We walked back to my car parked outside the restaurant. I opened the passenger-side door for her.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“You’ll see.”
I walked around and got behind the wheel. We strapped on our seat belts and I started the engine, giving it a few extra revs while still in park. Then I kicked it into drive.
Chapter 70
NORA CAUGHT ON a mile or so before we got there.
“You’re taking me home, aren’t you?”
I turned to her with a slow nod. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“That makes two of us. You’re right, though. Must have been the wine. I’m so embarrassed.”
My tone, my body language—I made it look as though this was an easy decision, that the thought of being with her never really entered my mind. If only that were true.
Nora was an absolutely beautiful woman who’d presented me with an amazing offer. It took every ounce of willpower to remind myself why I was with her in the first place.
Still, there was no denying some chemistry, a connection between us. Something I was convinced she couldn’t fake. And even if she could, why bother?
We drove the last stretch of road to “Connor’s house” in silence. The one time I glanced over at her, I couldn’t help notice that her dress was riding up her leg. Tanned thighs, slender, firm, giving me a reminder of just what I was passing up.
I pulled into the circular driveway and came to a pebble-crushing stop. That’s when she let me off the hook.
“I understand,” she said. “It probably wouldn’t have been the best thing for us to do. Not under the circumstances.”
“Probably not.”
“Thanks for lunch. I had a wonderful time.” She leaned over and gave me a soft peck on the cheek. I could feel her hair brush against my face. I could smell her perfume, very nice, a hint of citrus.
“I’ll… um…” I cleared my throat. “I’ll let you know when the paperwork on the insurance money has been taken care of, okay?”
“Sure, Craig. You’ve been great.”
Nora stepped out of the car and walked slowly up the front steps. And out of my life? I waited for her as she took the house keys out of her purse. I looked away for a few seconds to fiddle with the radio dial. When I looked back she was still trying to get the door open.
I put down the window. “Everything all right?”
She turned back to me, shaking her head with a frustrated sigh. “The damn key’s stuck. This is getting more embarrassing by the second.”
“Hold on.”
I got out of the car to take a look. Sure enough, there was the key sticking halfway out of the lock.
Stuck, however, it wasn’t.
As soon as I gripped it, the rest of the key slid smoothly into the cylinder. I turned around and there was Nora, inches away.
“My hero,” she said, pressing her body up against mine. Her legs were very firm. Her breasts, very soft. She wrapped her arms around me and began kissing my lower lip gently. “I fibbed. I don’t really think this is a bad idea.”
That’s when instinct took over and my willpower completely failed.
I kissed Nora back.
Chapter 71
LIKE A CRASHING WAVE, the two of us spilled into the foyer of the house. I kicked the front door closed behind us. What are you doing, O’Hara?
There was still time to stop it. A chance to pull away. All I had to do was quit kissing Nora.
But I couldn’t stop. She felt so soft, so damn good in my arms. She smelled delicious: her body, her hair. Her green eyes were amazing up close.
Nora took my hand and guided it up her dress along the inside of her thighs. Her breath caught. When I reached the smooth silk of her panties she held me tighter, her hips starting to move with my touch. She began to moan, and it had to be real, had to be. Why fake it with me?
Off went my shirt. Down went my pants. We stopped the kissing for just a moment—only long enough to lift Nora’s dress over her head. “Fuck me,” she said, slightly out of breath. Just like that. Except she made it sound sexy and irresistible.
Nora pulled us both to the floor and straddled me. She pushed aside her panties, took me in her hand, and guided me inside her. Even in the heat of the moment a funny line ran through my head: You’re fucked, O’Hara.
I was dizzy. The whole room was spinning. The room? We were in the marble foyer of Connor Brown’s house, the man she’d been engaged to. The man she may have killed. It couldn’t get any more screwed-up than that, I thought.
Think again. The next thing I knew, I heard a ringing down by my feet. It took me a moment to figure out what it was.
My cell phone.
Christ. I knew who it was. Susan! She was checking in. Talk about incredible timing.
“Don’t even think about getting that,” said Nora.
Don’t worry, I won’t.
The ringing stopped as we kept going, never breaking stride. We were in rhythm, incredibly in sync. She swept her beautiful brown hair down across my face. She was on top; then she was on the bottom; she was on her hands and knees, the delicate curve of her back belying the deep moans that asked for more until the foyer echoed with the two of us climaxing.
For a good couple of minutes, if not more, the two of us just stared up at the ceiling, saying nothing, getting our breathing under control.
Finally, I blinked. “The key was stuck?”
“Hey, you’re the one who fell for it.”
“I did, didn’t I?” I said. Then we were laughing, really laughing, as though it was the funniest thing that had ever happened to either of us. Nora had a great laugh when she let herself go. You wanted to laugh along with her.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “Steak? We have Kobe. Or how does an omelet sound?”
“And she cooks, too.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. If you want, there’s a shower in the guest room. It’s up the stairs, your first right.”
“That would be great.”
She rolled on her side and kissed me. “Not as great as you, Craig Reynolds.”
Chapter 72
I STEPPED OUT of the shower and wiped the back of my hand on the fogged-up mirror until I could see myself staring back. I shook my head. Shook it a second time.
Well, you’ve really done it now, O’Hara.
Undercover work requires a certain amount of room to maneuver—but this was stretching the limits. I’d gone way beyond the call of duty, only not in the way where they give you a medal at the Hoover Building in Washington.
From here on out, it was going to be very, very tricky.
“Craig, are you okay?”
Nora was calling me from the bottom of the stairs. I opened the door to the bathroom. “The shower was great. I’m coming.”
“Good,” she said. “Because your omelet’s going to be ready in a flash.”
I combed my hair straight back, put my clothes back on, and loped downstairs to join Nora in the kitchen. Oh man, she was quite the sight, decked out in only her bra, panties, and a spatula. What a spectacular-looking body, and with a great smile.
I noticed there was only one place setting on the table. “You’re not having anything?” I asked.
“No, I’ve been nibbling a little bit on the ham.” She raised a bottle of water. “And I’ve got my usual. Watching the waistline.”
“I was watching it for you. You don’t have any reason to worry.”
I sat down and watched as she tended to the skillet on the stove. Staring was more like it. She was as stunning from the back as from the front. And as for that waistline—“What waistline?”