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bit,” I admitted. “It’s probably because I saw your tough-as-nails side when we were working together.”
“Is that a problem for you? My tough side?”
“No, it isn’t,” I told her. “I like your tough side too. As long as you don’t get too rough with me.”
Jam immediately pushed me back onto the bed, then fell on top of me. I kissed her cheeks, then her sweet lips. She smelled and tasted wonderful. I could feel the pulse under her skin. There’s no hurry.
“I was a tomboy when I was a kid in Oakland. Baseball player, fast-pitch softball,” she said. “I wanted my father and my brothers to approve of me.”
“Did they?”
“Oh yeah. Are you kidding? I was all-state in baseball and track.”
“Do they still approve?”
“I think so. Yeah, they do. My pop’s a little disappointed I’m not playing for the Giants,” she said, and laughed. “He thinks I could give Barry Bonds a run.”
Jamilla helped me with my pants while I unhooked her skirt. I shivered, couldn’t control it. All the time in the world.
Chapter 53
WHEN HE WAS finished with his interview of Mrs. Billie Houston, it was too late for Sampson to head back to Washington, plus he liked the atmosphere at the shore, so he had checked into Conover’s Bay Head Inn, a bed-and-breakfast in town that Billie had recommended.
He had just stepped into his room on the third floor when the phone rang. He wondered who could be calling him here. At Conover’s Bay Head Inn?
“Yeah?” he spoke into the receiver. “John Sampson.”
There was a short silence.
“This is Billie. Mrs. Houston.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and found that he was surprised, but he was smiling. He definitely hadn’t expected the call, hadn’t expected to hear from her again. “Well, hi. I haven’t spoken to you . . . in minutes. Did you forget to tell me something?”
“No. Well, yes I did, actually. Here you are, helping Laurence, and I do absolutely nothing to make your visit more comfortable. Would you have dinner at the house tonight? I’m already cooking something, so please don’t say no. What do you have to lose? I’m a good cook, by the way.”
Sampson hesitated and wasn’t sure if this was such a good idea. It wasn’t that he thought dinner with Billie Houston would be a chore. It was just, well, a potentially uncomfortable situation, maybe a conflict of interest.
Still, the way she’d put it, what choice did he have? And what real harm could it do?
“That’s a fine idea. I’d like to have dinner at the house. What time should I come by?”
“Whatever suits you is fine. It’s nothing fancy, Detective. I’ll start up the grill as soon as you arrive.”
“How about an hour? Is that all right? I’m John, by the way. Not ‘Detective.’”
“I think you told me that. You already know I’m Billie, and if you don’t mind, I prefer that to Mrs. Houston. I’ll see you in about an hour.”
She hung up, and Sampson held on to the receiver for another few seconds. Now that he thought about it, dinner with Billie Houston didn’t seem like a bad idea. He was looking forward to it as he stepped out of his clothes and headed for the shower.
Nothing fancy sounded pretty good.
Chapter 54
SAMPSON PICKED UP a small bouquet of flowers and a bottle of red at Central Market in Bay Head. As he got to the beach house, he wondered if he was overdoing it. Flowers? Wine? What is going on here?
Was he feeling guilty about the fact that this woman’s husband might have been murdered? Or that she was a widow before her time? Or did it have something to do with Ellis Cooper? Or was this just about Billie Houston and himself?
He went round to the screen door that led into the kitchen of the beach house. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the wooden frame.
