Jill Sorenson - Crash Into Me

“Uh-huh.” She stared intently at his mouth. “Let me try.”

She mimicked his actions so skillfully it required a monumental effort to keep his hands where they were at her waist. In seconds, she’d eclipsed his meager talent. Needing no further instruction, she slipped her tongue into his mouth and threaded her fingers through his hair.

He leaned back and let her have her way with him, forgetting that he’d orchestrated this scene and abandoning his earlier resolve to keep her away from the danger zone. When she deepened the kiss, wriggling in his lap, he couldn’t stop himself from cupping her cute little ass and drawing her closer, letting her feel what she was doing to him.

She gasped against his mouth then melted against him, acquiescing. In the blink of an eye, he was stretched out on top of her, kissing her like a madman and giving his hands free reign over her lithe body.

He must have been too rough, because when he slid his hand beneath her sweatshirt, she cried out.

James froze. “Sorry,” he said, rolling off her. He’d never meant to take it this far. “Carly-God, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She sat up, running a hand through her disheveled hair. “Of course I’m okay. Sorry for what?”

His mouth dropped open. “For losing control, I guess. Hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“I didn’t? You made a noise.”

She blushed. “It wasn’t that kind of noise.”

“Oh.” He groaned in understanding, and pain. “I don’t think this boyfriend-girlfriend thing is going to work out.”

“Why not?” She stood, shaking sand from her clothes.

Because I can’t trust myself around you, he wanted to shout. Instead, he walked down the beach a few steps and shoved his shaking hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Come over tomorrow, for dinner. Around six.”

Pretending to be Carly’s boyfriend in front of her dad didn’t hold the same appeal as making out with her on the sand. And if his dad found out…

“You can’t back out,” she warned. “You’ve already collected your fee. And if everything goes well, maybe I’ll let you kiss me again.”

With that, she flashed him a grin and took off, sprinting down the beach, her hair wild and loose down her back. James watched until she disappeared in the twilight, knowing he would keep his end of the bargain.

Because although he’d pretended it hadn’t been enough, her first kiss had been perfection, charming in its innocence, devoid of all artifice, and the least ugly moment of his entire, bottom-dwelling life.

“Can you come over?” he said without preamble. They’d never spoken on the phone before, but it didn’t occur to Sonny to ask who it was, even to be coy.

“What’s up?” she asked, caution warring with pleasure.

“Carly invited her boyfriend to dinner.” He would have said the devil was coming in the same tone.

“I thought she didn’t have one.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I knew it couldn’t last.”

Her lips twitched. “And you need me as, what? A buffer?”

“I suppose. Carly recommended that I invite some other people, probably to take the heat off her guest. She thinks I’m going to grill him.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. I feel sick.”

Sonny had no trouble imagining the effect of young, overactive male hormones on Carly’s already troubled psyche. “Does she know you’re inviting me?”

“It was her idea.”

“Ah.” Now she was a distraction, evidently more useful than as a rival for Ben’s affections. “Who else is coming?”

“My mom, my brother, maybe one of his boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends?”

“Yeah. He goes through them like I used to go through surf groupies. I hope Carly doesn’t take after either of us.”

She felt a flutter of panic at the thought of meeting his family, especially under an assumed identity. What a coil!

Although her gut feeling told her Ben Fortune was innocent, she still had a job to do, evidence to collect, and information to gather. If Olivia Fortune had been the SoCal Strangler’s first victim, Sonny had to find out why the killer had chosen her.

Perhaps he’d known her. And Ben.

Surrendering to duty, curiosity, and an overwhelming desire to see him again, she let out a deep breath and asked, “What time?”

Just before six, Sonny walked across Neptune Street, toward Ben’s front door. A teenaged boy was pacing the curb a few doors down, head tilted to one side, his body language suggesting he was practicing introduction scenarios. Hiding a smile, she approached him, deciding to offer her assistance.

“Hey,” she said, startling him with her presence.

When he turned around, her first impression, based solely on appearance, was that Carly Fortune had good taste. Her second, based on what was going on behind those pretty blue eyes, was that Carly was playing with fire.

Physically, he wasn’t threatening. Neither large nor impressively muscled, he had a lean, hungry look that made his cheekbones stand out in his face. Despite those sharp edges, he was handsome, and if one didn’t stray beyond the surface, he appeared nothing more than a better-than-average-looking boy. His dark blue sweater was of good quality, mended haphazardly in a couple of places with black thread, indicating that he’d done it himself. His jeans were faded from too many washings, and his shoes, a scuffed brown leather that must have been quite expensive when new, were worn but clean.

It was amazing what kind of deals you could get in Torrey Pines, shopping secondhand.

The particulars of his clothing were telling, but the flash she’d seen in his eyes upon her surprise approach concerned her more than his socioeconomic status. His defensive, fight-or-flight reaction reminded her more than a little of herself.

In the next instant, he erased the hostile expression and relaxed his stance, regarding her with mild curiosity.

“You must be Carly’s boyfriend. I’m Summer.” She stuck out her hand in greeting, telling herself the kid was sketchy, not necessarily evil.

“James.” His handshake was firm and calloused. Interesting.

“You want some tips?”

“Tips?”

He looked so hopeful that Sonny breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing sinister about a skinny boy with a puppy-dog crush. “Carly’s dad is a nice guy,” she said. “Be polite, and you’ll go far. And he’s kind of…” she paused, searching for one word to convey laid-back, health-conscious, environmentally aware, and liberal, “…a hippie, so don’t try to pull any tough-guy bullshit. It won’t impress him.”

He nodded, filing the information away. “No sports talk, then?”

The kid was quick. “I’m not sure if he likes anything but surfing.” Although he was too young to be a suspect, she gave him another quick once-over. “You surf?”

“Nah,” he said glumly. His eyes lit up. “I fish, though.”

Sonny smiled. “Then you know about the ocean. Currents, wind, waves.”

“I know some stuff.”

“Okay, but don’t go spouting off. The more you talk, the more likely you are to do or say something stupid.”

Taking no offense, he smiled back at her. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Ben’s.” Sonny knew exactly how her words translated in the mind of a boy his age, so she cut him off, midthought. “Ready?”

“Yes,” he said, eyeing the Fortune residence with trepidation.

“Oh, and I think Carly’s uncle is gay, so don’t freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?”

Why, indeed? “You’re okay, kid.”

Before they could knock, Carly yanked open the door, her black eyes sparkling with mischief. She looked James over, not bothering to simper or flirt, and gave Sonny a similar perusal. “You two need major help,” she decided.