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  Cecil, too, remembered how thin the wall was and kept his voice to a soft whisper. "Perhaps we should retreat outside."

  "Gladly. The air in the house just got polluted," I heartily agreed.

  We tiptoed out of the living room and through the front door onto the porch. I breathed the fresh air of hay and hay-fever, and after my coughing fit Cecil led me onto the lawn. "You must think me rude for not first asking how you were feeling after last night's unwelcome surprise at your apartment."

  I stopped and whipped my head up to look into his smiling face. "You know about that?" He nodded; my eyes narrowed. "How?"

  "I make it a note to keep a careful eye on those closest to John, even the ones I trust," he explained to me. "And judging from your energy I can safely assume you're quite well."

  "My apartment got the beating, not me," I reminded him.

  "And quite a beating, judging by the pictures," Cecil quipped. "Are there any clues to the assailant?"

  "One lead, but would you do me a favor?"

  "I won't stop watching you."

  "Damn."

  "Sorry to disappoint you, but in this case I might be of some use. The police are looking for this person, am I correct?" Cecil asked me.

  "Yeah, or they should be," I replied.

  "What would you say if I offered you my network of, ahem, shall we call them assistants?" he wondered.

  I raised an eyebrow. "I'd say you have yourself a deal, but what's the catch?"

  "Only that you not kill my nephew. As troublesome as he is I would prefer not to outlive him."

  "That's a pretty tough catch."

  "I'm sure you can set aside your homicidal tendencies for him." He leaned in close to me, and I leaned back. "That is, if you care enough for him."

  I turned away, but a damn blush accented my cheeks. A kingdom for some white powder. "No, I just like him, that's all."

  "I may be old, Miss Calhoun, but I'm well aware that 'like' can mean many different things."

  "Well, right now it means like."

  "So you're unsure?"

  "I'll just say I'm not sure I'm unsure."

  "A double negative makes for proof positive, Miss Calhoun."

  "I just don't know if I like-Gnomy!" I rushed past the startled gentleman and up to the front porch. Perched beside the stairs in a comfortable spot in the flower bed stood Gnomy. I knelt down and looked him over; his faded paint was covered in a fresh coat, and he'd been cleaned of his dust. I smiled and patted him on the head. "You found a yard, didn't you, Gnomy?"

  Cecil came up to stand at my side. "Miss Calhoun, I worried about your mental state before but now I'm very concerned," he teased.

  "I'll have you know this gnome is an old friend of mine."

  "He looks very comfortable in front of the house."

  "I guess he belongs here."

  "Does his old friend also belong here?"

  "She doesn't know yet."

  "How long does it take for her to know?"

  I whipped my head up and scowled at him. "I don't know, okay? I just know that what you're asking is a pretty big deal and I don't want to make a mistake-"

  "-like your mother's?" he guessed.

  I stood straight and my eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

  "Your mother's mistake in marrying your father. I told you I make notes on those closest to John," he reminded me.

  "It was just a bad marriage, okay? It's not like he ever hit her. They just weren't meant for each other," I snapped at him.

  "And that's what you're afraid of with John, isn't it?" he countered. Damn him; he was more blunt than a Clue weapon.

  I stood up and brushed myself off; I didn't raise my head to look at him. "I don't want to talk about it."

  "Very well, but I wanted to prepare you for the questions John will ask you sooner rather than later. He's been betrayed more than once and someone who isn't at least loyal to him will arouse his suspicion, even if he does love you," Cecil warned me.

  I sighed, and turned to the porch steps. "I guess I'll just have to think of an answer to give him."

  Cecil placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I'll be eager to hear it when you decide." His hand slipped off and I heard him walk away to his car. He drove off, leaving me with a whole bunch of serious thoughts and not a joke to comfort me.

  CHAPTER 8

  I dragged my feet back into the house, but avoided the downstairs to keep out of John's warpath. I was pleased to not hear the sounds of successful murder, or even attempted murder.

  Still, I scurried upstairs and to my room. Mr. Teddy greeted me with a bright smile, but there was also a surprise; the window was open. I frowned and walked over to the sill. It was raised all the way up, and the green muck from last night was back. This time it wasn't just a smudge, there were fingerprints. I leaned over the sill and glanced outside; a shadow disappeared around the back corner of the house.

  There wasn't a second to lose, though I did lose a few gaping at the back of the house. I pulled my head back in, and rushed out of the room and down the stairs. My footsteps pounded down the hall to the back of the house like a herd of elephants coming for peanuts. I flew by the study door in time to see it swing open and both men step out to see what the commotion was about. They jumped back in to avoid my barreling into them as I dashed past and hit the back door. I pulled it open and ran out to the edge of the porch. I whipped my head this way and that in search of the intruder, but there was nothing but hedges and cornfields; I'd lost my prey.

  The boys came up behind me and glanced around the yard. "What's wrong?" John asked me.

  "Somebody was in my room. I found their fingerprints on the windowsill, and peeked out to see them disappear around the back of the house," I explained to them. John's hand on my shoulder tightened.

  "Did you get a look at them?" he asked me.

  "No, just their shadow. Did you guys see or hear anything?"

  They both shook their heads, and Monroe stepped forward. "The thick shades kept us from seeing anything and we were in deep, ahem, conversation." I took that to mean they'd been one quip away from tearing into each other. "Did the intruder leave any clues to their identity?"

  I shook my head. "Just the fingerprints, but that might be enough to identify them."

  Monroe smiled and glanced between us. "Well, it seems the police need to be called, and such an action is my cue to leave."

  John wrapped his arms around my shoulders and raised an eyebrow. "Would they be interested in speaking with you?"

  "In this instance, I doubt it. I didn't make myself a very good witness," Monroe pointed out. "If you don't mind, I'll just go inside to grab my briefcase and be on my way."

  We were both too relieved to see him go to stop him, and he did have a point about not being useful to the police; he'd neither heard nor seen anything. Only the fingerprints and I were proof that somebody had tried to get into the house.

  "You're sure you didn't hear anything? No feet stomping by or anything?" I persisted.

  He shook his head. "Not a thing, but I wasn't paying attention to the windows. We're working on the company's wealthier portfolios. Any further delving into the company and a brawl will break out."

  "I'd say brawling was the usual reaction between you two, and right now it's interrupted by civility."

  "I must admit this intruder did us both a favor." John looked around the yard again. "There's not much use searching back here. The person probably ran into the cornfields."

  "Then let me show you the fingerprints and we can call the cops," I suggested.

  I dragged him back into the house and upstairs to my room, where I found a very unpleasant surprise. The fingerprints on the sill were smudged beyond recognition. They looked more like inkblots than fingers. My jaw dropped open, and John knelt down and squinted at the smudges. "These are fingerprints?" he asked me.

  "They were a few minutes ago!" I insisted.

  John stood up and ran his hand through his hair. "That won't
be enough for the cops to get a match on anyone, but let's make sure this won't be used for an entrance." He grabbed the bottom of the open window and slammed it down. I cringed when the window hit the sill with a hard bang, and through a miracle of the Glass Gods the window was unscathed and shut.

  "I guess that means no more natural ventilation," I quipped.

  "And no more intruders." John turned to me and carefully looked me over. "And you're okay, right?"

  I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. "Why is everyone always asking me that? I can take care of myself."

  John smirked, and in a quick movement he pushed off the sill and wrapped his arms around me. I let out a tiny squeak when he pressed me to his chest, and I squirmed to free myself; he wasn't budging, but there was a big smirk on his face. "Can you handle yourself now?"

  "Yes, if you would give me enough room to get my knee between us," I growled.

  John shook his head. "I already heard the story of your winning over that other fellow with that powerful knee, and won't make the same mistake."

  "Well, most attackers aren't as smart as you. If that Tanner guy was here right-" A thought hit me and I gasped; so much color drained from my face that I looked like John.

  He noticed the sudden change. "Is something wrong?"

  I glanced up at him, and couldn't stop myself from shivering. "Your address. He has your address."

  That didn't help John at all. "Who has my address? How?"

  "Whoever broke into my apartment, maybe that Tanner guy."

  "But how?" John persisted.

  "When we first met do you remember you gave me that card with your address?"

  "Yes, why?"

  "After I visited the first time I tossed it onto my dresser and it fell into my underwear drawer."

  "I can't believe I'm jealous of an address card."

  "I don't think you'd be jealous of it now because I didn't see it when I was helping the police look for things that were missing," I replied. "And my underwear was all over the place, so if he dug in there he probably found the card."

  John frowned. "So what you're saying is this Tanner, if he was your intruder, may still know where you live?"

  "And where you live," I added. "And he might have been the person to sneak in here."

  "Is he really that obsessed with you?"

  "Why not? You are."

  "But I'm in love with you."

  "So you're saying nobody else can be in love with me?"

  "No."

  "Why?"

  "Because you're mine." John emphasized his point by spinning me around in his arms and pulling my back against his strong, muscled chest. He nuzzled his face into my neck, and I swear I heard him purring. "And I won't let any other man be in love with you."

  I snorted. "That's not exactly something you can control."

  "Watch me."

  "Sounds like it'd be a violent show."

  "Possibly, but I'd only be teaching the guy a lesson he should have learned when he saw us together."

  "But we're not always together, and no, you're not going to my classes with me."

  "We could change all that."

  "What? My class schedule?"

  "You going to school at all. You could stay here and secretary me all day."

  "You make everything sound dirty."

  "I try."

  "You succeed."

  "You're dodging my proposition."

  "Because the answer is still the same. No." His hands begged to differ; one slid their way up to cup my breast, and the other snuck between my thighs to rub at my folds hidden in my jeans. I gasped and grasped his hands in mine; my traitorous body responded by igniting itself with an explosion of aching need. It'd been a few days since our first and last romp, but it hadn't forgotten the feel of his body against mine.

  "You're purring," he murmured in my ear.

  "Just your imagination," I replied. His hand that cupped my breast slipped down beneath my shirt and brushed aside my bra to massage my naked flesh. I groaned and arched my back to push against him.

  "Is that my imagination?" he teased.

  "Yes. It's getting away from you like your hand."

  "But you're enjoying it."

  "It's hard to fight against evil tendencies."

  His teeth softly nipped at my ear. "Does that make me the devil?" That made him anything he wanted to be only if he'd never stop touching me.

  "I-it makes you something," I murmured. The feel of his hand pressing and squeezing my breast caused a fog to slip over my mind. It covered the world around us and I couldn't think of anything but him. "Y-you remember that whole intruder-in-the-house problem? M-maybe we should look for that person inside the house."

  "Maybe you should stop fighting me and let me love you," John whispered.

  I wanted to; all my being screamed out to give in to his touch and let him ravish me. My feminine instinct told me to give in; let him be my protector, my lover, my everything. So I did. I smiled up at him and brushed my finger against his cheek. "What? You don't want me to play rough?" I teased him.

  "I'll be happy if you just play."

  "Then play with me."

  "No regrets this time?"

  "No regrets."

  He took me in a passionate, desperate kiss that enveloped me in his world. Everything else was tossed aside except for the feel of his hands on me and his body against mine. He must have been holding back a lot of need because he tore into my clothing like a wild animal. I gasped when my shirt buttons flew off in every direction, and my pants were torn open. A hand slipped into my underwear and massaged my sensitive, quivering nub while the other unclasped my bra. My pants wiggled down my hips and dropped to the floor at the same time as my bra.

  John flung me into his arms and laid me atop the covers of my bed. He flung off all his clothes and covered me with his hot, tense body. His stiff manhood rubbed against my hip, teasing us both with promises of sweet pleasure. I slipped off my underwear and he took full advantage of me with his hands, touching and caressing my wet folds until I was half-crazed with the need of him inside me. I moaned and pushed my hips against his. "Please," I groaned.

  He planted soft kisses down my neck and latched onto the tip of my breast. I clutched onto his head when he gently suckled my mound. "Please what?" he hoarsely whispered to me. I bit my lip to keep myself from giving in and begging him. He stopped his delicious touches and pulled himself up onto his arms. I whimpered and squirmed beneath those blazing, bright blue eyes. "Please what?" he demanded to know. I couldn't take the heat and the overpowering, aching need.

  "Please take me."

  He took me, and with all the passion of a desperate lover. All cares and hesitations were thrown to the wind as he thrust himself into me hard and fast. His arms wrapped around me to hold my squirming body still while he penetrated deeper and deeper. My muscles tightened, and little thrills of pleasure raced up my body. He gasped and grunted in my ear when I wrapped my legs around him, allowing him greater depths and more delicious desires. It all ended too soon; the ripples of delight inside me roared into the finale as I clutched onto my lover. John thrust a few more times and collapsed on top of me after releasing into me.

  He was confused when he heard me giggle, and lifted his head to show off his confuddled expression. "I told you you weren't any good at pulling out," I reminded him. He grunted, and I playfully frowned at him. "Don't give me that kind of backtalk, young man." John flopped his face into the covers and snuggled closer to me. I cringed and tapped him on the shoulder. "Air," I gasped out.

  "Later," came the mumbled reply from the covers.

  I scowled and pushed him off me. "Now."

  He sighed and pulled himself up on his arms. "Some day you're going to have to be on top so I won't have to move after all that exercise."

  "And someday I'll let you have the bottom bunk, but right now you're too heavy for me."

  "Are you calling me fat?"

  "No, just well-muscled, n
ow get off." I pushed at his chest, but he held like a rock mountain.

  "But I'm comfortable," he countered.

  "Now Johnny, be a good boy."

  "But I'm comfortable."

  "What sort of an argument is that for a thirty year old man?"

  "But I'm comfortable."

  "Has your vocabulary regressed, too?"

  "No, I just wanted to see how long it would take you to get annoyed and throw me off."

  "I tried to throw you off a minute ago. Didn't work."

  "Then I guess I'll get off you." He rolled off, but grabbed me and the sheets on the other side of me, and proceeded to roll me up.

  "Hey! Knock that off!" I yelled at him to no avail. He was intent on making me into a sexy human burrito. John was quick at his job, and I was wrapped too tight in the covers to free myself. I scowled at my nemesis. "Do you mind?"

  "Nope."

  "Then could you let me out of here?"

  "Nope."

  "Are we going to have to have that whole vocabulary-regression joke again?"

  "Nope."

  "I'm thinking we need to."

  "Nope."

  "Then are you going to toss me on a few train tracks so I don't have to hear you say that word again?"

  "Nope."

  "I hate you."

  "Nope."

  I growled, and using my super-annoyed strength I loosened my cotton bonds and slipped out of the sheets. I distracted my captor by kicking the sheets into his face, and got into most of my clothes before he could stop me. John smirked at me. "You're beautiful when you're angry."

  "I don't think you want me to be beautiful all the time," I countered.

  "I don't think so, either."

  I pulled on my shirt and clamped it closed with my hand. "Now I think there's some important matters we have to discuss. For one thing, you've just wrecked the only wardrobe I own that isn't evidence."

  "There's always my clothes," he reminded me.

  "I can't keep going through life in your shirts, and your underwear won't fit me."

  "We'll go to the store tomorrow and get you some clothes."

  "And second, did you already forget about my phantom intruder?" I gestured at the window. "What are we going to do about that person? What if it is Tanner trying to get at me for siccing the cops on him?"

  John slipped off the bed with the sheets around him; I was disappointed. "Then he's been a bad dog and needs to be whipped," he replied.