Don't Close Your Eyes (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 1) by Lawrence Kelter Page A

my eyes and undeniable intent in the way I moved. There was something else in Lido’s expression, that look of astonishment that said, “Are you absolutely crazy?”
    I was backing him into his apartment and he was sort of, well, backpedaling as I advanced. “What pipe?” he asked defensively. “I thought you were dropping it off at forensics.”
    “No, not that pipe, the other pipe.” I stripped my pocketbook off my shoulder in a purposeful manner and let it thump on the floor.
    “What the hell’s wrong with you?” He pretended to be puzzled, but only a moron could misinterpret my signals. I was hot and sweaty before I put my hands on him. “Hey, Stephanie, what gives? Really.” Read between the lines, love boat.
    “Call me Chalice.” Time’s up. I didn’t know if he was kidding or confounded, either was unimportant. I couldn’t stand the way those Scores bimbos had looked at him. Even worse was the way he had responded. Gee, I hope he didn’t bring one home with him. “You alone?”
    “Yeah, why?” Do you believe this guy? Actually, I couldn’t blame him. My tough-girl veneer had always ridden roughshod over any emotional stirrings that might have existed between us in the past. There was sexual tension between us, but it was always overshadowed with I’ll cut your balls off if you try . But so what? I’m a woman and it’s completely within my God-given rights to be fickle. Anyway, I was thinking with my heart and not my head, and I was about to change the nature of our relationship forever. God help the poor man.
    I had him backed up against his bed within seconds. Thank God it was only a studio. I put my hands on his shirt and ripped it open. Lido no longer looked puzzled. He was grinning a big shit-eating grin. “Why, Stephanie—”
    “Stop talking,” I put my lips on his, kissed him hard, then backed off and pushed him onto the bed.
    “Hey, you carrying?” he asked. He was sitting on the end of the bed, looking adorable.
    “Yeah and you better be too!” Lido’s white shirt was parted over his tan belly. His stomach wasn’t cut in one of those ice-cube-tray configurations, but he had a deep indentation right down the middle of it, a roadmap to the Promised Land.
    I yanked the Guess dress up and over my head. I looked down at Lido through tousled hair. His hair was soft. It had fallen across his forehead, imparting a little-boy look to his rugged features. His beard was a little stubbly. Yum. I kicked off my shoes and got on the bed, straddling him. I threw my arms around him and kissed him again, a cop’s kiss, like a French kiss on steroids.
    Lido pulled away this time. I knew what he was going to say before he said it. The warning was coming. “Chalice, you sure about this?”
    “Thanks for being a gentleman, but I came here because I wanted to.” I looked at him with wanting, hungry insatiable wanting, and unclasped my bra. I studied his reaction. He seemed to be impressed which wasn’t bad considering he’d just interrogated thirty exotic dancers.
    “You’re beautiful,” he said. Isn’t it funny? A guy sees your face every day, but doesn’t tell you you’re beautiful until he sees your boobs. I undid his belt and reached down inside his slacks. Whoopee, who cares?
    Lido did a good job. In fact, I was so impressed that I made him stay and put in some overtime. Afterward, I rested in his arms, wondering how we were going to get through the next day. If it wasn’t for the psycho, I think I would have called in sick. Gus was staring at me. His eyes were soft, but thoughtful. He was probably wondering the same thing. I ran my finger over his lip. “You okay?”
    Gus smiled, but didn’t answer. I could see that he was thinking. “I never thought this would happen,” he said. He started sliding off the bed. “I’ve got some Sam Adams in the fridge. Thirsty?”
    I’m satisfied and thirsty as hell. “Yeah.” Lido walked into the kitchen area, leaving me to wonder what he