Together Again: Book 3 in the Second Chances series (Crimson Romance) (21 page)

And this time, it was in the full light of day. No shadows hid the perfect shoulders, the pecs and abs that made her fingers want to run over the ridges and tickle the valleys between. And when he shed his trousers and boxers in one, her breath hitched, her mouth watered and her arms reached for him, for his arms, his mouth, his penis ready for her.

Joining her in bed, he laid on his side, helped her roll the condom over his erection, and then snugged her hips against his. She rocked against his shaft, her arms tight around his chest. “Make love to me, Tony, please.” She was sure he could hear the need in her voice, feel the heat of her body as she curled her leg over his hip.

“Soon, sugar, soon. But first,” he caressed her breasts, bringing her nipples to diamond hard points. “This is where I wanted to be last night,” he whispered. “And here.” He sucked gently at the base of her throat. “And here,” as he finally kissed her mouth. His eyes were dark with desire, but his mouth, his hands were gentle, tender. She moaned against his mouth as he deepened the kiss, his tongue lazily exploring hers. Her hands played over his amazing body, finding a home on the hard muscles of his butt, drawing him to her.

Taking his time, he slowly entered her. No mad, passionate dash to climax, his lovemaking was sweet and slow, as if they had all the time in the world. She got lost in the warmth, the affection — the “love” part of lovemaking. He didn’t have to touch her clitoris for her to come — the slow and tender rhythm of his body did it for her.

They lay silently curled in one and other’s arms, watching the river as they usually did after they made love but this morning her beloved river couldn’t hold her attention for very long.

“I didn’t finish my apology,” she began.

He skimmed his hand along the curve of her hip. “I don’t think it was lacking in anything.”

“Please, Tony. I need to finish it.” She took a deep breath. “The only thing that matters to me is being with you. So whatever it takes, whatever you want, let’s do it.”

He pulled back from her and frowned. “Whatever I want? How about whatever
we
want? This isn’t a decision for one of us to make.”

“But I thought … didn’t you say … ?”

“Margo, I asked if we could begin to talk about the future,
we
and
begin
being the operative words. I wasn’t asking to pick out our kids’ names, although I would like to put in a good word for the name Joseph when we get to that conversation.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed.

He went on as if she wasn’t laughing. “If you’d said that one thing you said a little while ago — that you can’t imagine being without me — I’d have had the answer I was looking for.”

“I was an idiot. Can you forgive me?”

“If you’ll forgive me.”

“For what?”

“How long have I known you? I knew better than to bring up something like that just as I was about to walk out the door for a couple days. My timing sucked. When I walked into the room for that first meeting after I got back, you looked scared to death. No woman who wasn’t under arrest has ever looked at me like that.”

“I’m not scared any more. I know what I want.”

“I do, too. Do you trust us to get it?”

“Yes, of course I trust us — trust you.” She drew him close and kissed him. “I can’t believe I’ve wasted all these days when I could have had you here to myself.”

“We wouldn’t have been here after what happened at Blue Lake. You’d have been in a hotel room with Danny. And it’s not a bad thing that I’ve had a few days on my own. I found out I really like Portland, even when I’m not with you.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“When I have this golden opportunity to guilt you about kicking me out of your bed, do you really think I’d do that, Keyes?”

The payback for Fiona’s help in getting her cover story held was a long phone call during which she squeezed every detail out of Margo she could. By the time they had gone through the whole adventure, Fiona knew everything from the smell of the bread in the Russian grocery store to the sticky feel of adhesive tape holding a wire in place to the metallic taste of fear as a car sped along an interstate to places unknown.

In return, Fiona shared some of the information she’d gotten from her other interviews. How Jameson and Nixon had gotten involved with the two Russian mobsters, they didn’t know yet. Somehow they had been in negotiations with both of them, teasing them with bits of information which had been apparently loaded onto not one, but two flash drives while they held onto the entire programs, trying to drive the price up; a tactic that had resulted in their deaths.

Fiona reported that Paul Dreier had retained a big-time criminal lawyer from the East Coast who was asserting that Dreier had been used by the Russians. The only thing Dreier was willing to admit was that he’d hit Margo. He claimed he had been trying to get her out of harm’s way because he feared what Vasily Orlov would do to her.

Sam, Fiona said, thought that wrapping her in duct tape and heading for Larch Mountain where dead bodies can be hidden for years was an odd way to get Margo out of harm’s way. But then, Sam had added, maybe he wasn’t headed for Larch Mountain. Maybe he’d asked Margo to lunch at the Multnomah Falls Lodge and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

• • •

Margo had this foolish idea that she would go into work on Monday and things would be back to normal as if the events of Friday had never happened. But everyone in the courthouse from the security guard to her colleagues had seen at least one version of her adventure on the front-page of the daily paper, online after her interview with Fiona or on one of the multiple local television newscasts.

The Portland Police Bureau, the FBI, and all the other law enforcement agencies involved had their share of coverage, too, but the success of the entire operation was laid at the feet of the “Golden Girl” DA, as one newscast called her.

So on Monday, fifteen minutes after she arrived at her office, the phone started ringing. And it kept on ringing non-stop. Then there were the colleagues who “just dropped in to see how you are” and stayed to ask questions. Not to mention the phone calls from Sam, also asking questions, his inquiries more in the official line.

If her phone calls were time-consuming, her email was overwhelming. People she hadn’t heard from in years, having seen the AP story that went out on the wire, sent messages. Even Celeste Alessandro sent a message after she’d seen the piece in the
Inquirer
.

Eventually Margo gave up the idea she’d get back to her caseload, sat back in her chair, drank innumerable lattes supplied by Kiki and answered the same questions over and over. Yes, she’d been scared. No, she didn’t think she would leave the DA’s office for a career in police work. Yes, she was happy to have played a pivotal role in such an important case. No, she wasn’t going to take time off to write a book. And GMA hadn’t called for an interview.

After a few hours, things settled down a little and she decided to find a scone or something to sop up all the coffee sloshing around in her stomach. As she headed for the elevator she saw Greer Payne burst out of Jeff’s office, obviously crying, after what was apparently a bad meeting.

Margo genuinely felt sorry for her colleague. For the first time, her judgment about men had been bad and probably career limiting.

• • •

Tuesday afternoon Kiki came into the office, her eyes dreamy, as if she’d just seen her high school crush. Instead, she’d seen Margo’s.

“Looks like Tony came to say
arrivederci
,” she said. “God, I’m going to miss seeing him around here.” Margo winced and Kiki immediately said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“It’s okay. It’s true and I have to deal with it.”

Margo walked out of her office and saw Tony at the door of Jeff’s office. Jeff was smiling as they shook hands, then he clapped Tony on the back in one of those pseudo-guy hugs. Tony saw she was watching and came across to her office.

“What’re you doing here,
detectivo
?”

“Playing messenger. What’re you up to,
avocatessa
?”

“Trying unsuccessfully to get back into my routine. Dinner in town or at my place?”

“Your place. I’ll meet you outside the Justice Center at six.” He leaned over and for the first time, kissed her in her office.

• • •

The next day Tony left for Philly. At the airport, they stood outside security with their arms around each other until he couldn’t put off going through to his gate any longer. She watched him walk down the concourse until he was out of sight, and then went home to have the cry she’d been suppressing all morning.

The case she was to take to court that Friday ended up with a continuance, irritating her because she had counted on it to distract her. Over the next few weeks she talked to Tony every evening she could, given different time zones and the demands of their jobs, and emailed or texted during the day. But she missed waking up in the morning with him next to her and she looked up, expecting him to appear every time she heard a man’s footsteps coming toward her office.

Eventually her caseload picked up and she was able to bury herself in work. Unfortunately, that also meant that a trip to Philly wasn’t going to happen any time soon. A month after he left, Margo was cross-checking her schedule with flights to any East Coast city within train distance of Philadelphia when Jeff came into her office to tell her they would be taking the Russians to a grand jury the following week and both she and Tony would be called as witnesses. He’d be in town for as long as the grand jury needed him.

Jeff was about to leave when he said, “Oh, I have something that was delivered here for him. Would you give it to him? I imagine you’ll see him before I do.” He handed her a business-sized envelope, gave her an enigmatic smile and left.

Margo fingered the envelope. It was thin, probably only one page. She inspected the front. It bore the seal of the city of Portland and was addressed to Detective Anthony S. Alessandro. There was no address. No stamp or postmark. She flipped it over. It was sealed.

She put it down on her desk and picked up the deposition she’d been reading before Jeff had come in. But the envelope drew her attention to it in spite of her best efforts to resist, beckoning to her like new shoes in the window of Nordstrom’s, or the smell of coffee in the morning, or brownies baking or …

The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts of things that tempted her. She stuffed the envelope in her messenger bag and answered the call. She got so involved in the conversation she forgot about what was buried in her briefcase.

• • •

On the evening Tony was due to arrive in Portland, Margo was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner when her cell phone rang.

She glanced at the number then eagerly answered. “Hey, you. Are you about to leave Chicago?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you missed your connection. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“Maybe we can do something about that. Go to the door, sugar.”

“Go to the door? Why?”

“For once, would you do what I ask without an argument? Go open your door.”

When she did, she found him standing there with a big grin on his face. She shrieked and jumped into his arms. Finally, they released each other but she kept hold of his arm as he walked into the house.

“You’re early.”

“My flight into Chicago was way early, and a flight attendant who thought it was sweet I was on my way to see my girlfriend got me on an earlier flight. I had to run like hell from one gate to another but I made it.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her again. Had there been someone there to try, a piece of paper couldn’t have been slipped anywhere between their bodies.

When they broke from their embrace, she asked if he wanted something to eat or drink. He replied, “Not right now. I hear you have something for me from Jeff.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” She dug the envelope out of her messenger bag and gave it to him. “What is it, do you know?”

“You didn’t open it?”

“It’s addressed to you. Opening another person’s mail is a federal offense.”

“That wasn’t mailed. And you have my permission to open it.”

“Well, then.” She tore into the envelope and pulled out the folded paper. It was from the chief of police and simply said it was confirming that Detective Anthony S. Alessandro, currently with the Philadelphia Police Department, would, as of October fifteenth of this year, join the Portland Police Bureau. After a course at the Police Academy and upon passing an exam, he would be at the rank of detective.

“I don’t understand. How … ? Was it Jeff? Is that why he had this? He did this?”

“Yeah, he did. He’s been afraid he’d lose you so he called in some political favors to get me into the Police Bureau ahead of everyone else. He asked me to keep it quiet until he was sure it would work out.”

“He never said a word. But you have to retake the detective exam? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“I’ll take any exam they want. I’ll go back in uniform if I have to. Jeff got me a slot in the Portland Police Bureau and I’m grateful. I have to play basketball every Saturday during the season on the team Jeff and the chief play for, but … ”

“I should have known that’s how he pulled this particular rabbit out of the hat.” She picked up his suitcase. “Oh, there’s also a package here from The Fairchild Gallery addressed to you. It’s not big enough to contain Liz or I would have punched air holes in it so she … ”

“You can open that, too, sugar. It’s an early birthday present for you.”

Inside the carefully packaged container was the piece of Amanda St. Claire’s glass that Margo had admired the first night Tony had been in town.

She was sure her eyes were suspiciously shiny and she had a huge lump in her throat that made it hard to speak. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have … it’s so expensive … you’re wonderful.”

“I figured as long as there might be a chance I’d be living here with you, I’d be able to enjoy it, too.”