Temperature's Rising (26 page)

He was still smiling when he went to answer the ringing phone on the hall table.

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Karen Kelley

“I want to speak with Jessica,” a gruff voice said.

“Just a minute and I’ll get her.” He set the phone on the table.

Even though he’d tried to disguise his voice, Conor knew exactly who was on the other end. He opened and closed his fists and took a deep breath.

Maybe he’d have that talk with Jessica a little sooner than he’d planned. He wanted an explanation and he wanted it damn fast. He strode into the other room.

“Barry’s on the phone. He wants to speak with you.” Chapter 16

Damn! She’d hoped to tell Conor in her own way and time about Barry. Now she’d have some explaining to do. She didn’t think he’d be happy, either.

Stall.

“Barry’s on the phone?” she asked with feigned surprise.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” He glared at her.

“Gee, I wonder why he’d be calling me.”

“Yes, I wondered the same thing. Especially since he went inside the house not long after you. Is there something you’d like to share?”

Not if she could get out of it.

“I’d better see what he wants.” She rose from the carpet and dusted the seat of her pants, even though the rug was clean. It bought her a few extra seconds, though. To do what, she had no earthly idea.

Her feet dragged as she walked across the room.

Conor went with her, picking up the phone and handing it to her. She had a feeling the smile on her face was a little sickly, but her hesitation was barely noticeable as she 224

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took the phone from his outstretched hand and put it to her ear.

“Yes?”

“When can I see you?”

Great! This was all she needed right now. Getting the wrong tape wasn’t bad enough. Now she had to deal with Barry. How in the world was she going to get out of this mess?

“This isn’t a good time,” she frantically whispered into the mouthpiece. She turned on her heel to make sure Conor had given her some privacy and rammed her elbow into his stomach. He grunted and stepped back. Startled, she almost dropped the phone. Jeez! He didn’t have to stand so close. She could handle—okay, maybe she couldn’t handle everything, but she’d think of something to wiggle out of meeting Barry alone. Just the thought made her nauseous.

“I want to see you.”

After casting Conor a dirty look, she focused her attention on the problem at hand.

“This isn’t a good time,” she repeated between clamped teeth.

“Is he there?”

What a moron. “Yes.”

“Meet me tonight.”

“That’s not possible.” Stall. She had to put him off.

“Day after tomorrow.” Surely she’d be able to think of something by then.

He hesitated. “Monday? Can’t. What about Tuesday?”

“I’m not sure.” She didn’t dare look in Conor’s direction to see what he thought of the conversation.

“Tuesday!” His tone left no room for argument. “Meet me behind the house by the picnic table. No one will be there after it gets dark.” He paused. “I’ll make you feel real good,” he added in a husky voice.

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Gag!

Barry didn’t wait for her to agree. An unmistakable click ended the conversation. He was about as romantic as a bouquet of wilted flowers. Barry would make some woman a lousy husband. A shiver of revulsion ran down her spine.

Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of meeting him anywhere, but she felt sure she could extract some information.

She had three days to figure out exactly how she would be able to do that. Surely Barry would let something slip.

If she obtained any information whatsoever, it might even make up for the fact she’d messed up when she and Conor had sex.

Well, not the sex part, only that it interfered with the investigation. And she’d goofed again when she sort of stole the tape.

It wasn’t all her fault, though. Her father should have to take some of the blame for having a heart-shaped bed delivered to the house. She rolled her eyes and replaced the phone.

“Now, would you like to tell me exactly what happened after you went inside?”

Darn, she’d forgotten for a moment that Conor was standing beside her. From the look on his face, she didn’t think she had a choice except to tell him exactly what happened. Taking a deep breath, she began. “Barry caught me rummaging through Trudy’s closet.” He stalked back into the living room without saying a word, stopping at the window. Jessica hurried after him, not liking the way he kept his back turned or the way his hands clenched into fists. This didn’t bode well. Damn, if she could take back what she’d done, she would, but that wasn’t possible.

“Did he touch you?”

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Surprise flittered through her. He seemed more concerned that she might have been violated in some way than the fact she could’ve bungled the whole operation.

A gentle tenderness filled her. She hadn’t expected him to think of her first. An urge to wrap her arms around him and hug him tight washed over her, but she forced herself to stay right where she was. “No, he didn’t touch me,” she told him softly, her heart swelling inside her.

“Pack your suitcase. I want you out of the house. I won’t have you put in harm’s way again. Anything might have happened.”

Stunned, she could only stare at his back. The tender feeling of only a moment ago quickly melted into a pud-dle of pissed-off. Conor had wanted her out of the house since she’d arrived. Now he was using this as an excuse to get rid of her. It didn’t seem to matter that nothing had happened. Boy, he must really hate it that he’d screwed up and had sex with her.

She dug her heels in. “No.”

Even when he spun around, his expression fierce, she stood her ground.

“I’m not leaving until the real tape is found and the criminals are behind bars. Especially when we’re this close.” She’d make Barry slip up if she had to use every feminine wile in the book. Ugh, disgusting thought.

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Barry wants me to meet him Tuesday night.”

“You’re not meeting anyone anywhere. Especially a sleazeball like Barry,” he growled. “I won’t let you risk your life or anything else over this case.”

“But I think I can find out what we need to know. Like maybe when they’re planning to rob another house.” She paced the floor. How could she make him listen to reason? This could be their only chance to get the information.

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“They’re pulling another job on Monday,” he told her.

Her head jerked up. “How do you know?”

“While you and Trudy were discussing clothes, we were talking about other things.”

“Football! I heard. How could you have switched from sports to knowing when they’re pulling a heist?”

“We didn’t talk about football the whole time. I asked them about moving some stuff for me Monday night, but it seems they have other plans.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s why Barry told me to meet him Tuesday. I should’ve known something was up.

Conor, you’re a genius.”

He planted his fists on his hips. “Now that we have that settled, you can pack your things. I’ll tell Trudy and George we had a fight and you went running home. That shouldn’t be hard for either of them to digest since it seems all
they
do is fight.”

“If I leave now they might get suspicious.” She had to make him understand. “I have to stay.” A long silence filled the room. Jessica waited for his answer.

Myriad emotions warred on his face. He looked out the window, his gaze narrowed on the suspects’ house.

For a second or two she wasn’t sure if she’d convinced him it was better that she stay.

She knew the second he capitulated.

“Okay, for the time being you can remain here,” he finally said, his words clipped.

She let out a sigh of relief.

“But if you don’t stay out of the way, I’ll have you packed and on the way back to your apartment before you can blink an eye.”

“Anything you say. You won’t even know I’m here.” This had worked out perfectly. Not that she intended to stay out of the way. She hadn’t really lied. As long as 228

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nothing important occurred, she would. And if something did break, she’d be more careful and make damn sure she didn’t get caught.

Besides, this was getting interesting. The adrenaline rush was almost as good as when she ran. She might’ve made a pretty good cop after all.

She froze.

Heaven forbid she’d have second thoughts. Or tangle herself up with a cop. Cops didn’t have lives. She still clearly remembered how many times her father had to rush out of the house when new evidence would break open a current case.

Damn it, she wanted more out of life. She wanted her husband to leave work at five and concentrate on her, not his job. She wanted . . .

That was it. Why hadn’t she seen it before now? She wanted stability. That’s why she’d dated nice, dependable Al. She wanted the white house and the picket fence and the two children when she married. She wanted a husband who came home at night.

A cop’s life was exciting, she wouldn’t deny it, and for just a little while she did have a twinge of regret, but now that she knew what her problem was, she could move forward.

Monday night should bring an end to the surveillance, and then her life would return to the normal routine she’d managed to carve for herself as a real estate agent.

Great—she felt better now that she had everything worked out in her mind.

She looked at Conor. “So, what do we do until Monday night?” she asked.

When he opened his mouth, she knew exactly what he was going to say and raised her hand. “I know. Sit and watch the house next door.”

The harsh planes of his face relaxed as a slow grin spread across it. It made her wonder if he’d been thinking TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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about the house next door or the two of them in bed together having hot, sweaty sex.

Delicious warmth flooded her body as sensuous images filled her mind. His hands gliding over her naked body . . . parting her legs and stroking. She drew in a ragged breath. Jessica had a feeling Officer Conor Richmond wasn’t quite as serious as she’d first thought. But no matter where his mind had just wandered, he was still first and foremost a cop.

Instead of voicing whatever he’d been thinking, he only said, “I’ll take first watch.” She nodded. “I’ll straighten up the kitchen.” It was a couple of seconds before she turned to leave—even then, she had to force her feet to move. She grabbed her cell phone off the end table as she left.

When she thought about it, the best possible solution would be to put some space between them. She’d screwed up royally by taking the tape and putting the stakeout in jeopardy. She doubted he would let things go as far as they did the night of Trudy and George’s fight. He’d slipped up. She had a feeling that had never happened to him. Lord, she felt like Delilah to his Samson.

Where was this attraction to each other coming from?

Surely there had to be some explanation.

Maybe they were starting to like each other because of the enforced proximity? She couldn’t seem to get enough of Conor. Why? Raging hormones or something. Would she feel the same way if it were Al? Her stomach churned. She didn’t think so.

There was an awful lot to like about Conor. Just thinking about him made her skin tingle almost as if he were caressing her. But it was more than just sexual awareness.

She liked the way he smiled, and the way his eyes sparkled when he did, as if his humor came from the inside first and worked its way to the outside.

He was still too immersed in his work, but he was be-230

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ginning to lighten up some. Hell, he even had a pretty good sense of humor—at times.

She went to the sink and washed up what few dishes there were before sitting at the table, still lost in her Conor fantasy. She wanted to talk to someone, but she wasn’t quite sure who. Her father would think it was ter-rific she was starting to like Conor. Hell, why wouldn’t he, when he’d plotted for them to be together in the first place.

Dad probably wouldn’t be happy she’d messed up when she’d had the brilliant idea of taking the tape, and she certainly wouldn’t mention the sex part.

Maybe she should call Aunt Gloria? Or maybe Gabe?

She picked up her cell phone and turned it over and over in her hand. It wasn’t Gabe or Aunt Gloria that she wanted to talk to, though. She chewed on her bottom lip; then, before she could change her mind, she called her father.

“Hi, sweetheart—I’d recognize your ring anywhere.” She smiled. “That, and the fact you have Caller ID.”

“Nope, your ring has a subtle difference. Much sweeter than Gabe’s and a lot softer than your Aunt Gloria’s.” Her dad was like chicken soup on a cold winter day.

Just the sound of his voice was like a warm hug. She leaned against the back of her chair and propped her feet on the other one. “I love you, Dad.”

“You’re okay, aren’t you? I mean, it’s not that bad returning to law enforcement, is it?” Her smile flipped, becoming a frown. “I’m not back on the force, Dad. I’ve already told you that I’m only here to help out. When the bad guys are behind bars, I’ll go back to being a real estate agent.” Odd but she didn’t sound quite as convincing.

“So what’s on your mind?”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “I sort of screwed up.”

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“Sort of ?”

“Yeah, I stole a tape from the suspects’ house, but it wasn’t the one taken when the mayor’s home was burglarized.” She drew in a deep breath. “I think I might be messing up the case for Conor.”

“Nonsense—things can go wrong on any investigation. This is nothing like the billy goat escapade.” She cringed. Before she could comment, he hurried on, his voice softening.

“Listen, baby girl, I know that bothered you a lot and you never really got over feeling bad, but you can’t dwell on what’s in the past. You’re not perfect and no one expects you to be. None of us are, and none of us ever will be. You can only do your best. No one can ask for more than that. You were a damn good cop.”