Temperature's Rising (24 page)

He looked a little dazed himself when he stepped back. For a moment they could only stare at each other.

Then he shook his head and strode to one of the cabinets, opening the door. Conor replaced the plastic wrap before he turned toward her again.

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“Apparently, I can’t even kiss you without wanting to carry you to bed. I apologize. It won’t happen again while I’m on duty.”

Disappointment stabbed at her. Before she could tell him that was fine with her, he began to speak.

“But it
will
happen again. You’re the most ravishing woman I’ve ever met. I don’t plan on our relationship ending this soon.”

She drew in a ragged breath as images of them lying naked in bed swirled around inside her head. She could almost feel his hands gliding over her body, his mouth covering first one breast, then the other.

He’s a cop!
She had to end it now before either one of them got hurt.

“This isn’t real,” she began slowly. “I’m here to keep my father from losing a job he loves. You’re here to catch criminals. I really like you. Probably too much. And you’re right, what we did last night was wrong. But when this is over we’ll go back to the way things were. It won’t happen again. Remember, you’re the one who warned you didn’t play for keeps.”

He hesitated, as if weighing his words. “There’s something between us. You know it as well as I do.” No, there couldn’t be. She wouldn’t allow it. Once they were no longer pretending to be married, they wouldn’t see each other again.

“When this is over, I’ll walk away without ever looking back.” She didn’t need another hero in her life, and reliving the goat incident made her realize that what was starting up between her and Conor had to stop.

At least, that’s what her brain told her. Her heart was another matter entirely.

He stepped in front of her, searching her face. When he lightly caressed her arm, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning toward him.

“I think you’re a liar, Jessica Nelson,” he murmured.

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He was right, but she detected a hint of uncertainty reflected in his eyes. He wasn’t as sure about her as he’d like to be. Maybe that was a good thing. A relationship with Conor would be doomed from the start. He was married to the badge, and she would be no man’s mistress.

Chapter 15

Jessica supposed Conor’s idea that she carry the potato salad wasn’t bad. At least she couldn’t twist her button loose. He looked way too tempting and his aftershave had her leaning closer, inhaling the tantalizing scent. Damn, didn’t he realize how hard it was, trying to concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing and not what she wanted to do when he looked and smelled so delicious?

Probably not. Except for the kiss earlier, he’d kept his distance. The rest of her day had been spent mentally chanting. It mellowed her. Enough so that she was trans-ported to a place of peace, an island far away where ocean breezes caressed her naked skin as she lay on a sandy beach. A place where tropical birds serenaded her from high above in palm trees or whatever the fuck kind of trees tropical birds hung out in.

It hadn’t mattered, because Conor had shown up, shattering everything as he paraded across the sand bare-assed naked, bronzed even darker by a sun that never burned.

The caress of the ocean breeze was replaced by Conor’s 208

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skillful hands as they massaged lotion on her back, over her hips, between her legs. Just when his mouth was about to replace his hands, he’d asked if she was ready to leave for the Merediths’.

The damn ache between her legs still hadn’t stopped throbbing.

She covertly glanced in his direction. How could he look so cool and calm and so . . . so . . . unhorny? He’d turned her whole world upside down. Having sex again with him was all she could think about. And this from the woman who said she wouldn’t be having a relationship with him after her father’s job was secure? Like that would happen. She squared her shoulders. No, she could and would be strong.

He suddenly looked in her direction and smiled. She jerked her gaze away. Not when he looked at her like that.

Damn, he had a sexy smile. Hell, he looked pretty sexy all over.

They stopped in front of their neighbors’ door and Conor pushed the bell.

From lowered lashes, Jessica cast a sideways glance in his direction. He’d swapped his usual jeans for beige slacks and a short-sleeved, white shirt. He looked good enough to nibble on.

Her skin grew warm. She faced the door, wishing her heart didn’t flutter quite so much every time she looked at him. They’d better hurry and get enough evidence, or she was going to be in big trouble.

Heavy, lumbering footsteps approached and the door was jerked open.

“Yeah?” the man growled.

The arm at her back kept Jessica from stumbling off the small porch. This wasn’t a man. A big, burly, ugly, smelly bear had opened the door. He was unshaven and wearing a grungy black T-shirt with words that had long ago faded.

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This had to be the father, the so-called head of the Meredith gang. He was an ugly bastard. The kind of ugly nightmares were made of.

Conor squeezed her arm. Probably to reassure her she wasn’t alone. She wanted to tell him that she’d been surprised at first, but she was okay now. The bigger they were, the harder they fell. Size didn’t mean a lot to her.

Well . . . except in some cases, and in Conor’s case he didn’t have to worry about that department.

Pay attention,
she warned herself.

“Conor! Jessica!” Trudy’s voice came from behind her father-in-law. She squeezed past the mongrel.

And she’d thought they might’ve overdressed. If anything, compared to their hostess, they were very understated. Trudy wore a leopard-print blouse that clung to her generous curves and a tight, black leather miniskirt.

Silver earrings dangled to her shoulders. Black hose and spike heels completed her outlandish ensemble.

“Now you didn’t have to bring food.” She took the bowl from Jessica’s hands and looked at the dish. “But I’m glad you did. I can’t cook for beans.” She stopped and laughed. “Beans. Huh! That was funny.” Conor hugged Jessica close. Did he think she’d run back to the house and hide under the bed? She sighed.

The Merediths didn’t scare her.

“Move out of the way, Pop. I invited Conor and Jessica over.” Trudy eyed the older man with a look of distaste.

“And go change your shirt. You look worse than a busted sewer pipe and you don’t smell much better. Either shower or sit downwind from us.”

“You know how I feel about company.” He reached up and scratched the stubble of whiskers on his face. His eyes narrowed on the unwelcome visitors.

“Oh pooh, you don’t like anyone. Then go back to watching your TV. I’ll have George take your steak off the grill since you don’t want to be sociable.” 210

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“Didn’t say I wouldn’t join the party. I just want to finish watching my show. I’ll be out later.” Trudy rolled her eyes after he left. “That was Winston, leader of the Meredith clan.” She winked. “Or so he thinks.” Jessica narrowed her eyes on Trudy. Interesting the way she’d phrased that statement.

“Are you sure this is a good time?” Conor stepped into the house.

Trudy laughed. “If I waited for the right time to invite someone over, I’d never have any friends.” She motioned them to follow her.

They entered a foyer. An elaborate Chinese carpet covered the hardwood floor. An abstract painting hung on one wall and on another a field of pastel flowers. There was a clutter of knickknacks scattered on a shelf, and a set of deer antlers mounted on the wall held several base-ball caps.
Amazing.
She tried not to stare as they followed their host down a narrow hallway.

“I keep telling them we need to socialize more, but even George acts funny about it. You’d think it was a sin for me to have anyone over.” At the end of the hall, she bumped her hip against a door. As it swung open, she proudly exclaimed, “And this is my kitchen.” It took a minute for Jessica’s eyes to adjust.

“Astonishing,” she mumbled, trying to grasp the color scheme.

Black-and-white-checked floor, fluorescent orange cabinets, a center island that had been painted red, white, and blue, and Jessica wasn’t sure, but it looked like the refrigerator leaned to the left. Optical illusion? She’d gone to an amusement park one summer. A man had placed a ball on a table and it rolled uphill. Trudy’s kitchen had the same effect. It was rather unnerving.

“I designed it myself. My taste runs eclectic.”

“Very . . . unusual.” Conor appeared thoughtful.

“I tried for a modern decor, but I added my own imag-TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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ination. George says I should’ve been an interior designer.”

“I could tell from the start, George has a good eye for style,” Conor told her.

Thankfully, Trudy didn’t catch the sarcasm in Conor’s observation. Jessica wanted to poke him in the ribs, but George chose that moment to open the back door. With him came the tantalizing aroma of grilled meat. How could she think about food? She pushed thoughts of her empty stomach to the far recesses of her mind and focused on George.

This might be a good opportunity to question him. “It must have cost a fortune to remodel. Maybe Conor will let me spend a little money on our place.” She cast a glance in his direction.

“Now, honey, you know we have to keep track of every penny if we’re going to do more than rent.” He nodded toward George as he picked up the cue. “Maybe you can give me some business tips that will help us financially.

Looks like you’re doing pretty good for yourself.” A rooster couldn’t have puffed out his chest more than George. And in less than a minute, he began to crow.

“I do not like-a to brag, but
si
, I am considered very good when it-a comes to matters in our family business.” He smoothed his fingers across his eyebrows.

“What exactly is your business? I don’t think I’ve heard anyone really say.” Conor smiled innocently.

Jessica held her breath, waiting to see how George would answer. She knew he wouldn’t come out and say they were burglars, but he might accidentally let something slip.

“Business?” his voice squeaked. He cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “We are-a movers.”

“Movers. That’s interesting.” Conor tapped his fingers on the Formica counter. “What exactly do you move?”

“Uh . . . my steaks! I have-a to check on the meat.

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Excus-a me, pleeze. I would-a really love to continue this wonderful-a talk, but we wouldn’t want-a to burn our supper.” He hurried out the door.

“Don’t you just love that sexy accent?” Trudy beamed as she took a pan off the stove. “Macaroni and cheese,” she said as she dumped the contents into a bowl. “I think I was born to marry an Italian. I just love pasta.” She winked. “And I have a bottle of Boone’s to go with it.

Y’all like strawberry- or peach-flavored wine?” They didn’t get a chance to ask anything else. Trudy kept everyone busy carrying food and drinks to the picnic table in the backyard. Then it was time to eat, and George’s father wasn’t exactly opening any conversations about what they did for a living.

Barry didn’t seem very impressed with them, either.

Although he resembled George more than his father, she could see their personalities were miles apart. Barry had a cold, calculating gleam in his eyes. And the way he watched her every move made Jessica squirm in her seat.

The farther she stayed away from him, the better.

“So, how long have you lived here?” She shifted her position on the bench when Winston turned his attention from his steak to her. As he glared at her, he stabbed a piece of steak and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing with his mouth open.

The small bite she’d put in her mouth suddenly turned rancid. It was all she could do to swallow it down with some of the carbonated peach wine.

“Not long,” Trudy finally answered. “Only ’bout three months. Barry found the work and—”

“Shut up, Trudy.” Barry might have meant his words for his sister-in-law, but his gaze was glued on Jessica.

“Don’t be so damn rude, Barry!” Trudy tossed her green linen napkin on the redwood picnic table. “I was only makin’ small talk. You should learn how to do it sometime.”

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Trudy glanced across the table, and for a brief moment Jessica felt a little sorry for her. George’s bride actually looked embarrassed by her in-laws’ behavior. Who could blame her?

An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Trudy looked close to tears because her dinner party wasn’t turning out the way she’d planned. George kept looking from his father to his brother, who in turn had narrowed their eyes on the two guests. Jessica was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable.

“So what do you think about football season? We going to have a chance this year?” Conor casually asked as he cut his steak.

“
Si!
” George grabbed at the change in conversation and smiled from ear to ear. “I cannot-a wait for the first-a game. I always watch the Dallas Cowboys.” Conor had effectively calmed the sudden turmoil that had erupted, but Jessica was frustrated that she hadn’t found out anything. What was worse, the men seemed to gather in their own group as the talk about football inten-sified. Jessica was left discussing fashion with Trudy. Her sympathy quickly drained away, leaving a bad case of boredom in its wake. And it didn’t get any better as time passed.

Then it was too late to discover anything. The evening was obviously drawing to a close. Her shoulders slumped.

She could see the surveillance stretching into weeks.

But then, what had she expected? They would confess? Her father’s job would be saved? She wouldn’t be drooling over Conor all the time?

Well, maybe there was something more she could do.

Abruptly, she stood. Conor looked surprised by her sudden movement.

“Trudy, do you mind if I use your bathroom?”