Emma’d known she could rely on him. She’d just had no idea quite how good he was.
The thought made her squirm a little bit in her bed as her shadow side suddenly tried to engage a takeover—imagining his enriched performance in much more personal endeavors.
“I’ll get to it yet tonight,” he said. “I have a full day tomorrow. So I should get off of here.”
For a split second she thought about telling him she thought she’d been followed on the way back from Suzie’s that night, but didn’t want to lose his respect by making issues where there were none. The truck had disappeared from behind her long before she’d made it home. And she’d had no legitimate business driving by the woman’s house in any case.
“Right. Okay. Thanks for calling...”
“I’ve been thinking about you on and off all night,” he suddenly admitted.
That wasn’t good. She was smiling anyway. Because she’d been thinking of him, too.
“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about at dinner,” he continued, sounding hesitant, and her spirits dropped several notches.
She pulled her nightshirt, which was already covering her crotch, down even farther, yanking her bedsheet up to her neck.
“Thinking what?” she asked. There weren’t going to be any complications, either way.
“That even though we’re not starting anything, relationship-wise, my goal is to make you feel good. If ever there’s a time when that stops, this stops.”
Heart pounding, grinning, her body on fire, Emma sat there for a second, having a hard time believing she’d actually met someone so much like her. Even stranger was that she’d known him peripherally for a while and hadn’t known this about him.
“That works both ways,” she said. “If I’m not making you feel good, it stops.”
“Agreed.”
“Okay, good.”
So when were they going to do it? Part of her was dying to know. Pushing her to ask him to stop by right then.
But Emma knew better. She told him good-night. Hung up. And left the rest just hanging there.
Anticipation, the buildup to release, the tease, would make it all that much better when it finally happened.
And it was going to happen.
Finally, something she and Ms. Shadow could agree upon.
Chapter 9
Crap. Just not good.
Out of the four time frames Emma had given him, Bill Heber had been in Santa Raquel for two of them. Not at his wife’s home. But close.
Jayden’s faith in Heber had been rocked a little, but he still had the sense that Bill wasn’t lying to him. He’d sworn he hadn’t been to Suzie’s house, and he hadn’t been.
But Jayden had some questions to ask the man. Unfortunately, one in the morning wasn’t an appropriate time for him to call a parolee unless he wanted to alert the guy to possible serious ramifications for perceived actions.
He wasn’t ready to alert Bill yet. He wanted this done, and Suzie’s abuser found, before Bill caught wind of the fact that his wife had been hurt.
And before he knew he was a suspect again.
Both facts could seriously jeopardize Bill’s chances for successful reintegration into being a contributing member of society.
He couldn’t call in the middle of the night, but he had to get the man on the phone before he had to turn over his findings to Emma. Had to be able to give her logical reasons, with alibis for Bill’s whereabouts on both occasions in question.
That was why he was up at six Friday morning, showered and, forgoing the rib wrap, dressed and out the door by seven. That, and because he’d been lying in the bed thinking about sex with Emma Martin, which wasn’t a great sign. Wanting it, even doing it, was passably acceptable. Mooning over it made it more than it could be.