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“We need to talk. Do you have any more appointments today?” She didn’t actually; she’d been done before Tracy but had taken her on as a last minute walk-in. She was already forty-five minutes past her shift.
“No, I’m good.” Kimberly whisked her smock off and fluffed her hair. She paid top dollar for an assistant to keep her station tidy, so she didn’t worry about the cleanup, just opened her personal drawer and took out her purse. “But wherever you’re taking me better have food. I’m starving. Oh, and you’re buying.”
Dean didn’t argue, only bowed his head and motioned for her to lead the way. Kimberly never knew where she stood with him, she thought as they made their way out. So polite and gentlemanly at times, as dependable and trustworthy as your first-grade teacher. Then Kimberly thought about the way he touched her… and pounded into her from behind. And lit her on fire. Now, here he was, back to being Mr. Rogers.
“I’m more than happy to get you dinner, Kimberly,” Dean told her as soon as they were all outside. “I owe you a feast in the restaurant of your choice.” Now, Kimberly’s smile and blush were all for him, and he stopped talking for a second to smile back at her. “For tonight though, it’s going to have to be takeout at our place. We have something important to discuss with you.”
“Wait. What?” Kimberly held up her hands and wrinkled her nose at him. “Our place? As in you live together? Like you’re just outta college or something?” They both raised their eyebrows and looked at her like she was a snob.
“I mean, come on.” She tapped her toe and flounced her bag over her shoulder, frustrated they couldn’t see her point. “You’re grown men. In your thirties. With good jobs—FBI for cripes’ sake. And you, Dean, you’re a psychologist to boot. You can’t afford your own rent?”
Dean gave her another sour look and took her elbow.
“Car’s this way,” he said, and Sam fell into step beside them as they started to walk. “Yes, Sam and I are old men—he’s a psychologist too, by the way—and yeah, we’ve both got good jobs. But notice how I didn’t say good-payingjobs, Kimberly?” He opened the door to a pristine, classic Impala and helped her get in. “I didn’t say that, because Sammy and me, we’re lowly civil servants, little brat. Now, I’m not sure if you know this or not, but we live in California.” He leaned across her body and buckled her in himself. “Property’s fucking expensive here.” She laughed as he shut the door and got behind the wheel.
“We both wanted a beach house,” Sam said from the back. “Neither one of us could afford one on our own.”
“So, we found one big enough for the both of us and went in on it,” Dean finished for him and put the truck in gear.
Their house looked like something out of one of those prime time dramas about uber-wealthy teenagers who look and live like Hollywood luxury. Kimberly sat slack-jawed in the front seat, gaping at the house as the men got out. Dean noticed and backtracked to open the door for her.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his concern melting away at the expression on her face.
“Okay?” she asked incredulously. “Are you kidding me? You live here? You own this? No wonder you had to get a roommate. Sweet bejeesus, Dean, that’s not a house. That’s a mansion! It’s gorgeous. It has to be worth millions.” The longer she looked, the bigger it seemed to get. “Is it growing?”
Dean just laughed at her, told her to hurry up, and helped her out as she continued to babble and exclaim while they made their way inside.
He ushered her past the foyer and through the living room without giving her time to ogle. Kimberly felt like a tourist as he dragged her reluctant feet forward while her mouth hung open. She gawked like a sightseer at the vaulted ceilings and the wall-to-wall views of the ocean.
They’d picked up Thai food on the way here, and Sam was already setting up on the patio in the shade. Kimberly took her seat and reveled in the sight of the ocean spread out before them.
“Okay,” she said and dug into her basil fried rice, “you’re forgiven for still having a roommate in your thirties.”
“Brat.” Dean chuckled and shoveled in a mouthful of pad Thai. Sam agreed with a laugh and had some of his curry.
Kimberly was back to being intrigued. And feeling torn. She knew she should be more focused on her missing friend; Shawna still hadn’t turned up, and the two times she’d been to the club in search of answers, Dean had been there. His presence had scrambled all her focus. Her intention in going had been to ask some questions, show Shawna’s picture around, maybe see if anyone recognized her or knew who her new boyfriend was. The problem was, other than Dean and that first neanderthal, she hadn’t had any luck striking up any conversations that led her anywhere.
Now, here she was with Dean and Samuel, and she was pretty sure she was about to be invited to her first threesome. Why did this new and exciting experience have to come into her life now? The person she longed to share it with most was the person she should be thinking of the most right now. The two things happening at once in her life at the same moment were polar opposites and as incompatible as trying to press the same sides of magnets together. When she was thinking about the one, it felt impossible to think about the other. The pain of one could not tolerate the bright and shiny joy of the other. She told herself she’d go back to the club this evening and gave herself permission to focus on the now for the time being.
Kimberly eyed both men and continued to eat. She wasn’t opposed to a threesome; she kind of thought she already had one. As she remembered the feel of both men’s hands on her at the same time. Goose bumps bloomed over her skin in a rush of sensation as she wondered what answer she was going to give them when they asked.
Dean pulled out a folder she hadn’t noticed and started flipping through it. Kimberly thought it was a bit odd, but she kept eating as she watched him fish for the papers he was looking for. When he spread out photos, Shawna’s face was smiling up at her. Appetite gone, Kimberly reached for them with trembling hands.
“So, this is why you were in the club?” she asked. But she needn’t have bothered; the answer was right there in her hands. Six women, all young and beautiful and all apparently missing.
“Yes,” Dean told her somberly, “it’s why we set up shops as therapists too.”
“I knew this, I guess. We talked about it, but you shut me down. Why are you telling me all this again now?” Kimberly wanted to know. “Just a few days ago, you refused to talk about what you were doing. You even threatened me with prison.”
“Jesus, Dean!” Samuel exclaimed and made Kimberly feel a bit better.
“Because last night caught us the attention of some people we’ve been trying to find an in with for months now. People we have had absolutely no luck with up until you. And both Sammy and I have done scenes with other women.”
Kimberly told herself she wasn’t bristling at his mention of other women. Hell, hadn’t she been with another man right in front of him?But still, she thought and ate a shrimp.
Like he had during therapy, Dean sensed her mood shift, and he knew why. His warm fingers closed around hers, and he carefully took her hand and brushed his thumb over one of the angrier marks he’d left on her wrist. Then he picked up her arm as gentle as a knight with a maiden and kissed her booboo. “You outshone them all, little brat.” Kimberly stuffed another shrimp in her mouth so she wouldn’t cry. After that, she didn’t know what to do. What do you say to a compliment like that? “Gee, thanks”? “I guess it was good for you too then”? She was way out of her depth.
“Wait a minute!” She threw up her hands and didn’t even care that it sent her fork clattering across the table and into the sand. “Are you telling me I was right? I told the police! I told them! I knew it!” She lost count of the times she’d slapped the table and no telling how many more “knew its” she had in her, but Samuel cut her off.
