“No. Thought I was having lunch with Nataliaand Gio.” I put my hand over hers where it rested near my heart.“The article didn’t have a photo, but I knew it was you when youwalked in with Gio. No doubt in my mind.”
“This should be weird,” she mutters.
“Fuck, no it shouldn’t. I’ve told you moreabout me, straight on or inadvertently, than I’ve told anyoneoutside my family.”
She nods. “Writing is intimate in a way Ididn’t expect.” She sighs and presses into my chest. “Whatnow?”
“Timing sucks.” I feel myself tensing up, andshe must sense it because she gets even closer. “I just started anundercover op, and no fuckin’ way are you going to be seen with meuntil these motherfuckers are arrested and behind bars with nochance of bail.”
“You’re looking into the people who hurtthose girls.”
“You know, this intuitiveness can be a bitunnerving.”
She grins. “It’s an advantage I enjoyhaving.”
“I bet.” I give her a brief squeeze. “Can’ttalk about the case, and I couldn’t tell you more than I haveabout…the girl, but know that I want those fuckers’ heads on aplatter.”
“I’m sure I speak for all women when I say,no more than we do.”
I nod. “No doubt.”
“So?” she asks.
“So, we keep writing and stay Flower andRoss. Don’t ask about anything that gives any indication you knowwho I am, and I’ll do the same. But, please, write. Tell me aboutyour crazy cousins, your friends, Boo, your plants, whichgreenhouse and conservatory you want, where you want to live, thegarden center…all of it.”
“Someone’s been paying attention.”
“Woman.” I shake her gently. “If I wasn’t onthis op, where do you think we’d be right now?”
Her smile is bright, wide, and full ofteeth.
“Right. And where do you think this isgoing?”
“Too soon to start mapping towns that are atthe midpoint between Dutchford and Boston?”
Fuck no.She’s been under my skin formonths, and I’ve been aching to meet her, be with her. Now that Iknow the fantasy doesn’t do justice to the reality, I’m not wastingany time. I’m thirty-four years old and I know what I want, andshe’s standing right here in my arms.
I shake my head.
“Okay,” she says.
“Glad we got that straightened out.”
She lays her head against my chest. “You haveto go.”
I cup the back of her head and run my fingersthrough her thick, soft hair. “I hate it, but yeah, I gottago.”
She turns her head, looks me in the eye, andstretches up, probably on her tiptoes, then whispers, “More.”
Fuck the tiptoes, I grab her ass, which issuperb. Round and juicy. My dick is so hard, I could nail two byfours together with it.
I haul her up my body, and she wraps her legsaround my torso, and we lay waste to each other’s mouths.
When I’m sure I’m a minute away from comingin my jeans, I pull back and rest my forehead against hers.
She runs her fingers over my mustache, thenthrough my beard. “I thought you guys are supposed to be cleanshaven.”
“Joint terrorism task force,” I rasp out.“Sometimes you have to look the part.”