The Sweetheart Racket (18 page)

Sweet'ums stood on his back paws and pushed his face out the open driver's-side window. The morning was cool, and he was bald, so he wasn't in any danger of overheating. Besides, Taryn was an animal lover. She'd never let anything happen to him. She'd become kind of attached to him.

“Do you think Kayley can fix up Sweet'ums? Make him less offensive to the eyes,” Rick said and started the SUV. “Maybe put a couple of pink bows in his hair?”

Gack.

Both heads spun around. “Gross,” Rick said.

Taryn laugh-gagged. Apparently Sweet'ums didn't like liver and tuna in sauce cat food. Or Rick. Or both. “That's what he thinks about your insults.”

Rick drove to a minimart and bought paper towels. Then he proceeded to swear, during the entirety of the three minutes it took to clean up the leather seat. Sweet'ums grinned—at least that's what Taryn suspected—from his place in her arms.

Dropping the last towel into the plastic shopping bag, Rick glared at them, while he tied off the bag. “You should have cleaned it up. You brought him along.”

“But you said you wanted to be my sidekick. Sherlock Holmes would never clean up dog barf. He'd leave it to Watson.”

The response was a grunt and a mouth twist.

They followed up with the other groomer and the vets. Nothing. Frustration grew. They hit a groomer not on her list and an emergency animal clinic.

Rick tapped the steering wheel with his fingertips. “Brutus must be a healthy dog.” He shot Sweet'ums a shaming glance.

They left the clinic.

“Okay, we know Honey existed. You have a fax of their marriage license. She would need ID to get that,” she said. “But outside of a few online posts and a dog groomer, we are no closer to Honey or Brinkman.”

Rick stopped at a red light. He leaned back against the SUV seat and dropped his chin to his chest. She could see his mind working.

“I think we need to go back to the shooting and the break-in. Despite the contract out on your head, I'm convinced it's no coincidence that both things happened after we started this case. Someone doesn't want us to find Brinkman.

“I think so, too.”

“Why don't we get Summer on this? Someone other than Willard is watching you and I think they're not hiding in the bushes.”

* * *

Rick spent most of his career doing field work and not enough time online. He was as proficient as the next guy, but going deep was not his thing. When he pulled into a fast food joint and called Summer to tell her of his suspicions, he could hear excitement in her voice.

“This will be fun!” she exclaimed, then hung up.

“Do you really think someone can follow us around remotely?” Taryn said, as he shoved his phone in his pocket.

“I do.” He made a face at the dog slobbering on the car window glass. Taryn scratched its head and made a kissy face. “How do you think the government finds terrorists?”

“Of course. However, we are looking for a con man, not a terrorist sleeper cell. Brinkman is old school. His Match-Mate post was basic and amateurish. How could a guy like that suddenly become a computer expert?”

He stared down at her mouth. “That remains the question. How is that bastard staying a step ahead of us? Who are the two men who shot at us? He could be working with those men, as part of a bigger conspiracy.”

“I have a hard time seeing that option,” she said and hugged the dog. “Why cut his take three ways if he can have all his thieving profits to himself?”

He envied that mutt.

“When we find Brinkman, I'll beat the information out of him.” Taryn frowned. He grinned. Despite the break-in at the Affordable U-Store, the lock picking, and her many driving infractions, she had a problem with him roughing Brinkman up.

“You'll do no such thing. He's an old man. It won't be a fair fight. Will it, Sweet'ums? No, it won't.”

More kissy stuff. Now he was heading toward jealousy of the dog. What was it with women and pets anyway? The ugly dog gacks on his backseat and she still looks at it with unconditional love. And it isn't even her dog!

Shaking it off, Rick pulled back into traffic. “If I'm right about Brinkman and the cyber-stalking,” Rick said, “we have a trap to set.”

R
ick offered to spring for food, so they headed to a local Asian restaurant for takeout. The parking lot was packed for the lunch buffet and Taryn's stomach rumbled. She loved Asian food. They parked in the shade and cracked the windows and she promised Sweet'ums that as soon as she ordered, she'd come right back to wait with him. They locked the doors and were heading in when a couple exiting the place caught her eye. Her stomach clenched.

Gloria.

Unwelcome images flashed in her head. Tim. Gloria. Naked. Doing the nasty on the fancy green sheets she'd picked out for their wedding registry. Thankfully, she hadn't yet become one of Irving's PIs that night, or she might have shot them both on thousand-thread-count sheets. Okay, probably not, but a Macing was not entirely out of the question.

Going cold, Taryn forced herself to hold it together.

Sometime over the last three years, her former maid had dyed her naturally auburn hair to an unnatural magenta and was wearing skimpy clothing better suited for a hooker. Beside her was a man wearing black spandex bike shorts and a tight blue tank top. He was no more than twenty, with bulging muscles and a missing neck, and his bleached blond mullet was more 1980 than this century.

The guy reached out to grab Gloria's butt and almost dislodged the micro-miniskirt from her rounded rump. Only a quick grab of the hem kept her skirt from becoming a belt and the world from seeing her playground.

Taryn gritted her teeth as they approached. Gloria stumbled on kitten heels when she spotted Taryn. She recovered quickly with a chin lift and jutting jaw.

“Taryn.”

“Gloria.” Taryn stared at no-neck. “Where's Tim?”

The maid turned to grip her companion's arm as the youngster stared appreciatively at Taryn. Out of spite, Taryn sent him her sweetest smile. Perfectly capped teeth smiled back. Up close, her thirty-six-year-old ex-maid looked like his babysitter. Too much time in bars chugging cocktails had turned her skin sallow.

“Tim's history.” Gloria scowled, gripped her boy toy tighter, and cast a sidelong flirty glance at Rick. If she intended payback for her boy toy staring at Taryn, she failed. Rick scowled. Taryn smirked. Gloria blanched and turned away. “He was boring. Serge and I are together now.”

If on cue, Serge flexed his pecs back and forth in an odd little dance. “Together,” he mimicked, clearly a boy genius.

Well, that explained Tim's calls. He didn't like to be alone. Unfortunately for him, hell had not iced over, and she hadn't gone insane. If he was calling to get back together, he was an idiot.

“I see.” What else could she say? A ruined marriage, and the ruiner had moved on to another victim.

Taryn tried to summon up some sympathy for Tim but got nothing. He was in her rearview mirror. She had no interest in being dragged back into his life.

“We should go, babe,” Rick said and took Taryn's hand. “We don't want to be late to relieve the babysitter.”

Gloria's gasp followed them, as Rick led Taryn around the pair and entered the restaurant. She might have taken satisfaction with Rick taking the smug Gloria down another peg—after all, Taryn had the superior “boyfriend”—but it was enough work to keep her roiling stomach from emptying. When the door closed behind them, Taryn wobbled. He led her to a bench seat in the vestibule.

“You okay?” He sat beside her.

She nodded. “I can't believe I let her rattle me. All I could think of was finding her in my bed with my husband and all the damage she did to my life. We'd only been married a little over a year. I hadn't even used our wedding china.”

He took her hand again. “If it makes you feel any better, I think your ex was an idiot. She isn't in your league.”

“Thanks for saying that.”

“No. I mean it.” He turned her face toward him. “You are funny and crazy and a really bad driver. And so sexy that I walk around you all day with a hard-on. She couldn't compare to you even on your worst day. I want to hunt down your ex and pulverize him for hurting you.”

Tears welled. She stared into his eyes.

“That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” The tension in her stomach eased and she fell a little bit in love with him in that moment. He really was a great guy. “I am over him, you know. It was just a shock to see her.”

“I know.” He skimmed his hand under her chin. “Otherwise you wouldn't be looking at me like that.”

She smiled. “And how is that?”

“Like you want me to kiss you.” He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. Her breath caught. Common sense fled and desire filled her senses, along with the scent of fried rice and egg rolls. She really, really wanted to be kissed.

“Then you'd better get to it.” Her lips parted.

Grinning, Rick kissed her. The tenderness of the touch, and his warmth, chased off any lingering chill of the encounter outside. She slid her hand up and played with the hair on his nape. The kiss deepened and Taryn was thankful the seat was partially obscured from sight of the hostess desk by a low wall. She didn't want the kiss to end.

When they did break apart, due to the arrival of a large and boisterous family, she looked into his gray eyes. “You are an excellent kisser, Rick Silva.”

“I've had lots of practice.”

“I bet you have.” Laughing, she caressed his chin. The family was led away, leaving them alone again. “I went on a couple of dates after my divorce, but nothing took. I was numb. Tim was supposed to be forever. Then here you come, all tattoos and bossy alpha-ness, and make me laugh. Really laugh again. And I'm not sure what to do with you.”

“Do you need a label?”

Shaking her head, she took his hand. “I don't want forever, Rick, I just want honesty. If you plan to sleep with me, then tell me so I can make an informed decision.”

He glanced around the vestibule and back. “Taryn, I want you so much I can't think of anything else. Beyond that, I can't commit. Is that enough for you?”

It was hard to speak, but she managed a nod. “I want you, too. Make love to me.”

A land-speed record was broken, as well as several traffic laws, when Rick dragged her to his SUV and raced the miles between the restaurant and her house at warp speed.

Taryn laughed as he pulled her from the vehicle and up the stairs into her house, his free arm tucked around Sweet'ums, who growled at Rick but kept his teeth to himself.

The door was kicked closed by a booted foot, the dog placed on the floor, and Taryn was swept into his arms in one bold sweep.

There was no sign of her houseguest. Yay.

“You're going to drop me,” she said, clutching his shoulders as he headed for the stairs. He had some strong shoulders, arms, legs.

“Not a chance.” He carried her up the staircase easily and into her room. Lowering her to the floor, he pressed her back against the doorframe and kissed her.

Any chance of changing her mind was lost in the kiss. She wanted him so much, she ached with need. As a modern woman, she may have fought against his sometimes overwhelming desire to protect and boss her, but in this moment, she lowered her guard and let herself just . . . feel. The riot of sexual energy between them had her hooked.

Rick teased her with his mouth, while his rough hands found their way under her t-shirt and skimmed her skin. She moaned when his fingertips found the bottom of her bra and his thumbs slipped beneath it. He eased free of the kiss and slid her shirt up and over her head. Her simple, lacy white bra caught his attention and held.

“So much better than red or black . . .” He lowered his mouth to her collarbone and tugged one strap down. He nipped her skin then pressed his tongue to the spot.

Taryn tucked her fingers around his neck and moaned.

“If you have on matching panties, I might not make it to the bed,” he said. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, he flicked the button open. She looked down as a small patch of white was exposed to his eyes. A slow, wicked grin tugged his mouth. “I just came in my shorts.”

She giggled—and she wasn't a giggler. “I suspect that you're lying to me.” She reached for him. A second or two later, she had his jeans down around his knees. There was no sign of premature anything. He was still rock-hard beneath a pair of black boxer-briefs. “As I suspected. Lies. All lies.”

He didn't give her time to reach for his erection. He pulled her to him. Kissing her again, he slid her jeans down her legs and cupped her butt. His hardness brushed her navel and she was the one who almost came in her panties. The intimacy sent desire flashing through her body.

Moving his mouth to her ear, he nipped her lobe, then moved down her neck. As turnabout is only fair, she reached around and moved her hands over his butt. He had a first-rate butt.

“I want you in bed,” he said. She only had time to struggle free of her jeans when he spun her around and moved forward, while nudging her backward toward the bed. The backs of her thighs hit the mattress and she tumbled onto the quilt. She laughed as he kicked his jeans off like he was shaking off a poisonous snake from gnawing his calves. Once freed, he turned back and skimmed his gaze slowly down her body. With bright daylight filling the room, he could see everything.

Humor fled when his eyes went dark and intense. Locking eyes, he climbed on the bed on his hands and knees. She may have whimpered a bit when he positioned himself over her.

Taryn reached up to run her hands over his muscled chest and up to the tip of a wing of some sort of bird tattoo appearing over one shoulder. She slid her hands down to the healing wound on the scorpion and over the hieroglyphics on his other arm.

“I never was a tattoo sort of girl,” she said breathlessly. “I may have just changed my mind.”

His tongue touched his lower lip and his eyes were heated. “Babe, I'm going change your mind about a lot of things today.”

This time she did whimper. He leaned in and kissed her, doing a thorough exploration of her mouth. She teased him back with her tongue, eliciting a groan from him.

“You're killing me,” he said, when he pulled back and slid down her body. “You're beautiful.”

He closed his mouth over her bra-covered nipple and used his teeth to gently entice first one and then the other to firm peaks, while he pressed his erection between her legs.

Despite only two thin layers of cloth between them, Taryn felt the barrier acutely. “Take them off.”

“Hmmm?” There wasn't much else he could say with her nipple in his mouth.

“Take your briefs off.” He lifted his head and cocked a brow. Her face flushed at her boldness. “I want to see you.”

Rick stood and made quick work of her request. Her heart hitched at the sight of him naked. He was a fantasy she never knew she wanted.

Slowly, she slid her eyes over every line, every muscle, and every inch from his toes to his face. He stood, as if knowing her attention would heat her up, and it did. By the time he reclaimed his position in the bed, she was eager to finish the game.

As promised, Rick didn't disappoint. He kissed her and touched her and would not allow her to reciprocate, taking time to find and kiss the little scars on her skin. He whispered in her ear that this was all for her and she accepted his insistence, at first reluctantly, and then with pleasure. How could she argue when she was laughing, as he pulled her panties down her legs with his teeth? When he finally acquiesced to her pleas and slipped inside her, she was already halfway to an orgasm. He sent her over minutes later and followed her shortly thereafter while she held on tight.

The world exploded into happy dancing sunbeams. Or maybe it was sunlight seeping through the sheers on the windows. Either way, when she tumbled back to reality, satisfied in a way that defied logic, she knew that Rick was one hell of an amazing lover.

He moved off to the bathroom.

With a groan-sigh, she stretched, then curled along his long body when he returned from ditching the condom that he'd managed to slip on without her knowledge. When she was writhing on the bed with her eyes closed, maybe? He lay beside her, and wrapped one arm around her waist.

“That was—” How could she explain what that was? How she felt. There were no words. “Very nice.”

Silence fell beside her. Then he said, “Nice? I get nice?”

Mischief came. It was time to give the master teaser a dose of his own medicine. She was so darn happy, she didn't want the moment to turn awkward and serious. “Pleasant? Agreeable?”

A low swear followed. He rolled onto his side and faced her. “Agreeable? Are you serious? That was fantastic!”

“If you say so.” A bubble of laughter broke loose. His cheek muscle twitched. She lost it and fell back on the pillows clutching her stomach. “You should see your face! It's priceless!”

Doubling over, she thrashed on the bed. Rick caught on quickly and growled. Before she could see what he was up to, he pressed his fingertips to her ribs and tickled her.

She shrieked.

A tickle-fest followed and dissolved into a butt-naked pillow fight that was super-sexy.

“You don't insult a man's lovemaking,” he said and bounced the pillow off her shoulder.

“You totally deserved it!” She dodged and hit him in the side. “You've been messing with me since day one!” She was so turned on, and he was, obviously, too. She backed to the corner of the bed and held up the pillow like a shield. “By the way, you rocked my world. Thanks for that.”

He went still, grinning. “You're welcome.”

Taryn shucked the pillow and crawled to him. “Roll over.”