“Sit in the big chair, I’ll be right out.” Her voice rang out, sing song and light.

  “Fine.” He plopped down in the overstuffed chair, tapped his foot and waited.

  “Are you hungry?” At last she finally emerged from the kitchen carrying a large overflowing tray.

  “Do you need help?” He prepared to get up.

  “Sit, Mr. Harlow.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  He obeyed, but leaned over trying to figure out what was going on.

  She placed the tray on the table, and leaned way forward.

  His mouth literally fell open at the view she provided.

  She wore an apron—one of those vintage aprons, all frilly in a light yellow checkerboard pattern. However, she appeared to be wearing only the apron and upon bending down to adjust her tray, he received an eyeful of cleavage. All of her cleavage.

  “I made us a drink.” With her breasts practically hanging over the tray, she poured them each some yellowish liquid from a pitcher and garnished the tall glasses with a lemon slice. “It’s called a Tom Collins.”

  “Okay.” He raised his glass to her and gulped the drink down, barely taking time to appreciate the carbonated treat with a bit of bite.

  “More?” She held the pitcher to her chest and looked up at him.

  While she may have forgotten some of her clothes, she didn’t forget the makeup or the hair. She was all dolled up with bright red juicy lips and her hair pulled up to show off her face.

  “Yeah.”

  She came around the table and poured more of the drink into his glass. “After your hard day at work, you must be famished.”

  Honestly, his hunger had waned. “If you say so.” Again, he tried to inspect her outfit.

  “Sit back and relax.” She moved in front of him, turned her back to him and bent over the table.

  “Em?” As fast as possible he put his glass on the side table and gripped the arms of the chair. Apparently Emily decided nothing at all needed to go under the apron. Her backside beckoned him and his mouth watered.

  “Oh you poor thing.” She spun back around with a plate in her hand.

  He stared at her, his body already reacting with that one of a kind sizzle, and saw a whole different kind of feast.

  “Here, let me help you.” Without dropping a morsel, she straddled his lap with only the plate between them. “Do you want to tell me about your day?”

  He shook his head. No, he didn’t want to tell her about his day or the decision he had to make. He would rather stare at her and find out what other surprises she had in store.

  “Okay, I have anything you want tonight.” She busied herself with the offerings on the plate; a whole host of his favorite little appetizers. No utensils required. “Do you want a mushroom?”

  At first he reached to grab one, but he stopped, choosing to put his hands on her exposed thighs where the apron gathered between her legs. “Sounds good.”

  She fed him one of his favorite vegetables with a savory stuffing.

  Without speaking she made her way around the plate—a shrimp, a little toast with spicy spread, a skewer of grilled chicken. Aside from the fact that nothing lay under her apron, her actions were not overtly sexual, but extremely sensual. They stirred him, and he wanted to play too.

  “How about I return the favor?” He took a bit of cheese and a cracker then placed it in her mouth.

  “Yum.” She leaned over and took the bite, finishing with a kiss on his fingers.

  His blood sped up. Her small action caused him to swell. “More?”

  “Always.” She inched up his lap and opened her mouth.

  He dipped an egg roll into the sticky sauce they both loved, and held it out to her. “This is your favorite.” He focused on her lips as she devoured the treat.

  “Hold on, I need to clean up after myself.” True her word she licked the errant sauce off his fingers.

  He arched his back. Staring into her eyes, he returned his fingers to the sauce.

  She took hold of his wrist and proceeded to suck the sauce off his fingers, making sure to get every last drop as she reached behind her, untied the apron and tossed it to one side, Emily was now completely nude. Her body was truly a work of art, the kind every guy wanted tattooed on him with her amazing breasts and bountiful curves. Her perfect skin was only marked with the art he’d created.

  Unable to hold back, he slid his fingers from her mouth and tickled each one of her nipples. “How’s that?” She squirmed at his light touches.

  With a slight smile, she put the dish aside and looked down, running her finger along the length of his erection that sneaked out from the folds in the robe. “I would say you’re enjoying it.” She took him into her hands.

  “You didn’t put any underwear out.” He pulled the robe open, exhaling to keep himself in check. The woman knew exactly how to touch him, how much pressure to use, how tight to hold on, everything. In turn he slid his hands up her thighs.

  “I didn’t want you to put any on.” She spread her legs a little wider.

  “Is there anything else you want?” he teased as one finger traced her moist, intimate creases.

  “Tonight is about you, and I think I know what you want.” She licked her lips.

  Though he loved everything they did together with their hands and their mouths, the need to be inside her overwhelmed him. “I want something else.” He grabbed her hips.

  “I said, anything.” Still holding on to him, she rose on her knees and guided him inside of her.

  “Yeah, babe.” He dropped his head back as she lowered herself down, engulfing him. Emily was tight and wet, like she was made to fit him. While he couldn’t get enough of her before, since they got rid of the condoms he was insatiable, and she kept up with him.

  “Um.” She raised herself up. “Do you think about me when I’m not with you during the day?”

  He sucked in his breath. “Yeah.”

  “Right answer.” With no urgency, she lowered her body again and gave him a light kiss.

  “Don’t stop.” He tightened his grip on her trying hips to guide her.

  Ignoring him, she repeated her action with achingly slow movements, continuing with the torturous rhythm.

  “Emily?” He writhed beneath her. “Baby?”

  “Do you need more?” She lowered her face to his ear, and the scent of her soap only riled him up more.

  At her words his over sensitized body shuddered. “Yes.”

  “Just tell me.” She braced against his shoulders and gradually gave him what he craved.

  Again and again she impaled herself on him, a bit faster, with a bit more force, edging him toward his end.

  Desire, need, and lust, blazed through him. Her breasts bounced with every plunge, her body enveloped his, her hair came loose with her movements.

  “Faster, baby.” He struggled to catch his breath.

  She let out a little noise, his clue that her climax was near.

  His demand built quickly, almost too fast, and he slipped his hand between them, giving her a little bit more. Soon, he would have to explode inside her.

  “Ivan.” She ground into him as his fingers grazed exactly the right spot.

  “Do you need to come?” He raised his knees trying to stave off the inevitable.

  “Yes.” She trembled against him.

  “Me too.” With her admission, he wrapped his arms around her waist, held her still and took his turn, thrusting up into her. His control gone, he drove into her intent on their mutual release.

  “Oh, God!” Her body tightened around him, drawing him deeper with her orgasm.

  The rush of unbridled, fevered euphoria, hit him in a flash. With no choice, he let loose, giving in to those glorious throbs.

  For several moments they remained rigid, caught up in gleaning the last few quivers of bliss, and then, almost in unison they relaxed and melted into each other. He closed his eyes and played with her hair.

  “Are you still hungry?” Her voice was now dreamlike and faraway.

  “I am completely satisfied.” He let out a chuckle. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at an egg roll again without wanting to make love to you.”

  Her laugh vibrated through him.

  One night they could make love for hours, the next, a quickie on a chair. Both rocked. He needed nothing else when he had her. “You know, maybe after the baby is born we can get out of here for a few days, take a ride to the desert or something.”

  “We could go away?” She nuzzled his neck.

  “Yeah.” He sighed and pictured them on his bike, riding down the 10 freeway to Palm Springs. “We deserve it.” Actually, she deserved it.

  “I would like that.”

  For the man who less than an hour ago didn’t want a hamper, he was suddenly planning trips and looking forward to it. “What brought this little delight on tonight?”

  She sat up. “I always want there to be excitement and sexiness between us.” Her eyes sparkled.

  Always. With her simple little confession, she planned for always. Why shouldn’t she? They had a future, with trips and her personal items under his sink in the bathroom. And he didn’t want to run away screaming, or take her back to her place.

  Finally he had his answer on what to do with the lawsuit.

  He owed it to her to prepare for always as well.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fifteen years ago, best friends Ivan Harlow and Shane Elliott rode their skateboards the six blocks to Reynolds Liquor Store and swiped four packs of gum, two sodas, three mini bottles of coffee liqueur, and a piece of beef jerky. As they left, Ivan snatched a few stickers for Shane’s annoying little sister, Emily. Hey, he thought it was cool the way she always stared at him like he was a rock star.

  Invigorated at having pulled off the impossible in front of old man Reynolds, they high fived and raced back at the Elliott abode. While Emily kissed the stickers and hugged him, their coup was uprooted when not one, but both their father’s entered just as they were ready to take a sip of their cola coffee alcohol concoction.

  Both boys were promptly rushed back to the store. They not only had to pay for their loot and apologize, but Emily screamed and told him never to do anything like that again, then she kicked him in the shin.

  Old man Reynolds knew a good thing when he saw it, and hired the two of them as guards for the after school hangout crowds.

  No one ever took anything on Ivan and Shane’s watch.

  The flashback flashed in Ivan’s mind as they parked down the street from Gary Lipson’s Los Angeles apartment. This time, instead of his best friend, he was flanked by Dillon the jerk and Billy the ass. He’d never felt more like Ivan the terrible.

  “I switched license plates on the car.” Billy rolled his turtleneck up to his ears.

  “Who did you switch them with?” Dillon adjusted his sunglasses.

  “The little old lady across the way from my place.” Billy slid a knit cap over his head. “I help her with stuff, she won’t notice.”

  Ivan rubbed his hand over his face. No point in mentioning that tampering with license plates was against the law; Billy’s action only added to the many offenses they would make in the next hour. “You help an old lady?”

  “Shut it.” Billy flipped him off. “She’s old and a lady.”

  “Great, now whoever scans the plates will think a sweet old lady did the deed. I’m sure she’ll do great in jail.” He pulled the cap off Billy’s head. “Can we try not to look like thugs?” His chest ached at using Emily’s word. Should he tell her about what they did or not? Damn, he had to tell her.

  “Let’s go over the game plan one more time.” Dillon held up the box of latex gloves from the shop. “I confirmed with James that Mr. Lipson is staying with family members until after the mediation. I’ll stay by the front and keep a look out.”

  “I will hit the computer. People save things in digital form on their personal computers, what they’d never save anywhere else.” Billy rubbed his hands together and held up what appeared a few flash drives. “I have everything I need.”

  “I am going to look for any other evidence.” Ivan repeated what they already went over several hundred times. When he made love to Emily before leaving, he almost screamed out the word evidence rather than her name. “Let’s just do this already.” He decided to leave out the part where he wanted to get home in time for his and Emily’s favorite television show.

  “All for one.” Billy thrust his hand out between him and Dillon.

  Dillon put his hand over Billy’s and both men turned to him.

  Their little scheme smacked of playing spy when he was a kid. “Don’t make me shove a musketeer up your asses,” Ivan said with a smirk. With one last check that his hair hidden and all his ink was undercover, he took a set of gloves and climbed out of the car.

  Every part of Los Angeles was a crapshoot. One block boasted the finest stores, another covered the trendiest locales, and another, a place he wouldn’t even want to walk around at night, like where they were that moment. No one was in sight as they tiptoed around the dilapidated, cracked peach-colored stucco building and found the right door.

  A car drove down the street and they all froze until the danger passed.

  They looked at each other.

  “It’s now or never.” Billy took a tool out of his pocket.

  “Now.” Ivan decided to forego the questions about why or how Billy knew how to pick a lock, and instead concentrated on inhaling and exhaling and trying not to have his heart explode out of his chest. “What if there’s an alarm?”

  “Then we run like hell.” Billy laughed quietly.

  “We’re breaking in to someone’s place.” What if they found nothing?

  Billy pursed his lips, bent down and lifted the doormat. “No we’re not. We’ve been invited to pick something up for our sick friend.” He held up a key.

  “I’m going to go scope out the area. I’ll be back.” Dillon gave them a salute and with his hands in his pockets sauntered away.

  “Here we go.” Billy slid the key in the lock and opened the door.

  No alarm, no bells or whistles, only the stench of cigarettes, old food, and enough dust to suffocate them.

  As they stepped inside, Ivan glanced at the threshold, noting the exact moment he broke the law and turned into the thug Emily begged him not to be.

  While he pulled on his gloves, Billy closed the door and turned on the lights.

  Part of him expected a slew of laser beams they’d have to convolute themselves across to the treasure. Instead they found a perfect representation of a guy’s first apartment. In fact, if they were in Hollywood a decade ago, it could have been the one apartment he and Shane unsuccessfully shared. Scant, mismatched worn furniture was arranged around a large, later model television. On a tattered table with moisture rings sat an ashtray and something familiar caught that his attention. He leaned over. “Look.”

  “Tattoo magazines.” Billy elbowed him and lifted his chin. “Look at that.”

  Ivan turned to find a basic desk with a computer and he swore Billy’s eyes shined with excitement. “Get to it and make it fast.”

  “An old PC, no problem,” he said and crossed the room.

  Ivan took another moment to study the apartment. Tattoo magazines on the table, tattoo artwork on the walls. The man apparently loved the art, or maybe something else was going on.

  Billy let out a laugh. “His machine is password protected.”

  “What, now you can’t get in?” Ivan stomped over to him. What would they prove if they couldn’t find anything on the computer? Did anyone even know what to look for?

  “Most people use one of a few passwords.” He typed something into the grey box. “Their name and birth date, they even use the word password as their password.”

  Fine, on top of everything, Ivan needed to change all his passwords.

  Billy hit enter.

  Ivan gripped the back of the chair. “Now what?”

  Nothing but a red X showed up.

  “It may take me a second to get in.” Billy repeated his action.

  Ivan’s face burned hotter than the red X that popped up once, twice, a third time.

  The clicks on the keyboard pounded through his head, telling him the whole thing was a joke.

  “Can you get in or not?” He gripped Billy’s collar. “You said you could do this!”

  “Hold on,” Billy said then swiped his hand away. “Remember the simplest answer is usually the right one.”

  “Get in the computer or I’ll use your head as the password.” He didn’t want to hear damn proverbs, he wanted to find what they could and get out of there.

  “Wait.” Billy pointed to an illustration above the desk of a bulldog. “Every dog has its day.” Once more he typed into the keyboard.

  The grinding hum of the computer seemed to amplify, and rather than a red X, the computer flashed and a chime rang throughout the room.

  His heart stopped and he grabbed at the first thing, Billy’s arm. “What’s that? Did someone ring the doorbell?”

  “Nah, we’re in.” Billy tilted his head toward him. “Stop touching me or I’ll tell Tamsin that the big bad computer scared you.”

  He narrowed his eyes and freed his nemesis.

  “Give me a minute, go check out the rest of his place.” Billy plugged a flash drive into the computer.

  “Fine.” He stepped away and started his search in the kitchen. Out of curiosity, he opened the refrigerator. A bachelor bottle of ketchup and mustard along with a few bottles of beer greeted him. Until he basically moved Emily in with him, his refrigerator looked the same. Now their icebox was chocked full of all kinds of things. They were like grownups, like a couple.

  “Emily lives with me.” He stopped and braced himself against the door, welcoming the cool air from the appliance. Yes, they lived together. Every day he emptied a bit of her apartment, brought a few of her possessions back to his place and fit everything together without a word, without a question. His only commitment was the promise that he’d talk to her brother. Did he think she wouldn’t notice when she walked into her empty apartment? Did he think that not saying the words would make it less true? If he didn’t admit it, did that mean he was safe if they split?

 

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