Jinxed (23 page)

He had a bead on Rivelli now. The man looked to be in his glory, but he seemed more focused on his dance moves than his actual partner. “What did you think of the pit band?”

“Awesome,” she said, gaining his attention by giving him her back and using her arms and hips as enticingly as any belly dancer.

His throat went dry as the beaded dress shimmied and shifted over her curves, reminding him of what lay beneath. A willing body and a sexy thong. He forced his mind back to the topic at hand. “The keyboardist is my brother-in-law.”

“He’s good.”

“So are you. Where’d you learn to dance like that? Come here.” He grabbed her hand and spun her into him, clamped his hands on her ass and pulled her tight against his groin.

“You’re being touchy-feely,” she said, grinding against him to the rhythm of the music.

“Yes, I am.” Christ, he was turned on.

She peeked over her shoulder. “Rivelli’s not.”

“No, he’s not. He even switched to another dancer. Did you notice?”

“Yes. I also noticed …”

“What?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Something about the way he moves. I’m certain we’ve never met before, and yet he’s familiar to me.” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t have to make sense. It’s a hunch. Let it simmer, and see what comes to you. Anything would help at this point. This guy hasn’t even thrown us a bone.” He shifted his hands to Afia’s hips as they continued to rock and grind. Trying to keep his mind and eye on Rivelli was a challenge.

“You’re a sexy dancer, Jake.”

It pleased him that she thought so, although she’d inspired the grind. “Not as sexy as you. You’re killing me, babe.”

She tunneled her fingers through his hair. “Really?”

Christ Almighty.
“Mmm.” He glanced down, the ornery twinkle in her eye causing his arousal to twitch. “You’ve been teasing me all night.”

“I know.”

“You’ll pay.”

“I hope so.” She smiled, glanced sideways, and then gasped. “He’s leaving.” Afia poked him in the shoulder. “Rivelli’s saying his goodbyes.”

He clasped her hand and gently guided her through the crowd. “We’re out of here.”

This was hell on earth. Sheer torture. Cruel and inhumane punishment for being a shameless flirt. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that they’d have to tail Rivelli after he left the gala? Of course they had to follow through, see where he ended up. What if he’d planned a late night rendezvous with one of the dancers? Or
two
of the dancers? He’d hustled with two different girls. Maybe he was seeing
both
of them on the side.

A ménage à trois
.

Afia’s mind swirled with scandalous images, only they were of her with Jake and … Jake. She was seeing double. Mixing wine and scotch probably hadn’t been the brightest of ideas. Only she didn’t feel drunk, just deliciously uninhibited. And the two naked Jakes were only in her mind. The real Jake sat, fully dressed, on the other side of the car, driving west on the A.C. Expressway.

“I’m telling you this dude is going to drive straight home or to Angela’s townhouse.” He steered one-handed as he stripped off his bowtie and popped some studs off of his shirt.

The gesture was wholly male and had Afia cracking her window for a blast of refreshing air. “He could still veer off between here and Cherry Hill,” she pointed out.

“Five bucks says he won’t. He’s careful. Does all the right things. You saw him tonight. He played the perfect host. Once he hit the dance floor, the whole room followed. Maybe his sole purpose in joining that dancer was to get the party jumping. After that his duties as V.P. were complete, and he was free to play dutiful fiancé.” He flexed his fingers on the wheel. “Oh, yeah. He’s going straight home.”

“So you don’t think there’s another woman?” She kicked off her shoes and adjusted the seat belt, trying to get comfortable.

“Didn’t say that. There’s the issue of the lipstick, the nail tips, and the fishnets. Between what I witnessed tonight and what Jean-Pierre told you, there is definitely an obsession or fascination of some sort at play.”

She squinted across the darkened car at him. “How do you know about Jean-Pierre?”

“You told me.”

“I didn’t tell you his name.”

“Rudy did.”

He sounded so nonchalant. “So you don’t mind that I’m living with two men?”

“I mind that you
have
to live with two men. I mind that Glick stole your money and left you homeless, but that’s another case. Let’s stick with Rivelli for now.” He dragged his hand over his head, causing choppy strands to stick out every which way. “For the record, it helps that they’re gay.”

She touched her fingertips to her temples, trying to focus on his words rather than his moonlit silhouette. Could he be anymore sexy? “Are you saying you’d mind if they were straight?”

He glanced sideways at her, worked his jaw. “Let’s get back to Rivelli.”

She suppressed a smug grin. He would mind. He’d be jealous. It made him even sexier in her eyes, and she wondered how she was going to make it to Cherry Hill and back without touching him. She rolled her window down another inch.

“I had the air on,” Jake said.

“I know, but I’m hot.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

She frowned at him. “I needed some
fresh
air.”

He grinned. “The wine?”

“Yeah,” she said, fluttering a hand in the air. “Sure. Blame it on the wine. So!” she said a little too brightly. “You’re thinking there was, or maybe still is, another woman, but since the lipstick incident he’s decided to play it cool.”

“Very cool. Very safe. Hike up your skirt.”

She stared at him for a moment, unsure if she’d heard correctly.

“You said you were hot. We’re going to be in this car for another two to three hours. You might as well make yourself comfortable. While you’re at it, let down your hair.”

It sounded a little bit like an order, and absurdly that turned her on. Her hands shook as she reached up and started pulling the bobby pins from her chignon.

“We’re going to play a game,” he said, tweaking her excitement. “It’ll help pass the time.”

“Wh … What about Rivelli?”

“I’ve got him in my sights. I’m also ninety-nine percent sure of where he’s going.” He glanced over just as she shook out her hair. “You look like a goddess.”

His voice was thick and hoarse and spiked her pulse mercilessly as she finger-combed the tousled mess. “I thought you didn’t like my hair. You’re always telling me to do something with it.”

He flashed a one-dimpled smile. “That’s because it’s distracting.”

“Oh.” She smiled back. It was a beautiful night—mild temperature, star-filled sky, bright moon. She was a little tipsy, a lot aroused, and alone with a sexy man who’d promised to take her for a walk on the wild side. Swallowing hard, she slowly inched up her ankle-length gown to mid-thigh. “What’s the game?”

“Interview,” he said, reaching over and sliding her skirt higher. “I ask questions, and you answer them.”

Her eyes rolled back as his fingertips grazed her inner thighs. “Do I get to ask you questions?” Her voice sounded raw and distant to her ears.

“Maybe.”

“Fair enough,” she said, because just now she’d agree to anything.

He smoothed his palm down her thigh, caressed the underside of her knee and gave a soft tug.

She shifted, allowing him to reposition her left leg so that her foot rested in his lap. Her gown pooled between her legs, otherwise he would have had a prime view of her thong. Deliciously aroused, she groaned and let her head fall against the back of the seat as he stroked her bare calf.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Pink.”

“What’s your favorite kind of music?”

“It’s a toss up between rhythm and blues and Latin.”

“List your top three favorite movies.”

“That’s a tough one.” She closed her eyes and thought about it a minute, shivering with sensual delight when he traced circles around her ankle. “Wizard of Oz. Any James Bond Movie.” She smiled. “And Casablanca.”

He laughed. “Quite the variety. Okay. List your five closest friends.”

“Rudy, Jean-Pierre, and maybe you.”

“That’s only three, and I was only a maybe.”

She lazed open her eyes, glanced out the windshield, and caught sight of a doe up ahead, standing just clear of the roadside trees. Alone and vulnerable. She tensed, fearing for the gentle animal’s well-being.
Please let it have better judgment than me
.

“True friends believe the best in you, no matter what,” she said, willing the deer not to dart across the road. “They don’t care if you’re young or old, rich or poor, if you live next door or across the country, or if your luck is worse than most people’s.” She didn’t feel that she needed to explain any further than that and wasn’t sure that she could. She’d had her share of fair-weather friends early on in her life, and her adult friends had been her husbands’ friends. All had drifted away following the funerals. True friendship was rare and her most treasured possession.

He was quiet for a moment, and she breathed more easily when he whizzed safely past the deer and moved onto the next question. “Why have you been late for work every day this week?”

Only slightly less awkward than his previous question. When was he going to get to the fun part of this game? “Because I’ve been going into the daycare center first, trying to help out, and each day there’s been some catastrophe or another. I’m not very good with kids, which, if you must know, is very depressing.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to have children someday.” Without thinking she laid her hand to her flat belly. What she wouldn’t give to be in Joni’s shoes. “What about you?”

He nodded. “Two or three kids would be nice.” He massaged the sole of her foot, applied pressure along the sides. “You’re probably a pushover.”

“What?” She practically moaned the word. He stimulated more zones than her reflexologist.

“Kids need boundaries. Try being more assertive.”

Her eyes drifted shut. “Yes, sir.” She gave a cocky salute, but her heart was hopping up and down like a jackrabbit. He wanted kids, and he was probably good with them too.

“Why did you marry Randy?”

Her eyes flew open. She tried to jerk her foot away, but Jake held tight and continued the massage. “This game isn’t going exactly as I’d hoped,” she said.

He waited.

“It’s kind of embarrassing.”

He massaged.

If they weren’t alone in a dark car, if she hadn’t had a couple of drinks, and if he hadn’t relaxed her into a stupor, she probably would have hedged. Instead the words flowed. “My mother told me to.” She cringed at the admission. “I know how that sounds, as if I don’t have a mind of my own, but, I was very young, and I had known Randy a long time. I was comfortable with him, and I admit I’d had a bit of a crush on him for some time. The dashing older man. He treated me like a princess, and he made me feel very safe. For a girl who grew up thinking any day could be her last, that was pretty important.”

He rolled back his shoulders and nodded. “And Frank?”

“Pretty much the same reason. I felt particularly lost after Randy died. Confused. Guilty … for reasons that I’d rather not go into. I was a mess, and Frank was there to pick up the pieces. My mother pushed the marriage thinking it was the best thing for me. I didn’t care about the money, but she did. After Frank died, after the rumors, I went a little nuts and indulged in an eleven-month shopping spree. I guess I still didn’t care about the money because I essentially threw it away. Rudy said I shopped to fill a void.”

Jake glanced sideways. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s right.” She swallowed a lump of regret. “I wish I would have gone to a therapist instead. Think of all the good I could have done with that money.”

He squeezed her toes and smiled. “You’re still doing good. Think about what you’re accomplishing with Nancy and the children at the daycare center.”

She snorted. “The children hate me.”

He laughed, reached over and brushed his thumb tenderly across her cheek. “I’m sure they don’t hate you. Who could hate you?”

Her skin tingled under his gentle touch. “Dora and Frances.”

He leveled her with a stern look.

“But I don’t give a rat’s ass what they think,” she added.

“Good girl.” He turned quiet then, focused on Rivelli’s taillights as they turned onto Route 73. She was about to ask if it was her turn to conduct an interview when he said, “One last question.”

“Yes?”

He pinned her with a quick look. “Did you love them?”

“Randy and Frank?” Well, that was a humdinger of a last question. Uneasy, she rubbed her forehead in thought. “I cared for them deeply, of course. They were very good to me.”

“But did you love them?”

She opened her mouth, closed it. Well, she’d certainly told them so. Actually, no. She’d never said “I love you.” It had always been, “I love you, too,” in automatic reply to one of them saying it first. Or maybe “love ya!” as she’d signed off from a phone conversation. Why hadn’t she ever said it first? She shook her head. No, no. This was crazy. Of course, she’d loved her husbands. “We were very comfortable together.”

“Comfortable?”

She nodded and stroked her bracelet. “Yes. Things were quite pleasant.”

He turned and looked at her, brows furrowed. “Pleasant.”

She huffed an exasperated breath. “Would you please stop repeating after me?” She yanked her foot out of his lap. “Is it my turn to ask questions yet?”

He chuckled and focused on the road. “Sure, baby. Fire away.”

She had a million of them. Where had he gotten that scar on his cheek? Why did he leave the police force? Had he ever been in a serious relationship? She opened her mouth and his cell phone rang. “Darn!”

“Sorry, but it might be Joni.” He plucked the cell from his inner jacket pocket, put it to his ear. “Yeah? Uh-huh.”

Afia planted her feet back on the floor and fidgeted with the confining seat belt, while trying to make sense of the one-sided conversation.