Page 166 of Don't Say a Word

“I don’t want to, but I have to be up before dawn for another case I’m working.”

He cleared the plates and stacked them neatly in the sink. He was definitely trying to get on my good side.

I walked him to the door.

“I don’t count this as a date,” he said.

“Oh?”

“I have to re-qualify with my gun on Friday—quarterly range time. Want to go to the gun range on Thursday to practice?”

Now my stomach really did flip. “I’d love to.”

“Then dinner afterward.”

“Now you’re pushing it,” I said with a grin.

“Then maybe dessert,” he said and took a step toward me.

I stood my ground.

Cal leaned over and kissed me. I tried to act casual, like every day I had a man bring me pizza and beer and kiss me good-night.

But I didn’t.

I kissed him back. And then our bodies were against each other, my back was against the wall, and I moaned as a thrill shot through me.

A lust I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Damn,” Cal whispered, his forehead against mine.

“Don’t like the way I kiss?” I said lightly, but ended on a little squeak.

“Nothing could be further from the truth. But if I don’t leave now, I’m not going to want to leave. And Margo? I don’t want to rush. I really like you.”

He kissed me again, quick and hard, his hand on the back of my neck.

Then he walked out with a wave, leaving me with half a pizza and a crooked grin.

I closed the door and leaned against it.

Had I seen that coming? Maybe. Yeah, I did. There was a hint of it when we worked together this weekend, a little spark.

I just didn’t expect it to feel so good.

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