Best Laid Plans(26)

She took Sean’s hands and backed into the living area where a mound of throw pillows spilled over the wide couch. She pushed half the pillows to the floor, then pulled loose Sean’s tie with a smile on her face. She took his hands and backed into the couch, pulling him down with her.

No work, no crime, no murder. Just them, alone and together.





CHAPTER NINE



Sunlight woke Lucy for the first time in months. It streamed through the pool house windows at a low angle. Still early, but much later than she was used to sleeping.

She stretched and rolled over to where Sean was sprawled next to her. They were both naked, a throw blanket covering Lucy. Sean had an internal heater, he was never cold. She kissed his bare chest and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

“You know when you kiss me in the morning I get exceptionally horny,” he said, his voice gruff.

“I know,” she whispered and kissed him again.

“If you insist,” he said and pulled her on top of him.

They made love again, a smooth and easy love after a rather wild night. At least wild for them. They’d had sex on the couch, fast and furious, then Sean had fed her the chocolate mousse. That led to a long, slow, and excruciatingly seductive lovemaking that left them both exhausted and unable—and unwilling—to clean up and go inside. Being with Sean made Lucy feel not only loved, but blissfully normal. Wonderfully alive.

Morning sex was a different connection, lazy and fun. Sean held her close when they were both satiated. “We need to shower.”

“I know.”

“And clean up.”

“I know.” She snuggled into him. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Leave? You have to work?”

“No. I don’t want to leave this pool house. I feel like we’re a million miles away from everything and everyone.”

He ran his hand through her tangled mass of hair. “You slept through the night.”

“Yes, I did,” she said with a smile. “Good food, great sex, I think I passed out from sheer pleasure overload.”

“I’m happy to help with that anytime you want, princess.”

“It’s so quiet.”

“There’s no phones, no television, no computer out here. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

She kissed him. “We should do this more often.”

“Agreed. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.” He sat up and stretched. “But duty calls.”

“I don’t have to work today.”

“No, but tomorrow is pool-groundbreaking day at the boys’ house. We still have yard work to take care of before the crew can come in and dig a hole.”

“You know you didn’t have to buy them a pool.”

“The contractor gave me a good deal.”

Two months ago, Sean had bought a house for the boys he and Lucy had rescued from the drug cartel, across the street from St. Catherine’s Church. Father Mateo Flannigan, the pastor at St. Catherine’s, had worked with the diocese to create a much-needed program for boys of convicted felons who had no family to care for them. The foster-care system was overburdened and overworked, and these boys had slipped through the cracks and nearly died because of it. Now they had a home, a school, and people who cared about them. It had been Sean’s idea, and he was emotionally invested in the project. Lucy had never loved him more.

He tickled her and jumped up, bringing her with him. He glanced at the clock in the kitchen. “Seven thirty A.M. You are a lazy butt.”

“Let’s go take that shower, and we’ll see who’s lazy.”

After showering so long the hot water turned cold, Sean and Lucy cleaned up the pool house, then went inside to tackle the kitchen.

Lucy saw her briefcase on the table with her phone next to it. There were several text messages from Barry Crawford, confirming that they were meeting with Jolene Hayden at 8:00 A.M. on Monday, and then asking that Lucy come in an hour before the meeting. After Jolene, they’d talk to James Everett.

She confirmed, then saw she had a voice mail.

She listened to it. It had come in at nine last night from Tia Mancini. “I have a lead on your girl. Call me.”

“Something wrong?” Sean said.

“No—I’m just glad I left my phone inside.”

“Lucy—I know your work is important. I would have understood if something came up.”

“I know you would, Sean. Barry Crawford, the agent I’m working with on this case, told me I didn’t know how to turn off the job. He’s right, you know that, but last night I wanted to turn it off. I didn’t know that we’d be spending all night in the pool house, but I’m glad we did.”

“You have to work today?”

“I don’t think so. Tia called about the girl we’re looking for. An underage prostitute who was in the room with Harper Worthington when he died.”

“Lucy—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She hadn’t told Sean anything about the case, because last night had been all about them. “Maybe you don’t want to know. I need to learn to compartmentalize.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Sean?”

“Of course I want you to share with me. I don’t want you to think you have to keep anything from me. Unless—is talking about your work giving you the nightmares?”