Crash Into Me (12 page)

“Make
me. Use a little finesse.”

She
frowned in confusion, and he had to smother a laugh. He was pleased by her lack
of experience, and not above taking advantage of it thoroughly. “Like this.”
Very slowly, he traced the fullness of her lower lip with his tongue. When she
sighed in delighted understanding, he pulled back. “See?”

“Uh-huh.”
She stared intently at his mouth. “Let me try.”

She mimicked
his actions so skillfully it required a monumental effort to keep his hands
where they were at her waist. In seconds, she’d eclipsed his meager talent.
Needing no further instruction, she slipped her tongue into his mouth and
threaded her fingers through his hair.

He
leaned back and let her have her way with him, forgetting that he’d
orchestrated this scene and abandoning his earlier resolve to keep her away
from the danger zone. When she deepened the kiss, wriggling in his lap, he
couldn’t stop himself from cupping her cute little ass and drawing her closer,
letting her feel what she was doing to him.

She
gasped against his mouth then melted against him, acquiescing. In the blink of
an eye, he was stretched out on top of her, kissing her like a madman and
giving his hands free reign over her lithe body.

He
must have been too rough, because when he slid his hand beneath her sweatshirt,
she cried out.

James
froze. “Sorry,” he said, rolling off her. He’d never meant to take it this far.
“Carly—God, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She
sat up, running a hand through her disheveled hair. “Of course I’m okay. Sorry
for what?”

His
mouth dropped open. “For losing control, I guess. Hurting you.”

“You
didn’t hurt me.”

“I
didn’t? You made a noise.”

She
blushed. “It wasn’t that kind of noise.”

“Oh.”
He groaned in understanding, and pain. “I don’t think this boyfriend-girlfriend
thing is going to work out.”

“Why
not?” She stood, shaking sand from her clothes.

Because
I can’t trust myself around you,
he wanted to shout. Instead, he walked down the beach
a few steps and shoved his shaking hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Come
over tomorrow, for dinner. Around six.”

Pretending
to be Carly’s boyfriend in front of her dad didn’t hold the same appeal as
making out with her on the sand. And if
his
dad found out…

“You
can’t back out,” she warned. “You’ve already collected your fee. And if
everything goes well, maybe I’ll let you kiss me again.”

With
that, she flashed him a grin and took off, sprinting down the beach, her hair
wild and loose down her back. James watched until she disappeared in the
twilight, knowing he would keep his end of the bargain.

Because
although he’d pretended it hadn’t been enough, her first kiss had been
perfection, charming in its innocence, devoid of all artifice, and the least
ugly moment of his entire, bottom-dwelling life.

“Can you come over?” he said without
preamble. They’d never spoken on the phone before, but it didn’t occur to Sonny
to ask who it was, even to be coy.

“What’s
up?” she asked, caution warring with pleasure.

“Carly
invited her boyfriend to dinner.” He would have said the devil was coming in
the same tone.

“I
thought she didn’t have one.”

“Yeah,”
he said with a sigh. “I knew it couldn’t last.”

Her
lips twitched. “And you need me as, what? A buffer?”

“I
suppose. Carly recommended that I invite some other people, probably to take
the heat off her guest. She thinks I’m going to grill him.”

“Are
you?”

“I
don’t know. I feel sick.”

Sonny
had no trouble imagining the effect of young, overactive male hormones on
Carly’s already troubled psyche. “Does she know you’re inviting me?”

“It
was her idea.”

“Ah.”
Now she was a distraction, evidently more useful than as a rival for Ben’s
affections. “Who else is coming?”

“My
mom, my brother, maybe one of his boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends?”

“Yeah.
He goes through them like I used to go through surf groupies. I hope Carly
doesn’t take after either of us.”

She
felt a flutter of panic at the thought of meeting his family, especially under
an assumed identity. What a coil!

Although
her gut feeling told her Ben Fortune was innocent, she still had a job to do,
evidence to collect, and information to gather. If Olivia Fortune had been the
SoCal Strangler’s first victim, Sonny had to find out why the killer had chosen
her.

Perhaps
he’d known her. And Ben.

Surrendering
to duty, curiosity, and an overwhelming desire to see him again, she let out a
deep breath and asked, “What time?”

Just
before six, Sonny walked across Neptune Street, toward Ben’s front door. A
teenaged boy was pacing the curb a few doors down, head tilted to one side, his
body language suggesting he was practicing introduction scenarios. Hiding a
smile, she approached him, deciding to offer her assistance.

“Hey,”
she said, startling him with her presence.

When
he turned around, her first impression, based solely on appearance, was that
Carly Fortune had good taste. Her second, based on what was going on behind
those pretty blue eyes, was that Carly was playing with fire.

Physically,
he wasn’t threatening. Neither large nor impressively muscled, he had a lean,
hungry look that made his cheekbones stand out in his face. Despite those sharp
edges, he was handsome, and if one didn’t stray beyond the surface, he appeared
nothing more than a better-than-average-looking boy. His dark blue sweater was
of good quality, mended haphazardly in a couple of places with black thread,
indicating that he’d done it himself. His jeans were faded from too many
washings, and his shoes, a scuffed brown leather that must have been quite
expensive when new, were worn but clean.

It
was amazing what kind of deals you could get in Torrey Pines, shopping
secondhand.

The
particulars of his clothing were telling, but the flash she’d seen in his eyes
upon her surprise approach concerned her more than his socioeconomic status.
His defensive, fight-or-flight reaction reminded her more than a little of
herself.

In
the next instant, he erased the hostile expression and relaxed his stance,
regarding her with mild curiosity.

“You
must be Carly’s boyfriend. I’m Summer.” She stuck out her hand in greeting,
telling herself the kid was sketchy, not necessarily evil.

“James.”
His handshake was firm and calloused. Interesting.

“You
want some tips?”

“Tips?”

He
looked so hopeful that Sonny breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing
sinister about a skinny boy with a puppy-dog crush. “Carly’s dad is a nice
guy,” she said. “Be polite, and you’ll go far. And he’s kind of…” she paused,
searching for one word to convey laid-back, health-conscious, environmentally
aware, and liberal, “…a hippie, so don’t try to pull any tough-guy bullshit. It
won’t impress him.”

He
nodded, filing the information away. “No sports talk, then?”

The
kid was quick. “I’m not sure if he likes anything but surfing.” Although he was
too young to be a suspect, she gave him another quick once-over. “You surf?”

“Nah,”
he said glumly. His eyes lit up. “I fish, though.”

Sonny
smiled. “Then you know about the ocean. Currents, wind, waves.”

“I
know some stuff.”

“Okay,
but don’t go spouting off. The more you talk, the more likely you are to do or
say something stupid.”

Taking
no offense, he smiled back at her. “Who are you?”

“I’m
a friend of Ben’s.” Sonny knew exactly how her words translated in the mind of
a boy his age, so she cut him off, midthought. “Ready?”

“Yes,”
he said, eyeing the Fortune residence with trepidation.

“Oh,
and I think Carly’s uncle is gay, so don’t freak out.”

“Why
would I freak out?”

Why,
indeed? “You’re okay, kid.”

Before they could knock, Carly yanked open
the door, her black eyes sparkling with mischief. She looked James over, not
bothering to simper or flirt, and gave Sonny a similar perusal. “You two need
major help,” she decided.

Taking
James by the hand, she dragged him upstairs, motioning for Sonny to follow. In
her bedroom, she turned her critical eye on James first. She must have seen the
warning in his expression, because she said, “You look good. But can I put some
gel in your hair?”

He
shrugged, scanning her bedroom, more interested in her private domain than the
state of his hair. He appeared to be surveying the windows for break-in
potential, when he caught Sonny watching him. Embarrassed, he turned his
attention back to Carly.

Predictably,
his gaze dropped to her breasts, which jiggled as she worked gel into his hair.
His shoulders stiffened, and his cheekbones acquired a dull red stain.

Sonny
hid a smile. Oh, to be a teenaged boy, in a constant state of sexual
frustration.

When
she was finished driving James crazy, Carly stepped back and nodded her
approval. Then she faced Sonny. “You, on the other hand, need a lot more
attention.” She made a gesture that indicated imperfection, from head to toe.

Pleased
that someone besides himself was under scrutiny, the corner of James’ mouth
quirked up. Out of loyalty to Sonny, for the tips, he said, “I think she looks
okay.”

Carly
sizzled him with a glance. “Go make nice with my dad. He’s in the kitchen.”

He
paled. “Without you?”

“Yes.
Offer to set the table.”

Muttering
something about being crazy for agreeing to come, he wandered out to meet his
nemesis.

Carly
started fussing with Sonny’s hair, rubbing gel into it with her hands. She
paused, testing its texture between her fingertips. “Your hair is so thick,”
she mused. “It feels just like James’.” She tilted her chin up smugly. “So,
what do you think of him?”

Sonny
thought Carly had met her match. James was probably as unstable emotionally as
she was. Ben had better be prepared for his daughter to grow up fast. “Are you
ready for a steady relationship?”

“It’s
not serious,” she said offhand.

“Just
playing with his heart?”

Carly
frowned. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. That sounds complicated.”

“Love
usually is.”

She
gave a trilling little laugh. “We’re not in love.”

“And
three days ago, you didn’t want a boyfriend.”

Carly
dismissed the idea that things were moving too fast, youthfully secure in her
own judgment, despite the fact that it had already been proven faulty a number
of times. She stepped back to study her handiwork. “Oh, wow. Your hair looks
hot.”

Sonny
glanced in the mirror. Carly was right, and she had a clever hand with styling.
Instead of thick, unruly locks, her short hair fell back from her face in soft,
sexy waves. “How’d you do that?”

Ignoring
her, Carly rifled through her makeup drawer, coming up with a few items that
suited Sonny’s coloring. “Your eyes are great,” she allowed, “but they
overwhelm your face. You need to balance it out, soften your cheekbones,
accentuate your lips.” Carly waved a brush like a magic wand over Sonny’s face,
then applied a sunset-colored lip gloss.

Sonny
had to admit the extra touches became her. When she smiled at her own
reflection, Carly giggled in delight. Sonny couldn’t believe this was the same
sullen girl from the restaurant. Her moods were indeed mercurial.

“We
need to sex you up.”

“What?”

“Unbutton
a little. You look all stuffy.”

“No
way! Your grandmother is down there.”

Carly
rolled her eyes. “She’s wearing a more daring outfit than this, believe me.”

Sonny
looked down at her navy blue shirtwaist dress. Made of a stretchy cotton blend
that molded to her figure, it wasn’t as stodgy as Carly made it sound.

“Oh,
all right,” Sonny said, unfastening enough buttons to show a hint of cleavage.

“You
aren’t Jewish, are you?”

“No,
why?”

Carly
took a delicate silver chain out of her jewelry box and put it around Sonny’s
neck. It had a tiny cross that twinkled in the light, drawing the eye just
where Carly wanted it to go. “There. Perfect.”

Sonny
covered the cross with her hand. “Is your dad religious?”

“Not
really. But he did go to Catholic school, and you look like a naughty nun.
He’ll love it.”

Ben hated Carly’s boyfriend.