The Homewreckers(101)

He groaned, partially unzipped his fly, and rolled the waistband of his jeans down to his hips before turning onto his belly. “This is not how I envisioned the evening ending.”

“Get over yourself,” Hattie said, rolling his jeans and briefs down lower, until his tailbone was exposed.

She prodded his lower spine with her fingertips. “Does this hurt?”

His skin was smooth and tanned, and from what she could see of his butt it was just as fit and fine as the rest of Trae Bartholomew.

“It all hurts.”

“Don’t be such a man-baby.” She walked her fingers down to his tailbone, which was slightly pink, but otherwise apparently intact. She gently prodded it with her thumbs.

“How about this? Shooting pains? Seeing stars? Ready to black out?”

“Uh, no.”

She giggled and slapped his butt with the flat of her hand. “Good news. I think you’re going to live.”

He groaned again as he rolled over and zipped up his pants. “You’re sure? Nothing’s broken?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but no. I think if anything was broken, you’d be screaming in agony.”

He sat back up again, resting his elbows on his bent knees. “You know, I’ve actually never had a broken bone.”

Hattie stared. “Seriously? Never? Like, not even a sports injury?”

“Nope. Not even a sprain. I’m not really very sporty.”

She considered this for a moment. “Hmm. A straight man who admits to not being athletic. That’s a first for me.”

“Now you’re going to ask me if I’m sure I’m straight, right?”

“Pretty sure that’s not an issue.”

“Okay, good.” He stretched out a hand to her. “Help me up, okay? It’s the least you could do after jumping on top of me.”

Hattie stood, grasped his elbows, and in one swift movement jerked him to his feet.

“Owww.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t release her hold on his hand. She was loopy and she knew it, but didn’t care.

“Which reminds me. Just how old are you?”

He considered the question. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but this is strictly confidential.”

“What’s the big deal? Age is just a number, right?”

“Only someone your age—what, midthirties? Only someone your age would think that age isn’t a big deal. In my business, it’s a very big deal. I don’t want people to think I’m old. Or irrelevant. But since you asked, I’m forty … two. Actually, since I’m being totally honest here, I’m forty-six.”

“Seriously?” Hattie leaned in to examine his face. “I never would have guessed.”

Trae placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her forehead, and then her lowered eyelids. “Botox,” he murmured.

“Hmm. Interesting. Tell me more of your secrets to eternal youth.”

His lips traveled to hers. “Collagen fillers. Not something you’ll ever need with lips like yours.”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Really?”

He kissed her again, deeply. “Mmmm. These lips were the first thing I noticed about you. Very erotic.”

His lips lingered there, and Hattie wondered which was more intoxicating—good champagne or being kissed by an expert like Trae Bartholomew.

Now he was kissing her earlobes, and then her neck.

“Neck cream,” he whispered, his hands running along her shoulder blades. “People don’t think about wrinkled necks, but it’s a dead giveaway. Your skin is flawless, but start using it now. You’ll thank me later.”

As he kissed and caressed her, Trae was slowly inching her toward the living room wall until her back was pressed against the mantel. Her arms were wound around his neck and he pressed himself against her, his hands pushing his way beneath her shirt.





53

The Trouble with Bubbles




“What are we going to do about the body?”

Mo squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples with both hands. He had Rebecca on the speaker on his phone, and she’d been pounding him with questions about the latest development at the house.

“We are not doing anything about the remains,” Mo said. “The police are handling it. I spoke to the police detective, and the family has tentatively identified the body as the missing school-teacher. I understand they’ll give some kind of press conference tomorrow.”

Rebecca jumped on the mention of the press. “Will they mention Homewreckers?”

“I don’t know. It’s a homicide investigation, not a media junket. Anyway, do you actually imagine that the discovery of a body is good press for the show?”

“It’s fabulous publicity,” Rebecca said. “Everyone in the country has been following this story since that wallet was discovered. It’s a real whodunnit. People are going to want to see the house where everything happened. In fact, I’m thinking we should move ahead with Homewreckers merch for the website.”

“What kind of merch?”

“The usual. Branded coffee mugs, wine tumblers, hoodies, T-shirts, baby onesies, car magnets. Oooh. I know. Wallets. And tiny Homewreckers shovels.”