. Just pleeze come home to-a me.”

“The big diamond earrings?”

“Ha!” Jessica exclaimed. “You owe me ten dollars.”

“Diamond earrings are not the same as a necklace.”

“Are, too!”

The front door opened and closed. Apparently, Trudy had decided she’d stay with George and was going back home.

“Trudy,
mia cara.
I will-a never, never hurt-a you again.”

Their voices drifted away from the house.

“She’s gone.” That had to be the dumbest observation she’d ever made. Of course Trudy had left.

Conor raised on one elbow. “I guess I can go back downstairs and watch the house next door.”

“You could.”

Clear your mind
, she told herself. Yom-da-da-da-da.

You do not want to have sex. You are not horny. Yom-da-da-da-da.

Her breasts ached for his touch . . . for his lips. She wanted him to taste her, to fill her body. She wrapped her arms around her pillow and pulled it close. It came in a poor second. But the fact remained: he was still a cop.

The mattress shifted as he started to get up.

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He was also a hot man, damn it! She didn’t want another night dreaming about having sex with him. Tonight she wanted the reality and screw the fantasy! Or better yet, screw her. “Or you could stay,” she blurted before she could change her mind.

The rational part of her brain warned her to bite her tongue and not say another word. She sighed. When had she ever been rational?

Moonlight cast a dim illumination of its own in the room. He had his back to her as he sat on the side of the bed, so she couldn’t read his expression.

“What do you mean?” he quietly asked, breaking past the sudden silence of the room.

“Nothing. Forget it. I’ll see you in the morning.” But how could she forget when she knew he needed her—when they needed each other? There’d been a connection from the start, but she’d been denying it . . . denying herself.

Without considering why she was doing it, Jessica reached across the darkness and touched Conor’s shoulder. She felt the shudder that swept through him. He turned his head, taking her hand in his and pressed his lips into her palm. Warm tingles skittered up her arm.

This was right. She didn’t want to think about what tomorrow would bring. She didn’t really care.

“Stay,” she whispered.

“I should go downstairs. Watch the house.”

“They won’t do anything tonight.” He hesitated and she knew he was torn between duty and her. Guilt whipped through her, but she couldn’t stop what was going to happen any more than he could.

She sighed with relief when he crawled back in bed, pulling her close, until her body was pressed intimately against his. One night, she thought to herself. They could share a night together. It didn’t have to be anything per-178

Karen Kelley

manent. It would mean nothing to either of them in the morning. Except maybe a great sexual experience. That’s all, nothing more.

He slipped his hand beneath her gown and cupped her breast. All thoughts of what tomorrow would bring scattered as naughty sensations erupted inside her. The kind that made her feel wanton and unmindful of what she did or was about to do. Her focus was on getting and giving as much pleasure as she could.

She bit her bottom lip when his thumb lightly brushed across her tender nipple. Her breasts swelled, pushing toward him. Yes, that was it. This is what she’d dreamed about almost every night since Conor had arrested her. She just hadn’t wanted to admit he’d affected her that much.

“God, I think I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I saw you standing on that street corner,” he said as if reading her thoughts. He nuzzled her neck, then gently tugged at her earlobe with his teeth.

“When my skirt was torn, hose shredded, a button missing from my blouse, and looking like a hooker. Gee, thanks.” She sucked in a deep breath, pressing her hips closer to him.

His breath tickled her neck when he chuckled.

“You looked damned sexy to me. I had a hard time remembering I was a cop.”

She snaked her hand between them and stroked. “It doesn’t feel like you’re doing a very good job of it now, either.”

He groaned. “Can you blame me? You’ve been teasing me for way too long.”