Plum Girl (Romance) (23 page)

Then again...

He hadn't asked her about the fax this week. In fact, the last time he'd mentioned it was at the holiday party. He didn't even bring it up at Lunther's wake—which would be grossly inappropriate for the average person, but remarkably slick and discreet for Twit. Maybe he'd gotten the information he'd needed another way. Or maybe the fax was no longer relevant.

Really, was there honestly any need to call Twit's attention to the fact that the fax had been misplaced if he didn't even care about the damn thing anymore? Okay, that settled it; she wouldn't tell Twit about the fax unless he asked her again. She looked down and reread it. And then the other shoe dropped.

Ann Lee.

What did it mean? Lonnie didn't recognize the other three names on the list, but her curiosity was definitely piqued. If only the fax had given a clue as to what happened to Ann Lee. Why did she leave Twit & Bell? Where did she go?

Impulsively, Lonnie decided to make a copy of the fax for Montgomery. She didn't know what the list of names meant, but she figured he'd want to take a look. He'd told her to keep an eye out for anything "off," and this mysterious list of women's names seemed to qualify. She had to make a copy quick, before Twit accosted her. Since he wasn't at his desk when she'd last checked, that meant he was lurking around somewhere. And he'd demonstrated several times in the past that he was not averse to snatching things directly out of her hand.

Checking over her shoulder, Lonnie hastened past the water cooler and darted around the corner. Furtively, she slid the fax onto the photocopier and pressed print. Of course, nothing happened. Then several loud beeps and buzzers sounded. Desperately, she laid her arms on top of the machine, in a half-baked attempt to muffle the noise. She looked around for Twit again. Good, still no sign of him. She focused her attention back on the copier, warming up flashed incessantly on the touch pad, and the whole machine convulsed into an industrial, metal-slamming-on-metal symphony.

"Be quiet!" she whispered urgently to the machine, and checked over her shoulder three more times before her copy finally slid out. She grabbed it, along with the original, and rushed back to her desk. She folded both copies up and put them in her bag, figuring, at this point, Twit would be none the wiser.

Lonnie had no idea what any of it meant, or if it meant anything at all. But she was starting to suffer from that gut thing Montgomery had mentioned, and she just knew something strange was going on. Why had Twit hired a PI? What did Lunther's former assistant, Ann Lee, have to do with it? How was she connected to the other women on that list?

And why had Twit stopped asking about the fax after the holiday party?

Chapter 17

"I'll be right back." Lonnie left Dominick on her sofa while she went into the bathroom, shut the door, and leaned all her weight against it. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. Tonight was the night. She could feel it. And she was terrified... in an exhilarating kind of way.

She crossed to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Before Dominick had arrived, she curled her hair just enough so it would hang down in loose waves. She'd tried not to overdo it with the mascara and Plum Daiquiri lipstick; she hadn't put on blush because her cheeks were already flushed with anticipation.

Now, over two hours later, everything she'd felt before Dominick arrived had only intensified. And it showed. Her wavy hair was untamed, her cheeks were rosy pink, and her mouth was wine stained and ready.

So far the night had been perfect. They'd had linguini with red clam sauce, Parmesan biscuits, and a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, while they'd shared random personal stories and Lonnie struggled to stay focused on the conversation. Honestly, she tried, but her mind just wouldn't cooperate. When Dominick told her about his family, she imagined running her tongue down his body. When he talked about religion, she pictured him sweaty and thrusting. (She really felt guilty about that one.) And when he asked her whom she considered a strong role model for women, she forgot the question because she was busy picturing herself biting his perfectly rounded butt. Well,
not hard.

Hey, it wasn't her fault that everything he did was so arousing. Then again, maybe she was just sex starved. Okay, make that more than likely. Now, as she looked in the bathroom mirror, she hoped tonight was the night. Knowing that everything was officially over with Terry only made her feel more liberated and uninhibited than ever. Or maybe that would just be her convenient excuse to tear open Dominick's clothes with her teeth.

Earlier, she'd gone to the drugstore to buy a box of condoms (just in case) and the saleswoman's eyes lit up approvingly. Apparently, Lonnie had shopped there for four years and had never bought anything more interesting than the
Star.
Hell, the CVS cashier was rooting for her—that should count for something.

All right, enough stalling.
She took a few more deep breaths, stepped out of the bathroom, and walked toward Dominick. She smiled as innocently as she could and hoped it would help mask her dirty mind. He smiled back casually, but his eyes—black and scorching—bore through her with an intensity that wasn't difficult to read. He was sitting in a relaxed posture, with one arm spread along the back of the sofa.

She sank down next to him, but jerked forward just as her back hit the cushion. "Oh, I forgot!" He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Dessert," she said, and rose to her feet again. She went into the kitchen—which was more of a minialcove with a ministove and a minifridge—and retrieved the pastries she'd bought in the North End yesterday afternoon.

"What's this?" he asked eagerly, courteously. Throughout the night, he'd complimented her on her cooking, her apartment, her taste in books, and her sense of humor. He acted enthused by her; he made her feel appreciated. The only thing he hadn't complimented was her appearance. Lonnie hated herself for caring about something that superficial, but she'd wanted so much to look good for him.
Hot.

"Do you like pastry?" she asked, and sat down next to him again.

"I like everything," he replied, and peered curiously into the box. He took out a chocolate cannoli and bit into it. After he swallowed, he said, "Aren't you going to have any?"

Lonnie ignored his question, and zeroed in on the powdered sugar that dusted his lower lip. For a new twist, dessert was the last thing on her mind. Before she could chicken out, she made her move. She leaned in to him, and slowly, methodically, brushed her thumb across his lip. He stared directly into her eyes while she touched him. His breath came up shorter and her heart beat faster. Both fell silent as she moved her thumb on his mouth rhythmically, and an electrifying sexual awareness scorched the air between them. Suddenly, Lonnie felt something hot and wet on the tip of her finger. Dominick was lightly flicking his tongue on her as she traced his lip.

The wet heat of his tongue immediately stirred a matching reaction between her legs, and without thinking, she pushed her thumb farther into his mouth. He sucked it, and she held back a moan. She moved her body until it hovered over his, and straddled him. Instantly, his arms coiled around her, and his eyes closed as her finger slid in and out of his mouth, plunging deep while he licked and sucked it.

Then Lonnie took her hand away and licked up the bare trace of powdered sugar on his mouth. That's when his composure broke. Within two seconds, they were all over each other, breathing hard, kissing, licking, and sucking. Lonnie spread her legs wider, sinking as far into his erection as she possibly could, and let out short, breathy moans when he rocked himself against her. It wasn't enough. She shoved her long skirt all the way up, so he could grind right into the damp crotch of her panties.

Then they were on the shaggy cream rug, gripping each other and saying things that might embarrass them later. He reached under her sweater and bra to feel her breasts, and the minute he ran his hands over her nipples, he groaned loudly. Lonnie started to pull her sweater over her head, but stopped midway when she felt Dominick's hand slide inside her panties. Her body jolted, her eyes shut tight, and her moan sounded more like a sharp scream, as he moved his hand on her, whispering about how wet she was right before he slipped a finger inside her.

"Christ,
Lonnie," he breathed in her ear, as he pushed deeper and harder with his finger, "you're so hot.... You... you look so hot tonight.... God, I... I've wanted this all night." It took all her energy to respond.

"Me, too," she whispered breathlessly, and jerked her body against his finger because it felt so good. "I thought... when you... when you didn't say anything about how I looked—" She stopped herself from continuing because her insecurities sounded ridiculous, and also, she was too turned on to speak anymore. His hands were even more adept than she'd fantasized they would be; they were gentle but powerful, expert but intimate, all at the same time.

He let out a short, strained laugh, and murmured, "I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want you to think I was only after your body." She tried to laugh herself, but she couldn't because she was panting, as his finger propelled her closer and closer to orgasm. Oh, Lord, she was so close. So close... So close...

Suddenly, keys clanked and jangled outside the front door.

Oh, no, Peach was home! Immediately, Lonnie pushed him off her. They scrambled to their feet, and started to adjust themselves. Although, with the exception of Dominick's hard-on, he was fine. It was Lonnie who looked like she just had a wild few hours in bed. She incoherently mumbled "act natural" to him, before she'd rushed into the bathroom to straighten herself up.

Peach entered the apartment laughing. "What do you mean, you don't believe in knock-knock jokes? Oh, hi, Dominick!" He stood there, feeling awkward, while Peach and Matt strolled over.

"Hi, Peach, how're you doing? Hey—Matt, right?"

"Yeah. How's it going?" Matt replied.

The bathroom door opened and Lonnie came out. Dominick gave her a once-over. She'd combed her hair and put her sweater and bra back in place, but she still couldn't do anything about her rosy, used lips, and her just-fucked, flushed face. More than anything, he wanted to touch her, hug her. But instead, he and Lonnie took seats in separate armchairs and made conversation with Matt and Peach.

"I'm telling you," Peach was saying, "you should've been there." She'd just finished describing the Bruins game, and the fight that had broken out only two rows behind them. She and Matt had raced home to see if they'd be on the ten o'clock news.

"So, Lonnie, what did you think of Twit's announcement yesterday?" Matt asked, with; a lopsided, mocking grin.

"Oh. The word ridiculous comes to mind," she said. "Didn't you find it strange that—" Then she stopped herself. She didn't know what to isolate; she wanted to ask Matt if he'd found every single thing about Twit & Bell strange these days. But she remembered what Detective Montgomery had told her about total discretion, so she proceeded lightly. "I don't know. It just seemed strange that Twit would make a blanket statement like that about not taking another partner. Well, you're an attorney.... How'd
you
feel about it?"

Matt shrugged. "Honestly, I couldn't care less. I'm putting in another year there; then I'm moving on to a bigger firm, anyway."

Lonnie nodded. "But didn't Twit think his announcement would alienate the others?"

"The guy is totally blinded by ego. What does he care?" Matt leaned back against the couch and rested his hands behind his head.

"I see your point," she agreed, and added off the cuff, "I guess B.J. feels the same as you."

He snorted, "B.J. is just lucky he even has a job at this point." That made him snicker.

"Which one was B.J. again?" Peach asked. While Matt launched into an unflattering description, Lonnie glanced over at Dominick. He made penetrating eye contact, as if to say:
I don't know when we're going to finish what we started, but when we do, neither of us will be able to walk for a week.
At least, that was how she chose to interpret it.

"So, why's he lucky to have a job?" Peach asked, and Lonnie snapped out of her lustful trance. That was a good question, and she was also interested in the answer.

"Simple," Matt said, smirking. "As an attorney, B.J. sucks." His smile grew wider. "He's screwed up with three different clients already. The guy's a complete asshole." His face was positively beaming now, as if nothing gave him greater pleasure than illuminating B.J.'s defects. No one said anything, so he continued. "That's why he was so obsessed with the idea that he was getting fired."

"B.J. was?"
Lonnie was shocked because B.J. always acted confident, especially when it came to his casework. Of course she figured a lot of it was pretense, but she never dreamed that it was
all
pretense.

"Hell, yeah. B.J. was completely, psychotically obsessed," Matt sneered, his voice thick with ridicule. When no one responded to that, he switched gears and made his tone milder. "See, he'd worked with Lunther on a couple of cases, and he'd made blunders—we're talking
big-time blunders.
And Lunther told him if he screwed up one more time, he was out. Then, a few weeks ago, he lost a client."

"How?" Lonnie asked, wide-eyed and keenly interested.

"It was some dinky finance firm. The account was relatively small potatoes, so Lunther gave it to B.J. But they thought he was incompetent, and instead of switching to another attorney they changed firms." He paused, grinned devilishly, and said, "I've gotta tell you, Lunther was angrier than I'd ever seen him."

"But, I thought you said the client was 'small potatoes,' " Peach said, quoting with her fingers.

"Relatively,"
Matt repeated.

Lonnie couldn't believe what she was hearing! All this had been going on while B.J. was proudly sauntering around the office, bragging about how he breezed through his work. Life was so strange. Still, she failed to see why Matt was so utterly, shamelessly, smug about the whole thing.