He raised his hands in polite refusal. “I’m good.”
“You sure? Belgian chocolate. Yum.”
The sight of her pink tongue curling around that shaft made him go weak in the knees.
“What do you think?” Valerie asked him, picking up a plump breast from the box and tilting it for him to examine. “For bachelorette parties and bridal showers? Would you be interested?”
“Me? No, but…” He shrugged.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Samantha said, snapping off two solid inches of the cock pop, making him wince.
“White, milk or dark chocolate,” the seller said, pointing at the items. “The pink is cherry-flavored. We offer breasts and cocks, of course, but also pussies. Small, medium or large. And hard-candy versions of everything.”
“Oh, you mean suckers?” Samantha said, looking right at him. “All-day suckers?”
“Yeah,” the confectioner said, not even cracking a smile. “We rotate the stock so you never have stale product, but the hard-candy pops have a longer shelf life.”
“Wouldn’t want a penis to go stale, would we?” Samantha asked.
“God, no,” Valerie said, getting into it. “And an out-of-date pussy…unforgivable.”
Rick shook his head while the girls laughed.
The candy maker rolled her eyes. Real mature.
“Did you need something, Rick?” Samantha asked.
“Uh, yeah. Media cards. Extras?”
“In the top drawer in my desk,” Samantha said. “Sure you don’t want a boob to go?” She held one out, its pink nipple shaped like a Hershey’s Kiss.
“I’m fine. You just enjoy.”
He headed back, smiling, and relieved, too. If drugs were changing hands at Mirror, Mirror, they weren’t doing it out of a panel truck filled with edible genitalia. He should be disappointed, of course, because the sooner he found something wrong, the sooner they’d close the case.
Mark was bringing him the report on the bust at Moons at the end of the day, so that might suggest a lead. And next week, he would talk to Sylvestri’s bookkeeper Lester Tabor.
But the truth was he was relieved that Samantha appeared to be innocent of any crime. He wanted her to be innocent.
Way too much.
SAMANTHA AIMED HER JETTA for home, biting off the tip of the all-day cherry penis she’d been sucking for Rick’s benefit as she backed out the door. Cherry flavor exploded in her mouth and she smiled, remembering the way Rick had stared, jaw hanging, as she performed a few racy tongue moves. He was deliciously shockable.
A pang of desire stung her again. Why did he have to be taken? She could so easily picture him in her chocolate-dripped-on-bodies fantasy. Butterscotch, too. Maybe an entire hot-fudge sundae. Think of the whipped cream…and what they could do with the cherry on top.
She’d been waiting for the right guy to act out her fantasies. And Rick would be perfect.
But he was taken, dammit.
Her fingers stuck to the steering wheel—cherry drips—so she felt for her purse for a tissue. It wasn’t on the seat beside her. Or on the back-seat floorboards. Hell, she’d been so busy backing out the door doing her lick-fest, she’d only grabbed her keys, forgetting her handbag altogether.
Damn. She whipped into a U-turn and headed back to Bedroom Eyes, blinking against the glare from the setting sun. The traffic had thinned and the air was cool in the fall dusk. Rick should be gone by now—he’d been locking up when she’d left.
Except as she turned onto the block, she could see his Jeep was still there. A guy in a beat-up white sedan parked beside him was handing Rick a folder. She slowed, then waited for Rick to drive off. It would ruin the effect if he saw her hurrying back in for her purse.
When he was gone, she pulled into the lot and parked a few spaces away from the sedan. The driver was sitting there talking on a cell phone.
When she stepped out to leave a few minutes later, though, he was changing a tire. And not happy about it, judging from the swearing he was doing.
“Flat tire?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Then he saw her and blanched, as though she’d caught him doing something terrible. “Yes. Rolled over a nail, I guess.” He struggled to his feet, dropping the wrench, wiping his hands on his pants.
“It’s all the construction we’ve got going on around here. I can let you inside to call a service station if you need to.”
“No thanks. I’ve got it.”
“I saw you talking with Rick. You’re a friend?”
“A friend?” Tension flickered in his face. “Sure. Yeah.”
“Rick works for me. I’m Samantha Sawyer.” She extended a hand.