style="font-size:15px;"> “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Sam said.
He was wired about something, she noticed, studying him. A bit too perky, a little too shiny-eyed.
“Okay, what have you done this time?” she asked resignedly. She pretended to hate the practical jokes he played on her, but she secretly loved the trouble he took to amuse and annoy her.
“Nothing. Although there was an unfortunate incident while you were away….” Sam said, doing his best to sound solemn as he steered her toward her office.
She registered the Crime Scene, Do Not Cross tape across her door with a blink. Then she saw the chalk outline on the carpet, and her paperwork strewn all over her desk.
“We’re not sure how they got in, but it appears there was a falling-out between thieves, and there was a bit of a struggle….” Sam said with admirable composure.
Delaney rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. As if you wouldn’t have called me on my cell phone if someone had bitten the big one in my office. And you’re tidying up my desk, mister,” she said, poking a finger into his chest.
He grinned, clearly proud of himself.
“Admit it—had you going for just a second,” he said.
She shook her head. “You’re too transparent, Kirk. I can read you like a billboard.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Just like I can read you, Michaels—and when you saw that police tape, you had your doubts,” he said.
She quirked an eyebrow at him as she unceremoniously tugged the crime-scene tape loose and let it flop to the floor. Entering her office, she dumped her briefcase and turned to face him, propping her butt on the edge of her desk. He hooked his hands over the top of the door frame and grinned at her. God, it was good to see him. Unable to help herself, she fished to confirm her guess about the woman outside.
“So who was the pneumatic blonde?” she asked, careful to keep her tone light and disinterested. She had a Ph.D. in light and disinterested. It was almost an art form for her.
“Coco,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.
And that, thought Delaney, is the end of that. She almost pitied Coco, but the other woman hadn’t looked heartbroken in the least.
“How long this time? A week? Two weeks?” she asked.
“Three. With time out for bad behavior,” he said.
“Bad behavior?”
“Yeah. Caught her kissing her dog on the lips,” Sam explained with a grimace. “Had to wait for the cooties to settle.”
“Ew. That’s just plain wrong, as well as giving the dog false hope,” Delaney said.
Sam threw back his head and let out a crack of laughter, and she felt a warm surge of pleasure that she’d amused him.
She realized she was staring at the strong column of his throat, her eyes caressing the firm, muscled planes of his chest and shoulders, nicely defined by the soft material of his T-shirt and his hanging-off-the-doorframe posture. She could feel her nipples tightening, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Occupational hazard number two: unruly body parts that always seemed to be on the verge of betraying her.
But not for much longer, she promised herself.
“Coco wanted us to feature her in the magazine,” Sam said.
Delaney blinked. “Does she skate or something?” she asked, her mind boggling at the effect those D-cups would have on the boys down at the skate ramp.
“Not exactly. She must have misheard me when I told her the name of the magazine. She thought it was Triple X,” Sam said, deadpan.
Delaney’s mouth dropped open. “As in…?”
“Yep.”
Delaney broke into giggles. “That’s why she was looking so pissed off outside,” she said.
“Was she?” Sam looked a little piqued. “It’s not as though we didn’t have some fun. What is it with women these days? Multiple orgasms not enough anymore?”
Delaney suddenly got very interested in tidying up her desk. Multiple orgasms with Sam Kirk. It was enough to set her underwear on fire.
“How was the holiday? Did those horrible brats of Claire’s drive you around the bend?” Sam asked, dropping onto the visitors’ couch.
“The holiday was great. And they weren’t brats. They were…perfect,” she said, her voice softening as she remembered all the special little moments from the last two weeks: Travis’s pencil drawing to say goodbye, Callum’s nightly insistence that she be the one to read his bedtime story, Alana’s repeated intrusion into her suitcase to play dress-up—a high compliment, her sister assured her.
“You catch any waves? Heard Gunnamatta was going off,” Sam said, naming a famous surf beach a few minutes drive from where they’d been staying.
“Not really. Just paddled around on the bay with the boys. Travis wants to learn how to surf,” she reported.
“Excellent. Another little grommet to clog up the waterways,” Sam said wryly.
“You were a grommet once. A particularly annoying one, as I recall, always dropping in on other surfer’s waves,” she reminded him.
“I was precocious. Oozing natural talent,” he said.
“Oozing something, that’s for sure.”
Sam just grinned at her. “Missed you, Laney,” he said, sliding a hand casually beneath his T-shirt to scratch his stomach.
She was treated to a flash of taut, muscled belly, the tanned skin sprinkled with crisp, caramel-colored curls that tapered down toward the waistband of his favorite jeans.
She snatched her eyes away and took a deep breath. Do it now, she told herself. Before you spend too much time with him and lose your nerve.
“Um, I need to speak to you sometime, too,” she forced herself to say, eyes fixed on the stack of papers she was shuffling together.
“Sure. What’s up?” Sam asked.
“I didn’t mean now,” Delaney said, panicking.
“No time like the present,” Sam said easily.
He was right, even if he didn’t know exactly how right. Suck it up, Michaels, she told herself.
Crossing to the door, she kicked it shut. Sam raised an eyebrow.
“A closed door conversation. My, my—I must have been really naughty this time,” he said lightly.
Delaney moved back to her desk and sank into her chair. Then she just stared at him for a moment, her eyes lovingly cataloguing his handsome, open face. This would be the last time she saw him without anger or confusion or resentment
