twined her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his thick black hair. She loved the crisp feeling of the strands as they feathered through her fingers. His lips sent her heart into a wild disco beat, and she pressed herself closer, reveling in the sensations he aroused.
Wally deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers. He tasted sweeter than her favorite chocolate-dipped shortbread cookie, and she wanted to gobble him up. She forgot about the murder, the baby, and all her other qualms, and enjoyed the moment.
Wally’s fingers were cold as his hands crept under the hem of her shirt, and she shivered. But his touch immediately warmed up when he unhooked her bra and cupped her breasts. She ran her palms down his back, stroking the muscles and dipping below his waistband. She had no idea how long they stood there, absorbed in each other, but when they finally broke the kiss, both of them were gasping for breath.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and started to guide her toward the stairs, but when his stomach let out a loud growl, Skye stopped and raised an inquiring eyebrow at him. He twitched his shoulders, denying his hunger, and tried again to lead her up the steps. But when his stomach rumbled a second time, Skye refused to budge. She turned and shoved him in the direction of the kitchen.
“Did you eat today?” Skye asked as she pushed him into a chair.
“I didn’t have time to go out and pick up anything,” Wally said. “And I left here this morning without packing a lunch. But I had a can of root beer from the machine and a couple sticks of beef jerky.”
“Why didn’t you ask someone to go through Mickey D’s drive-through for you?” Skye asked, opening the refrigerator and examining their options for supper. Too bad this wasn’t a Dorothy day.
“You know I don’t like to take advantage of my position as chief.”
“I didn’t propose that you order an underling to pick up your dry cleaning—’cause I did that.” Skye brought Wally a bottle of Sam Adams. “Just ask a friend for a favor. Or even call Mom. She brings Vince lunch every day at his hair salon. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to feed you, too. Heck, once she knows I’m pregnant, maybe she’ll add me to her list of meals-on-wheels beneficiaries.”
“You must be hungry, too, or feeling light-headed.” Wally twisted off the beer cap and took a healthy swig. “Because you have to be pretty woozy to suggest involving May in our lives even more than she already is. I thought our goal was to keep our independence.”
“You’re right.” Skye scrunched up her face. “I just hate the thought of you going hungry.” She wandered over to the pantry. After examining the nearly empty shelves, she turned to him and said, “Our choices for dinner are leftovers from last night, an omelet, or frozen pizza.”
“Leftovers.” Wally took another swallow of beer. “That’ll be the quickest.”
“Okay.” Skye returned to the fridge, removed a glass casserole dish, and popped it into the microwave. “Tomorrow I’ll try to get to the supermarket after work. But whether or not I have time depends how the kids and staff react to the news of Blair’s murder.”
“I’d do it, but I doubt that I’ll have a chance, either.” Wally got up and started to set the table. “Why don’t we draw up a list and have Dorothy do the groceryshopping? She’d probably be happy to earn a little extra cash. We can even ask her to make dinner.”
“Well . . .” Skye filled a glass with ice and caffeine-free Diet Coke. “Let me think about it.”
She was torn. They were both extremely busy, and having Dorothy help them out would be marvelous, but Skye wasn’t used to having discretionary income. Seven years ago, when she’d returned to Scumble River, she’d been beyond broke. Having made several foolish decisions that had maxed out her credit cards, she’d been deeply in debt. The only thing standing between her and living out of
Wally deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers. He tasted sweeter than her favorite chocolate-dipped shortbread cookie, and she wanted to gobble him up. She forgot about the murder, the baby, and all her other qualms, and enjoyed the moment.
Wally’s fingers were cold as his hands crept under the hem of her shirt, and she shivered. But his touch immediately warmed up when he unhooked her bra and cupped her breasts. She ran her palms down his back, stroking the muscles and dipping below his waistband. She had no idea how long they stood there, absorbed in each other, but when they finally broke the kiss, both of them were gasping for breath.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and started to guide her toward the stairs, but when his stomach let out a loud growl, Skye stopped and raised an inquiring eyebrow at him. He twitched his shoulders, denying his hunger, and tried again to lead her up the steps. But when his stomach rumbled a second time, Skye refused to budge. She turned and shoved him in the direction of the kitchen.
“Did you eat today?” Skye asked as she pushed him into a chair.
“I didn’t have time to go out and pick up anything,” Wally said. “And I left here this morning without packing a lunch. But I had a can of root beer from the machine and a couple sticks of beef jerky.”
“Why didn’t you ask someone to go through Mickey D’s drive-through for you?” Skye asked, opening the refrigerator and examining their options for supper. Too bad this wasn’t a Dorothy day.
“You know I don’t like to take advantage of my position as chief.”
“I didn’t propose that you order an underling to pick up your dry cleaning—’cause I did that.” Skye brought Wally a bottle of Sam Adams. “Just ask a friend for a favor. Or even call Mom. She brings Vince lunch every day at his hair salon. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to feed you, too. Heck, once she knows I’m pregnant, maybe she’ll add me to her list of meals-on-wheels beneficiaries.”
“You must be hungry, too, or feeling light-headed.” Wally twisted off the beer cap and took a healthy swig. “Because you have to be pretty woozy to suggest involving May in our lives even more than she already is. I thought our goal was to keep our independence.”
“You’re right.” Skye scrunched up her face. “I just hate the thought of you going hungry.” She wandered over to the pantry. After examining the nearly empty shelves, she turned to him and said, “Our choices for dinner are leftovers from last night, an omelet, or frozen pizza.”
“Leftovers.” Wally took another swallow of beer. “That’ll be the quickest.”
“Okay.” Skye returned to the fridge, removed a glass casserole dish, and popped it into the microwave. “Tomorrow I’ll try to get to the supermarket after work. But whether or not I have time depends how the kids and staff react to the news of Blair’s murder.”
“I’d do it, but I doubt that I’ll have a chance, either.” Wally got up and started to set the table. “Why don’t we draw up a list and have Dorothy do the groceryshopping? She’d probably be happy to earn a little extra cash. We can even ask her to make dinner.”
“Well . . .” Skye filled a glass with ice and caffeine-free Diet Coke. “Let me think about it.”
She was torn. They were both extremely busy, and having Dorothy help them out would be marvelous, but Skye wasn’t used to having discretionary income. Seven years ago, when she’d returned to Scumble River, she’d been beyond broke. Having made several foolish decisions that had maxed out her credit cards, she’d been deeply in debt. The only thing standing between her and living out of
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