LOVING HER SOUL MATE (28 page)

And when it was time for her to climax, and time
for him to release, they were still in synch.
 
His gyrations increased, as he began to thrash into her with a hard
pounding.
 
The intensity had her pushing
so hard against his rock hard body that her reaction alone intensified what he
thought couldn’t possibly get any more intense.
 
But it became more intense.
 

And they came together.
 
He slammed into her one last time, his dick
going up into her so hard and deep that his balls nearly followed.
 
And she tightened around him with such a
ferocious grip, and he expanded even wider within her wet, tight pussy, that
she found herself screaming in such an extreme delight that it was almost
painful.
 
They came.
 
Together.
 
With every inch of their
bodies throbbing from the impact.

And they just sat there, still wedged together,
their juices flowing out into the tub.
 
John leaned into her, his forehead against the side of her face, both
breathing so heavily it sounded unhealthy.
 
And tears appeared in his eyes.
 

“I love you, Shay Turner,” he said to her.

Tears began to well up in Shay’s eyes too.
 
“I love you, John Malone.
 
I love you, too.”

He closed his eyes tightly.
 
How he could have ever questioned if he would
be able to commit to her was a mystery to him now.

After spending the night in each other’s arms, John
was up bright and early the next morning.
 
He was standing at the center island in his kitchen, drinking coffee,
chomping on a Danish, looking over the Brady Tribune newspaper, when Shay
walked in.
 
She was wearing one of his
shirts, which made him feel warm inside, and although she had just woke up, she
looked radiant to him.

“Good morning,” he said to her.
 
Just the sight of her brought back the
wonderment of last night.
 
And not just
the sex part, although that was wonderful in and of
itself
.
 
But John was remembering how, after dinner,
after they had both retired, she left the guest bedroom and came and got into
bed with him.
 
And they held onto each
other all night.

“You look awfully dapper,” she said to him.
 

He looked down, at his dark green double-breasted
suit, and then smiled back at her.
 
“You
look gorgeous yourself,” he said.

Shay snorted.
 
“Yeah, right,” she said as she sat at the center island across from
him.
 
He poured her a cup of coffee.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” he asked as he
poured.

“Good question,” she said, grabbing a discarded
part of the newspaper to peruse.
 
“I’ll
probably go by the Trib, see what’s up.”

“When do you plan to go back to work?”

“Tomorrow for sure.
  
That’s why I’m going over there.
 
To see Ed.
 
To see if he’ll have me back.”

“He’d better have you back,” John said.
 
“After what his employee did to you, he’d
better.”

Shay smiled.
 
“That had nothing to do with Ed and you know it.
 
But yeah, I believe he’ll take me back
too.
 
It’s just that it’s been such a
long time.”

“I know.”

“And my workload.
 
I can’t even imagine how that’s going.
 
Especially since everything seems at a
standstill.
 
And nobody’s been arrested
for those Dodge murders.”

John shook his head. “Don’t remind me,” he
said.
 
“We don’t even have a suspect
yet.
 
But at least the public now knows
that there’s a serial killer out there, thanks to your reporting.
 
We’ve just got to nail the bastard.
 
And we will.”

Shay looked at her man.
 
At his big, bright,
sapphire eyes.
 
“I know you will,
John,” she said with such sincerity that it warmed John’s heart.
 
He felt blessed to have a woman like her in
his life.
 
He also felt responsible for
that woman, and protective of that woman.

“Shay,” he said, a frown enveloping his face.
 
When he didn’t immediately continue, she
looked away from the paper and at him again.
 

“Yes?” she asked.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go over
to your place just yet.”
 
He said this
and then stared at her.

At first Shay seemed unsure, and then she
nodded.
 
“I agree,” she said, to his
relief.
 

“Give it a few days,” he added.
 
“But under no circumstances do I want you
going over there alone.
 
When you’re
ready, let me know.
 
I’ll go with you.”

Shay smiled.
 
“What have I ever done to deserve a man like you?”

John smiled.
 
“Deserve me?
 
Are you
kidding?
 
You deserve far better than the
likes of me.
 
I’m the undeserving party
here, and don’t you forget that, young lady.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Shay said, knowing that such an age
reference would get a rise out of John.
 
It worked.
 
He balled up a part of
the newspaper, and playfully flicked her on her arm.
 
Shay laughed.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Faylene?” the waitress asked
her boss as she looked at Blair Malone’s costume jewelry.

“They’re always gorgeous,” Faylene said as she
walked up to the counter where Blair was seated.
 
She was showing a few of her necklaces to the
waitress, a potential client.
 
“Especially
those brilliant colors,” Faylene added as she picked up a pink pearl necklace.

“That’s what I like too,” the waitress said.
 
“How much is this one, Blair?” she asked,
holding up a turquoise necklace.

“That one is fifteen.”

“That’s not bad,” Faylene said.

“Put it on, try it out,” Blair told the
waitress.
 
“See how it walks around on
you.”

“Thank-you, Blair,” the waitress said as she put on
the necklace.

“Now you can gawk at it and do your work at the
same time, "Faylene said with a smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” the waitress said and headed
back to her station.

“She’s going to buy it,” Faylene said, “
you
mark my words.”

“I hope so,” Blair said.
 
“I used to sell twenty-five of these things a
day, which wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
 
Lately I’ve been selling nothing.”

Although Faylene, a big, bosomy blonde, was known
as a looker in her own right, she knew she couldn’t hold a candle to Blair
Malone.
 
Nobody in Brady could hold a
candle to Blair.
 
That was how Blair was
able to wrangle that personification of gorgeousness called John Malone in the
first place.
 
Now every man in Brady
seemed to want the newly divorced prim and pretty Blair.
 
And although Blair fooled around with a few
jocks, and had been doing so even before her divorce, Faylene knew that she
wasn’t really interested in any of them.

“I don’t know why you don’t get yourself a rich
man,” Faylene said, “and let him take care of you.”

Blair only smiled.
 
People didn’t understand.
 
She
might be divorced on paper, but she still viewed herself as John’s woman.
 
As John’s wife.
 
And she always would.

“Anyway,” she said to Faylene, “when are you going
to buy one of these gorgeous necklaces yourself?”

Faylene laughed.
 
“You’re good.
 
I bought one
already, remember?”
 
She said this and
looked out into the parking lot.
 

“You bought one so long ago, Faylene, it doesn’t
even count anymore. Look at this one,” Blair said as she picked up a yellow and
green flower pendant with a pearl necklace.
 
“It has you written all over it.”

John’s Porsche drove into Faylene’s parking lot and
Shay killed the engine and remained behind the wheel.
 
He had insisted that she drive his car.
 
She thought it would be too fast for her, too
showy, but she found that she liked it.
 
It reminded her of John: powerful and fast.
 
And it had his sweet cologne scent all over
it.
 
This car was all John.
 

She pulled down the overhead mirror and began
putting on lip gloss.
 
She was feeling
like herself again for the first time since Ronnie’s attack.
 
She was thrilled to be out of the hospital,
thrilled to be driving a hot car, thrilled to have herself a hot man.
 
And John was hot, in every sense of the
word.
 

She still couldn’t get over how much he stepped up
for her.
 
He spent night after night at
the hospital with her.
 
Six weeks ago,
when he sat at her kitchen table and said he was all in, she wasn’t sure if she
believed him then.
 
But she believed him
now.
 
Because she’d been able to see it
with her own two eyes.
 
And even last
night, when they made love for the first time in weeks, it felt like more than
just sex.
 
She still remembered how his
hands felt all over her, bathing her, pampering her, caressing her.
 
Then she smiled again, thinking about just
how deftly he caressed her, and got out of his car.

“Hey, Blair,” Faylene said, looking out of the big
plate glass window of her diner, “isn’t that John’s car?”

Blair quickly looked at Faylene, and then looked
out of the window.
 
“Where?”
she asked.

“Right there.
 
Near the drug store alley.
 
That Porsche sure looks like John’s car.”

Just as Blair saw the Porsche, Shay was stepping
out of it.
 
She was dressed comfortably,
in a short red summer dress and matching heels, her hair loose down her back,
sunglasses on her face, as she made her way toward the front entrance.

“Who in the world is that?” Blair asked, a pang of
jealousy immediately cursing through her.

“That’s that reporter,” Faylene said.
 
“Shay Turner.
 
You know?
 
Ronnie Burk supposedly attacked her, although Ronnie looked worse than
she did, so the jury’s still out on what really happened.”

But Blair didn’t know anything about that.
 
“Never heard of her,” she said, as she stared
at Shay.

Shay, oblivious to the stares, walked into
Faylene’s like she had many times in the past, lifted her shades on top of her
head, and made her way to an empty booth.
 

“But one thing about it,” Faylene continued as they
both watched Shay, “she’s
driving
 
John’s
car.”

“Yeah,” Blair said, her anger growing.
 
“How disrespectful can you get?”
 
She left her jewelry on the countertop,
surprising Faylene by her sudden lack of concern for her bread and butter, and
headed toward Shay’s booth.

Shay didn’t see her coming until she had placed her
drink order, the waitress had walked away, and she was now opening the
menu.
 
When Blair took a seat at her
booth, however, Shay looked passed the menu.
 
And then closed it.

“May I help you?” she asked the older woman.

“Why are you driving my husband’s car?” Blair asked
her pointblank

Shay’s heart began to pound.
 
This must be the ex-wife.
 
The very beautiful ex-wife, Shay inwardly
noted.
 
“And you are?” she asked.

“I’m Blair Malone, his wife.
 
Why are you driving my husband’s car?”

This threw Shay.
 
She took a moment to take it in.
 
“Don’t you mean your ex-husband?” she asked her.

“Why are you driving my husband’s car?” Blair asked
again.