"Don't even think about standing me up," Morelli said. "I'll track you down and find you and make your life a living hell."
I did a mental grimace and managed to get myself into the bathroom without hardly grunting or whimpering. The sex goddess was a trifle sore this morning, feeling a little like a human wishbone.
I took a shower, dressed and ambled down to the kitchen. I'd never seen Morelli in the morning, and I'm not sure what I'd expected, but it wasn't the half-man, half-beast that was reading the paper and drinking coffee. Morelli was wearing a misshapen T-shirt and rumpled tan shorts. He was sixteen hours beyond a five o'clock shadow, and he hadn't combed his hair, which was multiple weeks beyond needing a haircut.
It had been sexy last night. This morning it was downright frightening. I poured out coffee and a bowl of cereal and sat across from him at the small table. The back door was open, and the morning air coming through it was cool. In another hour it would turn hot and steamy. Already the cicadas were singing. I thought about my own kitchen and sad charred apartment and my throat closed over. Remember what Morelli told you, I thought. Concentrate on the positive. The apartment will be okay. Brand-new carpet and paint. Better than before. And what had he said about the fear? Concentrate on doing the job, not on the fear. Okay, I thought, I can do that. Especially when I was sitting across from the man of my dreams.
Morelli drained his coffee cup and continued to read the paper.
I found myself wanting to refill the cup. And I didn't want to stop there. I wanted to make breakfast for Morelli. Hotcakes and bacon and fresh squeezed orange juice. Then I wanted to do his laundry and put fresh sheets on the bed. I looked around. The kitchen wasn't bad, but it could be cozier. Fresh flowers, maybe. A cookie jar.
"Uh oh," Morelli said.
"What uh oh?"
"You have that look . . . like you're redesigning my kitchen."
"You don't have a cookie jar."
Morelli looked at me like I was from Mars. "That's what you were thinking?"
"Well, yeah."
Morelli considered that for a moment. "I've never actually seen the purpose for a cookie jar," he finally said. "I open the box. I eat the cookies. I throw the box away."
"Yes, but a cookie jar makes a kitchen homey."
I got another one of those Mars looks.
"I keep my gun in my cookie jar," I said by way of further explanation.
"Honey, a man can't keep his gun in a cookie jar. It just isn't done."
"Rockford did it."
He got up and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. "I'm gonna take a shower. If you leave before I'm out, promise me you'll be home by five."
So much for the man of my dreams. I gave him one of my favorite Italian hand gestures, which he didn't see because he was already out of the room. "Fuck the cookie jar," I said to Rex. "And he can do his own goddamn laundry, too." I finished my cereal, rinsed the bowl and put it in the dishwasher. I slung my black leather tote over my shoulder and took off for the office.
"OMMIGOD," CONNIE SAID WHEN I walked into the office, "you did it!"
"Excuse me?"
"How was it? I want details."
Lula looked up from the stack of files she was sorting. "Yep," she said, "you did the deed all right."
I felt my eyes go wide. "How do you know?" I sniffed at myself. "Do I smell?"
"You just got that look like you've been totally fucked," Lula said. "Sort of relaxed."
"Yeah," Connie said. "Satisfied."
"It was the shower," I said. "I took a really long relaxing shower this morning."
"Wish I had a shower like that," Lula said.
"Is Vinnie in?"
"Yeah, he got back late last night. Hey, Vinnie," Connie yelled. "Stephanie's here!"
We heard him mumble "Oh Christ" from deep inside his office, and then his door opened. "What?"
"Joyce Barnhardt, that's what."
"So I gave her a job." Vinnie squinted at me. "Jesus, you just get laid?"
"I don't believe this," I said, hands in the air. "I took a shower. I did my hair. I put on makeup, new clothes. I had breakfast. I brushed my goddamn teeth. How does everyone know I got laid?"
"You look different," Vinnie said.
"Satisfied," Connie said.
"Relaxed," Lula added.
"I don't want to talk about it," I shouted. "I want to talk about Joyce