Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,9

“Tyler says hi.”

He grins at me and shakes his head. “You two.”

“What?”

“You’re so cute together. I never thought I’d see Tyler Jamison acting so lovey-dovey.”

“Why not? He’s very romantic.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll take your word for it.” Then Miguel winces as he carefully rotates his left arm.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s better. I have a follow-up doctor appointment later this afternoon. I’m hoping to get the okay to return to work soon.”

We leave the restaurant and after saying goodbye to Jerry, who’s still working through his bag of tacos, we start walking back in the direction of my townhouse.

Another text comes in, this time from my friend Sam.

Sam: We still on for tonight? You, me, and the old guys?

Ian: yes! As long as Tyler doesn’t have to work late again.

Sam: what do you want to do?

Ian: go clubbing @ Sapphires? 9?

Sam: Sounds good to me. Cooper will hate it. LOL Too bad. It’ll be good for him

“What’s so funny?” Miguel asks.

“Sam and I are planning a double-date tonight. We’re taking Tyler and Cooper clubbing.”

“Cooper’s going clubbing?” He looks incredulous. “I would pay good money to see that.”

* * *

After we get back to the townhouse, Miguel takes off for his appointment.

I let myself in and putz around the house for a while, doing a bit of laundry before I start thinking about dinner. As much as I love to cook, it always seemed like wasted effort when it was just me living here alone. Now that I have Tyler, I really enjoy planning meals for him. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right? Well, I plan to keep his stomach happy, along with other parts of his anatomy. It’s more than a fair trade-off because he keeps me satisfied in every way imaginable.

After folding towels and putting away socks and underwear, I download the images I took today to my computer so I can edit the best ones to get prints made. My family has been after me for years to do something with my photography.

The art studio where I get my prints made has asked me repeatedly if they could host an exhibition of my photographs, but I haven’t decided. I’m proud of my photographs of distressed Chicago landmarks, but they’re not everyone’s cup of tea. Maybe someday.

Late afternoon, I start on dinner. At six-thirty, right on schedule, I hear Tyler’s car pull into the driveway. He parks in the carriage house and walks in through the back door, which leads directly into the kitchen. I meet him there and pull him close for a kiss.

His arms circle my waist. “Something sure smells good,” he says.

“That’s our dinner. Chicken enchiladas. I had tacos for lunch today with Miguel, and it got me in the mood for more Mexican food. How was work today? Any new breaks?”

He shakes his head. “I was able to ID the Rogers Park victim, and I had to perform the unpleasant task of notifying her parents. I haven’t made any concrete progress yet, but there is one possible avenue I’m pursuing. There’s been a rash of young women disappearing in the city over the past two months—presumed to be victims of sex trafficking. All are young women in their late teens or early twenties. I’m wondering if this girl’s death is somehow connected. Maybe someone tried to snatch her, but she fought back. Her death might have been an accident. Or, she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and it was a random mugging that turned violent.”

I follow Tyler to the front closet and watch him hang up his suit jacket and holster, his movements efficient and controlled. Sometimes I can’t help staring at him—at his broad shoulders and muscular torso, his dark hair and the trim dark beard that frames beautiful lips. When he flashes those dazzling blue-green eyes at me, I feel almost dizzy.

Hello, gorgeous.

“What are you looking at?” he asks, grinning at me.

“You.”

Tyler walks toward me with a heated gleam in his eye and reaches out to capture my wrists. “Did you miss me today?”

His deep voice sets me on fire. “Yes.”

He steps closer, following me as I back into the wall. He pins my wrists above my head. “How much?” he says, his rough voice dropping an octave.

I love it when he teases me like this. “A lot.” My chest tightens and my pulse races.

Tyler gazes into my eyes as he presses his erection against mine, aligning us perfectly. The heat and friction are incredible.