Fourteen
In case you’re wondering, romance writers aren’t immune to affairs of the heart. We may write dashing heroes who are tested by feisty heroines, but that doesn’t mean we all live in castles while living happily ever after. Our ability to dream up imperfect heroes, who are perfect for the right female, made us creative not experts. We don’t always use the best judgment when it came to our day-to-day lives, just like the rest of you. What made complete sense in a book might not make complete sense when you’re the one living it. Take for example the fact that I was now under the impression that Dallas had lied about why he left and that I was indeed just a one-night stand. If one of my heroines had jumped to that conclusion, I would have clucked my tongue at her and thought, “Silly woman, talk to him first before writing him off.” However, that was Grace Martin the writer, not Nicola Royse the woman.
My insecurities about not having a voluptuous body like my friends, or not having enough sexual experience for a man like Dallas, had led me down the path of “I suck in bed” and “he got a good look at my body and thought, yikes.” Of course, that train of thought had me ignoring my phone when Dallas called. I figured I could be just as nonchalant as the next twenty-first century female. Women were no longer held to a double standard about sexual partners (lies), so more and more of us were sleeping with whomever. I could be just like the next woman. I didn’t have to pounce on the phone when the guy called for another booty call. I could see it for what it was—a night of passion the likes I’d never known, nor would see again in my lifetime.
You see, I’d ignored all that he’d said to me on Monday about him being lucky and chalked it up to flowery words that he’d used to get me in the sack. Why else would someone like Dallas be attracted to someone like me?
Yeah, yeah, I learned later that evening I was stupid, you don’t have to roll your eyes at me. Honestly, you’d think as many times as I’d written this type of misunderstanding that I would have seen it for what it was. Petty insecurities that I shouldn’t have, but all of us do, no matter how gorgeous we are. It didn’t matter if you were a one or a ten on the beauty scale; women always find something wrong with themselves, while men just see us for who we are. Too bad we couldn’t all see ourselves as easily as men did.
So, here’s how it all went down.
Picture it . . .
Since the fair-haired maiden was licking her wounds in light of her discovery that the dark hero was nothing more than a cad, a rake, and a scoundrel, she decided to prepare her favorite comfort food upon the hearth. Double dark chocolate fudge brownies so rich they’d cure any heartache. While she whipped up the batch of double dark, delicious delights, she ignored her phone when it rang. That might have worked to keep the warlord at bay, but she’d been so busy wallowing in her self-pity when she arrived home, that when she came through the side door to her kitchen, she’d forgotten to lock it and set the alarm. Normally, that wouldn’t have been an issue because A) she lived alone and B) it didn’t stop the twins. However, as she was reminded later, there was a killer on the loose so C) it was just plain stupid.
Thus, there she was in her kitchen, heavy hearted and mixing a double batch (heartache required double) of brownies, when a very male, very pissed off voice seethed in her ear, “You don’t answer your fuckin’ phone, you don’t lock your fuckin’ door, and you didn’t call me like I told you to do.”
As you can imagine, that scared the living daylights out of her, so when she turned and screaming, the mixing spoon in her hand came with her, splattering the front of his shirt with precious double-dark chocolate fudge brownie delight.
He looked down at his shirt and scowled while she felt her temper rise because A) she was a one-night stand and B) he can’t order her around!
In a moment of sheer lunacy, she decided he needed more fudge on his clothes for being a cad, a rake, a scoundrel, so without a second thought she grabbed a handful of mix and splatted it upon his chest. The dark hero was so caught off guard by her childish maneuver that he in turn wiped the mix from his shirt and smeared it on her exposed chest. That, of course, sent her into a conniption because honestly, how dare he?
More mix was smeared as tempers flared and before she could say, “Mayhap you should leave,” the dark hero grabbed her by the waist and buried his face in her chest. That, of course, got a rise out of her. So much so, it sent her tumbling to the floor in hopes the rise could be extinguished. Shirts were ripped off and mouths were clashing when the kitchen door banged open and the idiot knights came bounding in.
“What the fuck?” said Frack, while Frick started laughing, but the dark hero didn’t think it was funny. He covered her chest before he stood, then shoved them out the door with the angry warning, “If my bike is in the drive, you fuckin’ knock first,” before he slammed the door in their smiling faces.
When he turned around and caught the fair-haired maiden standing there laughing, he stalked across the kitchen, grabbed her by the waist, ran his tongue up her chest, and then put a shoulder to her stomach and pitched her up and over his as he headed for the shower.
Get the picture?
***
“Babe,” Dallas grunted.
“Mmm.”
“That’s the fifth shirt you’ve ruined. If this works out between us, I’ve got a bad feeling I’ll need a new wardrobe.”
Glancing down at his face, I gazed in wonder at his dark beauty as he looked up at me. We were lying on my bed, tangled together after having just tumbled out of the shower. A shower that left me very satisfied and very clean in all the right places, thanks to Dallas.
“If you’d quit sneaking up on me, I wouldn’t ruin your shirts.”
“If you’d called me like I told you to do, I wouldn’t have rushed over here when you didn’t answer your phone.”
“You rushed over here?”
Dallas’ brows pulled together and his eyes flashed like fire right before he rolled me to my back, pinning me to the bed.
“There may or may not be a killer out there after you and your friends. Until I have this bastard behind bars, I want you checkin’ in with me so I know where you are. If you don’t check in with me, I’m gonna hunt you down until I find you. Are we clear?”
“You were worried?” I asked for clarification.
“I hadn’t heard from you all day, you didn’t call me when you were done, and you didn’t answer when I called, so, yeah, I was worried.”
Thinking that was the nicest thing a man had ever said to me, I curled my arms around his neck and leaned up pressing my lips to his.
“Sorry,” I whispered against his lips, and then watched in fascination as the honey color deepened to a dark amber.
“Jesus, you’re sweet,” he murmured against my mouth right before he touched his tongue to my lips causing me to open for him. Rolling to his back, his lips molded tight over mine as he plundered my mouth until I shivered. If I’d been standing that would have been a kiss that weakened my knees, just as he said he could.
Pulling back from his mouth, I lay astride his body; legs tangle together, the veil of my hair falling around our heads as I noticed a small scar to the right of his left eye.
“How did you get this scar?” I asked, running a finger across the pebbled skin.
Dallas seemed more interested in the swell of my breasts, which were pressed against his chest, than my question. Leaning forward, he ran his tongue between the valley of my breasts before husking out, “Murder suspect cheap shot me with an elbow.”
It’s funny that what he did for a living had never sunk in until that moment. I’d knocked a guy out with a door, but until I saw that crescent shaped scar, the danger of his job hadn’t penetrated my brain.
“Your job is very dangerous,” I whispered, looking at the scar. It wasn’t a question really, more of a statement of fact to myself.
“Driving a car can be dangerous,” he mumbled against my neck.
“This is true,” I gasped as he nipped my ear, “especially if my mother is driving.”
Dallas smiled against my neck, while his hands burned a trail down my side, over my ass, and, hello . . .
“Always wet for me,” Dallas growled as he parted my folds and slipped a finger inside.
Breath escaped my lungs as he rolled me to my back and attached his mouth to my nipple. His tongue teased as I arched up against him, burying my fingers in his hair. I felt his cock lengthen against my leg while he applied pressure to my clit, finding a rhythm that had me mewling like a kitten. Dallas covered my mouth and absorbed my cries while I shuddered around his fingers and liquid fire turned my body to mush.
Floating in a cloud of orgasmic contentment, I slowly tuned into the fact that Dallas was chuckling against my throat.
“What’s so funny?” I panted.
“You light up like a Christmas tree when I touch you."
“Don’t be arrogant,” I warned.
“Babe, it’s kinda hard not to be arrogant when you’re wet the minute I touch you,” he explained.
“You're being crass again.”
“I told you if you didn’t stop bein’ cute, I wouldn’t stop bein’ crass, since you bring out the "rake" in me.”
“Rake?” I laughed in astonishment that he knew that word at all. Rolling to his back, Dallas tucked me into his chest and began playing with my hair.
“Yeah, a man with loose moral values, who's devilishly handsome, and preys upon innocent maidens,” he informed me unnecessarily.
I looked up, caught the glint in his eyes as he looked down on me, and knew he was teasing me about the books I write.
“Are you making fun of my profession?”
“Nope.”
“Have you ever read a romance novel?”
“Nope.”
Narrowing my eyes, an unfathomable thought occurred to me and I blurted out, “Please tell me that you read for God’s sake.”
“Do police reports and arrest records count?”
This was not good.
“One, two, three, four, five—”
“Why are you countin’?”
“I always count when I meet people who say they don’t read.”
“Why?” he asked, but I didn’t miss the way his lips twitched in amusement.
“To keep from bashing them over the head and yelling, “What are you, stupid or something? Books kick-ass!”
Dallas threw his head back laughing, rolling to his back, and taking me with him even though I didn’t think it was the least bit funny.
“It’s not funny,” I groused
Ignoring my anger, Dallas pulled me further into his body and buried his head into my neck while he continued to roar with laughter.
“Dallas this is serious,” I complained.
Still laughing.
“I’m not sure this will work.”
His whole body shook with it.
“Stop laughing,” I shouted with indignation.
“Can’t,” he choked out on a gasp of air.
“Why not?” I snapped.
“Cause you’re still bein’ cute.”
***
With everything that had happened that week, the girls and I had agreed to postpone working on the book for a few days. We decided to get together on Thursday, but with Dallas in my life, I’d almost forgotten that I was supposed to meet the girls after work until Angela had sent me a text. Dallas had stayed the night, leaving early to head home and change clothes before work. I’d gotten up with him, said goodbye, and was now on the back deck drinking coffee as I watched Snape and Simi twitch their tails as they stalked a bird across the yard. There was a cool breeze as the sun slid higher in the sky and the sound of birds serenading boisterously.
Sipping coffee while a tranquil smile pulled lazily across my mouth, memories of the night of passion I’d shared with Dallas flitted across my mind. I’d started the night thinking he had used me for sex and then lied about why he was leaving. But after he’d come over, mad that I hadn’t kept in touch with him, worried that something had happened to me, I knew then I’d made a mistake. He was a cop and they worked long hours, just because he didn’t go to the crime scene didn’t mean he didn’t have work to do, so I let it go. Thinking about his strong arms holding me close as we laid in bed talking about anything and everything, I smiled again. He was easy to talk to for such an overbearing and arrogant man, one who was fast becoming entrenched in my heart.
Opening my computer as I watched Snape stalk his prey, I logged onto both my POF and SSD accounts to delete them. Per Dallas’ orders. Out of curiosity, I decided to scan through my messages on both accounts. I found nothing of interest on POF and deleted the account, then scanned through the messages on SSD. I was about to search for the delete account function, when a message from a man who called himself MasterX caught my eye. The subject line was the same as a message I’d ignored on POF so out of curiosity, I clicked on the message titled “Gotcha.” The message mysteriously read, “Now you see me, now you don’t,” but nothing else. Confused by the message, I chalked it up to spam, and was starting to close it when my screen started jumping and numbers and words ran across the screen at hyper-speed. Panicked because my whole life was on that computer, I watched painfully as the screen flashed bright white and then went black as if my computer turned off.
“No, no, no,” I shouted as I punched the power button and watched it turn on.
It took more than twenty heart-pounding minutes before the home screen pulled up because the computer installed updates for some reason. And when it did, I could tell from my missing icons that my computer was different. Searching for my book files, it only took me a few short heart-breaking moments to see that they were gone. It was as if my computer had been factory reset.
It wasn’t so much that my books were missing since I stored them on external hard drives. Not to mention my editor received a copy every time I finished a day of editing. It was that all my notes for “Property Of” were gone, along with my schedule. I searched my history and it was wiped clean as well, not a single app or software I’d installed still remained. I didn’t have a clue how this happened either, it’s not as if I’d downloaded a virus attached to some illegal software or pirated book. I only used my computer for correspondence, writing, and Facebook.
Frustrated and beyond angry, I turned off my computer while speculating how this could have happened. I wasn’t computer savvy in the least and decided my best course of action would be to take it to the Geek Squad and have them run a full diagnostic check-up.
***
Everyone met at Gypsy’s after work except for Kasey for obvious reasons. Dallas had informed her that as of right now the only link they had to Toni and Melissa’s murders was Om-Oklahoma. Until she could decide whether or not to move the business she was staying closed, handing over her books, and wait for the court order for her to hand over her client list.
Considering everything that had taken place in the last week, none of us were really in the mood to discuss the book. Instead, we caught Kristina up on porno bingo and they all wanted to know how things were progressing with Dallas. I’d regaled his sexual prowess while admitting I’d overreacted to his leaving so quickly. They’d nodded in agreement, swooned when it was appropriate, and sighed when I started receiving text messages asking where I was. When I told him I was at Gypsy’s his response had been quick.
“I’ll be there in 10.”
Ha, a man of few words.
He made it in five.
With my back to the door, I was listening to Angela talk about Melissa’s funeral, when I felt a hand hit my neck. I looked up and melted a little as I saw two honey-colored eyes coming closer. Both his hands captured my face as his thumbs made a gentle sweep of my cheeks before he touched his lips gently to mine.
“Hey,” he whispered against my lips.
“Hey yourself,” I whispered back.
Three sets of lungs sighed for added effect as butterflies danced in my stomach.
“Be right back,” he breathed in my ear before trailing his fingers across my neck. I turned and watched him as he made his way to order coffee and appreciated the back view as much as the front.
“That man could singe your panties off with just one look,” Kristina stated.
“That is true,” I chuckled, “they haven’t stayed on long all three times we’ve been alone.”
“Hussy,” Angela gasped.
“Whore,” Janeane agreed.
Peeling my eyes from Dallas’ backside, I looked at my three friends and responded, “It’s about damn time don’t you think?”
“Way past,” they replied in unison.
We were giggling about Janeane’s plans to play hooky from work the next day for a much-needed day of relaxation, when Dallas walked up. Smiling at our coffee clutch, he pulled up a chair and sat down, draping his arm across the back of my chair. He said, “Ladies,” as they smiled back, then pulled me into his side as he sipped his coffee.
“You’re very direct and to the point, even in your text messages . . . A man a few words,” I teased.
Dallas grinned as he raised his coffee to his mouth, but paused before taking a sip, saying, “Nic baby. . . I don’t wanna blow up your phone with texts, I just wanna blow your mind,” and then winked before taking a sip.
“Um, consider it blown,” I mumbled to myself as I watched his lips form around the side of the lid and remembered what that mouth had done to me the night before. My eyes must have unfocused during my daydream because Dallas leaned in and asked, “Jesus, what are you thinkin’ about now?” Blinking to focus my eyes, I blushed instantly then watched a knowing grin tug across his mouth.
“Nothing,” I stuttered.
“Liar,” he mouthed.
I needed to get my head out of the gutter before I made a fool of myself, I blurted out, “Since you’re here now, I can tell you all at the same time. Mother called me today and she’s throwing an impromptu barbecue on Saturday at noon. She wants all of you to come.”
“Speaking of your mother,” Dallas broke in with a grin, “Bill told me you met June yesterday.”
“I did. Is she always so forward?”
“Always,” he smiled brightly before moving his hand to my neck and lightly caressing the nape. I shivered as whisper-soft touches caused me to lean further into his side and shiver. The gentle rumble of his chuckle told me he felt the shiver and knew the effect he had on me.
So much for playing it cool when I’m around him. Pfft, if I played it any cooler he’d know I was a besotted mess. It hadn’t taken him a week to get under my skin, and at the rate he was burrowing under, I’d be hopelessly in love with him by the end of two.
“I’ll be done with work in a couple of hours. If you can hold off eatin’ until then, I’ll take you to dinner,” Dallas asked.
“Ok, I’d love that,” I answered as he ran fingers through my hair, leaning closer by the second. Oblivious to my friends watching, or even caring, Dallas seemed fixated on my mouth. He was leaning in for a kiss that I didn’t mind giving in public when his phone rang stopping his descent. Sighing, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket and scowled at the number.
“Give me a second,” he stated briskly as he stood from his chair and walked away. His brows furrowed and his eyes glittered dangerously as he spoke on the phone. I watched with interest when he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then his free hand wrapped around his neck, annoyance written all over him as he bent his head and looked at his boots. He gritted out, “I’m done and you know it, so don’t call again,” to whomever was on the other end. Anger flared across his face and his jaw ticked in agitation as the caller responded, so Dallas hung up without another word. As he made his way back to our table, his phone chimed with a text. He looked down, read the message, then bit out, “Jesus,” right before he shoved it into his back pocket.
“Problems?” I asked when he stopped by my chair.
Dallas looked down, but not at me, and I could see he was lost in thought. He seemed to stare right through me for a moment, then his eyes cleared and he focused on my face right before he shook his head no, muttering; “Duty calls. Walk me to my bike?”
“Sure,” I answered, wondering what had him preoccupied, but I knew better than to pry. It had to be work related, so I knew he wouldn’t answer.
Reaching down, he took my hand and pulled me from the chair. Hooking his arm around my shoulders, he walked us outside. At his bike, he shoved his coffee into one of two drink holders that hung from his handlebars and I giggled at the sight. It hadn’t occurred to me until just then how he got his coffee back to the station when he needed two hands to drive. Dallas leaned against his Harley, pulling me in between his legs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled as he scanned my face, his own serious as he searched for something. Finally, his face gentled for a moment as he took me in.
“It’s been a long time since I had somethin’ sweet in my life,” Dallas replied pulling me closer to his body.
“I’d like to think I’m more like chocolate covered peanuts.” Smiling, Dallas cocked a brow for an explanation.
“I’m salty and sweet.”
A slow grin pulled across those sexy lips, before he leaned in, nipped my lip, chuckling, “Considering the positions I’ve had you in I’d say you’re more like chocolate covered pretzels.”
Before I could admonish him, yet again, for being crass, he boxed in my face with his hands and kissed me until my legs were like noodles. Ripping his mouth away, I staggered back while he climbed on his bike. When he started the engine, he winked at me with a devilish grin, and told me, “Later, babe,” before he gunned the engine and drove away.
As I rounded the building, a spark from a lighter caught my attention. I glanced briefly in the direction of the man who was lightening a smoke. His head was covered with a baseball cap and his eyes covered with sunglasses. He was tall, well-built, and looked up at me when I passed, so grinned a slight hello, then forgot all about him as I walked back into Gypsy’s.
It would be much later when I realized I should have taken a closer look at that man, read the warning signs for what they were. He hadn’t smiled when I grinned at him, but had a setline across his mouth. It wasn’t indifference, I’d read in his face, but barely held back hostility I would realize later. That’s the funny thing about hindsight, when you looked back on events—it’s never around when you need it.