Blue Smoke

Bo?”
    “Working up to it.”
    “How long does it generally take for you to get through the working-up-to-it stage?”
    “Not usually this long. Especially if you count back the full thirteen years.”
    “Then I’d say it’s been long enough.” She set her glass down, rose. “You’re going to want that chicken to marinate awhile anyway,” she added as she crossed to him.
    “I feel like I should say something clever right now. But my mind’s blank.” He put his hands on her hips, sliding them slowly up her body as he drew her in.
    His head dipped, then paused with his lips a whisper from hers, just to catch her quick breath of anticipation. His eyes stayed open, watching hers, as he changed the angle, grazed his teeth over her bottom lip.
    Then slowly sank in.
    She smelled of the rain, tasted of wine. Her hands gripped his shoulders, then combed up through his hair and fisted there as that tight, angular body fit to his. He moved without thinking, half turning so her back was braced against the counter, locking her there while his mouth did a long, thorough exploration of hers.
    Her teeth clamped lightly over his tongue, shooting his blood from hot to fevered. And the sound she made was something between a laugh and a moan.
    His vision blurred.
    Her hands weren’t quite steady when she tugged his shirt out of his waistband. “You’re good at this,” she managed.
    “Right back at you. Reena.” His mouth raced to her throat, branded its way up to her lips again. “I want to . . . let’s go upstairs.”
    Everything inside her was open and aching and ready. With her hands under his shirt, she dug her fingers into hard muscle. She wanted that body on hers, the brawn of it, the heat of it, the need of it. “I like your floor. Let’s see how it holds up.”

    He thought he heard his heart knocking, hard, insistent bangs. When he pulled back far enough to yank her jacket down her arms, he recognized the knocking on his front door. “Oh, for the sake of the tiny baby Jesus.”
    She closed her teeth over his jaw. “Expecting someone?”
    “No. Maybe they’ll . . .” But the knocking only increased. “Damn it. Listen, don’t move. Breathe only if you have to, but don’t move.” He gripped her shoulders. “Oh God, look at you. I could just . . . Just wait here, right here because I can just slip right back into position after I go kill whoever’s at the door. It’ll only take a minute for me to murder them.”
    “I have a gun,” she offered.
    His laugh was a little pained. “Thanks, but I can do it with my bare hands. Don’t disappear, don’t change your mind. Don’t do anything.”
    She grinned after him, then patted a hand on her heart. He was good at it, she mused. In fact, he was exceptional. A man who could kiss like that . . . and she already knew he was good with his hands . . . had the potential to be an amazing lover. Still, now that she’d had a minute to clear the fire out of her brain, maybe going upstairs was a better idea.
    She shook back her hair, then wandered out of the kitchen to see if he’d sent the interruption on its way.
    And found him in the doorway, holding a pretty little redhead. The woman—the redhead Reena had seen at the funeral—had her head on his shoulder, and her own body shook with sobs.
    “I feel so bad, Bo. I didn’t think I’d feel this bad. I don’t know what to do.”
    “It’s okay. Come on. Let me close the door.”
    “It’s stupid. I’m stupid, but I can’t help it.”
    “You’re not stupid. Come on, Mandy, just . . .” He trailed off when he spotted Reena, and she watched his face go through several emotions. Surprise, embarrassment, apology, denial. “Ah . . . ah . . . Well.”
    Tears continued to stream down Mandy’s face as she stared at Reena, then pulled back from Bo. Flushed as red as her hair. “Oh Jesus, I’msorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was here. God, what an idiot . I’m sorry. I’m going.”
    “It’s all right. I was just leaving.”
    “No. God. I am.” Mandy rubbed both hands over her wet cheeks. “Pretend I wasn’t here. The dignified part of me wasn’t.”
    “Don’t worry about it. Really. I was just looking at the house. I live next door. Reena Hale.”
    “Mandy—Reena?” she repeated. “I know you.” She sniffled, brushed at more tears. “I mean, not really. I went to Maryland the same time you did. I was Josh Bolton’s downstairs neighbor. I met you