Where There's Smoke
“I guess I could.”
“Okay.” She consulted the clock. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Unless you want to come now and keep me company until the night clerk gets here.”
“I’ll be there at ten.”
Peeved, Heather hung up. She used the remaining thirty minutes of her shift to primp. The reflection in her compact mirror was reassuring. Mimsy Parker might have boobs the size of cantaloupes, but Heather still had the best hair, the best clothes, the best smile, the best eyes. Nor were her boobs anything to scoff at. Any bigger and they’d sag like Mimsy’s in a few years.
Anyway, possession was nine-tenths of the law. Tanner was still hers. She just needed to guarantee that she kept him.
The night clerk, a pimpled geek who had a mad crush on her, arrived a few minutes early. When Tanner pulled his car into the porte cochere, in order not to appear overanxious she pretended to be busy behind the desk with the geek. After letting him wait a full five minutes, she joined him in his car.
“He’s so dumb!” she exclaimed in exasperation as she slid into the passenger seat. “Honestly! He’s in the National Honor Society but hopeless when it comes to common sense. Hi.” She leaned across the console and kissed his cheek.
“Hi.”
Heather pretended that the spat had never taken place and that Mimsy Parker didn’t exist. She chatted nonstop about school and teachers, inconsequential things. “I’ve got to get something to wear for the homecoming game. I think Mother and I are going to Tyler Saturday to shop. If we can’t find anything there, we’ll go to Dallas the next Saturday. You’re so lucky you don’t have to worry about what you’ll wear for the coronation during half-time. You’ll be in your football uniform.”
That was a subtle reminder that she had been nominated for homecoming queen and that he was damned lucky to be her official escort. “Your football jersey will be all muddy, and when you take off your helmet, your hair will be sweaty. You always look so sexy like that. It makes me hot just thinking about it.”
When she dropped her hand into his lap, she made it appear a casual gesture. She felt his instantaneous response. What a goose I’ve been, she thought. What an idiot! Sex was power. Look at how much mileage her mother got out of it: all she had to do was whisper something to Fergus and look at him seductively, and she got whatever her heart desired.
From the time Heather had been old enough to recognize that kind of manipulation for what it was, she’d been scornful of it. Maybe it was time for a change of heart. Her sexuality was an unlimited and as yet untapped resource
.
What was she saving it for? Why not use it? Now. When it was needed. Every other woman did. Her mother. That slut Mimsy Parker. If she wanted to keep Tanner…
“Stop here,” she said suddenly. They were still a block from her house. “I want to talk to you for a minute.”
Tanner pulled the car to the curb, killed the engine, and cut the headlights. “What about?”
She wanted to slap that surly smirk off his face. Instead, she smiled beguilingly and drew him close. “I don’t really want to talk.” She pressed her open mouth to his and reached for his tongue with her own.
He was taken off guard but quickly recovered. After a few tongue-twining kisses and some carefully choreographed moves, his erection was well defined behind his fly. She ran her hand up and down it, massaging.
He reached beneath her sweater and seized her breast. “What got into you?” he panted as he unsnapped the front closure of her bra.
Mimsy Parker, she thought. “I just love you so much. Oh, yes.” When he lightly pinched her nipple, she placed her hand on the back of his head and guided it down to her. “Tanner, I had the best idea tonight. Listen.” She outlined her plan as she slid her hand inside his jeans. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
“Yes. Oh, Jesus, oh God. Wait. I have a rubber. Want me to—”
“No. I want to see it.”
“Faster, babe. Yes. Yes.”
“Touch me, Tanner.” She opened her thighs and guided his palm to her center.
After several steamy minutes of dual masturbation, he dropped her at her front walk. His eyes were still lambent, his face flushed; he was pathetically grateful and newly besotted.
Her confidence restored, Heather skipped up the steps of her house. Mimsy Parker didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of stealing her boyfriend.
As she went inside, ready with an elaborate lie as to why Tanner had brought her home, she silently thanked that ex-con for giving her the idea that had saved her romance.
Chapter Twenty-Three
El Corazón del Diablo gave his prisoners his most ingratiating smile. His eyes flickered to Key, but after one curious glance they returned to Lara. Key doubted that she realized she had sunk to her knees.
No sooner had the thought crossed Key’s mind than she slowly came to her feet. “I can’t believe it. Emilio, what—”