Whiskey Rebellion (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 1 (Addison Holmes Mysteries)

enemy. Not even Veronica. “Poor Greg.”
    “I’ll find out who did it, Addison. It’s my job.” He squeezed my shoulder and pushed me toward the door. “Now we’re done talking about murder for the rest of the night. We’re going to relax and get to know each other.”
    That was something to think about. If we didn’t talk about murder, what else would we talk about?

    To say that dinner was a disaster was an understatement of epic proportions.
    “I’ve never been here before,” I said, inanely. “I hear the food’s very good.”
    “Mmmhhhmmm,” Nick said, noncommittally.
    We both looked around, our eyes on anything but each other, trying to think of something to say that would get us through what looked like an impossibly long meal.
    He’d taken us to the The Waterfront, a seafood place between Savannah and South Carolina, and we’d been led to a table that overlooked the lake. The whole scene should have been very romantic, but we’d managed to make it the most awkward dinner ever. On the positive side, I hadn’t run into a single person I knew.
    There was one point during the meal where I leaned over a little too far, and I was sure Nick got a glimpse down the front of my dress. His eyes glazed over and his features softened, and I thought, Oh, boy. Here it comes. Here’s the Nick Dempsey I’ve come to know. But then the magic was interrupted by the waiter refilling my water glass, and I was left with nothing but a shortness of breath and a need for extra dessert.
    We left the restaurant in silence. I think the word “date” had become an obstacle as soon as it was mentioned. We were doing just fine without mentioning any kind of potential relationship.
    I turned in my seat as Nick drove us back to my apartment, admiring the strength of his profile and trying frantically to figure out a way to get us back on at least “friendly” terms. I could only think of one thing to say.
    “Nick, I don’t think we should date anymore.”
    He turned and looked at me, his face solemn. “I think you may be right.”

    We attacked each other as soon as we reached my front door. If I hadn’t gotten my key in the door in another thirty seconds, Nick would have taken me where we stood, and that would have been perfectly all right with me. Nick slammed the door shut with his foot and pushed me against the wall, his hands everywhere at once and his lips fused to my own.
    “God, I want you,” Nick panted as his lips made their way down to the valley between my breasts.
    I wasn’t capable of rational conversation, so I pulled off his shirt and ran my hands over his torso. I didn’t protest at all as the straps from my sundress slipped over my shoulders and the bodice fell below my breasts. All I cared about was having a Nick induced orgasm.
    When the heat of his mouth found my nipple, my knees gave out and Nick had to press me harder against the wall so I wouldn’t fall in a gooey puddle to the floor. I worked his belt free and unbuttoned his pants so I could feel what I needed inside me with my hands.
    “Please—please,” I begged.
    I protested when Nick k ept my hands from stroking his shaft.
    “Stop, baby, I won’t last, and I need to be inside you right now.”
    I agreed whole-heartedly, so I wrapped one leg around his waist. He had my dress pushed up far enough to see that the expense of an underwear of the month club membership was well worthwhile. I was in the perfect position to feel a strange and erotic sensation coming from the front of his pants.
    “Nick, your pocket’s vibrating,” I said, biting his earlobe and running my fingers through his hair. God, I loved his hair, thick and just long enough to tangle my fingers in.
    “You haven’t seen anything yet, baby. It can do a lot more than that.”
    “No, I mean, it’s really vibrating.”
    Nick stopped his hand from taking the journey the rest of the way up my thigh, and I moaned in frustration when the tip of his fingers just skimmed the edge of my panties. He detoured away from giving me ecstasy to reach into his pocket.
    He leaned his forehead against my own, his breath shaky while he checked the display, and I could feel the struggle within to get himself under control as he listened to whoever was speaking on the other end. I was surprised the phone didn’t disintegrate as tight as he was holding it.
    “Shit,” he yelled, leaving my half naked body against the wall and throwing the phone hard enough to leave a dent in my