Janet Evanovich - The Grand Finale

“Berry.”

“You growled?”

“What are you doing? Practicing the polka?”

“I can’t get comfortable.”

“It would be nice if you didn’t make it my problem. I’ve had a lousy day. I’d like nothing better than to get back to sleep.”

“Ugh.” Berry smacked him with her pillow.

Jake snatched the pillow from her and tucked it under his head.

“Jake Sawyer, give me back my pillow!”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law. It’s mine now.”

Berry ripped the quilt from him and wrapped herself in it cocoon style, gloating over the gasp of surprise she’d provoked. Two could play this game. He wasn’t the only one who was capable of acting childish.

Jake grabbed an end and dumped her out of the quilt.

“Hey, possession is nine-tenths of the law!” Berry said.

“Only when you’re big and strong like me.” He placed the pillow in the middle of the bed and pointed with his finger. “That half of the pillow is yours.” He draped the quilt over them and tucked her in. “How’s your stomach?”

“It’s fine. How’s yours?”

What was with this stomach stuff? That had to be the third time tonight he’d asked about her stomach.

“Mmmph.” He slammed his head onto his half of the pillow.

“We don’t fit like this,” Berry said. “I can’t get my head onto my half of the pillow.”

He silently rolled to his side, and Berry inched her way over. Now they were back to back, tush to tush. Berry watched the digital minutes tick by. She couldn’t sleep like this. Tush to tush was uncomfortable. She held her breath and very carefully rolled over until she was facing Jake, spoon fashion. Yes, she decided, this was much better.

For lack of something better to do with her arm, she draped it over his waist and rested her cheek just millimeters from his neck. Mmmm, she was getting more comfortable all the time, but the angle was wrong. She was sure she could go to sleep if she was just a bit closer, so she wriggled around until she was perfectly molded to Jake’s back. She finally had attained the ideal position for sleep, and she was so pleased about it that she allowed herself a sigh of satisfaction. “Ahhh,” she sighed softly, blowing a little wisp of warm air across his neck, into his ear.

“Ohhh!”

“Pardon?” she whispered, her voice husky with thoughts of sleep.

Jake’s voice cracked when he spoke. “Are you comfortable?”

Berry stretched slightly, pressing her breasts into his back. “Mmmm. Are you?”

There was a low groan, and she felt his muscles tense.

“I’m so tired,” she said. “I can hardly keep my eyes open. How about you?”

“I’m not tired at all. To tell you the truth, I’m wide-awake. In fact, I’m getting more awake by the minute.”

Berry’s finger carelessly stroked the center of Jake’s belly. “Maybe, you just need some relaxing.”

“Relax? With your breasts poking into my back and your finger stuck in my navel?” He gave a sigh of desperation and turned around to face her. “Listen, Berry, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Berry felt his arousal hard and full against her, cleverly sneaking its way under her nightshirt. She ran her hands across his smooth muscular back and kissed the pulse point that throbbed in his neck. She loved him. With all her heart and soul and every hormone she possessed. She loved the way he got excited about his crazy food inventions, and the way he accepted the ladies. He could bandage a scratch, inflate a sagging ego, make a helluva pepperoni pizza, and turn her into mush with a single glance.

“I have a few things to tell you, too,” Berry said. “The first thing I need to tell you is that I’m going to make mad, passionate love to you.”

Berry thought she might begin to purr. It was a wonderful luxury to awaken in the arms of your lover. Especially when your lover was about to become your husband and the father of your children. At least she assumed he was about to become her husband and the father of the children. Actually, he hadn’t mentioned marriage last night. And now that she thought about it, he hadn’t returned the ring. She pressed her cheek to his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart while he slept. Good thing she was secure and not the sort to panic. If she was the sort to panic, she might worry that he’d caught cold feet from her.

There was a squeal of brakes on the street and the angry slam of a car door. “And another thing,” a familiar voice shouted. “I don’t snore. You snore!”

Mrs. Fitz? Berry rolled out of bed and went to the window.

Mrs. Fitz looked up at her. “What the devil are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the house?”

“It’s a long story,” Berry said. “Why aren’t you on your way to the Grand Canyon?”

Mrs. Fitz flapped her arms at the departing camper. “You ever try to live in one of them things with an old man? It was enough to take seven years off my life. He drives like a maniac. He makes disgusting slurping noises at breakfast. And I can’t stand the way he blows his nose. He honks. You don’t have to honk when you blow your nose.” She fished in her purse and inserted her key in the door. “Boy, it’s good to be home. I can’t wait to make myself a cup of tea.”

“I just had the scariest dream,” Jake said, sitting up in bed. “I thought I heard Mrs. Fitz saying it was good to be home.”

Berry slumped against the wall. “That was no dream. Harry slurped and honked, so Mrs. Fitz dumped him.” She pulled on a pair of jeans and dropped a yellow T-shirt over her head. “I’ll make coffee and you can take Jane for a walk.”

“Old men,” Mrs. Fitz muttered in the kitchen. “Don’t ever go camping with an old man. Nothing but a pain in the behind.”

“I thought you and Harry got along so well.”

“Yeah, well, you never really know a man until you’ve had to sit across from him at the breakfast table.”

Berry leaned against the counter while the coffee dripped. “Jake is sensational at the breakfast table.”

“Yeah. After you’ve eaten breakfast with Jake, you’re ruined,” Mrs. Fitz said.

Voices carried up to them from the street. Berry and Mrs. Fitz looked at each other and raised their eyebrows when the downstairs door opened.

“Better not be Harry coming back. I’m done with him,” Mrs. Fitz said, angrily folding her arms across her chest.

Berry leaned forward. “It’s not Harry. It’s Mildred and Bill-and Mrs. Dugan!”

“I got food poisoning,” Mrs. Dugan said when she walked into the apartment. “Thought I was going to die. The ship company was real nice about it. They put me up in a hospital in Vancouver for two days and then flew me home. I tried calling last night from the airport, but there wasn’t any answer at the house, and the Pizza Place line was always busy.”

“So she called me,” Mildred said. “Lucky we came home from our honeymoon early.” She nudged Mrs. Dugan in the arm. “Tell them about Stanley.”

Mrs. Dugan poured herself a cup of tea. “Before I got sick I met the nicest man. He lives just blocks from here. Can you imagine that?”

“Has he got friends?” Mrs. Fitz asked. “I need a new boyfriend.”

Bill helped himself to an English muffin. “Nicky Petrowski’s going to be glad to hear that. He saw you at our party and thought you were really something.”

Mrs. Fitz looked skeptical. “Nicky Petrowski. Was he the one with the tattoo on his forehead?”

“Naw, that’s Bucky Weaver. He’s missing a few marbles. I don’t think you want to go out with Bucky Weaver. Nicky Petrowski’s the one who can touch his nose with his tongue.”