Loving Again(3)

                In the time he’d spent with her during her trial, he’d realized it wasn’t just attraction he felt for her, it was also admiration. She was simply the most amazing woman he’d ever met. He’d seen her physical bravery when she was beaten, seen the steel in her spine when she was in court. He’d also seen her talent — he’d first met her at an exhibit of her glass art.

                And she packed a whole hell of a lot of beautiful into a small package. She was barely five feet tall but those wild, caramel-colored curls, that full, sensual mouth and gold-flecked hazel eyes, that curvaceous body …

                An image of that body naked in the shower upstairs flashed through his mind. He shook his head to get rid of it. Damn. What that woman did to him. He hadn’t been on the dating scene for years but he was pretty sure it was still tacky to present a woman you’ve promised dinner to with a hard-on and no food.

                He headed to the kitchen, his cell phone in hand, to cool off with the beer she mentioned. Then he had a pizza to order.

                • • •

                A half hour later, clad in clean T-shirt and jeans, Amanda was at her breakfast bar attacking the pizza. Sam had set the table using a roll of paper towels as both plates and napkins and opened two beers.

                “I must have been more hungry than I thought. Or else this is the best pizza I’ve ever had. Thank you. Once again, you’ve saved the day.” She picked up her third piece and wolfed it down.

                He drained his bottle of beer and took the last bite of his first slice. “You enjoy food. I like that about you. Although I have no idea where it goes. You’re not exactly well-padded.”

                “And what would you know about the state of my padding, Detective Richardson?”

                “I’m a cop. I’m good at making visual assessments, Ms. St. Claire.”

                “Well, since in your expert opinion I don’t look too padded, I think I’ll have another piece.”

                When the pizza was gone, Amanda added the paper towels and pizza box to a large black garbage bag under the sink. As she straightened up from the task, she rolled her shoulders.

                “I can’t believe I’m this sore. Not even the shower helped. You’d think with all the heavy stuff I lug around in my studio, I’d be able to manage a few boxes of books.”

                “No matter how heavy those sheets of glass of yours are, you don’t have to move them around for eight or nine hours a day. And it was more than a few boxes of books today from what I saw.” He came up behind her at the sink. “Here, let me see if I can massage out some of the kinks.” He began to knead the muscles in her shoulders and, using the pads of his thumbs, to do the same to her neck.

                “Ah-h-h. Perfect. This is exactly what I needed.” She rotated her head and stretched her neck. “God, that feels good. If you ever need a second career, you could do this for a living. I’d write a recommendation for you.” Her body moved with the force of his massaging, her hair brushing his chest, then her back arching toward him. She could feel the heat of his body, felt her heartbeat kick up a notch at the pleasure of having his hands on her.

                He continued down her back, massaging one vertebra at a time. Somewhere in the middle of her back, however, she could feel it become more caress than massage, could feel his breathing join hers in ratcheting up. She slumped back to close the space between them, resting against his chest, hoping he’d take the hint. He did, beginning to nuzzle her neck. “M-m-m. That feels wonderful, too, Sam.”

                “Amanda.” His voice was thick and husky. “I … ”