Erin hid her face behind her hair. Her shoulders shook. "Don't thank him, Mom," she said. "It has a very strange effect on him."
He choked on his coffee and kicked her under the table.
She covered her face and tried unsuccessfully to muffle her giggles.
Barbara regarded them with chilly hauteur. "When you two are finished chortling over your private joke, I don't suppose you'd care to explain what's so funny?"
"No," he said hastily. "She's just yanking my chain. You're more than welcome, Barbara. Anytime."
Barbara's lips twitched, as if she were suppressing a smile. "Eat your sausages before they get cold," she snapped.
He cheerfully obliged her, sneaking hungry glances at Erin as she tucked in her pancakes. She was so amazingly pretty. Gorgeous shoulders, cute rounded arms, all soft and luscious. And those tits, high and quivering against that tantalizing tank top. Her regal posture just did it to him: her head so high, her back so straight, shooting him secret, heated glances from under her eyelashes. It drove him nuts.
Erin dipped her fingers into pancake syrup and peeked to make sure that Barbara's back was turned. Her lips curved in a seductive smile as she licked her fingertip. She drew the next finger into her soft, rosy mouth and sucked it, circling her pink tongue around the tip.
Color flared in his face as if he were thirteen again. He stared down into his empty plate and scrambled for a diversion. "Uh, would you mind if I took the cell phone when I go?" he asked. "I want you to be able to reach me at all times."
"Of course," Erin said. "I charged it up last night."
He nodded his thanks and gulped down the rest of his coffee. "I guess I'd, uh, better get going, then."
"I'll miss you." Her smile made him want to fall to his knees.
"I'll come back as soon as I can." He fled the kitchen before he could start babbling, too flustered even to thank Barbara for breakfast.
Erin padded after him. "The cell phone is plugged into the outlet by the couch," she told him. "Let me get it for you."
She handed him the phone after he shrugged his coat on, and disarmed the alarm for him. They gazed at each other. There was so much to say, they were both speechless.
Connor touched her cheek with his fingertip. "Erin. Last night was really intense. I need to know if we're still, uh… I don't mean to pressure you, but I don't want to float around on cloud nine all day thinking it's a done deal if you've got second thoughts. If you need time, I'll back off. I won't like it, but I'll do it. So tell me if—"
"I love you, Connor." She went up on tiptoe and pulled his face down to hers. Her lips were so soft and sweet, his whole body was racked by a shudder of delight. "It's a done deal."
That was as much as he could take. He pulled her soft, pliant body against his. Her tits pressed against his chest, his hands were full of the satin richness of her hair, her mouth was a pool of honey and spices and juicy, sun-warmed fruit. She arched against him and—
"Ahem. Have a nice morning, Connor."
They sprang apart at Barbara's crisp tone. Connor twitched his coat shut. Erin hid her reddened mouth with her hand.
"Thanks, Barbara. I'll, uh, be on my way," he mumbled.
"I think that would be best," Barbara said.
He was almost to Seth and Raine's place before his jeans fit normally. He was so jazzed, he practically danced up the wooden steps that led to the side kitchen entrance. He disarmed Seth's high-tech security system with practiced ease and let himself in. For the first time, Seth and Raine's altar crammed with wedding and honeymoon photos didn't make his lip curl. The whole world should get so lucky. If everybody felt like this all the time, earth would be a paradise. No war, no crime. Everybody bouncing off the walls, singing all day long.
Connor had spent enough time in Seth's basement workshop arsenal to know his way around. He rifled through the disks until he found Seth's latest version of X-Ray Specs, and dug through the numbered drawers, pulling out a handful of beacons housed in little plastic envelopes. He filled his pockets with them, tucked one of the receivers under his arm, and scrawled a note of thanks, leaving it on Seth's computer keyboard.
Next stop, Erin's apartment.
Erin's cat presented him with the first of several moral dilemmas. The animal started yowling the moment he let himself in the door with the help of his ATM card. It twined around his feet, trotted to its food bowl, and sat down. Luminous golden eyes regarded him expectantly.
"But I can't feed you," he protested. "If I feed you, I'll be busted. Erin will know that I was here. I'll bring her over later and she can feed you then. A little patience. You're too fat, anyway."
The cat licked its chops, bared its fangs, and meowed. His conscience pricked him. "Maybe some dry food," he conceded. "Just a little to tide you over." He searched through the cupboards until he found a bag of cat food, and dumped a small amount into the bowl. The cat sniffed at it and gave him a you-have-got-to-be-kidding look.
"I told you," he explained. "No wet food. It's not my fault. I've got nothing against you personally."
The cat curled sulkily down over the bowl and began to crunch.
The second dilemma was actually more a practical one than a moral one. Planting beacons on one's girlfriend during warm weather was as difficult as it was morally iffy. It was easier to hide stuff in heavy outerwear, and her purse and wallet and tape recorder, which were his best bets, were all with her at her mother's house. The Mueller report would've been good, if she'd kept it in a briefcase, but it was just a manila folder full of loose papers and photos, no way to hide the thing. He tagged her organizer, stitched beacons randomly into her jackets and blazers. That was as much as he could do until he got a whack at her purse. He wished Seth were around. Seth was born devious.
His eyes kept returning to the small jewelry box that sat on the dresser. He opened it and poked around until he found a ring he'd seen once on her ring finger, a silver and topaz thing. He slipped it onto his little finger, memorized how far it came past the joint, and voila, he had a point of reference for the jeweler. What slender, tiny fingers she had.
The third moral dilemma stared him in the face when the phone rang and the message machine clicked, whirred, and began to play back its contents. Erin must be calling her machine. She hadn't invited him to listen to her private messages, yet here he was. He could hardly put his fingers in his ears. Besides, she was his future wife. Her phone messages were the least of what he had the right to know about her.
So he stood like a statue in the middle of the apartment while the cat crunched its snack, and let her messages flow by him.
Click, whirr. "Hello, Ms. Riggs, this is Tamara Julian from the Quicksilver Foundation. It's four on Monday afternoon, and I want to schedule a meeting with Mr. Mueller, who is arriving midday tomorrow. Call me as soon as possible, please. We have a narrow window of time in which to arrange this. Please call my mobile phone number." Tamara recited the number.
Click, whirr. "Hello, Erin, this is Lydia. My goodness, you have been playing with the big kids on the block, haven't you? I just talked with the people from Quicksilver, and they told me about your work on Mr. Mueller's Celtic collection and their plans for the Huppert. I'm so excited! Rachel and Fred and Wilhelm and I have called an emergency lunch meeting, and you must be there to help us strategize! And Erin, I do hope you won't hold what happened a few months ago against us. I had no choice in the matter, as you know. It was the board who insisted on your dismissal, not the four of us. We have nothing but admiration for your skill and your determination. Call me, Erin, right away. At home tonight, if you like. Any hour is fine, even if it's late. I'm sure I won't sleep a wink tonight. Buh-bye!"