Chapter Eleven
Feeling more hopeful than she had in days, Mia took the long, long way home to give herself more time to think through everything she’d talked about with Brooke. It was twilight when she finally pulled the Escape into the garage and walked across the gravel lot to the house.
Inside, the dogs launched themselves at her and she took a moment to pet and soothe. Roman walked out from the kitchen with a beer in his hand. His expression was inscrutable but when she reached out with her mind, she felt the waves of apprehension flowing off him.
“I’m fine,” she said immediately, gazing up from her position on the floor. “Just needed a time out.”
He tipped his head but didn’t smile. “I hope that’s true, but I fear it’s not. It’s been a hard day for you, and you must be dead tired.”
When he offered her a hand, she took it and climbed to her feet. “A little. Also, hungry. I’ll get dinner going.”
“Already done. I made us salads. I even roasted the edamame the way you usually do and added olives and pickled beets. Not to brag, but I might have made the most amazing salads in the history of the world. We can eat whenever you’re ready.”
He still held her hand and she glanced down at it, while inside a tiny spark of anger flashed. What the hell was wrong with her? And how was it she felt so deeply grateful he’d made a damn salad while at the same time somehow hated that his passion for his job had caused her such anguish.
She studied his face. Those wideset liquid brown eyes, so dark they looked like bottomless pools. The slightly large but very straight nose, the profile of which she’d traced countless times with her fingertip. A strong jawline, beginning to stubble with dark growth. And skin soft and supple, mostly unlined, and kissed with a golden hue.
Dropping his hand, she reached up and cupped his chin. His expression remained guarded, but a flare of fire showed in his eyes. She stood on tiptoes until their mouths were level then laid her lips against his, keeping the kiss soft and yielding.
“I can wait to eat,” she murmured, bringing her hand up to weave through his dark, dense hair.
He studied her for several beats, those chocolate eyes searching hers without blinking. Whatever he saw there made his lips curve, and he lowered his head to kiss her again. She put both hands on his chest and pushed him back.
She wanted him just like she always did. That never seemed to change. Whatever magical chemistry existed between their physical bodies, it ran perpetually hot, the attraction constantly humming away under the surface, ready to boil up and engulf her at the slightest provocation.
And that somehow pissed her off too. Surely, she should be able to control her reaction better. Turn it off, or at least way down, when she wanted. It’s not that he’d necessarily done anything wrong, but she’d been hurt all the same.
“I don’t want sweetness or tenderness. Don’t be nice to me. I’m in the mood for fast and hard. And no talking, okay?” she said.
His breath came out in a whoosh, and he took another step back. “Um … sure. Are you really fine, though?”
She stepped over to him and lifted her hand, giving his face a light slap. It sounded shockingly loud in the foyer. “No talking. Go to the family room, take off your pants, and lie on the couch. Wait for me. I’m going to let the dogs out and get some water.” When he stood there for another beat, searching her face as though trying to decipher a treasure map written in a foreign language, she gave him another small shove. “Go. Take off your shirt, too. I want you naked.”
His tongue swiped across his lower lip and the heat in his eyes made her belly curl in anticipation. She waited until he’d disappeared toward the family room, then looked down at the dogs gathered uncertainly by her feet.
“It’s okay, guys. Mommy just needs to blow off some steam. Let’s get everyone a chewy and put you on the deck. This won’t take long.”
She found him on the couch as instructed. Naked. Ready for her. His hands were crossed behind his head, but he didn’t smirk like she expected. Instead, his gaze stayed serious and locked on her face. A small red blotch stained each cheek, and his chest rose and fell rapidly.
Her approach was slow, calculated. She felt as though she’d stepped into the shoes of her ancestors and was stalking prey across an open plain. Her eyes never left Roman’s as she crossed the room and stopped by his feet at the end of the couch. She was wearing a long, flowy skirt, and she reached under and shimmied out of her panties before kicking them off and to the side.
Kneeling beside the couch she placed her hands on his chest, feeling for his heart and thrilling at how it bumped like a piston against her palm. His skin was warm bordering on hot. She couldn’t wait to see him sheened in sweat. A sweat she would cause.
He closed his eyes, and she laid her face on his ribcage and listened to that strong heart of his pumping relentlessly. Slowly, her hand moved down and closed around him. He groaned deep in his chest and when she lifted her head, she saw he was watching her again.
She didn’t smile and neither did he. His breath pushed out between pursed lips, and he blinked rapidly when her hand began to squeeze and stroke. The air between them snapped, errant electrical currents sizzling as they collided.
When his hips began to flex and push up toward her hand, she squeezed hard enough to make him gasp.
“Lie still. Don’t move.” Her voice was like a whip.
“You can’t expect me not to react,” he said.
This time when her hand came to his cheek it didn’t slap; instead she flicked the end of his nose with her nail. “I told you not to talk.”
His eyes went molten but he simply drew in a ragged breath and said nothing. She spent another minute working him with her hand, then rucked up her skirt and straddled his lap before lowering onto him.
She paused, breathing deeply, while her body stretched around him. She was hot and tight and he pulsed inside her. He let his head fall back against the cushion and worked to match his breathing to hers. When she finally started to move, small rises and falls of her hips, he gritted his teeth and held still, watching her.
At first, she was contained. Almost robotic. The rhythm remained slow and regular, like she was conducting an orchestra. Other than her underwear, she was fully clothed, but each shift of movement made her breasts bounce under her blouse and the silky fabric undulated like a wave.
He thought about the Atlanta Braves and tried to remember when the next home game was. He quickly ran through the twelve times tables then stumbled through thirteen before switching over to counting prime numbers. He was all the way up to two hundred and eleven when she moaned and her hands reached for his, fingers lacing together.
Her speed increased and he began to move with her. Her eyes blazed into his, two clear moss green lakes, and he watched fascinated as a line of color pushed up her neck and infused her face with a rosy glow. Gradually, she began to unravel over him, her movements becoming jerky with an edge of frantic.
When the orgasm crashed over her, she threw back her head and arched like a bow. He grabbed her hips and drove into her over and over again until he found his own release. She collapsed onto his chest, her breath heaved in and out, her brilliant copper hair spread across his skin tickling his nerve endings. He exhaled long and slow and risked hugging her, thankful when she stayed soft and compliant in his arms.
No longer a feral cat, she’d turned back into a kitten.
They stayed that way for several minutes, then she pushed up and gazed down at him. Her face was still flushed but her eyes were sleepy and satisfied.
“Thanks.” She caressed his cheek, the same one she’d slapped earlier, then leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. “I’m hot and sweaty. Gonna grab a quick shower before I eat.”
With that, she eased off him, picked up her underwear from the floor and walked away without looking back. He stared up at the ceiling and exhaled heavily.
“And that wasn’t weird. At. All,” he said to the empty room.
***
She found him in the kitchen with the table set and the salads waiting. The dogs lounged in various beds scattered around the floor, but Mac immediately got up and walked over to stand beside her leg.
“I assume the dogs convinced you to throw some food into their bowls?”
“Oh yeah. In fact, I’m ashamed to admit it, but they broke me way before five o’clock. I think I caved in at least thirty minutes early. I don’t understand how you can stay so strong.”
“Because I’ve learned to harden my heart. Let’s eat.”
She dug into her dinner and after several bites, nodded in approval.
“You nailed it. So good. I was seriously starving.” She took another mouthful, then studied him while she chewed. “You look tired. That’s probably my fault for roaming around most of the night. How was your day?”
He took a sip from the bottle of beer and shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Better than yours based on the vibes you’ve been giving off since you got home. Is there anything we should be talking about?”
She forked up more salad and chewed slowly while he watched her. Then she set the utensil back in the bowl and took a sip of her Perrier. She smiled at him and reached for his hand.
“Not right now. I hit a bit of a rough patch, but I’ve mostly worked through it. In the meantime, don’t worry. This is a Mia thing, not a Roman thing.”
“All Mia things are Roman things.” He laced his fingers through hers. “And just so you know, I can never not worry about you.”
Her smile bumped up several notches. “Same. Still, seriously, let this go for now. I’ll eventually circle back to you.”
He lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles. “Make sure you do. It’s no good for us to have anything between us.”
When he set her hand back on the table she shrugged. “So, your day?”
“I ended up speaking to Maryanne’s roommate, Kerry Jones. She’s apparently out of town for a couple of days, so talking on the phone was the best we could do right now. She basically reiterated what Tracey said. Maryanne didn’t seem depressed, and she’d never known her to have pills or do any drugs whatsoever.”
“Did you float the murder theory by her?”
“Sure. She wasn’t surprised when I brought it up. I guess Tracey talked to her about it some. But she couldn’t think of a single person who’d want to kill Maryanne. She said the sisters’ relationship was fine. Though she pointed out as an only child she didn’t really have anything to compare it to.”
“Nothing new then?”
“Well. Something new, for sure. It turns out Kerry and Eliza sort of bonded after Maryanne died, and now they’re good friends. In fact, she’s going to be Eliza’s maid of honor.”
Mia picked through the salad while she turned the information over in her mind. “Okay. That’s interesting. They must be really close if Eliza asked her to stand up at the wedding. Isn’t it usually some long-held childhood friend that gets asked?”
“Sometimes, but I suspect not always. Anyway, Kerry told me she’s met Scott on numerous occasions and he’s a nice guy, though maybe not quite good enough for her new friend.”
“Now there’s a different perspective, and it’s kind of funny since that’s exactly what Jennifer thinks about Eliza.”
“Yep. Seems like Eliza finally has someone looking out for her.”
“What are we thinking now? Did she murder her sister on top of setting the stage for the death of her parents?”
He dropped his head and sighed. “I don’t know. My gut’s all twisted up on this one. I can’t quite figure the motive for Eliza killing her. Sure, there was the whole peanut oil thing, but that had been out in the open for over a month before Maryanne died. Murdering her then was a bit like shutting the barn doors after the horses got out. Unless she had some new angle to threaten Eliza. Something we haven’t yet uncovered. Agree or disagree?”
“Agree on principle. But there’s something about Eliza that’s tripping my alarm bells. Too bad we can’t talk to her.”
“I think for now, that’s a no go. Jennifer really doesn’t want Eliza finding out she’s hired us. We might have already messed that up when I approached Kerry. I didn’t get the whole new friendship angle until after I’d already floated out the murder theory.”
“Was she upset when you asked?”
“Oh, yeah. Got real hot under the collar. Wanted to know why I’d attack Eliza after everything she’d been through. Let’s hope she doesn’t pass on the word I was sniffing around.”
“Well. We have to investigate somehow, don’t we?”
“Yep.” They ate in silence for several moments then he flicked a glance over to Mia’s face. “I should probably touch base with Jennifer tomorrow. There isn’t a whole hell of a lot to report. What’s your bottom line?”
“I guess I wouldn’t love the idea of my son marrying Eliza. We don’t have proof of anything, but there’s a lot of bad karma swirling around.”
He shook his head. “This is a crappy case. I want to dig in more but it’s hard to do while keeping it on the down-low.”
“You know what, our suspicions alone might be enough for Jennifer. The thing I really hate, though, is having this feeling maybe Eliza did commit murder and she’s getting away with it.”
“I guess I’ll see what she says.” He paused and blew out a breath. “Are you feeling any better now?”
“Some. The connection to Tracey is starting to fade, which helps. My day is flexible tomorrow, so I can be available for the meeting with Jennifer.”
“Great. I’ll set it up. And FYI, I appreciate all your help. You’re the best.”
“Yeah. I really am.”