Slow Hands

and Maddy had gone sailing.
    She’d said she didn’t care what he did with the money….
    “I have another contribution to make,” he said, not hesitating for one second in doing what he knew was the right thing. He had, after all, promised her. “Can you get it to your wife?”
    “Of course.”
    Borrowing a pen, Jake unfolded the check, looking at it for the very first time. He immediately realized what a good thing it was that he hadn’t lost the thing, because Maddy had filled out the amount, but not the name. As if she wasn’t sure whether he used a different one for “business” or was trying to hide the income. Great. The woman either thought he was a tax dodger or that he’d incorporated himself in the sex trade.
    Then again, considering she thought he was a gigolo, he guessed he shouldn’t be surprised.
    Writing the name of the charity and grinning when he pictured Noelle Santori’s face, he passed the check over. The detective took it and prepared to carelessly stuff it in his pocket.
    “Uh…you might want to put that in your wallet or something.”
    “Oh?” Santori finally glanced at the front of the thing, noted the number of zeroes, and muttered, “Holy shit.”
    “It’s genuine.”
    “I sure hope so. What kind of rat-brained idiot would try to pass off a bad check for needy kids to a cop?”
    “I have been accused of being many things, but never a rat-brained idiot.”
    The partner, who’d peeked over Santori’s shoulder at the check herself, whistled. “Nice.”
    Very nice. Very worthwhile. And now that the check had been lifted from his pocket, Jake felt very lighthearted—as though he’d lost thirty pounds.
    Or thirty thousand.
    * * *
    T HE WEDDING REHEARSAL started at seven, with the dinner taking place right afterward at a nice restaurant in one of the hotels owned by the groom’s family. It was now five. They should be leaving any minute to get there, given Friday rush hour traffic in the city.
    Instead, the minute Jake walked out of the elevator and into her place, Maddy jumped on him. Literally. She flew into his arms, wrapped her legs around his waist and began pressing wild, frantic kisses on his mouth.
    “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered when she paused to take a breath—and let him take one.
    “Ditto.” Holding her around the waist with one arm, cupping her bottom with the other hand, he strode straight down the hall toward her bedroom. He kissed her jaw, the side of her neck. “We might be late.”
    “Tabby’s never been on time for a thing in her life,” Maddy replied, letting her silky, short bathrobe slip off her shoulders and down her arms. She could have gotten dressed for their evening, as Jake—in a dark blue suit and crisp white dress shirt and tie—had. Instead, as she’d begun pulling on the lingerie she’d bought to wear beneath her new cocktail dress, she’d only been able to picture Jake taking it off her. And so, she hadn’t bothered to finish dressing. “She was an hour late to her first wedding.”
    Reaching her bedroom, Jake tossed her onto the middle of her bed, watching with glittering, heated avarice as the robe fell completely down, revealing her black lace bra, black garter belt and sheer stockings.
    “Then I guess Tabby won’t mind if we’re just a few minutes late to her rehearsal.”
    Maddy lay back on the bed, one leg straight down, the other bent at the knee in invitation. With one hand resting on her stomach, the other brushing through long strands of her loose hair, she gave him a wicked glance that left no doubt about what she wanted. “ Just a few minutes?”
    “After three and a half days without you, I want at least that long inside you,” Jake muttered as he took his jacket off and tossed it onto a chair. “Can we skip tonight altogether?”
    She shook her head. “I wish. But I’m the maid of honor, remember?”
    “So we…get a little satisfaction now, then come back here tonight and I’ll do you until we have to leave tomorrow for the wedding.”
    She shivered at the roughness in his tone, which spoke of his ravenous need. “Deal.”
    Jake loosened the tie next, taking a whole lot longer than such a simple chore should take.
    “Uh, FYI? You’re going way too slow.”
    “I said a little satisfaction. Not an infinitesimal amount.”
    Just her luck. Even when desperate, the man had agonizing patience.
    “Hurry up,” she ordered, writhing on the bed.
    “Not a chance. We’re not so pressed