Lisa Desrochers - A Little Too Hot

My heart stalls in my chest. I can’t think of a single thing to say. All I want to do is kiss him. My breathing’s a little shaky as I lean my head back again and close my eyes, forcing myself to stay put in this seat.

When we get back to the house, Blake walks me to the door of my bedroom. I want to open the door and pull him through, but after the magic of tonight, I don’t want to ruin whatever is happening between us by forcing him to shut me down.

My heart pumps faster when he stands here, gazing down into my eyes. He lifts his hand and traces my scar with his finger. “It’s been a while since I’ve danced like that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” It comes out breathier than I mean it to, and the ice in his eyes melts into deep blue pools.

His hand scoops around the nape of my neck and he tips my face up. Oh-so-slowly, he bends down to meet me, his liquid eyes watching me the whole way. I sigh as he closes the rest of the distance between us and seals his mouth over mine. His kiss is slow, and soft, but not tentative. He kisses me thoroughly, and I feel it to the toes of my champagne shoes.

Too soon, he pulls back. There’s fire in his gaze. “Good night, Sam West. I’ll dream about you in that dress tonight.”

I kiss him again, just a peck on the lips. “Good night, Blake Montgomery. After a kiss like that, I’ll be dreaming about you too.”

He smiles and backs toward the stairs, and it’s everything I can do not to follow. Once he’s out of sight and the stairwell goes dark, I push through my door. As I undress, I picture Blake downstairs, doing the same. And, as much as I still want to climb into that bed with him, it’s different somehow.

I’ve been afraid to admit to myself the feeling growing inside me because I was sure Blake couldn’t return it. But tonight I began to believe that maybe he could. When this is all over, when I’m no longer his job . . . I think he might be able to love me.

ALL DAY SUNDAY, Blake and I find reasons to be in the same places. I spend less time in my room, and he spends less working out. He doesn’t touch me, but every time our arms or knees “accidentally” brush as we’re sitting on the sofa, or at the breakfast bar, it sets my heart ablaze. It’s different than anything I’ve ever felt before—deeper and more visceral, as if Blake has taken root somewhere in my very being.

I think he feels it too, but how do I know?

He’s still in a good mood when Cooper shows up Monday afternoon to stay with me while he goes to the office.

“I’ll see you for dinner,” he tells me with a wink from the elevator.

The doors slide closed and I turn to find Cooper giving me the eye.

“What?”

He shakes his head and drops into the armchair, picking up the remote. “I don’t even want to know.” I go to the kitchen for a Coke as he clicks on the TV. “Let’s see if we can find your dad on here.”

I roll my eyes and head for my room. “I’ll be in the pool if you need me.”

IT’S LATE AFTERNOON and I’m lying facedown in a lounge chair with my top undone, having a long conversation with my dragonfly about Jonathan and Izzy and Ginger and all the things I imagine them doing out in the world, when a shadow blocks my sun.

I press up on my elbows and Blake is standing at the end of my lounge. I smile before I notice the twist to his face. I press my top to my chest. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes flicker over my body before returning to my face, intense with some deep agony. “Nothing. Everything is right. Navarro’s shutting us down. You go home tomorrow.”

I tie the top of my suit behind me and sit up. “That’s good, right?”

He nods. “It is.”

“Then, what’s wrong?”

He settles onto the lounge chair next to mine, his hands gripping the wooden frame, like he’s straining to keep them to himself. “Nothing. Everything’s perfect.”

“You’re sure?”

He nods slowly, his gaze locking on mine. “As of tomorrow, you’re a free woman. What are you going to do with the rest of your life, Sam West?”

That’s a question my dragonfly has been helping me sort through. He listens and I talk, and what I’ve figured out is, helping Sabrina at the shelter and being able to help track down the girl from Benny’s felt better than anything I’ve ever done in my life. I’m not sure how I want to do it, whether in law enforcement or some sort of counseling career, but I know I want to keep doing that—helping people who have no one else. “Not waste it.”

We stand and wander back up the path to the house. He opens the door for me and I step through. When he turns to me and twists a strand of my hair around his finger, I wait for him to move closer—to give me a sign that he’s ready to let this take its course. But instead, he tucks it behind my ear and steps back. “I’ll pull together something for dinner,” he says. “Then we should pack.”

THIS MIGHT BE our last night together. I don’t even know how to start the conversation about what comes after for us. But I know if anything’s going to happen between us, it’s going to be now. I’ve showered and changed into a short cotton skirt under a white cami. I’m barefoot and braless, and I won’t deny it’s so he’ll notice.

He’s got one of his favorite country CDs in the player as he moves around the kitchen, and I smile when I catch myself internally singing along.

He makes Chicken Provençal, over pasta this time, instead of rice, and serves it with red wine. It’s amazingly good, but I can’t really eat. My stomach’s in a knot, trying to figure out how this is supposed to go. Is he leaving? Will I ever see him again? Am I still his job? Or can we finally give in?

I’ve got more questions than answers, and Blake isn’t in a talkative mood, so we pick at our food in silence.

After we’ve cleaned up, I step out onto the balcony and rest my elbows on the rail. The lights across the suspension half of the Bay Bridge stretch out like a runway, drawing my eye to the city, sparkling like a jeweled tiara across the black water of the bay. It’s truly beautiful up here.

“Nice night,” Blake says from behind me.

I rest my chin in my hand. “I’m going to miss this.” I’m going to miss you .

For a several beats of my galloping heart, he doesn’t say anything. When I turn, I find him staring at me. “Are you packed?”

“I . . . I wasn’t sure about the clothes and things that you guys got for me.”

One corner of his mouth lifts in a sad smile. “It’s all yours, Sam.”

His smile pulls hard at my soul. It feels like a stone fist is crushing my heart. He hasn’t said anything about staying here after the case. Will he go back to L.A.?

“Will I see you again? After tomorrow?” The question rises up on a swell of despair, and it’s just now that I realize how close to losing it I truly am.

I want him so badly to say yes. “I really want that, Sam.” Despite his words, his expression is anything but sure.

If this is it for us, I don’t want to walk out of here tomorrow with any regrets. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wishing I’d had the guts to follow through.

I push off the rail and take his hand. “Come on.”

He lets me tow him into the living room, where I sit him on the sofa and turn up the music—one of his current country favorites. And then I move. I dance like I did that first night in the club. I close my eyes and dance just for him, putting everything I am into it and hoping he can feel me.

I catch the hint of his scent—warm and musky—before he even touches me, and when his hands slip around my waist and he presses his body against mine, every single one of my nerve endings bursts into flames. His fingers are in my hair, so soft, sweeping my long auburn locks away from my face. His lips brush over my forehead, like butterfly wings, on his way to my ear where his tongue strokes before he nips at my lobe. I don’t open my eyes, because the sensations flooding through my body—his delicious scent, and the feel of his hands, the sound of his soft moan—are already too much to handle. Seeing him would send me over the edge of control.