Page 28 of Tell Me Your Desires

Jaime chuckled. “I guess he talked his way into your life.”

Anya nodded. “He did. I looked for his momma or siblings, but couldn’t find any.

I even asked around to see if he belonged to anyone, but no one claimed him.

” Anya recalled how scared she had been taking in such a tiny kitten.

If the thing had died on her watch—especially after everything she’d been through and why she’d moved in the first place—Anya didn’t know if she would have recovered from it.

But she didn’t know Jaime well enough to get that deep.

So, Anya would give Jaime an abridged version.

“I’d never had a pet before, and I’m pretty sure he’d never had a human before, so we learned together. ”

“No pets growing up?”

Anya shook her head. “Military brat,” she explained vaguely. “It never made sense to have pets when you never knew when or where you’d be.” She took a bite of pizza, hoping Jaime wouldn’t ask her to expand on that.

It didn’t take Jaime years of detective skills to determine that Anya didn’t want to elaborate on her past any further once she had started stuffing her face.

That was understandable, though. They barely knew each other.

Wasn’t this the awkward stage of figuring out how much to say and when to say it?

Awkward stage? That rattled around uncomfortably in Jaime’s brain for a minute. What the hell did she think this was? Confusing as hell is what it is, Jaime answered silently. Still, she found herself wanting to learn more about this intriguing woman.

“Why Derek?”

“Sorry?”

“The cat. Why did you name him Derek?”

“Meow?”

“She wasn’t calling you, silly. Don’t come over here begging for more scraps because you aren’t getting any!” Anya leaned forward and lowered her voice. “He’s totally getting more, but don’t tell him that. He’ll be insufferable.” She offered Jaime another slice of pizza.

“No, thank you. Four is my limit,” Jaime said as she patted her tummy.

Anya closed the pizza box and set it aside. “I named him Derek after my favorite player on the Yankees.”

“You’re a Yankees fan?” For some reason, that information surprised Jaime. Anya was the exact opposite of everything Taylor was.

“Don’t tell me you’re a Dodgers fan.”

Jaime laughed and shook her head. “I don’t watch much baseball, actually.”

Surprising. Anya stood and motioned for Jaime to follow her to the living room, where they settled on the couch again.

“I would have figured you for a sports fan,” she said, curling her legs up under her and pulling the blanket over her.

This was one of her favorite routines. Once she was done feeding herself and Derek, she would sit on the couch, bundle up under a blanket—despite the weather outside—pull her phone out, doomscroll on various social media sites, and watch or listen to the TV.

It was a good way of unwinding on her nights off when she couldn’t sleep due to her erratic sleep schedule.

Jaime slid a coaster closer to her and placed her half-drunk beer down before positioning herself in the corner of the couch. One arm was draped over the back, one leg lay across the cushion of the couch, while the other sat firmly on the floor.

“I don’t have much time to watch sports, and it was never a big thing in the house…before.” Jaime shrugged. “When I do get a chance, I usually try to catch a WNBA game or two. Maybe some college games.”

Anya observed Jaime with interest. For someone Anya suspected was on edge most of the time, Jaime’s position was casual and open. Inviting and fucking sexy.

“Hmm.” That was all her brain could muster up at the moment.

Anya tore her eyes away from the way Jaime’s legs were spread, the way her shirt lifted slightly at the hem to show a bit of skin, and the way the veins popped in Jaime’s strong hands as they rested on the soft fabric of the couch.

“There has to be something that you do to take your mind off of everything you must see every day. Something mindless that relaxes you.”

Jaime stared at Anya for a long moment, a smirk playing on her lips. Anya’s gaze never wavered. Jaime should have known that a woman like Anya wouldn’t be intimidated or flustered by subtle, silent innuendos when her job was literally to talk about and play out desires.

Jaime chuckled at the ridiculousness of the situation.

She hadn’t flirted with anyone in a long time.

Clearly, she was out of practice. And she was out of her fucking mind.

As a detective, she had no clue what Anya’s involvement was in Jaime’s case.

Her gut said Anya was innocent. But was that really Jaime’s gut or that place just a little lower that was talking?

“I box.” Jaime did a couple of punches in the air to demonstrate. “The physicality of it helps me purge a lot of the excess energy, and pummeling the bag allows me to release the anger.”

That explains the veins in the hands. “So, sitting here like this is boring for you,” Anya guessed.

“No.” Jaime looked around, appreciating the calming environment Anya had provided here.

As with the kitchen, the space was clean and modern.

Not sterile like Jaime imagined places like this would feel, but cozy.

Perhaps that was Anya’s influence with the plants, artwork, and various knick-knacks that lined the mantle of the stone fireplace.

Despite the number of baubles, the place didn’t look cluttered.

Not the way it had been when Taylor had brought home everything she had found ‘cute’ and put them all over Jaime’s apartment.

“Quite the opposite.” Jaime didn’t quite know what she felt, but it wasn’t boredom.

Being here with Anya was exciting. Though it would be wise for Jaime to be mindful here.

She felt her pulse pick up whenever she locked eyes with Anastasia Grant.

“I kinda like whatever it is you have going on here?”

“Whatever I have going on?” Anya glanced around, trying to see her home through Jaime’s eyes.

She had a few souvenirs from her past, things she’d picked up from her travels, or whatever military base they ended up at.

And, of course, she couldn’t resist a few cat figurines that reminded her of Derek.

None of them told the true story of Anastasia Grant; those things were locked away, but it was a glimpse.

It made her wonder what these things told Jaime.

Jaime nodded as she shifted a little on the couch.

Being around this woman made Jaime feel far braver than she would usually feel.

“It’s peaceful. I like the vibe. Relaxing, you know?

” She could only regard Anya with a genuine, heartfelt smile.

“This is the second time today that we’ve ended up here on the couch with blankets. Is this your routine?”

Anya smiled. “I told you blankets work. You do seem less tense.”

Jaime snorted at that. Was tense how Anya chose to describe Jaime’s usual personality?

Huh. She wasn’t wrong. Jaime couldn’t recall the last time she didn’t feel tense.

“True. But I think it’s the company more than the blankets.

I enjoy this with you.” Jaime noted how Anya’s features softened as she admitted to that. “You’re calming.”

It was a compliment that Anya wasn’t expecting, especially since Jaime had shown up here wanting an alibi for Anya’s whereabouts during Maisie’s time of death.

The human psyche is incredibly unpredictable.

Unsure of how to respond to the flattery, Anya resorted to answering Jaime’s earlier question about her routine.

“This is only one of my routines,” Anya said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It depends on the day, the time, and the weather.”

Jaime perked up at that. “Am I keeping you from something? I’ve been here all day, mostly talking about myself. I never once thought to ask you if you had plans or…”

“Or if I’m working tonight?” Anya guessed. She knew she was right when Jaime lowered her eyes, losing some of that calm she had spoken of before. She narrowed her eyes and gestured vaguely at Jaime. “I have the night off, so you can stop with that.”

“What?”

“Bunching up your muscles and tightening your jaw. You’re going to get a headache and totally ruin this vibe you claim to like.”

Jaime chuckled and immediately rolled her shoulders to release the tension. “You’re pretty good at reading people.”

If you only knew. “It’s not hard when I could almost hear your teeth grinding from here, Jaime.”

“Touche.” Jaime studied Anya for a moment, realizing she wasn’t going to get much more information about her routines out of her. This woman was excellent at listening, but when it came to talking about herself, Anya was very selective about what she revealed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Does it require handcuffs, being taken downtown, or alibis?” Anya quipped.

Jaime’s pulse jumped at the mention of handcuffs. She remembered all too well what it was like being the one in handcuffs with Lady A in control. How would it feel to have the roles reversed? Curiously enough, being here in Anya’s home, domination wasn’t what interested Jaime.

“No handcuffs, no interrogations. I just want to know why you haven’t kicked my ass out yet?”

Anya thought about giving Jaime some sarcastic answer, but they had spent the better part of the day being fairly open and honest with each other. Why stop now? “Maybe because I’m enjoying this with you, too,” She said finally, her voice quiet yet full of truth.

What Jaime was about to do was either the worst idea she’d ever had in her life or the best. But she did know that if she didn’t do what her mind, body, and soul were begging her to do in this moment, she would regret it for the rest of her life.

She’d already lived with the ‘what ifs’ when it came to Taylor’s death.

She couldn’t do that with whatever this was with Anya.