Janet Evanovich - Full Speed

Max rose on his elbows and turned her over so that he was facing her in the dark. "Man, oh man," he whispered.

Jamie could barely make out the outline of his face, but she knew he wanted to kiss her. And, dammit, she wanted it as much as he did. It didn't seem to matter what was happening in her life; Max could just look at her a certain way or touch her and everything else faded into the background. She was obviously not a disciplined person where Max Holt was concerned.

Max found her lips. Jamie didn't hesitate to let him in; she was just as eager as he was for the kiss. He slipped his hand beneath her T-shirt, and her stomach did a massive somersault. Nope, no discipline, she thought. The man was intent on turning her on, and she was more than obliging.

Max broke the kiss, but his mouth never stilled, moving over her face in sweet lingering kisses that made her feel shivery one moment, anxious the next. She arched against him, heat seeking heat, feeling as though she couldn't get close enough. Max eased her lacy bra upward, exposing both breasts. He covered one with his mouth. Jamie closed her eyes, thinking maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to let her resolve weaken from time to time. This seemed like a good time.

His hands were warm against her cool skin. Her stomach fluttered and she could almost feel her bones turning soft and mushy.

His gentle massage sent erotic messages low in her belly. Damned if the man didn't have a way with his hands.

Max ran his hand lightly down her abdomen to her inner thighs, and Jamie knew she was a goner. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Max's hand moved higher and he turned it over so that his palm lay flat between her thighs.

Jamie sucked in her breath. She tried to think, but all logic had gone out the window. She had tried so hard to be strong. She had wanted reassurances from Max, but maybe he was right. Maybe she expected too much. There weren't any guarantees in life. Or maybe she was just rationalizing because, well, because she wanted him to make love to her.

As if sensing a subtle change in her, Max pulled back, and his hands stilled. "You're doing it again," he said. "You're thinking too much."

"I can't help it."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Um, I don't know."

He gave an enormous sigh, pulled her T-shirt in place, and rolled onto his back.

She should never have let things go this far, she thought, only to back out in the end. What was wrong with her? What the hell was wrong with her?

"Max?"

"Go to sleep, Jamie," he said softly.

* * * * *

Max was reading the newspaper when Jamie stumbled from the bedroom the next morning in her crumpled T-shirt. Fleas followed closely, and when Jamie stopped to open the front door, he bumped into her. Jamie turned, and they just looked at each other.

"Is there a problem?" she asked the dog.

He inched out the door as though he had all the time in the world. On the front steps he shook his head and his long ears made a flapping sound. He sat down and began licking himself.

"That is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen in my life," Jamie told him, and closed the door. She turned for the kitchen, nodded once at Max, and made for the coffeepot. She was determined to act as though nothing had happened the night before.

"Your eyes don't look so good, Swifty," Max said.

"I didn't sleep well," she said, avoiding eye contact.

"I guess that makes two of us. I was wondering. Maybe I should drive you back to Beaumont. You'd be safer."

She turned and gaped. "No way. Not until we find out who killed Rawlins." She spied the newspaper in his hand. "Oh, damn."

"I went out earlier to get the paper. You made headlines, Swifty."

"That's why you want me to go back, isn't it? You're afraid somebody will recognize me."

"No. The picture isn't even close." He held it up. "See for yourself."

Jamie hurried over and studied the drawing. The wig made a lot of difference; bangs covered most of her forehead, giving her face a rounder look. The slightly upturned nose was close, but the eyes were all wrong. She drew a sigh of relief.

"Nobody is going to recognize you as this woman," Max said. "Did you give anyone your last name?"

Jamie shook her head. "Nobody asked. Not even Rawlins."

"Probably because you told him you had a sexual addiction." Max shook his head as though he still couldn't believe she'd done it. "Most people would want their anonymity protected. He would have been sensitive enough to know that."

She gave a shaky breath. "You're saying it's safe for me to go to Wal-Mart?"

He suddenly looked amused. "God forbid I try to stop you from shopping." His eyes took on a tender look. "If it helps to get out, I'll take you. You're safe as long as you're in a crowd."

She had wondered about what to do about meeting Michael for breakfast. "I'll be fine on my own."

He didn't argue. "You're not the only person the police are looking for. A bellboy is being questioned about a man who offered him one hundred bucks to borrow his clothes and push the food cart into Rawlins's room. Fortunately, Dave was in disguise as well." He paused. "We can continue using the name Trotter, and since Jane is such a common name, I don't see a problem there, either."

"Sounds like everything is going to be OK then."

"For the time being."

Jamie didn't miss the edge in his voice.

* * * * *

Jamie slid into the booth across from Michael Juliano. She stiffened when she noticed the folded newspaper beside him. She was just being paranoid, she told herself.

He smiled at her. "Good morning. Or is it?"

She froze. "What do you mean?"

"You look tired."

"I didn't sleep well last night."

"Does it have anything to do with that wedding band you're wearing? Not that it's any of my business, of course."

Jamie's stomach took a nosedive as she realized she was wearing the wedding band she had put on before meeting with Harlan the day before. She had been so upset she hadn't thought to remove it when she'd returned home and changed. She hadn't been wearing it when she first met Michael and she wanted to keep things consistent. In his paranoid state he might shut down to her.

She had gone and blown her chance. "I can explain it," she said.

He leaned back in the booth as though waiting.

Jamie was thankful the waitress had picked that particular moment to bring coffee and menus. She waited until the woman walked away.

"My husband and I are divorcing," she said.

"But you still wear his ring?"

Jamie stared at it. "I suppose I'm still trying to come to terms with it. I should take it off and I do sometimes."

Michael seemed to ponder it. "I really don't have a right to ask. I mean, we barely know each other, right? I just …" He paused and gave a rueful smile.

"What?"

"I found myself looking forward to seeing you today, so the ring was a big surprise. I don't remember seeing it yesterday, but then, I was upset at the time. I'm sorry I butted in. And I'm sorry that you're going through a bad time. I was married once, but it didn't work out."

He looked genuinely sad for her. Jamie glanced down. It wasn't easy lying to someone who was so nice, and it wasn't easy keeping secrets from Max. But she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. She had even called Vera and spent ten minutes on the phone lying to her about what a great time she was having in Tennessee. Yeesh.

But she had a very good reason for all the subterfuge. She was trying to keep Vera from worrying, and she was trying to get information from Michael that might protect him and lead her and Max to Nick Santoni. A girl had to do what a girl had to do.

"Jane, are you all right?"

Jamie looked up. "We barely know each other, Michael, and the last thing I want to do is burden you with my problems. I was just trying to be a friend when I thought you needed one."