Heating Up (19 page)

“God, I want you,” he said, entering her a little at a time. “Has it been a while?”

“Mm-hmm. How about for you?”

“Seven months.”

Not since Sue, she thought as he began to move inside her. Not since the love of his life left him.

A
idan framed Dana's face with his hands and concentrated on his strokes. He wanted this to be good for her. The best it had ever been. For both of them.

“You okay?” he asked in a throaty whisper.

“I'm good . . . so good.”

He was beyond good but wanted to go deeper and positioned her legs wider, pumping harder. Her breath caught and she let out a soft gasp.

“Don't stop,” she pleaded, keeping rhythm with his thrusts, her hands clutching his back.

“Not on your life. You feel so good.”

The truth was, he didn't know how much longer he could hold on sheathed in her tight heat. He was about to lose his mind.

Burying his mouth in her neck, he kissed her over and over again, while he squeezed her breasts. Two perfect, round globes with pebbled pink nipples. They were high and firm and delectable.

“Hang on a sec.” He rolled her over so she was on top. “Sit up so I can look at you.”

She hesitated. But when he flicked his thumb over her center, rubbing circles in her wetness, she moaned and slowly came up, arching her back to ride him.

“Oh, oh, this is . . .” She shut her eyes and quickened the pace.

“You've never done it like this before?”

“I didn't think I would like being so . . . well, you know.” she said, bouncing up and down, losing all inhibitions.

“Jesus, Dana, with your body, you could own me like this.” He clutched her hips, driving her faster, and sucked her breasts, making her moan and shout out.

She grabbed his shoulders, quivering as her body rocked from orgasm, calling his name over and over again.

He latched onto her lips with his to hush her. But he liked the noises she made, the way she said “Aidan.” Hell, he reveled in them. They made something expand in his chest. And when he saw her eyes darken with heat, and maybe something else, it brought him impossible pleasure.

Aidan flipped Dana onto her back, propping himself above her so he could look his fill, and entered her again in one long, hard thrust. Surprised that he'd managed to last this long, he tried to take his time. But Dana wasn't having it, bucking under him, imploring him to come closer, to go faster.

He aimed to please and thrusted harder, pounding into her until he felt her breath hitch and her body spasm. That was when he let himself go, throwing his head back and rocking with her. The tremor that ripped through him felt euphoric, like he was having an out-of-body experience. Never before could he remember it being like this. He'd had good sex, even great sex, but nothing this intense.

“Dana?” He rolled off her and gathered her close in his arms. “What just happened here?”

“I don't know,” she whispered. “Will it be weird . . . us living together?”

“It doesn't have to be,” he said, rubbing circles on her back and kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“We should probably make some rules, a list of dos and don'ts, so we don't turn this into an issue.”

There she went with her rules and lists; she'd probably hang them on the refrigerator. “Could we catch an hour's sleep first?” He palmed her sweet ass and tucked her head into his shoulder. “I thought women liked to cuddle afterward.”

“I do . . . but don't you think we should—”

“ 'Night, baby.” And with her nestled against him, he fell asleep.

By the time he woke, there was sunshine streaming through the shutters. Shit! He wondered if her parents were awake and if they'd noticed the lights on by the pool and his truck parked in their circular drive. Although from what he'd seen of Dana's mom, she didn't notice much. It was one thing to mourn a dead child years after he'd died—Aidan could sympathize—but it was a mortal sin in his book to treat her living one like she was dead too. Frankly, it had taken all his willpower not to call the woman on it. Couldn't she see what she was doing to Dana?

“Hey.” He nuzzled her cheek. “It's morning.”

“Huh.” She came awake gradually. Disoriented, but so, so beautiful she made Aidan's chest ache.

She blinked at the clock on the side table, and Aidan watched as she slowly put the pieces together. “Uh-oh.”

“Is this gonna be a problem?”

She looked at him like he was out of focus and she was trying to clear her vision. “You mean with my parents?”

“Yeah.”

Letting out a humorless laugh, she said, “No. They won't even have realized we stayed the night. But I have a ten o'clock appointment.”

“I can get you there in time.”

She slid her legs over the side of the bed, holding the blanket against her chest, scanning the room. “I can't remember where I left my clothes.”

“In one of those changing rooms outside. I'll get them for you.” He reached across the bed for her. “Hey, come here for a second.”

She suddenly seemed shy and guardedly leaned closer. Aidan kissed her.

“I have morning breath,” she said and got up, pulling the blanket around her, and went to the bathroom.

Aidan grabbed his clothes off the chair and started to dress. He'd shower at home. Before Dana came out, he went in search of her clothes, came back in, and handed them to her through the bathroom door.

“Thanks.” She emerged a little while later fully dressed and ready to go. “I just have to leave a note for the housekeeper about changing the bedding.”

“Okay. You want to meet me in the truck?”

“That would be good.”

Aidan figured she'd probably go inside the main house to check on her parents. “Come get me if you need anything.” Like rescuing.

She flashed a wry smile and he left, finding his way back to the front of the house to his Expedition. For a house in the city, it had a lot of grounds. Everywhere he looked were expansive gardens, lawns, and terraces. The Calloways must have a hell of a landscaping team. Funny, he'd never figured Dana for a rich girl. He knew her family owned the candy company but had no idea that it was this profitable. Besides, she worked harder than most people he knew and seemed to be conscientious about money, not like a woman who'd been born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

From the looks of the house, the furnishings, and the manicured grounds, he'd say it was a pretty safe bet that she came from more money than Sue, whose family had been quite comfortable. Yet Dana acted more like someone from his family's background—good middle-class stock. Sue wouldn't even have considered a home in Nugget. Too rustic, too rural, too blue collar.

He took a few seconds to check out the front of the house. Last night he'd been too bowled over to take a really good look. In the light of day, it was very impressive. The place had to be a hundred years old but meticulously maintained right down to the water in the giant fountain. Strange that Dana's parents hadn't just let it go, like they seemed to have done with everything else, most notably their daughter. He'd seen the hurt in Dana's eyes when her mother had ignored her last night. If one of the McBrides' houses had burned down, his parents would've been involved in every aspect of the aftermath. As far as he knew, Dana hadn't even gotten a chance to tell her mother about the big real estate transaction on which she was about to close.

He got in his truck and checked his phone for messages. Nothing but a few emails from his folks and brothers. He'd hoped to get a few tips on the sporting goods fire but nada. It was already getting hot, and Aidan questioned the wisdom of turning on the AC. Running the engine might draw more attention than necessary.

But a few seconds later Dana opened the door and scooted into the front seat, throwing a bag at him.

“What's this?”

“Calloway candy. I used up your stash at our barbecue.”

His lips curved up into a smile and he started the engine. “Thanks. Crack one open.”

“Now?” She made a face.

“Yeah. Breakfast of champions.”

He found his way back to the main road as she fed him chocolate. “Did you talk to your parents?”

“They weren't up yet.” She fiddled with the vents until they blew maximum cool air. “Are we going to talk about it?”

He knew she'd eventually get back to her rules and regulations. “Why can't we just enjoy it? Without a doubt, our night together was the best thing that's happened to me in the last seven months.” Maybe ever.

“We're roommates, Aidan. Last night could make things really strained.”

“Why? You planning to bring men home?”

“Of course not. Are you planning to bring home women?”

He slid her a sideways glance. “Not the way I roll.”

“So we're just planning to play house?”

He tilted his head against his backrest in frustration. Why couldn't women just live in the moment? “We should just see how it goes, don't overthink it. Can you at least try to do that?”

She sat quiet for a few minutes and finally said, “Fine, but don't say I didn't tell you so when it blows up in our faces.”

“You're one of those I-told-you-so chicks, aren't you?” he teased.

“I'm just very practical.”

No, she was scared shitless. He got that because he was too. In fact, he should be running in the opposite direction. But for some crazy-ass reason, he wanted to stick around to see what would happen.

“Are you going to work?” she asked him.

“Technically I'm off, but with the sporting goods case I thought I'd put in a few hours.” Though he had nothing to go on.

“Is there a possibility the fire could've been an accident?”

“Not likely.”

“That kind of stuff just doesn't happen in a place like Nugget. Although we had the cattle thefts and a big drug bust. Then there was the dead guy who washed up . . .”

Aidan knew that had been Sloane's case. Sad story. “It might've just been kids, but it was intentional.”

“You'll solve it,” she said.

“How do you know that?”

“Because you're good at your job.”

He wondered if this was postsex flattery because she had no way of knowing whether he was a good arson investigator. Aidan was fairly sure he was the only arson investigator she'd ever met. However, it just so happened he was the best.

“Thanks for the confidence. You have time for coffee? We could drive through the Bun Boy.”

“I'll just make a pot at home. As it is, I'm cutting it close because I still have to shower and blow-dry my hair.”

He'd like to shower with her, but he had a feeling if he did, she'd really be late. But they should think about it in the future . . . for the sake of the drought.

“I'll make the coffee, you get ready,” he said.

Her brows went up, and he got the impression the gesture alluded to them playing house again. She should know he wasn't very good at it. All she had to do was ask Sue.

* * *

The cabin was even more darling than Dana remembered. Immaculate and furnished tastefully, without too many personal touches.

What most sellers failed to understand was that their family pictures—no matter how sweet—eclectic art collections, and porcelain figurines actually distracted perspective buyers. Or worse: they creeped them out. People wanted to see themselves in a house, not the former occupant. That was why most model homes were decorated as generically as possible. No signs of a person's religion, political party, or what kind of clubs she belonged to. Unless it was the yacht club. For some reason, nautical themes—except fishnet strung on the walls like at Long John Silver's—were completely acceptable, even to people who didn't spend time on the water. Dana supposed it represented a lifestyle of leisure and glamour.

“So what do you think the house is worth?” Mr. Castro followed her around the cabin as she took notes.

“It's worth what someone will pay for it. The question is how shall we price it? For that I brought along a list of comparatives in the area. I thought we could sit down and look them over together.” She really wanted the listing but knew Mr. Castro would be disappointed with her suggested asking price.

He'd gotten it in his head that the house should be priced at half a million dollars. If she had to guess, that was what one of her competitors had told him in order to get the listing. Well, she wasn't about to lie.

“Sounds good.”

They sat at the dining room table, and Dana passed him a folder showing all the sales in Nugget over the last three months. It had been a good period as far as the number of sales but still paled in comparison to an urban community of this size.

“I don't see anything that compares to my property.” He continued to scan the paperwork.

“Not exactly, but other than Sierra Heights, this area is pretty varied. Everything from large ranches and farms to one-room cabins.” She pulled out another sheet from the folder. “These are homes that are currently on the market; your competition, so to speak. I've been in all of them. While none is as turnkey as yours, this one”—she pointed to a custom home two miles away—“is a thousand square feet larger and has a pad for a boat or motor home.”

“It doesn't have a river view.”

“Nope. And that's certainly worth some money. But this one”—she showed him another listing fresh on the market—“does.”

“I've seen that house. It's a dump.”

“It definitely needs work. But it's on ten usable acres.”

“So what you're saying is half a mil is unrealistic.”

“We could certainly list it for that and see what happens,” she said. “But unless we find a buyer who falls so in love with this place that he or she doesn't care what other homes in the area are selling for, yeah, it's unrealistic.”