He glanced through Rachel’s exchange with her ex. It was a lot of blah, blah, blah. Owen was on the short list for the Wolf Prize in Physics, whatever that was, and he had notes in those texts he needed. Everything was pretty civil until, after looking for the books again, Owen insisted that she must be lying. He asked sharply if she was trying to sabotage his career, hinting that she’d always resented his work.
Rachel had stopped responding at that point. Decker wished she’d told the asshole to get fucked.
Less than an hour later, Owen had texted her some stiff, stupid-ass apology, saying that he’d found his textbooks—and he didn’t appreciate her impolite lack of response, but he wasn’t surprised in the least.
As evidence went, it was thin. A DA would find it circumstantial at best, but the divorce, coupled with this kind of stuff, might add up to motive.
With a frown, Decker placed the phone back where he’d found it, then peeked inside her nightstand. Well, well, well . . . Under a wrist brace and an old copy of Vogue, he found a battery-operated clit stimulator, a slender vibe that would be too weak to really get her off, and an electronic reader chock-full of BDSM romances. So beautiful Miss Button-down had a naughty side. Damn if that didn’t do his heart good.
With blood giving fresh life to his unflagging erection, he dashed out to the family room and scanned her e-mails in less than two minutes. Most were from family members sending jokes or the parents of her students asking questions. A quick scan of the documents saved on her hard drive only proved that she kept her checkbook in Excel and she was a good little saver. Her Facebook was squeaky clean. He uncovered nothing suspicious.
On her way through the house, Rachel had flipped on lights. Decker finally got a good look at the comfortable place, ducking into each room to scan her pictures. He didn’t see anyone who resembled the guy who’d hired him to kill Rachel.
Then again, if her ex was the guilty party, she wasn’t likely to keep heart-shaped photos of him lying around after the divorce.
From down the hall, he heard her cut off the shower and he ducked back into the guest room closet to wait for her to fall asleep. He wasn’t keen to spend the night against a wall, shoved behind a bunch of coats, but he’d slept in worse places. Afghanistan came to mind. He’d been through a few South American jungles in his time, too. At least here he didn’t have to worry about terrorists or snakes.
A moment later, the disposable phone in his pocket vibrated, and he pulled it out.
Are you still awake?—Rachel
Oh, now, this was interesting. It was just after midnight. Did she want to reach out and touch him?
Yes, beautiful. Thinking of you. What are you wearing?
Since she’d just stepped out of the shower, he’d bet it was nothing or damn close to it. He looked forward to seeing how she’d answer that.
Rachel waited a long time to reply, and he was just about to tap out a little something designed to calm her nerves when she finally sent a message back.
Feel like coming over to see?
Did he ever . . . His cock completely approved of the idea, twitching at the thought of getting deep inside her and spending most of the night. He’d been on one case after another lately, and it had been way too long since he’d had a willing female in a warm bed. The fact that he’d get to end his drought with Rachel was even sweeter. Now he’d see that lush ass under the tight skirt—and fondle it, and bite it, and . . . anything else she’d let him do. The fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this into a woman he’d just met was a bonus.
Yes! Can you guess what has 142 teeth and holds back a hungry beast?
No idea, she sent back.
My zipper, beautiful. Text me your address and I’ll show you.
Decker heard her giggle from the next room. Then her address flashed on his screen. Oh, it was on now.
I’ll be there in 15.
After a little squeal, she tossed her phone down and tore into the bedroom. Music started blaring a moment later, and he heard her opening and closing the drawers and doors in the bathroom cabinet. The hair dryer flipped on. That was his cue to leave.
Slowly, Decker opened the closet door, ducking out from under the coats and setting the table leaf back in place. He eased the window open and crawled through, landing on his feet on her little back patio. Her yard was small, but she’d made it her own lush little garden with ivy and delicate flowers in white, gold, and purple. He was clueless about their species, but he’d bet that Rachel loved it out here. She’d made this her little oasis, complete with a padded wrought iron chaise in one corner where she likely got the most shade. She’d left behind an empty teacup and a magazine on the little wooden table beside it. He kind of wished that he’d get to spend time with her in this space. As she lifted her face to the sun, she would smile and glow.
And he needed to get his head out of his ass. He wouldn’t have long to right this wrong. S.I. Industries always had dirty work. Defense contracting was populated with a bunch of good ol’ boys whose middle names all seemed to be Greed. He didn’t have an assignment at the moment, but Decker knew it wouldn’t be long. Since Xander and Javier had started sharing that lush blonde they now called wife, they seemed far more intent on enjoying the honeymoon part of their marriage. Or were they on a babymoon now? After all, they would be daddies by next May. The trio seemed disgustingly happy.
Decker tried not to, but he wondered why he’d never found someone he wanted to spend more than a few hours with. Rachel had eventually moved on from Owen, but at least she’d believed herself in love enough once to roll the dice. He’d never felt much beyond his dick twitch.
Shoving aside the thought, he climbed the fence and hopped onto the little walkway outside her kitchen window. Not two minutes later, he pulled up in front of her house again. In normal circumstances, he’d bring her a bottle of wine or at least flavored condoms, but he didn’t dare leave her alone long enough to retrieve them, just in case.
After a little warning roar, he parked his bike out front and stowed his helmet. He grabbed a few necessities from his saddlebags and headed to her front door, then rang the bell. A long minute passed before she flipped on the porch light and opened the door.
Light from the foyer table off to her right spilled around her dark hair. Her skin looked smooth and ivory, untouched by the sun and devoid of makeup. Her brown eyes were wide and a bit wary, framed by thick black lashes. She’d slicked a little gloss over her plump lips, and he couldn’t wait to get them under his again.
Rachel stepped back to admit him. “Hi. You were quick.”
“I was motivated.” He stepped in, then shut and locked the door behind him with a smile.
She wore a short, silky robe in white with tiny pink flowers on it. Decker didn’t know much about women’s clothes, but he was pretty sure she couldn’t have on much under that. Her pert nipples beaded the front. If he did this right, he could have her naked and flat on her back in five minutes.
With a nervous smile, she backed across the foyer. “Coffee?”
“I didn’t come here for anything you could whip up in the kitchen, beautiful. But if you need a minute to take a deep breath and get your head together, I’ll be patient.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Sorry. I’ve never done this, invited a man I barely know over to . . .”
“Do naughty things designed to make your heart race and your throat raw from screaming?”
The sweetest little blush crept up her cheeks. “That’s one way of putting it. But it’s . . . um, never been like that for me.”