Shut Up and Kiss Me (25 page)

The chat went on for forty-five minutes. Sky felt pleased that his Texas Ranger friend hadn’t asked any questions that he himself hadn’t.

“Did you look at the images I told Sky about?” Shala asked.

“You mean the ones of Charlie Rainmaker and the man you think was driving the black sedan?” Phillip asked.

Shala nodded.

“Yeah. We’re trying to get an identity on the driver.”

“Do we know when we might get that?” Sky asked.

“These things take forever,” Phillip said.

“What about the other image?” Shala asked. “The one of the couple…uh, getting busy in the car? Like I told
Sky, maybe one of them is married and they think I’m a PI.”

Phillip shrugged. “With what we know about Rainmaker forming the petition, the pictures he had of you on his phone, and his talk about getting you scared out of town, we’re leaning toward the theory that he hired some muscle to scare you off, and maybe when Rainmaker didn’t pay up, or complained about the fact that you were still here, the guy turned on him.”

Sky knew Phillip’s theory had merit, but he still had his doubts.

“I guess it would appear that way,” Shala admitted.

They were about to call the meeting done when the door popped open and Martha leaned her head inside. “Sky,” she said frowning. “There’s…You…I think you’d better come out here.”

Sky stood up, almost scared to find out what was next. “Excuse me,” he said. But he hadn’t gotten out the door before Candy Peterson stormed up to him.

“I’ve decided not to press charges,” she said.

Taking in her face, he couldn’t remember her ever looking so bruised. Sky led her into his office and, gritting his teeth, forced calm into his voice. He shut the door. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, Candy?”

“He was drunk.”

“Oh, does that make it okay? You should have told me that last night, and I’d have let him keep beating the shit out of you.”

“He says your threat to take Amy from me is bullshit. You can’t do that.”

So she was already talking to the asshole. Sky remembered the look on the little girl’s face last night. It made him want to explode. Even worse, it made him want to lie and say he’d witnessed Peterson beating her. But he hadn’t. And his lying wouldn’t stop Candy. She had to want to put a stop to this.

“You should know, Candy, I don’t make idle threats. One more time…one more time, and I swear to God, I’ll have Child Protective Services on your ass so fast your head will spin.”

“I’m a good mother!” she snapped. “He’s never hurt her!”

“Never
hurt
her? Did you see her last night? Didn’t you see the pain in her eyes? You think that doesn’t hurt her? Have you ever seen your mother get the crap beat out of her? Have you? I have, Candy! So, don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt!” Realizing he’d lost his cool, he pointed to the door. “Go! If you’re not going to press charges, get the hell out of my office. But hear me loud and clear: this was your last chance.”

He opened the door and waited for her to leave. Feeling the rage boiling inside him, he stormed to his desk and ran his hand across it, knocking everything to the floor. He was still staring at the mess he’d made when he heard someone behind him.

He swung around. “I told you to leave, Candy!” It wasn’t Candy. “Sorry,” he said.

Shala stepped closer. “That was the emergency you went to last night, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She must have heard him through the door.

She put her hand on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That you had to deal with that.”

“It’s my job.”

She glanced down for a few moments before looking back at him. “I…When I was looking for my camera, I found—”

He put his finger over her lips. “I know.”

“How?” she asked.

“You left the closet light on.” He frowned. “I didn’t appreciate it.”

“Didn’t appreciate me leaving the light on?” she asked,
a little teasingly. When he frowned again, in no mood for humor, she continued. “I know it was wrong, but I didn’t mean to—”

Realizing he was taking his mood out on her, afraid she was going to start jabbering, he put his finger over her lips again. “Just shut up and kiss me,” he said.

She smiled. “Okay.”

Her lips were sweet and soft. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and her breasts pressed against his chest. Losing himself in the moment, he moved his hand down to cup her bottom. The kiss got hotter, fast.

She shifted closer, and he pressed one thigh between hers. Her pelvis brushed him ever so slightly. She tugged his shirttail out of his jeans and slid her hand up under his shirt. That soft palm caressed his chest. He went instantly hard. Opening his eyes, he spotted his clean desk and decided clearing it off hadn’t been a bad thing after all.

After he took one step, however, sanity broke through his lust. His gaze shot to his open office door. “Shit. Where’s Lucas?”

Shala blushed as if she’d just realized how far the kiss had gone. “Waiting to see if you want him to bring me home.”

“Phillip?”

“He left.” She buried her head on his chest as if embarrassed.

Sky released her and went to the door. “Lucas,” he called. “I got Shala. I’ll bring her home.”

“Okay,” his friend called back. “I’ll see you at the cabin.”

“Yeah. We’ll be there…shortly. Did you pick up those items from the grocery store that I told you to get?”

“Got ’em,” the man replied.

“Good. I’ll cook us supper tonight. And, Martha?” Sky called. “You can head out.”

He waited until he heard the tap of Martha’s heels leaving before he shut his office door. When he looked
back, Shala still wore embarrassment on her cheeks. But he had a feeling he could make it disappear. Or at least he hoped he could.

His gaze moved down her body, from her blue-jean skirt to the red button-down short-sleeved shirt that so perfectly accentuated her lush curves. He’d been so distracted at seeing her upset by Phillip that he hadn’t noticed what she was wearing. Or that she looked so damn hot.

“Where did you get those clothes?” he asked.

“Lucas took me shopping.”

Sky frowned. “I was supposed to do that.”

“You were busy.”

He moved in and wrapped his arm around her waist. When she leaned into him willingly, softly, he let his hand slide lower. “Are you at least wearing the underwear I bought?”

“Afraid so.”

“Afraid so?” he repeated, puzzled.

She shrugged guiltily. “They kept sliding up places they shouldn’t the whole time I was talking to Phillip. Thongs. Talk about uncomfortable.”

He laughed. “You told me you wore them.”

“I lied. I hate the stupid things.”

“But you wore one anyway. For me?” His glaze slid downward, and he imagined her panties—and slipping into places he shouldn’t. His jeans felt too tight.

“I forgot to buy any at the store. So it was wear the thong, wear dirty underwear, or go pantyless.”

“We wouldn’t want you wearing dirty underwear. But pantyless might work.” He kissed her and, reaching down, found the zipper of her skirt. She didn’t stop him as he slowly lowered it, but she did look up with a hesitant expression.

“Should we really…? Here?”

“Not if you don’t want you to,” he said, prepared to call himself into check.

“No, I’m fine.” She looked around. “But where are you planning to…have this event take place?”

He finished with her zipper. “Well, the most logical place would be my desk.”

She looked over at it. He dropped her skirt, which fluttered to the floor. Her red panties had his heart racing. That little triangle of silky material barely covered her patch of blonde hair. The adjoining thin red straps hugged her hips.

Sky raised his gaze to her face and fought the need to adjust his pants. “Or we could use the chair. The rug?”

Her gaze shifted. “I’m not sure we’d both fit in the chair.”

“We could manage.” Still enjoying the view of her thong, he walked around her to get the whole picture. “Very nice.” He ran his finger down the thin band, brushing her shapely ass. “Are you wearing the red bra?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a matched set. You have to wear them together. It’s a rule.”

“Nice.” He pursed his lips and moved his hand. “Do you think I could get a peek at this…matched set?”

“I suppose.” She started fidgeting with the first button on her shirt. Then, grinning, she tilted her head to the side and released it. “You wouldn’t want to turn around, would you?”

“Not on your life.” He propped against the desk. His dick was already as hard as oak.

Shala let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m not used to being watched so closely.”

“How about I start taking off my clothes and let you watch me while I watch you?”

She smiled. “That might help.”

He pulled the rest of his shirt from his jeans and started unbuttoning. He did it slowly for her pleasure, but he never took his eyes off her. She slipped the second button free and then the third. Her red bra and all that
sweet cleavage came into view, and he forgot about creating a show. He tore off his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans.

Finished, Shala slowly let her top fall away from her shoulders and to the floor. She stood before him in a red bra and red thong panties, and a pair of white sandals. His gaze lowered to her painted toenails, to the little daisies.

“Nice,” he whispered.

He kicked off his shoes, shucked his jeans and underwear. When her gaze lowered to his sex, that took him to another degree of hardness.

One bra strap hung off her shoulder. He ran a finger down it, over the sweet orb the garment contained, but he stopped when he found her nipple pebbled against the fabric. Shala reached back to unhook her bra, but he stopped her.

“Not just yet.”

He moved her to his desk, lifted her slightly, and carefully set her back down. She lay back. He withdrew an inch and stared. Her light blonde hair haloed her head on the dark stained oak, and the red underwear was a splash of hot color on her ivory skin. “Damn,” he whispered, his gaze devouring her. “Now, whenever I sit at this desk I’ll picture you.”

She laughed and ran her hands up his forearms. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked. “I’ve never had desk sex.”

He stared down at her, smiling. “Don’t worry. You could just lie there and that’d be enough.”

He brushed his palms up and down her waist. She caught one of his hands and brought it to her lips. As she slipped one of his fingers inside her mouth, sucking his finger in and then out, his gaze stayed riveted. It was almost more than he could bear.

Slowly, he pulled his hand free and lowered it to trace
the triangle of her panties. The sweet moisture there told him of her desire. “I think someone likes desk sex,” he accused.

She chuckled. “I’m not complaining.”

Slipping his finger inside her thong, he brushed her sex from side to side. Her hips rose. Eyes closing, she gave a first little moan.

“I love it when you do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Make that sound.”

He used his free hand to reach back and release her bra. She arched up as he gave a tug, and he withdrew the garment from beneath her. Her breasts shifted, so he leaned down to kiss them. A moment later he had her panties off and had found the condom in his wallet, glad he’d run by his house and replenished his supply.

Pulling her to the edge of the desk, he wrapped her legs around his waist and entered her. He moved slowly at first, easing his weight down upon her, but the pleasure was too intense to hold back. He placed his hand behind her head to pillow it and let his body take control. Her arms came around him. The bumping and grinding increased until at last he heard her sounds of pleasure in his ear. His own orgasm followed instantly. Not unlike last night, there was an emotional impact, too. The only awkward part came when they finished: he couldn’t curl up beside her, and he couldn’t stay bent over her. Pulling away would leave them both cold.

He suddenly realized he couldn’t recall ever being worried about the moments after sex with any other woman. Forcing that thought from his mind, he picked her up and lowered her to the rug and stretched out beside her.

When he realized she hadn’t opened her eyes, he ran a finger over her nose. “You okay?” he asked, his heart still racing.

“Perfect.” She sounded just as breathless. Curled up in his arms, she pressed her cheek to his chest. They
stayed like that for several minutes. “Is it always busy like this?’

“What?” he asked.

“I mean here, being chief of police in a small town. So much seemed to be going on here today.”

“It’s been a busy last few days.” He laughed.

“So I did bring trouble with me, huh?”

“It’s not you.” He paused, and after a few minutes, when the silence grew long, he elaborated. “I have to deal with everything the way a big city would—on a much smaller scale, thank God. We’ve had a shooting, break-ins, domestic violence…” He said the last one with a certain amount of loathing. “There’re the traffic violations, too damn many DUIs to contend with.” His mind considered some of the oddest things his job required. “Then on any given day I might be called out to help Miss Gordon find her dog. Once I was called to help Mr. Thompson find his teeth. He was certain his neighbor stole them.”

She laughed. “Did you find them?”

“What? The dog or the teeth?”

“Both,” she said.

“Yeah. I did.” He chuckled. “The dog was in the closet. The teeth in the microwave. And don’t ask me to explain either one.” They stayed there holding on to each other and laughed for a good three or four minutes.

They didn’t talk for the next five minutes. The silence felt right this time. Then he caught her hand, the one with the large bandage covering her palm. “Damn, I was supposed to take you to get the stitches out.”

“Doctor said three or four days. I’m sure tomorrow is fine.” When he brought her palm to his lips, she rose up on her elbow and studied him. “Can I ask you something?”

A nervous tickle hit his gut. “I generally hate questions that start like that, but go ahead.”