True Love Lost (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 3)) (51 page)

Whitefox pulled his lips away and his eyes stayed closed. God help him, his control was going to be tested
.

She giggled and took the gun.

When he opened his eyes, he stared at her. “You’re up.” It was all he could get out.

It was highly entertaining that f
or the first time meeting him, she managed to make him feel what she felt whenever they were together. Yeah, she could get used to this power. “Yes, Sir,” she winked and took aim.

Callen was going to play dirty. “You can shoot undistracted, but what if someone’s trying to shake you up, Desi,” he whispered in her ear and stood incredibly close to her body. He put his hand on her hip.

Desdemona blocked it all out and pictured the target. Finally she thought about him eating lettuce for a week, and started laughing as she pulled the trigger. It hit the can and immediately she took the next shot. When the cans flew, she stood up and turned into his body and looked up at him. “Apparently, it’s not a problem.”

He grinned and leaned down to kiss her on the lips. “One can left.”

“Doesn’t matter, Callen.” She took the shotgun shell from his hand, and loaded only one shot. I hit four out of six. You hit one out of six. I won this little game, and you’re having salad all week.”

A bet was a bet
. “I will. You won fair and square, but I’ll take my last shot.” When he took the gun from her she wasn’t finished.

“Oh, but can you take the shot distracted, Callen?” Desdemona pressed her body against the back of his and ran her hands around his waist and up under his jacket and shirt to his really defined abs. He sucked in a sharp breath, and she started exploring them while he tried to make his shot. “Make the shot and you can still have the sex,” she whispered, and felt him flinch.

“Deal?”

“Promise,” she answered and continued exploring.

He lifted the gun and aimed for the can, trying to not think about her hands running across his flesh. They were slightly chilly, and that made it more erotic, he had goose bumps and a wave of heat at the same time. “Desdemona,” he muttered.

She pushed further, enjoying how his arm shook as he tried
to focus. Then she flicked the button of his jeans open and when he quivered, she slid her hands into the front of his pants. “Make your shot, Callen.”

Her hands were millimeters from stroking him, and he couldn’t even see the can, let alone shoot it. Now his arm was cramping up as he held the gun aimed at something he couldn’t focus on, and then she found him and he forgot everything, including how to breathe.

Desdemona slid her hands over him, gently, silkily and enjoyed the way he tensed and throbbed at her touch. His breath was coming harder and she knew he wasn’t thinking about the target. Then he fired.

The can flew through the air and he turned fast, dropping the gun to the table, spilling his beer. He picked her up under her arms, and carried her to the side of the house.

Automatically she wrapped her legs around his waist, just as he pressed her against the house, kissing her.

Whitefox felt like he was going to catch on fire out on his porch. Her hands and body cast a spell, and he wanted to take her right then and there.
Lust and need overwhelmed him. He kissed her and buried his hands in her hair, as he pressed her against the house and took all he wanted from the kiss.

Someone moaned.

Hands wandered.

Desdemona could feel how excited he was, he was pressed intimately against her and she wished she wasn’t wearing so many damn layers of clothing. “Callen,” she muttered into the kiss as the invasion continued.

Slowly he refocused, and realized this was supposed to be the first date, and he was going to do it right. Even if he burst into flames and died that very second.

“Desi, I’m going to put you down
. Not because I don’t want you, or want to take you right here and now. I’m planning to, but I want to do this right, and I have our first date planned. Don’t think that I’m pushing you away,” he said softly. He didn’t want her to think he was rejecting her.

“Okay, Callen,” she
answered breathing heavy. He still didn’t put her down.

“Promise you’ll pick up where you left off later?”

Whitefox laughed hoarsely. “I can guarantee it.”

Desdemona giggled.

“Damn it!” Whitefox took a deep breath, lowered her to her feet and backed away from her. “Go take a shower. I’ll bring your suitcase in and put it on the bed. I just need you to get far away from me until I’m back in control.”

“Okay, Callen.” Right in that moment she felt powerful, that she had the ability to make him feel that chaotic.
Desdemona thought back to what Elizabeth had told her. The quote by Morticia Addams was true. She was the spider. She made a mental note to thank her friend with a text message as soon as she could.

“Lock the bathroom door just in case I lose control,”
Whitefox grinned back.

Desdemona walked into the house
laughing. “What do I wear Callen?”

“
Go with something comfortable and relaxing.”

When she walked away he walked over to the table and chugged an entire beer. This was
his entire fault. Had he not screwed up the first date, then he would have carried her in and immediately had his way with her. Now he was being forced to be patient.

Well hell
.

Pulling out his cell phone he called and ordered a pizza, and because he promised he’d only eat veggies not meat, two salads to go with it. When he hung up, he planned on making the
woman pay. He may be eating salad all week, but he was going to make her pay too, with lots of pleasure to get his mind off it.

                              *     *    *

Elizabeth and Ethan Blackhawk sat in the ‘
Cup of Joe’
having something to eat, and reading printouts. When her phone beeped, she looked down at the incoming message and grinned.

“What’s so funny?”

Elizabeth shrugged. Desdemona had sent her a text saying she was a spider, and she smiled thinking about her brother-in-law finally finding happiness. “Spiders.”

Blackhawk shook his head and went back to the reports. “You have no intention of telling me do you?”

“Nope, it’s girl talk.”

“Good to know,” he said, continuing to read.
“I won’t even try to decipher it then. It probably will make no sense to me anyway.”

Focus shifted, as she felt eyes watching them.
Wilma May watched them from the counter, and Elizabeth wasn’t sure if it was because she manhandled her boss while pregnant, or if it was because her husband was sitting beside her looking as sexy as sin. On second thought, she knew the answer. Today Ethan Blackhawk was in a rare mood, and actually put on jeans. Although, come to think of it, his idea of jeans and hers were pretty much opposite sides of the spectrum. Hers were beat up and looked like something a cowboy would wear, and his were tailored and designer. The man had a serious clothing fetish. Go figure.

“Baby, you’re staring in a public place.” He looked up, grinning wickedly, and leaned over to kiss her, and casually rub his hand protectively over his child growing in her body. “Not that I
mind,” he whispered in her ear and followed it up with some innuendo.

Elizabeth swallowed
, hoping she could keep herself in check and not jump him right there. “I can’t help it. You’re wearing jeans, and a white shirt. I don’t know what to do with it,” she stroked his cheek. “Wow,” she looked under the table. “Boots and not dress shoes. I didn’t even know you owned boots. You know it’s cheating to buy cowboy boots already distressed. You’re supposed to wear them down and have them be authentic.”

He laughed.
“I don’t have time for that.”

“I may have a casual clothes orgasm,” she whispered. “What’s with the clothes? Usually you like to dress up when we are out interviewing suspects.”

“I just felt like living on the edge,” he whispered something in her ear about what was going on underneath his clothing.

“Cowboy, keep talking like that, and we are so going back to the house
to find out.” Elizabeth put her hand on his thigh and planned on tormenting him when they noticed they weren’t alone. In front of them stood a blonde woman and she was staring at her husband like he was a snack.

“My name is Carly. Jimmy said you wanted to talk to me.” She pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Well, then have a seat, Carly,” answered Elizabeth. Already she disliked the woman. One, she interrupted her sexy talk with her husband, and two, she was now moving from staring to leering, and she had a snow ball’s chance in hell on acting out anything that was going on in her head.

“Thank you,” she was focused on the man. She heard there
were one or two hot FBI agents in town, and now she could confirm. Immediately, she checked out his ring finger. Oh well, didn’t mean a married man wouldn’t stray.

“We were coming to you next,” answered Blackhawk.

“Well now I'm here.”

Elizabeth pulled out her tablet and prepared to enter the information as her husband a
sked her the questions. He was the one she was focused on, and he might be able to get some information from her. Personally she wanted to take her head of blonde curls and beat it off the table. It was best if she just zipped it, and let her husband drive this conversation.

“So you have a relationship with the
sheriff?” he asked.

“It’s a small town, we all grew up together. I’ve had a great deal of relationships, Agent. I like to believe that we all should enjoy life while we have it. Look at poor Bobby Lee.”

“Yes, speaking of Bobby Lee. You also had a relationship of a sexual nature with him?” he stated, and then looked down at his file.

“I did. We’d hook up occasionally.”

“The day he was killed, can you tell me where you were?” he asked, and felt his wife tense beside him, and didn’t quite understand why.

“I own my own book store, you should swing by and see if you find anything you like,” she smiled a big smile. “At night I generally go out for a drink and some company. You can check at the bar. I’m sure they’
ll know if I wasn’t there. I’m always around and available for a sexy man.”

Blackhawk knew the woman was headed for an ass kicking, but he just pushed forward with the questioning. Ignoring how the woman was now taking off her jacket, and underneath was a white sweater that was cut way too low. If her intent was to distract him with her assets, it wasn’t going to wor
k. One- blondes were a big turnoff, and two- his wife’s hand was on his thigh. That he was big on, and he wouldn’t flirt in front of his pregnant wife even to help a case and get information. 

Elizabeth felt her blood pressure rise. She played calm, but at some point, it was going to be hard to control.

“Have you seen any of these men before?” Ethan Blackhawk pulled out the autopsy photos, just because the woman was baiting his wife, and that pissed him off. He purposely left the Bobby Lee one in the pile to see her reaction.

She flipped through them, emotionless. Even the one with the man she was sleeping
with and that spoke volumes about the woman. She was stone cold. Elizabeth watched her and made notes.

“This one,” she said, pointing to the same man that Wilma May had picked out the day before. “I was in here
, and he was getting coffee.”

“Thank you, Ms. Kester,” he said, not
bothering to look up.

Carly pulled a card from her pocket and slid it across the table. “If you find yourself bored,” she winked. “Give me a call and we can get a drink.”

“I’m very happily married, Ms. Kester, to the love of my life.”

“Yeah, since when does that stop men?”
She leaned forward flashing the goods. That always worked with the guys.

Elizabeth had it. She was going to lean in and show her husband her chest
then there were going to be repercussions for her actions. Elizabeth moved her hand fast, and the glass of vegetable juice tipped precariously and fell splashing on the woman and her white sweater.

Carly jumped up appalled. “This is angora!”

Elizabeth leaned back smiling. “It looked better on the rabbit, and for the record, the next time you plan on playing footsies under the table with my husband you may want to make sure it’s his foot and not mine.”

That explained why his wife tensed
, and he started to laugh.

The woman was almost as red as the vegetable juice, as she grabbed her jacket and turned to leave.

“Wilma May, can I get another juice?”

Blackhawk watched the woman storm away
, “Nice one. I thought for sure you were going to beat her to a pulp, but the juice, that was a new one.”

Elizabeth smiled up at Wilma May when she brought another juice. “Thank you
.” She wiped the spilled juice up and handed her the rag. No need for her to clean up her mess. “Violence is overrated,” she said sipping her new juice.