Janet Evanovich - Foul Play

“Anyway, the year J got out of college, when I was teaching first grade, I decided it was time for me to fall in love and get married. Looking back on it, I guess Jeff was smarter than I was, because after we’d been engaged for two months he gave me an ultimatum. Something to the effect that he had no intention of ever buying a suit without first trying it on.”

Amy laughed at the expression on Jake’s face. “Don’t look so horrified. Jeff might have put it a little crudely, but he did me a favor. A marriage ceremony wouldn’t have made any difference in the way I felt about Jeff. I wasn’t in love with him, and I didn’t want to share my body with him.”

Amy made an expansive gesture with her arms. “Well, how about some lemonade?”

Jake followed her into the kitchen, enormously pleased that she’d never wanted another man, positively gloating over the fact that she wanted him. She did want him, didn’t she? “So, why did this change from embarrassing to funny?”

“Because…” Amy paused with her hand on the refrigerator door. “Because…” She stuck her head in the refrigerator to hide the blush staining her cheeks.

Because she’d finally found the right man. Because suddenly her hormones were working overtime, and she had demanding sensations in body parts she’d previously suspected might be missing nerve endings. Because not only was she attracted to Jake, but she liked him, she enjoyed being with him, she respected him… she loved him. She retreated from the refrigerator with a handful of lemons.

“Just because,” she said. End of discussion.

She caught a glimpse of tantalizing blue towel and busied herself with the lemons, paying strict attention to squeezing, measuring, and mixing her ingredients. She was afraid if she didn’t keep her hands busy squeezing lemons, she might squeeze something else. At the very least, she was tempted to rip his towel off. Lord, she was bad. All those years of dormant, suppressed desire were catching up with her.

“I have some gym clothes in the middle drawer of my dresser,” she said breathlessly, attributing it to the exertion of making lemonade. “Maybe you can find something more comfortable to wear. I have a pair of black sweats that have always been too big for me.”

Jake almost ran to the bedroom. Wearing nothing but a skimpy towel was putting a strain on his self-control. And the way she’d looked at him! He was afraid his towel would catch fire. But then she’d backed off. She’d squeezed those lemons until there was nothing left but pulp. Damned if it wasn’t confusing.

He found the sweats and tugged them on, for the first time noticing the details of her bedroom. It had the same airy serenity of the living room, but there was a difference in the atmosphere.

It was warmer, more sensual. Her table lamp was reflected in the rich patina of her brass bedstead. The bed linens and quilt were peach, trimmed in satin. The room was sparsely decorated. Just the bed and a low oak dresser with a white marble top, above which a wood-trimmed oval mirror was centered on the wall. A small television sat on the dresser.

Jake stretched out on the bed and thought of the cache of undies and nighties he’d found that first night… satin and lace and raw silk. He was beginning to understand Amy. She kept the sensuous part of her private, wearing it under her clothes, confining it to the bedroom. She was a lady-in-waiting. The big question was, how long did she want to wait? She said she didn’t necessarily care about marriage. What did she care about?

Amy brought Jake his lemonade and sat Indian-style on the bed, next to him. She zapped the television with the remote control, but couldn’t get interested in the ten o’clock news. She had the clinic on her mind. She was beginning to share Jake’s belief that Turner and Bottles knew more about the rooster’s disappearance than they’d admitted to, but what about the second break-in? It didn’t make any sense.

Jake sipped his drink and watched Amy. “You look like a woman with a lot on her mind.”

“I can’t help wondering about Red. Why would you-” She stopped in midsentence and stared openmouthed at the television. There she was in living color, holding a container of alleged rooster soup. “Omigosh.”

Jake scrambled to the edge of the bed. “We made the ten o’clock news?”

“… and so, there you have it, folks. The question remains unanswered. Has Lulu the Clown cooked Red’s goose?”

Amy felt her eyes fill with tears. “What a terrible thing to say about Lulu.”

Jake pulled Amy into his arms and shut the television off.

“We must have missed something, Amy. The reason. We need to know the reason for all this. There have to be clues. We just haven’t recognized them.”

Amy didn’t care about clues. She cared about getting kissed. She cared about getting closer to Jake. A lot closer.

He looked at her face, flushed with desire, and knew she wasn’t going to tell him to stop tonight. Heaven knew, he didn’t want to stop, but there was a meddlesome voice, whispering through the cobwebs of his mind, “Why?” He wanted to be sure it was love. This had been a strange day. He was afraid her emotions might be jumbled.

“Amy, I think we’d better stop now.”

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t stop soon… we’re not going to stop at all, and you’re going to get devirgined.”

“So?”

“So! I’m not going to devirgin you when you’re at an emotional low. Only a sleazeball would do a thing like that.”

“You don’t want me?”

“Of course I want you! Anyone can see I want you. I’ve completely stretched the crease out of my sweats.”

“Well?”

“For Pete’s sake, Amy, you don’t just rush into these things. You have to get to know people.” He couldn’t believe he was saying any of this. The woman of his dreams was panting on the sacrificial altar.

“Besides, you have to take precautions when you do these things, and I don’t have any… um, precautions with me. If we did it without precautions you might end up with kittens.” Did he say “kittens”?

Amy laughed out loud. “I wouldn’t mind having kittens. Motley needs a playmate.”

Jake grinned. “Don’t laugh. This is serious.”

“You’re right. It is serious,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ve waited a long time for the right man to come along.”

She looked into his soft brown eyes and wondered if he loved her. She knew he cared, but love… she was afraid to hope for love. It almost didn’t matter. She couldn’t help the way she felt about him, and if it had to be a one-sided love affair, then she would have to live with it.

Jake’s heart was caught in his throat. “Are you sure I’m the right man?”

Amy tugged at the drawstring of his sweats, loosening the knot. “I’m sure. I’ve never felt like this before. I love you.”

She loved him. He felt like his heart had just been blown up like a helium balloon. She loved him!

Amy closed her eyes. “Oh geez. I’ve said the wrong thing. You look like you just got punched in the stomach.”

“I was surprised. I didn’t think… I never dreamed. I mean, I’d hoped, but… Oh, hell.” He kissed her.

“Amy, I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you. When you stole my parking place. And I have a confession to make. I followed you all through the supermarket, waiting for my chance to marry you. And when I offered you a job, I didn’t know I needed a receptionist.”

He kissed her again. “I love you.” He drew her closer, feeling fiercely possessive. “I love you.”

His voice had turned bedroom sexy, deep and raspy soft. His brown eyes darkened as his hand moved over the nape of her neck.