Cold Case, Hot Bodies

Then, from somewhere far off, he heard another song start, and strained his ears. He heard piano music and stomping feet. Clapping hands. A hoot of merriment.

“Give me another pint of ale,” someone yelled.

“A pint for the whole house,” another hollered.

He must be dreaming. Or else someone was playing an old dance hall recording. He felt unbelievably hot. Sweat prickled his nape as he shook off sleep once more, and opened his eyes. Still, only darkness. What was happening? He felt almost as if he’d been drugged. “You feel so good,” he whispered.

“You’re not bad, yourself.”

As he inhaled sharply, Sheila’s scent settled in his lungs. It wasn’t the musky perfume she usually wore, but something lighter that evoked coy flirtation. As the music climbed toward crescendo, she continued nibbling that one nipple, making the other yearn for the ministrations of her mouth. She was raking teeth against the sides until fever took him, and the fire raging beneath his naval turned more fluid. A coiled spring of swirling lava became more diffuse, prickling through his veins, lazily roping into all his extremities.

“Are you going to wake up for me, sailor?”

Yawning and stretching beneath her like a huge jungle cat, he lifted his hips, the muscles of his buttocks straining. Between his legs, his heavy erection felt more than bother-some, an irksome annoyance that needed to be dealt with soon. Frustration surfaced in his husky growl. “Where have you been, anyway?”

“I got tied up.”

He imagined her naked, and strapped to a bed with long silk scarves. “I like the sound of that.”

“You would,” she teased.

“Damn right I would,” he whispered.

His eyes had adjusted, but it was too dark to see her features. He imagined her high cheekbones, the long, straight patrician nose. He wanted to see her undressed, her breasts swinging free from the restrictive jacket and whatever she wore beneath. He could see them softly bouncing as she rode him. “Oh, yeah,” he whispered, another swift pang claiming his groin.

He reached to turn on the lamp, but her hand glided over his, stopping him. It was just as well. He could tape them later. Maybe the camera was even picking up some of the action, anyway. After all, he could see shadows, and it was motion activated.

He grasped a lock of hair and chuckled. Had she really rustled up this wig just for him? This was almost as good as the time she’d let him arrest her in the shower. Or when she’d handcuffed him to bed. Or when she’d come over, wearing nothing under a raincoat.

“It feels so real.”

“Of course it’s real.”

He rubbed the strands between his fingers, his loins still firing. As he brought silky waves to his face, another series of jolts pulsed into his bloodstream. He breathed in, finding the scent was more like shampoo than the neutral scent he’d expected from a wig.

“You’re good,” he murmured in admiration. She must have brought a boom box, too. That’s why the bawdy-house music was playing. It wasn’t coming from another apartment, after all. It was all part of Sheila’s act. Slowly untying the belt of her jacket, he flicked open buttons, then pushed the garment off her shoulders and down her arms, exposing what felt like a tight cotton blouse. “I almost believe you’re Gem O’Shea.”

“You had doubts?”

“In my line of work, we’re not known for our trusting natures.”

“Can you trust me to give you the ride of your life, sailor?”

“I think I can manage that.”

She started unbuttoning her blouse. In the darkness, he sensed, rather than saw, the edges open.

“You didn’t take the money from the table,” he murmured, his voice low.

“Paying me, are you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Clasping his hands, she brought them to her chest and placed them on her breasts. Slowly, he traced the lace edges of the bra cups she swelled to fill. She was spilling out, and thrusting her chest, too, as if begging for his touch. Her quickening breath urged him on, making him want to touch between her legs to make her climax.

As he opened her bra’s front clasp, his own chest constricted. Light-headed, he swallowed against the sudden dryness of his mouth and pushed aside the cups. After licking his own fingers, he trailed slippery swirls of saliva on the distended tips of her breasts. Capturing one with his mouth, he squirted wet heat until she muttered something senseless. Her hips suddenly wrenched. As he sponged her, he lifted his hips, rubbing her until she was bucking. Her hands flattened on his chest, as if to slow him down, and her long delicate fingers curled, tugging wildly at strands of his chest hair. He leaned back on the pillow.

Her voice was husky. “How much are you paying me?”

“Not nearly what you’re worth.”

“Is this your first time on Angel’s Cloud?”

“Yeah.”

“And did you request me? Or was this just luck of the draw?”

“Absolutely intentional.”

“You heard good things about me?”

“I heard you’re the best.”

“Hearsay’s of little matter. Am I the best?”

He was about to explode and he wasn’t even inside her yet. “You’re convincing me of it right now.”

“I didn’t expect to find you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Naked. In bed. And…so hard.” She shivered as if to emphasize her point.

“Is that a crime?”

“Do you want me to arrest you?”

“You can keep me locked up for a long time.”

The music seemed to surge then, and he gasped in protest as the heat of her lower body left his, at least until he realized she was only stripping off leggings. As soon as her legs were bare, his hungry hands sought flesh. Disappointment filled him when he found her panties still on. By the feel of it, it was a tiny silk thong with a string waistband. She straddled him again, her knees on the mattress. Just her scent was enough to make him beg for mercy.

Overcome, he grasped her back, hugging her, then nuzzled her face. The music seemed to be coming right through the walls as his tongue stroked the scanty fabric. When she flung back her head to take the pleasure, long hair whipped behind her, and when her back arched for the intimate kiss, his rigid tongue dove for her clitoris, soaking it. Using a hand to steady her, he pressed his mouth to her, making her writhe.

Not even air passed between them as his tongue did its magic, vibrating. Under damp panties, her cleft opened all the way, and both her hands raked into his hair, digging into his scalp. She moaned, then shuddering cries came in a steady stream. She was wet, his kiss was wetter, and in a second, her panties were drenched, but he didn’t think she’d come yet. She was holding back.

“Come.” He murmured the word against the silk. “Now.”

But she only cradled his head tighter. No wonder it had taken her so long to get here, he thought vaguely. Where had she found dance hall music on such short notice? And whatever equipment she’d brought, so she could play it? She’d done all this for him—the wig, the music, the late-night rendezvous. And now he was going to make the effort worth it for her.

Curling his fingers over the string waistband, he fisted his hand, yanking her nearer. Then he ripped the waistband. He was still tearing the panties when his mouth fell to her flesh, covering her completely. She was creaming, hot and slick, and she gasped.

Thighs braced his sides, shaking uncontrollably, her knees threatening to buckle as he tongued her, but she was still holding back. This really wasn’t at all like Sheila. What had gotten into her tonight?

“What do you want?” he whispered hoarsely. “What’s going to make you come?”

“You…inside…” Her utterance was broken. “I want…I want…”

He couldn’t wait for her to spell out the rest. He was too swollen. Painfully thick, his erection was pulsing, and just a hair-trigger touch would make him explode. Blindly reaching, he grabbed a condom and roughly kicked away the sheet. A moment later, he grunted softly, voicing the agony only she could relieve. Quickly wrapping his arms around her, he urged her to lie beside him. She was naked and quivering, burning up.

“What?” he whispered raggedly, dragging kisses across her cheeks, willing to give her anything.

“Fuck me,” she whispered softly, the words barely audible.

It was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. At first, he wasn’t even sure he’d heard right, but now his heart hammered with increased desire. The words hadn’t sounded dirty at all, not like a curse, just needy. Even sweet. He’d never heard so much frustrated desire in a woman’s voice. Hell, the more he knew Sheila, the more he discovered vulnerability he’d never have guessed was there, and it was starting to get to him. She was like a difficult case that never seemed to add up. This really didn’t seem like the same Sheila he’d had sex with before, and it was intriguing him.

Maybe he was falling in love with her after all.

Mutterings emanated from nowhere as she molded to his body. He whispered sweet nothings in return, then peppered kisses into the wig. Urging her onto her back, he kneeled, turning her so he could gain the deepest possible access. Silken thighs parted, and his heart stuttered. Burning and throbbing, he teased her, parting the cleft with his erection. Catching drops of her natural lubrication, he stroked, wishing his own sex wasn’t sheathed.

When he could take no more, he placed his hands on her thighs, parting them farther still, wishing the light was on so he could see everything. Crooking a hand under her knee, he raised a shapely leg, then everything seemed silent. It was as if the music had stopped, although it hadn’t, or as if their panting breaths had calmed, although they were both breathing harder than ever.

She arched, silently begging.

He thrust hard, and she parted like a river, much tighter than he remembered. He’d never felt so big, thrusting harder and filling her. She sobbed as she stretched to take him, flinging her arms around his neck. When he was in all the way, he rocked his hips, then he rested and just felt the bliss, sighing.

Her heart was hammering against his heart. Her breath mingled with his breath. After a long moment, he withdrew and thrust again, staying skin to skin.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered as something primal grabbed hold of him. Her possessive nails were dragging down his back now, and her claiming lips, teeth and tongue were suckling his neck. She was pulsing all around him, and with her first orgasm, she cried out, a wrenching twist of her body coming in tandem with a sob that shook his emotions. Her second orgasm sent a shudder through him, then palpitations. By the third, he was putty in her hands. She was cooing like a dove as he went over the edge, gasping once, his mind losing itself to darkness.

He’d never know how many seconds had elapsed. But when consciousness came again, she was still there, wrapped tightly in his arms, making sweet, soft sounds. Slowly, their breathing evened. Multiples, he thought. Now that was like Sheila. After a long moment, a smile tugged at his lips. “I think my hangover’s gone,” he whispered.

But she was fast asleep.

He laid in the dark for a long time, only now realizing that the music she’d brought had switched off. He hadn’t even noticed. As a cop, he was usually very alert. On the job, he had one of the highest arrest records at his precinct, but when it came to sexy women, he always lost his head. He might be a cop, but he was a man, too.

He glanced down, unable to see her in the dark. Hair had fallen over her face, obscuring it, and since the wig wasn’t bothering her, he let it lay. Maybe it was time to fess up, he thought. After all, he had taken Sheila home to meet his folks, hadn’t he? And he didn’t do that with every woman. Oh, maybe he and Sheila hadn’t seemed to have much in common at first, but if sex was this good, surely they’d find areas of compatibility, wouldn’t they?

He couldn’t believe how content he felt right now. As if all was right with the world, and he’d arrived exactly where he was supposed to be. As if he was home. He didn’t remember Sheila fitting quite so perfectly into the crook of his shoulder. Why hadn’t he noticed before?

His smile broadened, turning whimsical. Maybe Gem O’Shea’s ghost had a hand in this. Maybe Sheila wasn’t the brightest, maybe she didn’t get most of his jokes, and she’d never be able to keep up with him in a verbal sparring match. But that didn’t really matter, did it?

Of course it didn’t, he thought now. It was amazing how only an hour of sex could change a man’s thinking about a woman. Earlier tonight, before he’d gone to bed, he hadn’t even been thinking of Sheila as a potential mate. But now…

With her, sex was hotter every time. Tonight had been the best by far. She’d gone to so much trouble to please him. She had to be crazy about him. In the morning, he’d make a huge move and tell her he felt the same way, he decided.

And then he slept.

3

DANCE HALL MUSIC was playing again. As soon as Dario registered it, he bolted upright. “What time is it?” he asked, glancing toward the beside clock. When he saw only a whiskey bottle, he realized he was at his pop’s building, not in his apartment in Battery Park. As he registered that the sunlight from a front room looked bright, the events of the previous night came rushing back in a barrage of hot images, but the bed was empty. The doorway to the outer hall, which he’d left ajar for Sheila, was wide open. “Sheila?”

As he stared toward the shut bathroom door, he heard a soft whirring sound. The camera was working, which seemed impossible at first, then he recalled that it was motion-activated. This and the other cameras he’d borrowed from the precinct were used on stakeouts, so maybe it had recorded last night’s activities, after all. He hoped so. Even shadows of what happened between him and Sheila would be worth watching this morning. His sitting up in bed must have activated the camera again. He’d never have heard the soft whir over the music.

“Sheila?”

No answer.

That strange bawdy-house music was still sounding. It was loud and coming from…

“Under the bed?” That was weird. And where was his cell, so he could check the time? Squinting, he reached a hand under the bed. His gun was beside the cell. As he lifted the phone, he smiled. So that was the source of the music. Sheila had changed his ringer.

“Cute,” he whispered. No doubt, she’d expected him to hear it during the day, and recall the bawdy-house music she’d played while they’d made love. Not just had sex, he thought. Last night, they’d definitely taken things to a new level. Surely, she’d want to meet after work.

He looked for the boom box she must have brought, but he didn’t see it. He didn’t see her jacket or leggings, and he hoped she hadn’t gotten dressed. If so, he was only going to remove her clothes again. Flipping open the cell, he saw that it was only eight, which meant they had time for a quickie.

Sobering, he swallowed hard, something resembling a lump forming in his throat. Was he really going to tell her how he was starting to feel about her? Did he really feel the same way this morning? “Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

If work was calling, he’d tell Pat he’d be a few minutes late, to buy some extra time with Sheila. “Donato here.”

“We need to talk.”

It was Sheila.

Inwardly, he groaned. That explained why the jacket and leggings weren’t on the floor. “You’re home.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Probably, she’d wanted to change for work, and while he didn’t share her impulse, he admired her for wanting to be where she was supposed to be. Under the circumstances, that showed dedication. If she hadn’t run off, they’d be having more great sex.

“Thanks for letting me sleep,” he said, meaning it. After what she’d done to him last night, he’d needed the rest. Suddenly, his heart was in his throat, and his mind was racing. He was trying to frame what he most wanted to say. “I have something to tell you—”

“No,” she said quickly. “I have something to tell you.”

Maybe. But he needed to tell her he enjoyed last night so much that he wanted them to become even more intimate. He figured he’d better do so before he lost his nerve. “Me first. I want you to know I think you’re the best—”

“Best lay?” she burst out. “And it’s always you first! Have you ever noticed that, Dario?”

He almost chuckled. Last night must have affected her as much as it had him. She was nervous now, trying to push him away, and he didn’t blame her. “Go ahead,” he said. “Say whatever you need. Get it out of your system. And then I’ll say my piece. I’ve been thinking about us—”

“Me, too! For the past couple of weeks, ever since we’ve been—”

“Making love?”

When she made a snorting sound, he frowned. “I don’t know that I’d dignify what we’ve been doing with that phrase.”

“We are explosive together,” he admitted, “but I don’t think that means our emotions can’t be involved.”

“Well, I do.”

Their lovemaking must have really shaken her. Probably, she was hoping he’d voice his feelings. She needed assurances. It was what all women wanted. At least, that’s what his sisters told him. “What I’m trying to say, Sheila—”

“At first it seemed fun,” she raced on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Especially since Bobby and I broke up, as you know. I was so sure he’d never want to make a commitment—”

His heart had missed a beat. “Bobby?”

“O’Hare?” she queried, sounding confused. “He sits two desks over from you?”

Bobby O’Hare was a rookie. “Bobby O’Hare? From vice?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you dated Bobby O’Hare.”

“I told you. I just don’t think you were listening to me, Dario. To be blunt, you always have sex on the brain. You don’t pay attention.”

He was sure she’d never told him about her past relationships. “What’s Bobby got to do with—”

“Everything. And that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. We’d been dating six months, and I was falling for him. All my girlfriends said it was too much, too fast. Maybe it was. But I knew Bobby was the one. I had such a strong feeling. Like we were meant to be, so I couldn’t stop myself from chasing him. When I see something I like, I go for it.”

“I noticed.”

There was a long pause.

“You were saying?” he prompted.

“Well, the day you brought me in,” she plunged on. “You know, for the parking tickets. Well…” She inhaled sharply, then blew out a short sigh. “The night before, I’d seen Bobby out with somebody else, and I was pissed. So, when you brought me in, I tried to be cool. I didn’t even look in his direction. It must have worked, because after that, he kept calling me. But I didn’t return the calls. Besides, by then, well…even when you booked me, you were coming on strong, so I guess I…”

“Go on.”

“…was using you to get him out of my system. Don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly. “You’re cute. A megahunk. Calendar quality. But you’re even less the committing type than Bobby. Or so I thought.”

His recent moves must have convinced her otherwise. The smile returned. Admitting his feelings was going to be so much easier than he’d anticipated, he realized. Sheila was doing all the work. “But now?”

“Bobby heard about you and me through your partner, Pat. You must have made me sound incredibly hot, because Bobby got jealous. He started sending flowers. And then he called and told me his real feelings. And you know the girl I saw him with?”

Dario could only shake his head.

“It was his sister!”

“Imagine that.”

“Funny, huh?” she enthused. “One thing led to another, and, well, now I—”

Her voice cut off abruptly. On his end, morbid curiosity had taken hold. “Now?”

“Well…I know you’re going to be happy for me. Bobby proposed. Can you believe it?”

As near as Dario could tell, everyone on earth had proposed lately. “You don’t say.”

“He gave me a ring and everything. It’s beautiful, and while the date isn’t set in stone, we’ve pretty much agreed.”

“You can spare me the details.”

There was a long pause. “You’re not upset, are you?”

After last night? “I’m furious.”

“Dario, we’re friends. C’mon.”

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

How could she have lain in his arms last night, cooing like a love bird, when she’d known she was marrying Bobby? “When, yesterday?”

“In the afternoon.”

“He gave you the ring in the afternoon?”

“Quit interrogating me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her scent was still on his skin. She’d gotten out of his bed maybe an hour ago. Suddenly, he glimpsed something. Fishing in the covers, he held up what looked to be a sparkling blue rhinestone. “Your earring’s still in the bed,” he said.

“Don’t worry about anything I’ve left behind at your place.” There was another long pause. “Look, Dario, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think you’d care. I mean, you have a reputation for being great in bed, but uninterested in commitment.”

“We don’t even know the same people. How could you know about my reputation?”

She named countless tangential connections they had through the police force. It was more than he’d imagined. Then she said, “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The main thing is that I really can’t see you anymore.”

“You could have thought of that last night.” Dammit, her legs had been like long silk ribbons stretching around his back, wrapping tightly around his waist and stealing his breath.

“I did. That’s why I didn’t show.”

“Didn’t show?”

“I know I called. I was out with the girls, and we were doing shooters, and I thought maybe I’d come over, personally, and break the news to you then.”

“Which is why you were flirting? Implying you were going to give me the best sex of my life?” Sex that, in fact, she’d delivered.

“Forgive me,” she murmured contritely.

It didn’t help that she’d asked for his forgiveness last night, too, while they’d been making love.

“It was the booze talking,” she continued. “I admit it. I’m not perfect. But I wanted to…well, let you down easy. Not that I figured you’d care. But I thought once I came over, it would be easier to tell you about my and Bobby’s—”

“But you came over and slept with me?”

There was yet another interminable pause. And then she said, “I didn’t come over, Dario.”

He’d had it. She’d been all over him. Licking every inch of his skin, and doing that mind-bending thing with his nipples. “Sheila, we had sex all night.”

She gasped. “What?”

“I left the key in the pot, remember? And you showed up around three…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What?”

“I never showed. I swear.”

“Dammit, Sheila,” he cursed softly, realizing she must be teasing him, the way she always did. She was good at it, too. She sounded so honest. “Quit jerking my chain.” Last night her playful nature had sent his senses soaring, but this morning, he wasn’t in the mood.

“I wasn’t there.”

“You wore a wig,” he reminded, his voice turning husky. “A jacket and leggings. A little cotton blouse.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He heard a rustle. Then a male voice. “She was here. With me.”

Dario shut his eyes, unable to believe any of this was happening. It had to be Bobby O’Hare. It was as if the two men were at work. Sheila had committed a crime, and they were discussing her alibi. “Bobby?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Dario began, “but—”

“Sheila and I are getting married. I proposed. She ac cepted. That’s what’s going on. She was here all night.” There was a pregnant pause. “We were awake all night, if you catch my drift.”

“I think I do,” Dario managed.

Before ending the call, Bobby rambled a few lines about how he hoped the situation wouldn’t be awkward at work.

Regarding that, Dario would do his best. Still…as talented as Sheila was, she couldn’t be in two places at once, which left Dario stuck with one of the more interesting mysteries of his career.