I slipped into the bathrobe and sat down beside him, taking his hand in mine. “How was the conference? When did you get back?”
“Good, and about two hours ago. I called but you were out, so I stopped at Aunt Margaret’s and had lunch. I decided to drive by on my way home and saw your car in the driveway. You know, you should lock your doors, Ms. O’Brien, before some pervert sneaks in and takes advantage of you.” He winked and ran his fingers up my thigh. “What do you think?” he whispered. “Should I take advantage of you?”
I gazed at him, feasting my eyes. Joe was an easy man to get hooked on. Everything between us felt so comfortable. He liked the kids and treated them with respect. He didn’t interfere with my parenting. In fact, he went out of his way to include them in some of our activities so they wouldn’t feel like he was trying to take me away from them. My only disappointment was that he seldom got the chance to stay more than a couple times a week; his schedule was so hectic.
I held my breath as he traced a route up my leg. “Well, how about if you take advantage of me tonight? Kip’s over at Sly’s, and Miranda is at the museum, they’re supposed to be home by eight-thirty.”
He sighed, but dropped his hand. “Oh, all right. I’ve had to wait an entire week, I can wait a few more hours.” He looked closely at me. “Are you okay? You look a little pale. Been spending too many nights awake, pining for me?”
“I might have been pining for you, but that’s not why I look ragged.” I sighed, planting myself on the bed. “I found a dead body today.”
“Crap!” He leaped to his feet. “You what?”
So I told him the whole story, excluding the part where I found Jimbo and Murray in a lip-lock. When I finished, Joe snorted.
“Good grief. What next? I swear, Emerald, if they dropped you on a deserted island, you’d turn over a seashell and come up with a murder. So Murray’s boss isn’t taking it seriously?”
I shook my head. “Go figure. Remember, we’re talking about the king of jerks here. He’s a paper pusher, and about as energetic as a sloth.”
“And this Scar was one of Jimbo’s friends?” Joe had grudgingly entered into a truce with Jimbo once the mess back in April had been sorted out.
“Yeah . . . and Jimbo’s convinced the Klakatat Monster’s the culprit.”
Joe narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t matter if the monster is real. There’s somebody loose out in those woods who’s dangerous.” He sighed, his breath whistling through his teeth. “I suppose this means you’re going to be out there, trying to figure out who did it.” Before I could protest, he held up one hand. “No—don’t even pretend with me. Just promise me that if you need help, you’ll call mebefore you get yourself into trouble.”
With a laugh, I agreed and went back to giving him welcome-home kisses. As I stared into his brilliant green eyes that mirrored my own, he wrapped his arms around me and laid me back on the bed, breathing softly into my mouth. Tongue flickering against mine, he fumbled with the belt on my robe.
“Wait a minute,” I said, and he paused. I locked the bedroom door. At least we’d have some warning if the kids came home early. As I returned to the bed, Joe opened his arms, greedily drinking me up with his eyes. I leaned over and began to unbutton his shirt, sliding it away from his muscled chest, licking his neck as I did so. He slipped out of his jeans and I eyed his naked body hungrily. Wahoo—he really was happy to see me.
“Oh, Joe.” I whispered, not wanting to disturb the stillness between us.
He reached out and pulled me down, lightly running his fingers over my body, playing me as if I were a violin. “Do we have any condoms?” he asked.
I handed him one from the nightstand, watching as he opened the foil-wrapped package. Leering at me, he was comical and sexy, all rolled into one. With a sudden hunger, I pushed him back on the bed and slid atop him. He grinned, cocky and joyful and lusty, as his lips and hands sought to stroke my aching body. And so, I rode my strawberry-blond Viking, and we celebrated his homecoming in the most delicious way two people can.
Chapter 7
THE KIDS CAME trooping in within the hour. Knowing how tired I was, Joe offered to fix dinner. Kip wanted to help, so they decided to stage a “Man’s Night” in the kitchen and chased Randa and me out while they set to clanging pots and pans, and whispered over the various beneficial effects cheddar and Monterey Jack had on pasta.
While I balanced my checkbook, Randa channel surfed. She stopped. “Uh-oh!” She turned up the volume.
I glanced at the television. “Uh-oh” was right. Cathy Sutton and a picture of me from their files. What the hell was she up to now?
“Ms. O’Brien found the body near Miner’s Lake.” The picture changed to a photograph of Scar, standing next to his bike, a blissful look on his face. “Fingerprints have positively identified the biker as Scott Anderson, fifty-two. Mr. Anderson disappeared from Grand Rapids, Michigan, during the summer of 1986, where he was wanted by police for taking part in a series of convenience store robberies. Also a suspect—though never charged—in the Tempah City Credit Union robbery, he managed to elude police while his accomplice, Ian Hannigan, a janitor at the Freeman Academy for Boys in Grand Rapids, was arrested. Police believed that Anderson may have fled the country. The stolen money was never recovered.”
Scar had been a thief? A bank robber? Jimbo better find himself a better class of buddies.
After a brief commercial, the camera zoomed out to show George sitting in a chair, next to the anchor desk. Oh joy, what now?
“Tonight we welcome George Pleasant, an intern with KLIK-TV, and an amateur parapsychologist, to the studio. Mr. Pleasant was at the crime scene when Anderson’s body was discovered.” The camera cut to George, sitting there looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Mr. Pleasant. What can you tell us about this case?”
He straightened his tie, fidgeting in his seat. “Well, the body was off the path, buried under leaves and debris. The moment I laid eyes on it, I could tell that the man was murdered.”
I snorted. Like George had even had the guts to look at Scar’s body. He’d been shaking in his boots.
“Police aren’t calling it a homicide. What makes you think this is the case?” Cathy made sure to cover her bases, all right.
George gave the camera a pompous smile. “Because I saw the murder!”