“I said I wanted you to supervise the retrieval and the autopsy,” Grant replied, a frown in his voice. “Why do you sound so strange?”
Sonny tore her eyes away from Ben’s groin, rolling over onto her tummy so she wouldn’t be tempted to look at him again. “You woke me up,” she said, trying not to pant. “I was having a bad dream.”
Grant started rattling off contact names and exact locations, the kind of information Sonny would normally be able to memorize at the drop of a hat. But Ben had climbed behind her on the bed and was sliding his palm over her hip, touching his mouth to her bare shoulder…
“Just text me with that stuff,” she said, ending the call and letting the credit-card-sized phone drop from her hand.
“Is it an emergency?” Ben murmured, kissing the nape of her neck.
Every nerve in her body responded. Her brain turned to mush. “It’s, an, um…”
He insinuated his hands beneath her, molding them over her breasts, and she couldn’t recall her assumed name, let alone what she’d said she did for a living. His body covered hers, his erection a hot brand against her bottom. Inside she was trembling, melting, not yet recovered from the orgasm he’d just given her.
When his fingertips played over her nipple, tugging gently, she twitched with sensation, and when he slid his hand down her belly, into the slippery curls between her thighs, she jerked and moaned and came again, her second orgasm rippling over her like a warm tide.
She must have lain there for several minutes, body limp, face buried in soft pillows, before she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.
Hugging the pillow to her chest, she turned to look at him.
His gaze was heated, self-satisfied, full of sexual promise.
“I have to go.”
He straightened, looking from her apologetic face to the hand he’d just touched her with in bewilderment. “What?”
Sonny blushed. His fingertips were still wet with her and his arousal was searing her hip, raring to go again, ever so much more than merely interested. “I’m sorry. It is an emergency, actually. A recovery.”
It took a moment for his indignant expression to fade. His color was high and his mouth flat, but she knew he understood her responsibility, even if he didn’t appreciate the fact that she’d gotten her jollies twice before she told him to leave.
She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Come again?”
She forced her eyes to meet his. “Yes.”
Groaning, he pushed away from her, dragging his heavy body off the bed. He pulled his jeans up lean hips, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he buttoned the fly. “We’ll finish this later,” he decided. “I shouldn’t leave Carly at home alone anyway.”
Sonny bit down on her lower lip, considering. Maybe she was a fool, but she believed his explanation about Lisette. Now that she was thinking coherently, she also had to own up to her mistakes. Being with Ben this way was madness. Jumping into bed with him wasn’t just a bad career choice for her, it could hurt him, too.
If she was taken off the case for inappropriate contact, who would clear his name?
Reading the indecision on her face, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and lifted her off the bed, surprising her with his vehemence. “Come to me later,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers. “I don’t care what time it is.”
She nodded, accepting his kiss and returning his ardor, making it last, making it count. Her heart was beating like a drum and tears of regret stung at her eyes, because she knew that when she came to him again, it wouldn’t be for his pleasure.
Carly awoke with a start. Sitting up, she grabbed her pillow and held it out in front of her like a shield. Heart pounding, she stared across the dark expanse of her bedroom.
There was nothing more sinister than a CD case on the floor, its plastic surface gleaming like a mirror in the moonlight.
With an unsteady laugh, she ran a hand through her tangled hair. She’d been dreaming of the undertow again, of swimming frantically, fighting for air, straining toward the surface. Just above it, a dark shape lurked (not Summer! her mind cried) and a large hand reached out, not to help her, but to push her down, down, down.
Scrape. Scrape.
Carly froze, a new awareness washing over her. A shadow stretched along the floor of her room, bisecting the moonlight.
The CD case was cloaked in darkness, no longer visible.
She jumped from the bed, recognizing the scraping sound for what it was: the slide of rubber-soled shoes seeking purchase against the stucco wall outside her bedroom window. And there, in menacing outline, was the silhouette of a man’s head, his short, dark hair haloed by moonlight, face pressed to the glass.
Every instinct told her to yell, to run, to move, to search the room for a weapon and assume a ready stance.
Her body would not comply.
She just stared, her pulse racing, at the black figure outside.
“Dad…” she croaked, placing a hand on her chest, for the cost of making that sound was searing pain. Her lungs drew enough breath for a good scream, and then-
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Wait a second. Did burglars knock? Exhaling in a huff, she opened the window. “You scared the crap out of me!”
James heaved himself through the small space. “Sorry,” he panted. “I was hanging in the wind out there.”
She glared at him. “What are you doing?”
He gulped air. “I was afraid you were going to sneak out and look for me again. So I came by to check in on you. Make sure you were here.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Here I am. Safe and sound, except for the twenty years you just took off my life.”
He frowned at her in confusion. “Why are you so mad?”
“Because I almost screamed bloody murder! What if my dad comes in?”
James contemplated that possibility with a shrug, quite accustomed to the constant threat of violence. “Carly, I’m about to drop. Can I sleep here with you?”
She put her hands around his throat and squeezed. “I’m going to kill you.”
He covered her hands with his own, rubbing soothingly. “In the morning, if you don’t mind.”
James would have sprawled out in a chair, or on the floor, but Carly insisted the bed was big enough for both of them. He kept his clothes on, and his shoes, just like he did at Stephen’s, because he never knew when he was going to have to bolt.
Just as he was drifting off, she said, “Tell me about the girls you’ve been with.”
His eyes fluttered open. He felt like he hadn’t slept in a week. “No.”
“Why not?”
“They didn’t mean anything,” he mumbled.
“Then you shouldn’t have any trouble talking about them.”
He sighed, sliding his palm over the indentation of her waist. There was something so comforting about her body. Maybe Carly was more girl than woman, but she had curves in all the right places, and he didn’t mind staying awake to humor her. “Five questions, short answers,” he conceded.
Pleased with her victory, she snuggled into him. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Yes,” he answered, after a pause, glad she couldn’t see his face. When she bristled, he had to smother a laugh.
“What was she like?”
“Beautiful. Spoiled.” He smiled. “Inquisitive.”
He could feel, as if by sixth sense, her brow furrow in concentration. “All that? I thought you said none of them meant anything.”
“This one did,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.
“What was her name?”
He lifted his head from the pillow. “I don’t remember any of their names.”
Her right elbow connected with his rib cage.
“Carly,” he choked. “Her name was Carly.”
She grew very still. “Do you mean it?”
“Yeah,” he said, nuzzling the back of her neck. “Now go to sleep. You used up all your questions.”