Page 7 of Dirty Valentine
“Have I told you lately how sexy you are?”I asked.
He got a look in his eyes I recognized, and I felt emboldened to step forward, so I was close enough to catch the scent of his aftershave.
“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” he said, tucking the swing of my hair behind my ear.“But I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”
I placed my hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palms.“All I have to do is look at you, and I want you.Do you know what happens to a woman’s hormones during pregnancy?”
Jack’s eyes darkened, and I saw his jaw tighten slightly.“Jaye…”
“They go completely haywire,” I continued, sliding my hands up to loop around his neck.“All kinds of…cravings.Intense needs that demand immediate attention.”
“Is that so?”His voice had dropped to that husky tone that made my knees weak, and his hands found my waist, pulling me closer.
“Absolutely,” I said, pressing against him until there was no space between us.“And right now, I’m having a very specific craving that only you can satisfy.”
“Here?”he asked, nibbling at the corner of my mouth seductively.“Someone could come in at any moment.”
“Then they’ll get an education,” I said, standing on my toes to brush my lips against his ear.“Besides, when has the possibility of getting caught ever stopped us before?”
His hands tightened on my waist, and I felt the exact moment his resolve crumbled.“You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”
“I certainly hope not,” I murmured against his neck.“I have plans for you that require you to be very much alive.”
Before he could respond, his mouth found mine in a kiss that tasted of pure masculine hunger.My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as heat exploded between us with the sudden intensity of a struck match.
“Twenty minutes,” I whispered against his lips.“That’s all I need.”
“I can do a lot with twenty minutes,” he said, his smile wicked and full of promise.“Want me to prove it?”
Before I could answer, the distant sound of voices echoed from the front of the funeral home, followed by the familiar sound of Emmy Lu’s laughter.
“Hell,” Jack muttered, stepping back just as we heard footsteps approaching the kitchen.
“—told you we should have insisted on the oversized coffin,” Emmy Lu was saying as she entered the kitchen with Sheldon trailing behind her.“Some people just don’t fit standard sizes.”
Emmy Lu Stout was what my grandmother would have called pleasingly plump, with silver-streaked light brown hair that she perpetually kept in a messy bun on top of her head, kind eyes, and dimples.She was as cute as a button.
When I’d hired her a couple of years ago, neither of us had known how desperately we’d needed each other—me after learning of my parents’ betrayal, and her after her husband of twenty-five years had walked out on her after their youngest son had graduated from high school.She was a hometown girl, so it helped that she usually knew someone in our deceased clients’ family trees.
“We should’ve recommended cremation,” Sheldon said, and then he noticed Jack and me standing suspiciously close to each other, both of us slightly flushed and breathing harder than the situation warranted.
Sheldon was my assistant funeral home director, and the more often I was called out on cases, the more often he was needed to keep the funeral home running and in the black.He was in his mid-twenties, a few inches over five feet, and doughy in appearance.He had a comb-over, Coke-bottle-thick glasses, and he always looked like he was playing dress-up in his father’s clothes whenever he was meeting clients.
He was an acquired taste, but he was sweet and his penchant for blurting out random facts was mostly endearing.
“Oh,” he said, eyeing us closely.“Are you both feeling okay?You’re showing signs of an elevated heart rate, and your skin looks feverish.”
Emmy Lu snorted.“They’re not sick.”
“Did you know that people who have high fevers are worse at lying?”Sheldon asked.“It impairs the prefrontal cortex that controls executive function and impulse control.So feverish people are more likely to blurt out the truth.”
“Jack and I were just discussing the case,” I lied.
“If you’re feverish that’s probably the truth,” he said, staring intently at me and blinking owlishly.
I remembered I’d come up for coffee and handed my mug to Jack to fill.I preferred to drink it black, but I took the cream from the fridge to cut the caffeine and give my system time to settle.
“Well,” Emmy Lu said, settling onto one of the stools that surrounded the large square island.“We’ve had an adventurous morning.”
