Temperature's Rising (27 page)

“Have I mentioned just how much I love you?”

“A time or two.” He chuckled. “So, do you like the fella or not?”

She mentally shook her head. “Yeah, he’s starting to grow on me.” She could almost see her father beaming on the other end.

When this case was over, she was going to explain the facts of life to her dad. She did not need a man in her life to make her happy. She could take care of herself. If and when she decided to get married, it would be her choice.

Did every daughter have to go through this?

Chapter 17

Conor leaned back in the chair. Jessica was champing at the bit, and had been all morning and into the afternoon. Hell, she’d been pacing the living room floor for the last twenty minutes. Maybe he should’ve let her go for her run. He just couldn’t take a chance Barry might see her leave and decide to make his move a little early.

The thought of Barry even going near Jessica made his blood boil. If he laid one hand on her, he’d smash his face in.

Damn it, he had to relax. Think about something else, or he might storm next door and cram Barry’s sleazy smile down his throat. That wouldn’t do this stakeout a whole hell of a lot of good.

Relax? He wasn’t used to relaxing on the job, but then, he’d never had a partner quite like Jessica.

His gaze was drawn to the bearskin rug. Sex would relax the both of them. He closed his eyes for just a moment as he savored the fantasy image of her lying naked on the white rug . . . legs spreading . . . inviting him to join her on the plush fur. Begging him to kiss her, to knead her breasts, to draw the tender nubs into his mouth.

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A shudder swept over him. God, she was killing him.

Slowly torturing him until he couldn’t think straight.

He shifted in the chair, but his ache wasn’t relieved. It was an image he’d had much too often. Every time it was his turn to watch the house next door, in fact.

One night with her had not been enough to get her out of his system. He wasn’t sure a dozen nights would be enough.

“How can you just sit there? Aren’t you bored out of your skull?”

Thinking about her lying naked on the white rug? Not in the least. Watching the house next door? “Yes, I’m bored.” Maybe if there was a little action, he wouldn’t be thinking about having sex with Jessica every time he turned around.

She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. “Well, you could’ve fooled me. You look pretty damned relaxed.”

She sighed, plopping down in the chair next to his. Her perfume wafted to his nostrils. He inhaled, liking the way her fragrance enveloped him in a light, flowery scent. She wore shorts today. Was she getting tired of playing dress-up?

When she’d slipped up and said she left the force because she wanted to be a lady, that she wanted to find herself, he could’ve told her that changing what she wore would only make her different on the outside. If she was meant to be a cop, that was what she would come back to.

Not that he thought she was meant to be a cop. Jessica was like a delicate flower opening her petals to the sun.

Someday she would find her place in life.

He didn’t really mind that she had put away the dresses and heels today, though. Shorts were nice, too.

His gaze roamed over her long legs. Yeah, shorts were real nice.

He liked the white T-shirt even better. That and her bra 234

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were just thin enough so he could make out her nipples.

He was tempted to turn the thermostat down a few degrees, but figured that bordered on some kind of perver-sion.

“At least talk to me or I’ll go crazy. Tell me something profound about undercover work.” He grinned. Damn, she was cute. “What do you want to know?”

“Are all stakeouts this boring?” He chuckled. “I tried to warn you. And no, most surveillance work isn’t this slow. Usually, there’s a lot more activity. If it wasn’t for their visitor the other night, I’d begin to wonder if the Merediths were the right suspects.”

“Have you been on many stakeouts?”

“I’ve done my share.”

She curled her feet under her and said, “Tell me about some of them.”

He folded his arms in front of him. At least it would pass the time. “Once I was on a stakeout that involved drug trafficking. I was on that one for a month before we had any activity. Talk about mind-numbing. My partner sleepwalked, too. I ended up handcuffing him to the bed so he wouldn’t wander off while I watched the house across the street.”

“I guess you haven’t had much luck with partners.”

“Well, you’re a lot cuter.”

She blushed, turning her gaze away from him, then frowned. “Isn’t that the mayor?” He was going to have to stay focused. He looked out the window. Sure enough, the mayor was walking up to the Merediths’ door . . . in broad daylight. He reached for the camera, but Jessica was already snapping off pictures.

“I’m going to slip next door and see if I can hear anything.” He cast a warning look in her direction. “Stay put.”

She didn’t say anything.

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“You may need to call for backup if I run into any trouble.”

“Okay, I’ll stay.” He could be really anal at times.

She watched him leave the room, then turned back to the window. Her eyes narrowed on the house next door.

She’d known the mayor had something to do with the robberies. He had weasel eyes . . . and he was shifty.

The mayor rang the doorbell, but this time Trudy stepped onto the landing. She glanced over her shoulder, then placed a hand on the mayor’s arm. He didn’t seem to mind, either. In fact, he acted pretty friendly. As if he knew her.

Jessica took some more pictures. They might need them for evidence.

Her attention was drawn to the side of the house as Conor crept along the hedges, keeping low. Just before he got to the front door, Trudy and the mayor went inside.

Conor spied through one of the windows. She held her breath and silently prayed he wouldn’t get caught.

Her gaze moved to the back of the Meredith home when Barry stepped into the backyard and lit a cigarette.

She looked at Conor. Only a few feet separated the two men. Her pulse sped up. If Barry walked around the side of the house, he’d see Conor.

She stepped from behind the curtain and waved her hands at the same time Barry looked up. Oh no, she’d gotten the wrong man’s attention. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Barry waved back at her, then blew her a kiss right before he rubbed his crotch.

Vomit! Puke! Eeeyuck! Barry was so gross.

“Not in this lifetime, imbecile.” She brought her hands up, indicating he shouldn’t come over. Then she swallowed past the lump in her throat and blew him a kiss. He nodded that he understood while she wiped her hand down the side of her shorts. It 236

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felt as if he’d actually touched her. A shiver of revulsion washed over her.

She didn’t breathe easier until he flicked his cigarette away and strode back inside. Her attention turned back to Conor. She frowned. Where had he gone?

“Now you know why I didn’t want you to go running.

The last thing you need is to bump into Barry.” She jumped, whirled around, arm raised to defend herself. He easily caught her wrist in his hand. When it sank into her brain that it was only Conor, she relaxed.

But he didn’t let go.

Trembles started where his hand grasped her arm and fluttered down to her stomach . . . before moving lower.

“The mayor?” she asked in a voice laced with need.

“He left. He gave Trudy some brochures. I think he was campaigning. Or he might have been passing on information about the next heist and using the election as his cover. Trudy might be the one running the show, for all I know.”

Whether consciously or unconsciously, he stroked her wrist, running his thumb lightly back and forth.

The sharp peal of the doorbell echoed through the house.

“That would be the mayor,” he said as his eyes darkened and he pulled her close. “Even if he is the one calling the shots, he’d want to make it look like he was out trying to round up votes.”

“Shouldn’t we answer the door?” He shook his head. “He’d recognize you for sure, maybe me. We can’t take the chance.” The doorbell rang again as Conor’s mouth lowered to hers. She melted against him, a deep longing to have more than just a kiss filled her. His mouth was hot against hers. He pulled her closer, as if he couldn’t get enough, but then, neither could she. Both strained toward the other. Wanting the connection to be complete.

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He cupped her breast, his thumb tracing the outline of her nipple. When he did scrape across the tender nub, she arched toward him.

“I want you. Damn it, I know it’s wrong, but I want you,” he growled from low in his throat and pulled her T-shirt over her head.

None of the reasons why they shouldn’t have sex came to mind. The only thing she knew was that she wanted Conor as much as he wanted her. Later. There would be time later for self-recriminations. Right now she wanted to feel his hands on her naked skin.

“We’ll listen,” she panted. “If we hear anything, we can stop . . . uh . . . whatever we’re doing.” Please, God, don’t let anything happen. Her body felt as if it were on fire. She unhooked her bra and tossed it to the floor.

He cupped her breasts.

She moaned. “God, that feels good.”

“And this?” he asked, brushing the pad of his thumb across her tight nipple.

Pleasure shot downward, spiraling to the vortex of her being. He wedged one of his legs between hers and nudged against her at the same time he lowered his head and drew her nipple into his mouth. Instinctively, she rubbed against his leg, grasping his shoulders so she wouldn’t fall. The throbbing inside her grew, but before her satisfaction was complete, he pulled away.

“Ahhh, Conor.” She sighed with regret and pent-up desire. “Don’t stop right now. I was almost . . . almost . . .” But she couldn’t voice her thoughts aloud. She’d been so close to an orgasm and he’d pulled back. Not fair at all.

Now she was frustrated and wanting more.

“Shhh,” he whispered against her ear, the warmth of his breath tickling. “I’m not stopping. Only taking a short break.”

“No breaks. This isn’t a union.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

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The smile was evident in his voice. He had really bad timing when it came to discovering his sense of humor.

All her frustration died when his teeth latched on to her earlobe. He gently tugged before letting go and swirling his tongue inside.

She leaned her head to the side, giving him easier access. If this was some kind of torture, she wouldn’t complain. Not one little bit.

With a will of their own, her hands began lightly trailing up and down his back. It wasn’t enough. She pulled his shirt away from his waistband, sighing when her hands encountered the smooth surface of his back.

His sinewy muscles felt rugged beneath her hands.

Firm muscle and tough skin. She kneaded his back, memorizing the texture. When she was lying in her lonely bed, after the stakeout was over, she wanted to remember how it felt to touch him, to breathe in the musky scent of his skin, to hear the steady beat of his heart. She wanted to remember it all.

He raised his head.

“Coast still clear?” she asked, her voice shaking.

He inched the two of them toward the window so he could peek around the curtains. “Clear,” he croaked.

“Good.” She unhooked his belt and slid it out of the loops, dropping it to the floor. “Then let’s get naked.” His smile was slow and sexy and oh-so-lethal.

“I like the way you think.”

He grasped the waistband of her shorts and tugged her closer, slipping the top button through the hole before sliding the zipper down. He pushed the shorts over her hips as she unsnapped his pants, then unzipped them. His arms tangled with hers.

She laughed, realizing having sex with Conor was fun.

She enjoyed seeing him naked, exploring his body, his exploration of hers. And she wanted to see all of him. She shoved his pants downward.

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In one easy motion, he turned her around.

The way she was angled, she could see the house next door, but they couldn’t see her. There was no movement whatsoever.

“All clear,” she moaned as his hands cupped her breasts and squeezed.

“I’m glad. I’d hate to stop.”

“You and me both,” she said as his hands roamed over the front of her body. He tweaked her nipples, then cupped both breasts and massaged. She leaned against him, his hardness nudged against her backside.

His hands were everywhere at once. Gliding over her stomach, slipping inside her panties. She bit her bottom lip, but he didn’t come near her secret spot. The spot that itched like crazy and wanted his touch so badly she almost cried.

“Touch me,” she begged, the sweet ache building inside her to the point she didn’t think she could bear another minute of the exquisite torture he inflicted.

“Where?” he breathed close to her ear. “Here?” He trailed his fingers over her thighs. Bringing them close to the spot, but not quite touching her.

She shook her head and clasped his legs.

“No?” he asked. “What about here?” He lightly ran his fingers just above her mound . . . back and forth.

The silky material of her panties made his touch more sensuous . . . more erotic. She whimpered, unable to do more.

“Or maybe you want this.” He moved his fingers over her sex.

She gasped, arching forward. “Yes, that’s the spot.”

“I rather thought it would be.”

“Ass. What goes around comes around.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Ummm . . .”

He massaged her sex. Instinctively, she rubbed her 240

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backside against him in the same motion. Her ragged breathing filled the room. She tightly clasped his thighs, wanting him to take her all the way, but his motions began to ease. She grabbed his hands, but his greater strength wouldn’t let her increase the pressure.