AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He checked his watch and said, “No hurry, it’s already four o’clock, and by the time we drive back, it’ll be well after closing time at the mortuary. Joe’s been briefed. He’ll cover for you. One thing about the dead—they’ll wait. ”
His cell phone chose that moment to buzz like an angry hornet, and McCallister paused, checked the screen, and turned it off. “Harte,” he said.
“You’re not answering?”
“Would I be answering if we were doing what they think we’re doing?”
“I don’t know. Would you?”
He raised his eyebrows, smiled, and said, “Maybe. ” He switched the phone back on and hit a button on the TV remote at the same time. A porn channel popped up. Why am I not surprised? Bryn thought, and reached to change the channel. He shook his head and stopped her. Instead, he turned up the volume for the pants and moans. “McCallister,” he said into th
e phone, sounding annoyed and distracted. “This had better be important. ” He listened for a second, then subtly altered his tone. “Ms. Harte. Sorry. I didn’t check the screen. ” Now he turned the volume down. “Yes. Yes, I know. ” Another longer pause. “I’ll alert my team to handle it. I’m not close to the office now. ” He locked eyes with Bryn, and mouthed, Say something.
What? she mouthed back. He shrugged.
Well, might as well have fun with it. She pitched her voice to a low, sexy range and said, “Patrick, this is no time to be on the phone. ”
He shushed her—loud enough for Irene Harte to hear it—and gave her a thumbs-up.
Bryn reached over, took his tie, and unknotted it. The rustle of fabric would sound good, she thought.
McCallister froze, staring at her, momentarily distracted from his conversation. He reengaged with a physical jolt. “Ah, yes. Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be in later. Eight o’clock. ”
This was kind of fun. Bryn unfastened his collar, then slipped the second button loose. She was enjoying the rising confusion in his eyes. Thank God she actually had the upper hand in this very weird relationship, for once. Stop, he mouthed. She grinned and went for the next button.
He grabbed her hand in his, tightly, and pulled her closer—so close she could almost make out what his boss was saying on the phone. She froze, and he didn’t move again either, until he said, “All right. See you then,” and hung up the call.
He didn’t release his hold. “What the hell were you doing?”
“I was selling your alibi,” she said. “Let go. ”
“That,” he said, “was not at all necessary, Bryn. I thought we agreed not to complicate things. ”
“You were trying to make her think we’re having a mad affair. I was just helping. ”
“Helping,” he repeated. “Bryn—trust me, you are not helping. ”
She met his eyes and held them. “Then why did you pick this particular alibi?”
He bent forward and kissed her. Really kissed her. The shock of his warm, silken lips pressing and sliding on hers made her tense at first, and she thought about resisting for half a second before her muscles melted in to warm jelly of their own accord. She didn’t intend to kiss him back, but she couldn’t help herself. He was warm and alive and strong, and the intense sensation of his mouth opening, of his hands on her back, of his tongue …
He let her go and stood up, very quickly. He took a giant step back from the bed, turned away, and began fastening the buttons on his shirt.
“Pretending that didn’t just happen won’t help,” she said. Her heart was pounding, and she was vibrating all over with the intensity of what had just happened. He was, too. She could see it in the abrupt, jerky motions of his hands. “Patrick. Talk to me. ”
“Nothing happened,” he said. His voice was tight and angry. “And nothing will ever happen again. I apologize. ”
“I don’t want your apology; I want you to tell me what’s going on between us, because there’s been something for a while now. You know it. I know it. ”
“I told you. Nothing. Instinct. ” He lips twisted, and he turned away to do up his tie. “Hey, you’re the one who called me a man whore. ”
“I didn’t mean it. ” She got off the bed and touched his shoulder. “I didn‘t. And … thank you. ”
“For what?”
“For … stepping off. ” Even if, at this moment, she didn’t want him to. Some desperate part of her wanted this, craved feeling alive, but she knew it was probably a terrible mistake. That was what he was trying to tell her. “I’ll go take my shower. ”
She closed and locked the bathroom door, leaned against it for a moment, and then stripped off her clothes. The tub wasn’t particularly clean, but the water was hot and plentiful, and the rough, cheap soap felt good. Not as good as she imagined other things might feel, but good enough.
