Jeanne Adams - Dark and Deadly

“Weaselboy,” Torie interjected, smiling. “Oh, my gosh, Todd used to call him Weaselboy.”

“Yeah, he did. We both did. But when it came to studying for that damn test, we were willing to take all the help we could get. Wea—Melvin was willing to take a part of the exam and break it down. We took other parts. Together we figured out the way to study for the damn thing. We probably should have sold the method; we would have made a killing. Instead, we just passed the damn thing.”

“All three of you?”

“Yep. Flying colors, for once.”

“I remember that,” Torie said. “I remember the two of you complaining about him, but saying he was okay.”

“Yeah, well, he says we helped him pass, which made him look good to the old man. He says that’s why he put us up for consideration. He told us we’d have to get the job on our own, he’d only get us in the door.”

“What about this Blaine guy?” Tibbet asked.

“Blaine’s a good old boy. He talks a great game, backs it up with hard work, and has a family,” Paul said.

“Sorry, that doesn’t rule him out these days,” Tibbet said, seeming genuinely disappointed. “It would be easier if it did.”

“No, guess not. Now Deke,” Paul said, pointing to the last name on the short list. “He’s kind of a social misfit, but he’s popular anyway. He could say the stupidest things,” Paul reminisced.

“Yes, he could,” Torie added, but she said, “He also couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was like a bullhorn. If you wanted campus to know it, tell Deke. If not, be sure Deke never found out.”

“I know that kind.”

“So, that’s it. Those are the ones I know or knew, and pretty much what’s going on with them now,” Paul said as they finished going through the list.

“That gives me a place to start. Thanks.” He stood, and Paul did as well. Tibbet ignored him and put a hand out to Torie. “Thank you, Ms. Hagen. I think we’ve made progress. I hope we can catch this guy soon with the help you’ve given me today.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And no one hopes you catch him more than me.”

Tibbet said, “Yeah, I’m sure,” then took his leave.

Paul returned to the table and sat next to Torie.

“So, how are you feeling? Do you hate me more than you ever have?”

“I’ve never hated you, Paul,” Torie said for what felt like the millionth time.

“No? That’s good to hear.”

“I’ve said it before.”

“Maybe I wasn’t ready to hear it then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She looked at him now, instead of the tissue she was folding and refolding in her lap.

“It’s a long story. How about I tell you over dinner?”

“I’m not really hungry.”

He was instantly concerned. “I know. This was rough. I shouldn’t have asked.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. I did love the flowers, you know. And I’ll save you a dance.”

“Rain check on dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He leaned back in the chair. “Why don’t I take you back to the hotel and buy you a drink. Just a drink,” he teased. “Then you can go on up to the room, order room service, and get some rest.”

“If you come over to the hotel and have a drink, do you really think I’ll order room service?”

He didn’t know if it was an invitation or an honest question, but his libido decided it was an invite. “Oh, better not ask me that one,” he growled at her.

To his delight, she laughed. “What I meant was,” she corrected, still smiling, “I would feel like I had to go to dinner. I…have a lot to do.” He didn’t think work was what she needed, or was even talking about, but he let it drop.

“Well, why don’t I drive you over there and you can tell me about it.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s wise.” She stood up, straightening her blouse and picking up her purse.

“Do you really want to be wise?” he said, moving toward her. When she didn’t protest, he eased in, slid his arms around her. She felt so good, right there, next to him.

He heard her purse land on the table, and her arms encircled him as well. It was as if they dove into one another, pressing together, letting their bodies speak what they couldn’t yet say.

Tongues tangling in heated battle, they kissed and murmured endearments to one another, things that were hardly intelligible, but deeply heard.

“Torie,” he groaned, wanting to take her right there on the table. “You have to let me, I need to.” He couldn’t form the words, could barely form the thoughts behind them.

“Not here,” she moaned. “The door…”

The thought of someone coming in, finding them wound around each other, clothes askew, was like cold water on a hot day. Paul half-laughed, half-moaned. “You’re right. You’re right,” he mumbled, still kissing her. “We have to stop. Soon.”

“Now,” she said, breathlessly. “We have to stop now.”

He pulled back, the barest fraction. “Lord, woman,” he panted, resting his brow on hers. “You wind me up.”

“Mutual,” she said, taking a deep breath. He was able, from his vantage point looking down, to see the lovely deep V of her breasts as they rose and fell. As if he weren’t hard enough, his overworked libido screamed more loudly for release.

“Ahhh, I think I’d better let go,” he said ruefully. “Before you take another one of those deep breaths.”

“Why?” she asked, puzzlement evident in her voice.

Taking her hand, he slid it down from his waist to the rock hard bulge in his trousers. “That.”

“Ohhhhh,” she purred, gently squeezing him, her eyes hooded, her lips moist.

“Unless you want to bring me a new pair of pants, you need to stop that,” he growled, grabbing her hand and returning it to his waist. Holding it captive there, he closed his eyes. “Not that I really want you to stop, but the circumstances…”

“Aren’t ideal.”

“Hah, no. They’re not.”

“I really, really want you to come to the hotel, but I think it would be a bad idea.” She blurted out the words, as if she were afraid to say them.

He laughed, knowing she was right, wishing it were easy. “We’d never get dinner. Or drinks.”

She giggled and it lifted his heart. The wrenching tears had brought him to the brink of breaking down himself. Her horrible shame, so unwarranted, had been brutal to unmask.

Everything within him knew she needed time. But that was intellectual. The part of him that was male, primal, and in need wanted to push the matter, urge her to let him come over, hold her.

The images in his mind were erotic and brought him back to the painful brink.

“I’ll have Martha call you a cab.”

“Good idea.”

They stood together for a few more minutes, breathing hard like marathoners at the end of the race. “Think you’re ready?”

“I’d say for what, but that would just start this all over again, right?” He could hear the laughter, so he did the only thing he could. He tickled her.

“Oh, jeez,” she nearly shrieked. “Stop that!”

“Shhhh. Martha’s going to know exactly what we’re doing.”

“Don’t tickle me then,” she admonished, pulling away to put her clothes to rights.

“Not right now, maybe later,” he teased, happy to see her smile again.

Her phone was ringing as she got into the room. She picked it up and the front desk informed her that more flowers had arrived.

This time, they were sunflowers. Fat, gorgeous, and cheerful. The card read:

Save the last dance, too.

Spinning around the room in delight, she clutched the card to her chest. “This is nuts,” she exalted. “Crazy. Fabulous.”

Flopping down on the bed, she lay back, enjoying the sensation of arousal and delicious sensuality. His reaction to her was instant and amazing. And as always, her reaction to him was heated, wet, powerful. She nearly had an orgasm thinking about how good he’d felt pressed into her body, how marvelous and affirming it had been to hold him, see his muscles quiver as he struggled to hold back his desire for her.