The Love Scam - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,49

like, swimsuits. Nothing positive about Mrs. Hardy except she fed them, which, apparently, made her aces in Delaney’s book.

One of the best times ever. Jesus Christ.

“It also explains why you’re such a huge dairy snob. Which is very unattractive, by the way.” Lie. Nothing about Delaney was unattractive. Why he hadn’t noticed this the day they met was a mystery, or just proof he was a blind jackass when he wanted to be. And sometimes when he didn’t want to be.

He got a pinch in the ribs for his pain, and couldn’t hold back the yelp. “Easy! You don’t want to hurt your fingers trying to pinch through all the muscle.”

“Oh, this muscle?”

“Yeow! Those are—my—rock-hard—abs!” He was gasping around each word, because Delaney’s long, skinny fingers were relentless, like evil, sentient bread sticks.

“I can’t believe I told you that,” she was saying, never letting up on the tickling for a second. “I always tell you things I mean to keep to myself. Forget a dairy, buy a bar, you’ll be great at it and no one will care that you refuse to serve vermouth.”

“It’s the devil’s—agh! Quit! You—agh! Don’t make me—agh! My abs! My rock-hard abs! All right, that’s—huh.” He’d used his superior weight and height to tumble them over and off the bed, but somehow she’d twisted in midair and landed on top, her knees pinning his hands flat to the carpet while the tickling somehow intensified. He tried to flop like a fish on the dock, but Delaney had him cold.

“Jesus Christ,” he yelped, “the first boss I’ve had in over a decade is a dairy-loving American ninja with an Easter fetish!” He tried to buck her off, but Delaney rode him easily, and he really wished she hadn’t, because now he was thinking about another situation in which she might ride him easily, and it wasn’t exactly his fault; she was exceptionally yummy and he hadn’t had sex in days, and he tried again to buck her off and it worked just as well as it had the first time.

“Ha! Give up?”

“Uh.” Please don’t notice I’m hard please don’t pleasedon’tnoticeI’mhard. “Yes. Sure. Um, listen, I don’t suppose you’d be interested in—”

He cut himself off, since someone was fumbling with a key card, and then the door was thrown open and Sofia and Lillith were there, and spotted them on the floor, which, for some reason, didn’t phase them even a little. She immediately rattled off a bunch of Italian, and they both frowned, Delaney because she couldn’t understand, and Rake because he could. (Lillith seemed neutral.)

“Wait, so the church you didn’t think you could go to you can go to?” he said for Delaney’s benefit, and then, to Sofia: “Ho ricevuto questo diritto?”

“Yes.”

“I just came for my toothbrush,” Lillith said, and disappeared into the bathroom. Sofia barely noticed; she seemed a little frazzled, but the good kind. Her carroty hair was standing out in some kind of orange nimbus, and she was wearing purple—again! Her outfits made her look like a mobile migraine. “But we must be quick, Delaney.” And she actually hopped in place, like a frazzled, giddy rabbit.

“What?” Delaney stood straight up from Rake’s tickled body without using her hands. Just popped right up, like a sexy jack-in-the-box. “But that’s great! We didn’t think we were going to get in there for a month, at the earliest.” Then she looked down at Rake and bit her lip.

Ohhhh, he wished she hadn’t done that. Her glossy dark hair fell forward to frame her face, her full lower lip swelled when she nibbled it, and she’d just been riding him a few seconds earlier, so he barely had to use his imagination to picture what she’d look like during his second-favorite sex position. Even better, what she’d look like during sex with him in his second-favorite sex position.

Please don’t notice I’m hard please don’t please don’t pleasedon’tnoticeI’mhard.

Then Sofia said something perfectly innocuous

“Ci può aiutare—we need the help.”

and Delaney just went off. “No! We can’t. Absolutely not. No.”

Even if Sofia hadn’t understood English fairly well—and she did—Delaney’s tone alone would have been sufficient translation. But she stuck with it. “Perchè no?”

“Because it’s our work. He and Lillith need to keep out of it. Especially Lillith—you know Donna would never want this for her.”

“Tale merda! Abbiamo bisogno di lui.”

“You get that no means the same in English and Italian, right?” Delaney asked, exasperated.

“Hey.” To his relief, his hard-on was fading. Thank God, because here was a conversation he wanted