“Believe me,” she replied, thinking of Divorcée Woman. “I am.” She pressed her hands to her ribs, visualizing the pink bustier under her powder blue shirt. She had to reassert her control.
Good luck with that.
She threw up her hands. “Okay, I give up.”
Tanner’s breath tickled her ear. “So you’re finally ready to have wild, exclusive sex with me?”
Her elbow ploughed into his side. She had to give him credit. He didn’t grunt. He had rock hard abs, which she saw every morning at the swimming pool. Damn him. Why couldn’t he have a paunch and that wrinkly skin some older men have?
He’s not that old.
“How much longer do we need to watch Kenny?”
“Until he does something that helps our case.”
They were following Ray’s supplier since they had bupkis otherwise. Gene had kept quiet in the autopsy about the marijuana to protect Jemma’s legacy and her parents, but he hadn’t found anything besides marijuana and alcohol in her system.
And the police hadn’t recovered any drugs from the scene—or so the report said.
They were all waiting for Thanksgiving to arrive. If Peggy didn’t find anything…
Then maybe Tanner’s source wasn’t reliable. Maybe her grandpa’s gut was off.
Maybe she needed to focus on her own problems.
Tanner caressed her palm with his thumb. She broke out in goosebumps. How he fought against his own desire mystified her. If she hadn’t seen the evidence of his arousal, she would have thought he played for the other team.
Oh, please. Now you’re just being bitchy.
Well, he only touches me in public, she fired back.
She was beginning to see a pattern. Despite how he acted when they were in public, he didn’t want to be alone with her. If they had to be alone to discuss the case, he always invited her grandpa.
He lifted a strand of her hair again, his hot gaze liquefying her insides. “You need to practice your acting skills. You don’t make a convincing girlfriend.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
He kissed her neck as slowly as honey sliding down a spoon. “You have no idea.”
She kept her eyes glued to Kenny. He was ex-military with a few tattoos on his huge biceps. His pretty blond wife sat next to him drinking a light beer. She’d bet a hundred bucks the wife didn’t have a clue her hubby was up to something.
The question was, was it more than marijuana?
The deputy sheriff had written and signed the brief police report, which showed all the investigational prowess of a kindergartner. Had he simply been satisfied with the coroner’s report? Or was marijuana such a small deal he hadn’t pursued it?
She jumped when Tanner’s fingers rubbed her neck. The urge to close her eyes and enjoy it was strong. That third beer hadn’t been a good idea. She was relaxing under his touch. Too bad she couldn’t make him suffer by responding to his attentions.
Why the hell not?
She turned her head and gave him the stink eye. His mouth lifted. He had no remorse.
Why couldn’t she make him suffer?
Because she didn’t believe in public displays of affection.
God, you are such a goody two-shoes.
True. It was sad really. She blamed her mother.
Why not try being bad for a change?
If that’s how Satan had sounded when he’d told Eve to eat the apple, Meredith could understand how mankind had gone to hell in a hand basket.
What would a Nora heroine do? That’s why she was here, right?
She thought of her favorite character. Hot-blooded social worker Anna Spinelli in Sea Swept would have tortured her race car driver turned reluctant guardian, Cameron Quinn, until he was eating out of her hand.
Could Meredith do the same?
She decided not to think about her lack of progress on the article. Her boss had granted another week post-Thanksgiving, but that was it. If it didn’t work out, she would have to settle for writing a more general piece about dating. Crikey.
She reached for Tanner’s beer and drank half. They didn’t call it liquid courage for nothing. His eyebrow winged up.
Leaning into him, she slid her hand under the table and rubbed his denim-clad thigh. His whole body bucked forward. She almost laughed out loud. As she trailed her hand down his knee, he kissed her ear.
“You’re playing with fire, honey.” He closed his mouth over her neck, biting gently.
She lurched in her seat. Unlike her, he didn’t hold back the chuckle. It was throaty, and it slid across her skin like warm bath oil. Since he had his arm around her, he had the upper hand, but she was going to change that.
She opened a few buttons on her blue shirt, exposing a flash of her pink lacy cups.
“Meredith.”