Not One Clue_ A Mystery Part 8

"I'm sorry," he said, but the words were hard to understand coming through his teeth.

"For what?" I asked, and added a lovely blink to my performance. So far it was one of my best.

"For grabbing your arms."

The big guy nodded. "That good for you, miss?"

"I suppose so," I said. "I don't think he meant any harm." I tried another blink. I didn't want to overdo it. There's a fine line between appearing helpless and myopic. "He's just so forceful sometimes."

Berkhouse scowled, then pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it over. "You give me a call if he bothers you again."

"Okay. Thank you, Mr. Berkhouse."

He turned and ambled away with a lot of lateral movement. I watched.

"You happy now?" Rivera asked.

I turned toward him. "I can honestly say that was the pinnacle of my day so far."

He snorted.

"I'm not helpless, Rivera," I said.

"I never said you were helpless."

"How about brainless?" I asked.

"Listen, McMullen, I know you're intelligent."

"Well, you don't act like it."

"Neither do you when you-" He stopped himself. "Is it too much to ask for you to be a little careful?"

I gave him a raised brow. "Check my trunk?" trunk?"

"Just last week a Caucasian female was accosted by a man thought to have been hiding in her trunk."

"A Caucasian female?" I asked, and turned in a circle to search for my dropped keys.

"A woman," he said. "Not unlike yourself."

Spotting a glint of metal near the Saturn's right front tire, I bent to retrieve them.

"She probably wasn't helpless, either." Not five feet away there was a quarter. I bent to retrieve that, too. "Or brainless. Or-"

A dime lay not far from the quarter. I bent.

"Jesus!" He sounded near to exploding. "Will you quit doing that?"

"What?" I straightened, honestly confused this time.

"Holy f.u.c.k, woman, could that skirt be any tighter? What if I really did did plan to jump you?" he asked, and stepped up close. plan to jump you?" he asked, and stepped up close.

I refused to crowd back. He smelled kind of good.

"Didn't you?"

"If I have plans for you, you'll know it," he said, and nudged a thigh between mine.

"I believe Mr. Berkhouse is still within shouting distance," I said, but really my hormones were already getting pretty noisy.

"If he saw you bend down I'm pretty sure he'd sympathize with me."

"You mean like this?" I asked, and pivoting, bent away from him.

"Christ," he said, but just as he was reaching for my a.s.s, I turned and raised my key ring to eye level.

He stared at it, deadpan. "I thought you said you didn't have your Mace."

"I didn't know I was required to be honest with rapists."

"You drive me crazy."

"Just an innocent pa.s.senger on the road to Nutville, are you, Rivera?"

He pressed up against me. "Not too innocent."

I could feel his erection as he slipped his hand behind my back, skin against skin, rucking up my cranberry blouse. Sneaky. I was sure it had been securely tucked into my stylish ivory skirt. But I was kind of glad it wasn't. His fingers felt warm and strong.

I moved in for a kiss.

"Promise you'll check the trunk," he said.

We were inches apart. "I'll scan the parking lot before I leave my office," I vowed.

"No deal."

"It's my best offer."

"Liar," he said, and slowly slid his hand up my spine. Hot slippery feelings s.h.i.+mmied through me. I was breathing kind of hard.

"I'll check the backseat," I promised.

"Maybe we could do that now," he said, and kissed the corner of my mouth.

"I'm pretty sure there's no one there."

"Good thing, 'cuz I'm the jealous type."

"It's my favorite thing about you."

"You sure?" he asked, and applied more pressure to my thigh. I could feel the hard length of him against my happy skirt.

"Maybe I'll reserve judgment."

"The backseat," he suggested again. His deep voice rumbled against my pheromones, but I tried to remain lucid.

"Isn't there some kind of law against that sort of thing?" My tone didn't sound very lucid.

"Only if you get caught. We won't get caught."

He was doing something tricky with his fingertips, stroking my back in a manner that rocked me to the tips of my toes.

"I'm a screamer," I said.

He eased back half an inch. "What's that?"

"When we do it," I said. "I plan to scream."

He murmured something. I'm not sure what it was but it sounded kind of naughty.

I swallowed and found a modic.u.m of self-control. "And I don't plan to do any screaming in a parking lot. Not unless someone has a gun," I said.

"I could get my Glock," he offered, but I was already pulling regretfully out of his grip. Adjusting my clothing, I sashayed away, sure my little ruffled skirt was rocking. Just as sure he was watching.

8.

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.-Sigmund Freud I felt kind of powerful as I s.h.i.+mmied through Joe's sliding doors. I didn't look back. Cool me. felt kind of powerful as I s.h.i.+mmied through Joe's sliding doors. I didn't look back. Cool me.

The grocery carts were mating in the entryway. I rudely pried one from its partners and proceeded into the store. The produce section, as colorful as Mardi Gras, called to me. The peppers looked ripe and sa.s.sy, the lemons firm and shapely. I picked one up.

"Take two," Rivera said over my shoulder. "They're small."

I turned to him, uber uber-controlled, one brow raised. "I was hoping otherwise."

He exhaled his derision and pressed the extra lemon into my hand. "I believe you saw me showering."

"Did I?" I said. "I hardly remember." I skimmed the bananas.

He reached for a plantain, long and dark and thick. "Shall I attribute your forgetfulness to dementia or post-trauma?" he asked.

"How about to disinterest?"

"Not until you're dead," he said.

I gave him a look.

"And you're not dead."

I fluttered my lashes. "That may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Meet me in the backseat and I'll recite poetry," he said, and weighed a Bosc pear in his right hand. His fingers curled tantalizingly against the firm fruit.

"It would almost be worth it to hear the dark lieutenant spouting Longfellow."

"I was going to quote Browning," he said, "but if you think Longfellow more appropriate ..."

Our gazes met. A fork of electricity sizzled through me, but I managed to pull my attention away and move on.

He followed. Like I said, stalking ... t.i.tillating.

"How are you stocked for meat?" he asked.

I smiled to myself. "Laney's a vegetarian."

He lifted a link of sausages. "But you're strictly carnivorous."

"You don't know me, Rivera."

He snorted a little. "I've saved your a.s.s too many times to be mistaken."

"There's more to me than my a.s.s."

His gaze burned me. "You think I haven't noticed?"

"The possibility crossed my mind."

"I know where all the parts are."

"Hmmff."

"Climb in the backseat and I'll prove it."

"I think I'm noticing a recurring theme."

"I always knew you were brighter than you seemed," he said, and handed me a jar of honey.

I handed it back. "Too bright to play grab-a.s.s in the backseat with Robocop."

"If you're worried about room, we could lower the seats, utilize the trunk."

"You are are a romantic," I said, and wheeled my cart into the bakery department. a romantic," I said, and wheeled my cart into the bakery department.