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“Answer the question, smart guy.”
“I was married once too,” I finally said.
Jamilla lightly punched my shoulder, then she rolled over on top of me. “I’m really glad I came to Washington. Took a little nerve on my part. I was definitely scared.”
“Oohh, Inspector Jamilla Hughes was scared. Well, so was I,” I admitted.
“How come? What scared you about me, Alex?”
“Some women are so self-centered. Or rough in bed —”
Jamilla leaned over and kissed me, probably to shut me up. Her lips were soft and sweet. We kissed — a long, lingering one. I was ready again, and so was she. Jamilla pulled me close, and I moved inside her. This time I was on top.
“I am your love slave. Completely submissive,” she whispered against my cheek. “I’m definitely glad I came to Washington.”
Our second time together was even better than the first, and also edged out the third time. No, there had been nothing for either of us to be afraid of.
Jamilla and I stayed at the hotel through the afternoon and into the early evening. It was almost impossible to leave. As it had been right from the start with the two of us, we found it easy to talk about anything on the planet. “I’ll tell you something really strange,” she said. “And the more I’m with you, the stranger this seems to me. See, my first husband and I could never really talk. Not the way you and I do. And we still got married. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
A little while later, Jamilla got up and disappeared into the bathroom. I saw the light flash on the telephone on the nightstand. She was making a call.
Once a detective . . . oh boy. Here we go.
When she came out, she confessed, “I had to call work. Murder case I’m on out there is a mess. Nasty stuff. Sorry, sorry. Won’t happen again. I promise. I’ll be good. Or bad. Whatever you want me to be.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I understand,” I said. I did, of course. Sort of, anyway. I saw so much of myself in Jamilla. The Detective! I think that was a good thing.
I hugged her and held her close once she got back into bed. Then the truth finally came out. It was my turn to confess. “Long time ago,” I told her, “I was at this hotel with my wife.”
Jamilla pulled back a little. She looked deeply into my eyes. “That’s okay,” she said. “Doesn’t mean anything. Except I really love that you were guilty about it. That’s nice. I’ll always remember that about my trip to Washington.”
“Your first trip,” I said.
“My first trip,” Jamilla agreed.
Chapter 38
OUR TIME TOGETHER in Washington raced by like a couple of blinks of an eye, and before I knew it Jamilla had to go back to San Francisco. Sunday afternoon at a very crowded Reagan National. Fortunately, my badge got me out to the gate area. I was bummed to see her leave, and I didn’t think she wanted to go, actually. The two of us hugged for a long time at the gate and didn’t much care if anyone was staring.
Then Jam had to run to her plane, or miss it.
“Why don’t you just stay another night?” I asked. “Lots of planes tomorrow. And the next day. Day after that.”
“I really, really liked this,” she said as she pulled away from me and started to backpedal. “Bye, Alex. Please miss me. I liked Washington more than I thought I would.”
A flight attendant followed her in and closed the door between us. Jeez, I even liked the way Jamilla ran. She glided.
And I did miss her already. I was starting to fall again, and that scared me.
That night at home I was up long after midnight. At one particularly low point, I went out to the sunporch and sat at the piano, playing a pretty pathetic “Someone to Watch
Over Me,” thinking about Jamilla Hughes, romanticizing like hell, loving every painful second of it.
I wondered what was going to happen to the two of us? Then I remembered something Sampson had once said. Don’t ever be Alex’s girlfriend. It’s dangerous. Unfortunately, he had been right so far.
A few minutes later I became aware of banging on the screen door out front. I went around and found Sampson leaning against the doorjamb. He didn’t look real good. Actually, he looked awful.
Chapter 39
