said.
“Both Suzy and Bonnie had marriage certificates. Suzy’s was in February and Bonnie’s was in March. Randolph’s name and signature on both. Didn’t even change it. Guy’s either gutsy or dumb, won’t know which until somebody talks to him.”
Kate reflected, covering the two loaf pans with Saran wrap and setting them in a warm corner to rise. “Mandy couldn’t have hired him before December. He didn’t waste any time.”
“Nope. Come on, Kate, you have to go out to the mine anyway.” He added craftily, “You can bill it as a separate investigation.”
She heaved a martyr’s sigh. “All right,” she said, as they had both known she would. “I’ll find him and talk to him for you. I’d like to see this Lothario for myself, anyway.”
She came around the counter and sauntered toward him. He admired her while she did so. Yeah, maybe she didn’t have the figure Laurel had, but when she wanted to, Kate could telegraph her intentions in a way that was little less than incitement to riot. Jim had watched plenty of women walk in his lifetime, both toward him and away, and he had never appreciated the amalgamation of brain and bone, muscle and flesh the way he did when it came wrapped in this particular package.
“Beat it,” she said to Mutt.
Mutt flounced over to the fireplace, scratched the aunties’ quiltinto a pile, turned around three times, and curled up with her back most pointedly toward them.
Kate smiled down at Jim. Just like that, Jim got hard. And she knew it, he could tell by the deepening indentations at the corners of that wide, full-lipped mouth. “Jesus, woman,” he said. If he wasn’t flustered, it was as close as he ever got.
“What can I say,” she said, “I have special powers.” He was pulled to a sitting position with a fistful of shirt and she climbed aboard. She settled into the saddle and looped her arms around his neck, her eyes laughing down at him.
He could feel the heat of her through her clothes, through his, and he fairly wallowed in her scent, a combination of wood smoke, a faint tang of verbena from the soap she used, and today the yeasty smell of bread. “Jesus, woman,” he said again, or mumbled it into her neck. The line of her scar brushed his cheek and he pulled back to trace it with his lips.
She shivered against him, her head falling back. “Possibly we should take this upstairs.”
“Possibly we should.” He was pulling her T-shirt free of her jeans.
“I mean before the kid comes out and catches us going at it on the couch.”
“Yeah.” Her breasts were firm and warm, the nipples hard against his palms.
“Might give him ideas.”
“That’d be bad.” He slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her tight against him. God, even through two pairs of jeans he could feel how ready she was for him.
She pulled back to look at him through her lashes. “And you know how much I hate being interrupted in my work.”
“Me, too.” He hooked an arm beneath her butt and got to his feet, and Mos Def serenaded them with “Destination Love” all the way up the stairs.
Five
Jim went whistling off to work the following morning, the spring back in his step and the sparkle back in his eye. Kate tried not to sigh as she watched him go, escorted to his ride by his other love slave. Mutt stood and watched, abandoned in the clearing, tail slowing in sorrow as the Blazer drove into the trees and out of sight.
He was such a cliché, tall, blond, blue-eyed, broad of shoulder, narrow of hip, a real California boy. You expected him to get out the surfboard any minute, if not for the blue-and-gold uniform and the ball cap with the seal of the Alaska Department of Public Safety on it. And the gun on one side, the bear spray on the other, and the handcuffs tucked into the back of his belt. Not to mention the indefinable air of authority, the confident, easy stride, the quick reflexes at need, the sudden, unexpected strength of body and mind.
The seductive smile that was a
“Both Suzy and Bonnie had marriage certificates. Suzy’s was in February and Bonnie’s was in March. Randolph’s name and signature on both. Didn’t even change it. Guy’s either gutsy or dumb, won’t know which until somebody talks to him.”
Kate reflected, covering the two loaf pans with Saran wrap and setting them in a warm corner to rise. “Mandy couldn’t have hired him before December. He didn’t waste any time.”
“Nope. Come on, Kate, you have to go out to the mine anyway.” He added craftily, “You can bill it as a separate investigation.”
She heaved a martyr’s sigh. “All right,” she said, as they had both known she would. “I’ll find him and talk to him for you. I’d like to see this Lothario for myself, anyway.”
She came around the counter and sauntered toward him. He admired her while she did so. Yeah, maybe she didn’t have the figure Laurel had, but when she wanted to, Kate could telegraph her intentions in a way that was little less than incitement to riot. Jim had watched plenty of women walk in his lifetime, both toward him and away, and he had never appreciated the amalgamation of brain and bone, muscle and flesh the way he did when it came wrapped in this particular package.
“Beat it,” she said to Mutt.
Mutt flounced over to the fireplace, scratched the aunties’ quiltinto a pile, turned around three times, and curled up with her back most pointedly toward them.
Kate smiled down at Jim. Just like that, Jim got hard. And she knew it, he could tell by the deepening indentations at the corners of that wide, full-lipped mouth. “Jesus, woman,” he said. If he wasn’t flustered, it was as close as he ever got.
“What can I say,” she said, “I have special powers.” He was pulled to a sitting position with a fistful of shirt and she climbed aboard. She settled into the saddle and looped her arms around his neck, her eyes laughing down at him.
He could feel the heat of her through her clothes, through his, and he fairly wallowed in her scent, a combination of wood smoke, a faint tang of verbena from the soap she used, and today the yeasty smell of bread. “Jesus, woman,” he said again, or mumbled it into her neck. The line of her scar brushed his cheek and he pulled back to trace it with his lips.
She shivered against him, her head falling back. “Possibly we should take this upstairs.”
“Possibly we should.” He was pulling her T-shirt free of her jeans.
“I mean before the kid comes out and catches us going at it on the couch.”
“Yeah.” Her breasts were firm and warm, the nipples hard against his palms.
“Might give him ideas.”
“That’d be bad.” He slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her tight against him. God, even through two pairs of jeans he could feel how ready she was for him.
She pulled back to look at him through her lashes. “And you know how much I hate being interrupted in my work.”
“Me, too.” He hooked an arm beneath her butt and got to his feet, and Mos Def serenaded them with “Destination Love” all the way up the stairs.
Five
Jim went whistling off to work the following morning, the spring back in his step and the sparkle back in his eye. Kate tried not to sigh as she watched him go, escorted to his ride by his other love slave. Mutt stood and watched, abandoned in the clearing, tail slowing in sorrow as the Blazer drove into the trees and out of sight.
He was such a cliché, tall, blond, blue-eyed, broad of shoulder, narrow of hip, a real California boy. You expected him to get out the surfboard any minute, if not for the blue-and-gold uniform and the ball cap with the seal of the Alaska Department of Public Safety on it. And the gun on one side, the bear spray on the other, and the handcuffs tucked into the back of his belt. Not to mention the indefinable air of authority, the confident, easy stride, the quick reflexes at need, the sudden, unexpected strength of body and mind.
The seductive smile that was a
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