Mr. Perfect

"Yes, please," Leah said. She was carrying a large shoulder bag, and she eased its weight off her shoulder, clutching it in her arms like it was a baby. As Luna turned to go to the kitchen, she noticed how Leah’s blond hair glistened in the light. She checked, a tiny frown knitting her brow, and started to turn back. She was too late.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jaine woke up at ten-thirty Sunday morning. She woke up then only because the phone was ringing. She started to fumble for the receiver, remembered this was Sam’s house, and snuggled back into the pillow. So what if it was on her side of the bed? His phone, his responsibility. He stirred beside her, all heat and hardness and musky male scent.

"Get the phone, will you?" he said sleepily. "It’s for you," she mumbled.

"How d’you know?"

"It’s your phone." She hated having to point out the obvious.

Muttering something under his breath, he heaved himself up on one elbow and leaned over her to reach the phone, squashing her into the mattress. "Yeah," he said. "Donovan."

"Yeah," he said again, after a short pause. "She’s here." He dropped the phone onto the pillow in front of her and smirked. "It’s Shelley."

She thought a few swear words, but didn’t say them. Sam still hadn’t made her pay for the "son of a bitch" she’d yelled when she hit her head on the table, and she didn’t want to remind him. Cradling the phone to her ear, she said, "Hello," as Sam lay down beside her again. "Long night?" Shelley asked sarcastically.

"About twelve, thirteen hours. The usual for this time of year."

A hard, warm body pressed against her back, and a hard, warm hand smoothed over her belly on a slow sweep up to her breasts. Something else that was hard and warm prodded her bottom.

"Ha, ha," said Shelley. "You have to come get this cat." She didn’t sound like the point was negotiable. "BooBoo? Why?" Like she didn’t know. Sam was rubbing her nipples, and she put her hand over his to still his fingers. She needed to concentrate, or she might get stuck with BooBoo again.

"He’s destroying my furniture! He’s always seemed like such a sweet cat, but he’s a destructive demon!"

"He’s just upset at being in a strange place." Deprived of her nipples, Sam moved his hand down to another interesting spot. She clamped her legs together to halt the slide of his fingers.

"He isn’t nearly as upset as I am!" Shelley sounded more than upset; she sounded outraged. "Look, I can’t take care of planning your wedding when I have to watch this demon cat every second of the day."

"Do you want to risk him getting killed? Do you want to tell Mom that you let a psycho nutcase killer mutilate her cat because you care more about your furniture than you do her feelings?" Boy, that was good, if she did say so herself. Masterful.

Shelley was breathing hard. "You fight dirty" she complained.

Sam tugged his hand free from the clamp of her thighs and chose another angle of attack: her rear guard. That thought-destroying hand stroked her bottom, then slid on down and around, finding just what he wanted and working two long fingers into her. She gasped and almost dropped the phone.

Shelley also chose another angle of attack. "You aren’t even staying at your house, you’re staying with Sam. BooBoo will be all right there."

Oh, no. She couldn’t concentrate. His fingers were big and rough, and they were driving her out of her mind. It was his revenge for making him answer the phone, but if he didn’t stop it he was going to have an outraged cat shredding everything in his house.

"Just pet him a lot," she managed to gasp. "He’ll settle down." Yeah, in a couple of weeks. "He especially likes to have his ears scratched."

"Come get him."

"Shel, I can’t just bring a cat into someone else’s house!"

"Sure you can. Sam would put up with a herd of maniac demon cats just to get in your pants. Use your power now, while it lasts! In a few months he won’t even bother to shave before crawling into bed with you."

Great. Shelley was trying to turn this into a male-female power issue. Sam’s knuckle rubbed over her clitoris, and she almost mewed. She managed to say, "I can’t," though she wasn’t certain to whom she was saying it, Sam or Shelley.

Sam said, "Yes, you can," in a low, smoky voice, and Shelley shrieked in her ear, "Oh, my God, you’re doing it right now, aren’t you? I heard him! You’re talking to me on the phone while Sam is boinking you!"

"No, no," Jaine babbled, and Sam promptly made a liar out of her by sliding out his fingers and replacing them with a hard thrust of his full-grown morning erection. She bit her lip, but a strangled sound escaped anyway.

"I can see I’m wasting my time talking to you now," Shelley said. "I’ll call again when you aren’t occupied. How long does it usually take him? Five minutes? Ten?" Now she wanted an appointment. Since biting her lip hadn’t worked, Jaine tried biting the pillow. Desperately reaching for a moment of control, just a moment, she managed to say, "A couple of hours."

"Two hours!" Shelley was shrieking again. She paused. "Does he have any brothers?"

"F-four."

"Man!" There was another pause as Shelley evidently weighed the advantages and disadvantages of dumping Al in favor of a Donovan. She finally sighed. "I’m going to have to rethink my strategy. You’d probably let BooBoo tear my house down, brick by brick, before you’d do anything to upset that particular applecart, wouldn’t you?"

"You got it," Jaine agreed, her eyes closing. Sam shifted position, getting to his knees and straddling her right leg, with her left one hooked over his arm. Forking her that way, his penetration was deep and straight in, and his left thigh rubbed right where it did the most good. She had to bite the pillow again.