Janet Evanovich - Full Speed

Jamie grimaced. "I hate when he does that!"

Decker patted the dog on the head. "Headquarters is sending people right away, Mr. Holt. In five minutes this place will be crawling with cops, probably a couple of local reporters. It would be best if you and Miss Swift weren't here when they arrived."

Jamie looked at Max.

He met her gaze. "You know how I hate publicity."

"What about my story?"

"Jamie, we have to talk."

"No, Max, I'm not going to back down this time. I specifically came here for my story." Then she remembered Rudy had taken her notepad. "Oh, damn."

"What is it?" Max asked. "Lost your notes?"

Max began at the nape of her neck, nuzzling the little indentation at the top of her spine, then running his tongue downward, touching each vertebra as he went. Jamie shivered and buried her face against the feather pillow. Max's big hands skimmed her hips, slightly rough against her smooth skin. He trailed his fingers down one thigh, behind one knee, down her calf.

Finally, he coaxed her onto her back. And studied her.

Her face was lovely, her cheeks heightened a dusty rose that hinted at her own arousal. Her blonde hair was rich and glowing, the color of ripened wheat, wisps framing her face, loose tendrils brushing against gently sloping shoulders. Her skin seemed to glow.

She was perfect in every way. Each curve, each swell, looked as though a master artist had sculpted it.

Jamie's eyes fluttered open as Max scooted upward on the bed and covered her mouth with his. It was the kind of kiss that women only dreamed of, the kind they could sink their hearts into. Max parted her lips with his tongue and tasted her. Jamie felt a ripple of pleasure as his hand cupped one breast.

Jamie opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Morning. She felt the coarse sheet beneath her; the smell of pine trees and a bloodhound that was in dire need of a bath had replaced the scent of lavender. "Aw, shit," she muttered.

At the foot of the bed, Fleas rolled over and looked at her. He had obviously sneaked up on the bed during the night.

"OK," she said, "so I was dreaming about sex again. With Max," she added. "It happens all the time." She sat up, and her hair tumbled into her face. Her sleep shirt was wrinkled, and she needed to find her toothbrush. Why couldn't she be as gorgeous as she was in her dreams?

"Welcome to the real world, Jamie Swift," she muttered.

* * * * *

Dave did not look happy when Max and Jamie entered his hospital room. He was wearing a dark frown and a surgical mask.

"What's wrong?" Max asked.

"What's wrong?" Dave echoed, his voice muffled from the mask. He pulled it down. "I'm in a hospital surrounded by illness and disease and you ask me what's wrong? Not only that, I'm risking my life being here. Do you have any idea the number of people who are killed each year in hospitals simply because a doctor or nurse makes an error? I'd have a better chance on an open battlefield."

"How long are they keeping you?" Jamie asked.

"Another day at least. They're giving me antibiotics to fight off an infection, but they don't think I should be treated for rabies because, well, because—"

"Yeah?" Max said.

"I'm not exhibiting any symptoms." He suddenly laughed. "And believe me, I've checked."

Max and Jamie laughed with him.

"I don't know how you guys managed to put up with me," Dave said, still chuckling. "You probably need a vacation. I need a vacation from myself."

"My private plane is at your disposal," Max said. He reached into his pocket for his business card. "I've listed a number on the back. Call this person when you're ready to check out of this hotel." He paused. "I'd like to see you back at work in a couple of weeks."

Dave took the card. He raised his eyes to Max's, and they exchanged smiles. "Hey, man, I'm really glad we got Santoni."

* * * * *

An hour later, Max pulled into the parking lot of a small Catholic church. "Why are we stopping here?" Jamie asked.

"I have an appointment with a priest. You want to get hitched while we're here?"

Jamie rolled her eyes. "What's this really about?"

"I'll be right back."

Jamie watched him go. "Muffin?"

"I'm here."

"Why is Max meeting with a priest?"

"He's making an anonymous donation to the community. You didn't hear it from me."

Max rejoined Jamie a few minutes later.

"You never fail to amaze me," she said once he'd climbed into the truck and started the engine.

"Oh, yeah?" He looked at her.

"Yeah."

"Does that mean we're going to have hot steamy sex when we get back to the cabin?"

Jamie felt her face grow hot. Well, OK, that wasn't the only body part that warmed at his words. "I, um, well—"

"Easy for you to say," Max teased.

* * * * *

Max was in the process of packing his belongings when Jamie hung up after talking to Vera. She frowned at him.

"What'd I do this time?"

"You bought me a car. A red Mustang," she added. "Vera just told me."

"I felt bad because your other car got shot up by Santoni's hit man. I didn't want you to be without transportation while it's in the shop."

"What am I supposed to do with two cars and a truck? My driveway isn't big enough."

"That truck is on its last legs."

"That truck will be running long after your so-called Maxmobile gives out, Max. Besides, I have to keep it for Fleas. I'll park it in the backyard and grow flowers around it."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. "That's probably the guy with the trailer."

* * * * *

"I don't believe this," Max said once they were on the road. "I have seen a lot of dumb things in my day, but I've never seen anything as dumb as this."

"I agree," Muffin said. "It's pretty dumb."

"It doesn't look that dumb," Jamie muttered, although she was careful to stay low in the seat so those in traffic couldn't see her.

Max glanced her way. "You don't think we look strange driving a worthless pickup truck and pulling a two-million-dollar car?"

"Just so Fleas can ride in the back of the truck with us?" Muffin added. "I hope my laptop friend at MIT doesn't hear about this. I'll never be able to live it down."

"Do you have any better suggestions?" Jamie asked. "We didn't have time to get Muffin reinstalled in your car, which is why you refused to let me go back to Beaumont in my truck."

Max grinned. "That's not the only reason, Swifty. I knew you couldn't bear the thought of leaving me."

Jamie ignored him, despite the gentle pull in her stomach. Max only had to look at her to send her thoughts into a wild frenzy. She glanced over her shoulder at Fleas, who was sitting on a feather mattress and gnawing on a foot-long rawhide bone. "I think he survived the trauma well."

"What trauma?" Muffin said. "Nothing happened. We weren't involved in finding Santoni, remember? You guys need to read the newspaper. The FBI shot and killed two mob figures at a small airstrip, and, acting on a hunch, they broke into an auto salvage company owned by one Thomas Peter Bennetti, aka Tom Bennett, and found a small arsenal. Not only that, they've managed to break through the firewall on the computer. That part wasn't in the newspaper; I found out on my own. So what it boils down to is once again we solved the case and someone else gets the credit."

Max grunted. "The FBI won't be able to decipher Santoni's codes."

"Oh, listen to Mr. Genius," Muffin said. "He couldn't break the code, so he doesn't think anyone else can."

"I could have broken it if I'd had more time," Max said. He sighed. "What we need now is a nice vacation. What do you think, Swifty? I've got this nice boat."

Muffin grunted. "It's one hundred and fifty feet long, Max. I believe it's called a yacht."