Once again she had to walk through the open room, very aware of the fact that the other officers were watching as Riley led her into his much larger office. He didn’t say one word to her as he closed the door behind her before going around to his desk.
Her eyes wandered around the room quickly, taking in the pictures or lack there of on the walls alongside his degree. To be honest she was just afraid to look at him again, her heart had not slowed its frantic cadence since she laid eyes on him. Against her will they turned to him anyway, a sigh threatening to escape as she took in his form behind the desk.
He was sitting there in his slightly crumpled tan shirt eyes narrowed at her as she stood in front of him, unsure of what to say first. Shifting her feet caused the bag she was holding to brush against them, the sound reminding her of her errand.
“Momma wanted me to bring you lunch,” her words were rushed as she placed the bag on his desk.
“Thank you,” was his only reply and he made no move to take the bag.
Her hands, now free, clutched each other as she searched for something to say to him, a way to ease into a conversation. It was proving too hard to think while he looked up at her, those hazel eyes watching her. Her mother opened, only to close slowly again, floundered.
“I’m sorry,” she finally managed to sigh out.
She waited for his reply, but he offered none, so instead of turning on her heel and running out she decided to explain her change of heart.
“I had a dream last night,” he sat back at his desk, as if to say go on. “Clint came to me said some things…” his wide eyes made her feel just a bit crazed, her words trailing off. “ He told me I needed to stop running, so this morning I woke up feeling the need to look into Michael Kent’s eyes and let him know I was not afraid any more,” still he said nothing.
Soft ticking from the clock behind his head was the only sound filling the room as she waited and finally he let out a long tired sounding sigh.
“So because of a dream you felt the need to put yourself in danger?” her own eyes narrowed at his tone, but she held back her biting reply.
“It was something I needed to do,” was her curt answer.
“And you couldn’t have waited until I got there?” she opened her mouth with every intention of telling him that she could not wait around for him forever. “Or at the very least ask your mother to go with you?”
“I needed to go on my own,” she could not hold back the anger any longer. “I am not a child Riley.”
“I know that,” he surged to his feet, “God dammit.”
“Then stop treating me like one,” she took a brave step forward, her glare every bit as intense as his.
“I’m sorry Chey,” her blue eyes widened, startled as his shoulders slumped. “When I heard you say that you had gone back in that place by yourself I lost it,” his large hand scrubbed down his drawn features.
“I’m sorry too,” her voice was soft as he stared at her.
“How did it feel?” he asked, plopping back in his chair, feeling defeated, yet exhilarated.
“Honestly?” a hesitant smile made its way to her lips, he simply nodded. “It was terrifying.”
“You don’t say?” he gave her an I told you so look.
“But it was freeing,” she continued, not content to let him bask in his small victory. “I looked right at him,” her wistful voice once again had him sitting up straight in his chair. “Right into those beady brown eyes of his and I knew everything was going to be okay,” she smiled. “I even shook his hand,” her laugh was short.
“Well I’m happy for you,” he grumbled, looking every bit like a bear whose honey had been stolen.
“Thank you,” her smile did not fade even as she said her next piece of peace. “I’m sorry about this morning,” her deep breath was palpable. “I should not have said what I did this morning.”
“You’re damn right,” he came to his feet, slowly moving toward her, unable to stand being in the same room without touch her.
“That’s all you’ve got to say,” she seethed.
“No,” shivers ran down her spine as he moved closer, but retreat was not an option, her pride would not allow it. “I’m sorry too,” he stopped just a fraction away from her, his warm breath washing over her surprised face.
“What?”
“I knew you’d make me say it more than once,” he smiled down at her, his eyes lighting up. “I should not have brought it back up again.”
“Its fine,” she shook her head, trying to ward off the shivers running down her spine at his close proximity.
“No it’s not,” he followed suit, shaking his head. “I should have said something like, damn I never would have guessed you’d taste so sweet,” her eyes shot up to his. “Or maybe, can we do that again?” he stepped closer; her body screaming to reach up and close the sparse inches between their bodies.
“Actually come to think of it I shouldn’t have said anything,” she cocked an eyebrow at him, as he took a small step back “I should have just done this,” his words ended on her mouth.
She yielded up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep him close. Hands smoothed down the thin shirt she had thrown on before cleaning earlier and as his very manly scent washed over her she realized she must smell like an old rag. Much like his first kiss this one attested to his barely contained passion and it made her toes curl against her leather sandals.
He groaned low in his throat as her saccharine scent washed over him, coconuts with just a hint of sweat. Lovely. More so than the way her messy hair was falling out of the pony tail she’d thrown it up in, leaving silky tendrils to frame her face. Her tongue swirled around his, capturing it in an amorous embrace that made his knees just a bit weak as he hauled her closer.
Cheyanne was in the same condition, her own knees wobbled as his hot mouth slanted over hers again and again; his fervor feeding her own. Slowly his mouth started to retreat from hers, his tangy taste leaving her.
His forehead pressed against hers, their chest heaved in unison leaving neither room for teasing, but Cheyanne still tried.
“I think that would have been the better choice,” she smiled as he pulled back to look down at her, goofy grin on his face.
“Never said I was a smart man,” he grinned.
“No, I guess you didn’t,” she released her grip on him only to have him take her hand in his to lead her back to his large mahogany desk.
“Have lunch with me,” he demanded, softening his hard voice with a kiss to the cheek as he pushed her down in the chair across from his desk.
“If you insist,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at him.
“Oh, I do,” his hands made short work of pulling the containers out and moving them around on his desk.
They sat in compatible silence, shy grins being exchanged as they ate. Chey’s stomach fluttered every time his hazel eyes met hers or his fingers “accidently” brushed across hers. It was a strange feeling, to be sitting across from him, his desk the only thing keeping them apart when she wanted him so badly that her blood sang for him. Every time those sinful lips closed around his fork her body tightened in anticipation, her mind playing out the places she’d like that tongue to be.
The plastic fork he had found for her froze in the container she was holding as she watched him, wondering if he felt the same way. Was he barely containing himself from sweeping the papers off his desk and having his wicked way with her or was he sitting there totally unaffected?
If she could read minds she’d be flying out that door, Riley mused silently, staring down into the container of potato salad, determined not to look at her again. He was barely restraining himself from sweeping her up into his arms a taking her on the floor, his body hardened furthering his torture even as his eyes rose to glimpse his personal hell.
She was watching him with clear blue eyes, still cloudy with her need for him, his swallow was audible.
“This is weird isn’t it?” she asked with a laugh, her container hitting the table with a soft thud, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t think he was capable of much more than a soft moan as she leaned forward, her shirt gaping slightly at the front.
“Us sitting here pretending like nothing happened,” she cleared the air.
“A little,” he agreed, setting his lunch down, “but it’s not like I can just sweep aside my papers and make love to you on my desk,” her eyes widened as though he had read her mind. “Although,” he sat back, stroking his chin thoughtfully just to torment her, “that does sound promising.”
“You are nothing but a tease,” she accused with a grin.
“That’s me,” he smiled back.
“So since we are not going to strip down and wax this very nice desk of yours,” she grinned as he let out a lofty moan, “what are we going to do?”
“Well for starters you are going to stop goading me,” her hand flew to her chest.
“Well I never,” she managed to get out before laughing.
“And then you are going to go home where you cannot tempt me any further,” she frowned at him.
“That does not sound like very much fun,” she pouted.
“When I get off this evening we can continue,” he paused, giving her a moment to take in his meaning, “our conversation.”
“Okay,” came out in a breathy sigh that had him wanting to break his own plans.
“Now,” he went to his feet again motioning for her to follow, “you go home and I’ll see you later,” he waited at the door for her.
“Yes sir,” she saluted him before turning to the now open door.
“You are such a smart ass,” he muttered, turning her back around to kiss her swiftly. “Give you something to remember me by,” he grinned, reluctantly pulling back.
“Uhmm hmm,” she nodded, still looking a bit dazed as he pushed her out of the office.
“See you later honey,” he called out as she stepped from the larger office, but she didn’t return his goodbye.
“I take that stupid grin on your face to mean you are not in a bad mood anymore,” Charlie drawled from across the small space.
“Get back to work,” Riley barked, but it came out as little more than a friendly request.
“Why do you always get the lookers?” Charlie asked, pushing his way into the office.
“Why do you get so jealous?” he grinned, shutting the door behind him.
“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” Charlie demanded, scowling at him. “We got some problems.”
“Like what?” Riley sighed, not knowing what could possibly ruin this great day.
“There are more murders,” those four little words changed everything, “and we’re not the only ones looking for the killer.”