2000 Kisses (31 page)

The water drifted.

Wind played over their slick bodies.

Tess drew a shuddering breath. “Was that normal?”

There was nothing normal about what had just happened, T.J. knew. He had never come so close to seizing rather than sharing. “There's nothing usual about anything we do.”

He felt her move, felt the delighted laugh she pressed against his shoulder.

“I wondered. It seemed—good.”

His brow rose. “Good?”

“All right, amazing. Stupendous.”

His grin was slow and dark. Their bodies were still joined, drifting on the water, wreathed in steam. It felt as
if they'd been this way forever, lovers keenly familiar with every nerve and mood.

She eased up his body, smiling in dazed satisfaction. “So I suppose we should call it a night and try to get some rest.” She raised her arm, started to turn.

TJ. moved first, catching her wrist and pulling her back against him. “That's anottier thing you'll have to learn. There's no time clock or play book here. There's only us, Tess, and I'm in no particular rush.” As he spoke, he moved deep within her.

Her eyes widened. “Again? You mean you can—”

Her words fell away in a shiver of pleasure as he showed her, hands to her hands, heart to her heart.

High overhead, a single star tumbled from the darkness, then cut a bright silver curve across the velvet sky.

Thunder rumbled.

The sound of rain skittering over the tile roof above the bedroom roused TJ. He grinned at the feel of Tess's hands draped over his chest, her breath soft at his ear as they nestled on soft sheets that carried a hint of Maria's prized sage.

When the phone rang, he answered quickly, not wanting to wake her.

Grady sounded tired and just a little rattled. There was another dead coyote up by the Needle, according to Miguel. TJ. had also received a call from his old friend, the sheriff in Brinkley.

“Probably calling about that hostage situation and the paperwork it generated.”

“Most likely.” TJ. tried to shove the memory from
his mind as he shifted the phone closer to his mouth. “Any report back on that rifle shell yet?”

“Nope. But there are storm warnings. Possibly a big blow coming in from Mexico. And I almost forgot that one of those survivalists was in town, drunk as a skunk. Got into a shoving match with Tom Stoner from the Lazy C. I separated them and called someone to take that fellow back to their camp. He seemed nice enough, but Stoner sure was blowing fire.”

T.J. muttered a curse. The last thing he wanted was for hostilities to flare into a volatile showdown between lifestyles and ideologies.

“You think those folks could be behind the coyote killings? Stoner sure thinks so.”

“Anyone could have done it, Grady. The question is why.”

“Beats me.”

Lightning crackled, and Tess muttered in her sleep, rolling closer to T.J.

“You still there, Sheriff?”

“I'm here.”

“I heard something. You got coyotes up there tonight?”

T.J. grinned. “Only one small one.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I'll check in early. Let me know if anything else comes up.”

“Will do.” Silence played out. “Never heard of one small pup howling before. Especially in a rainstorm.”

“It appears there's a first time for everything, my friend.”

Tess stuck her head from beneath the pillow as he replaced the receiver. “What's wrong?”

TJ. pulled her onto his chest. “Not a thing. Sorry to wake you.”

“I wasn't asleep,” she said, yawning hugely. “Just drifting. I like the sound of the rain. Somehow you appreciate every drop when you're in a desert.” Her fingers skimmed his chest. “Did you sleep well?”

“Best in my life. Of course, I had an unbelievable dream. Something to do with a woman in black glasses and a hot tub.”

“That makes two of us.” She combed her fingers through the hair at his chest. “Probably there was something illegal about what we did. Anything that feels that good has to violate one ordinance or another.”

T.J. grinned again. “No, Ma'am. I checked, just to be sure.”

“I think I saw shooting stars.” She leaned back on one elbow. “Then again, maybe that was an amazing hallucination. Do you know a lot about stars McCall?”

“I met a few in Hollywood.” He almost laughed at the way her brows flew up.

“Hollywood?”

“I did a little security work, a little stunt work. Some stand-ins.” He shrugged. “Pretty boring. Hurry up and wait, most of the time.”

The dimple in her cheek was irresistible. “But it had its moments?”

“I suppose.”

She leaned away, eyes narrowed. “As in moments when you had to kiss beautiful half-clad women?”

His lips twitched. “There might have been one or two. My recollection's a bit hazy.”

“I'll just bet it is.”

He caught her chin and brought her face back to his.

“Am I dreaming or is that a major streak of green I see in your eyes?”

“Jealous?
Me?”
She laughed tightly. “Not on your life.”

“Is that a fact?” he drawled. “Then, why are your shoulders stiff and your hands clenched around that pillow?”

“As usual, you've managed to misinterpret a perfectly normal set of events.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth, not quite hiding a smile. “Such as?”

“It doesn't matter,” she snapped. “Who did you stand in for?”

He toyed with a strand of hair at her neck. “A few people.”

She swatted away his hand. “Names, McCall.”

He named a star who'd banked ten million in a thriller that had packed theaters with crazed fans for weeks.

“Him?”
He could almost feel the shock snap through her. “You're kidding.”

“Actually, no.”

“How can you be so calm about a thing like that?”

“It was a job, Tess. Just a carefully orchestrated illusion. The glamour comes in the cutting room, when the gunfire and special effects and music are layered in.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Okay, I'm not impressed. Not a bit.” She sank back, then plunged her hands into her hair. “You really did? But your hair's darker than his.”

“Dye.”

“And longer.”

“I cut it.”

She drew a breath. “Okay, I admit it, I'm so impressed I can barely breathe. What was it like?”

“Sometimes boring. Sometimes maddening. On a few occasions downright dangerous. But die show always goes on. They're people like everyone else, Tess. Highly paid, highly creative, and highly stressed people. It just so happens they have the ability to light up whenever the camera rolls, so that they make you forget it's all a huge illusion.”

“I bet you were good.” She stared at him beneath lowered lashes. “Now, why don't you tell me about all those half-naked women you had to rescue.”

He turned swiftly, pinning her beneath him. “Right after you tell me all about that client in Boston who taught you how to pick locks.”

“Purely business, I assure you.” She didn't quite manage to sound prim.

“Yeah, right.”

“Are you always this suspicious, Sheriff?”

He answered by catching her bottom lip with his teeth, then skimming her tongue with his. Suddenly the teasing snapped into something desperately serious. He gripped her wrists. “How do you do this to me, dammit? All I can think of is having you again.” He moved so that she felt the heat of his erection at the junction of her thighs.

“No complaints here,” she whispered, drawing his mouth down to hers.

But he took a slow, hot detour. Taut nipples, trembling stomach, and dewy curls met his tongue as he tasted, goaded, enjoying the sounds of pleasure she made.

Her hands fisted in his hair. “Now. God, make it now or I'll—”

“Now,” he grated.

He clutched her hips, held her fiercely. His eyes burned as he pinned her beneath him and slammed home inside her, while her moan of pleasure joined with his own guttural cry of release.

“Tess, I've got to go.”

The pillows stirred. The sheets rustled.

“Work?” She peered out, sleepy and disoriented, her hands rising to his shoulders. “You're already dressed.”

“You'd make a sharp detective, Ms. O'Mara.” As he slanted a kiss at her forehead, she made a soft sound and dragged him down for something far more substantial.

Heat flared through her, stirring memories of the amazing hours they had just shared. Then Tess's hand struck something cold, something metal.

His gun.

She froze. “Has something happened?”

“There are some reports I have to take a look at. It's the normal flotsam and jetsam—a few hell-raisers in from Tucson and a stolen vehicle sighted.” He slid his hands through her hair and took his time in a searching kiss.

Then he bit off an oath and rose, his eyes hot as he looked down at her. “Grady's outside. He'll keep an eye on things here until I get back.” His lips curved. “Put the poor man out of his misery, will you? Make some of that cappuccino for him. He won't ask, but he's dying for a cup.”

Tess sat up and stretched slowly. She made no effort
to grab the sheet as it drifted slowly down her naked body.

His eyes narrowed. “If I were a paranoid man, I'd think you were trying to cause me real pain,”

Her smile was slow. “Excellent detective work, Sheriff.”

He raised his eyes skyward. But the fact was, he simply couldn't stay. Work had piled up since he'd left, and several important reports were waiting on his desk. “I'll be back in three hours.”

The sheet drifted lower. Her smile grew. “Make that two hours, and I'll put a huge smile on your face, cowboy.”

T.J. cleared his throat. “I've always like smiles. You've got yourself a deal, Ma'am.”

T
he fax machine across the room grumbled and TJ. stared down at the tall stacks of papers on his desk. An hour had passed and he had barely finished one-quarter of the paperwork that was pending. At least he had been more fortunate in his employee interview and had found a good candidate to replace their dispatcher.

He stared at a dozen pink sheets containing names of radio and television stations, several of them national. Somehow word of his participation in the Brinkley hostage crisis had been leaked. Ever alert to a story involving blood, violence, and death, the media were now tracking him for interviews.

Muttering, TJ. crumpled the papers into a ball. He'd talk to the press when hell froze over.

Meanwhile, he had enough work to do, and to his disgust, progress was slowed by his sudden tendency to watch the clock.