Page 117 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“Hello?” Cameron answered the phone.

“Hey, buddy,” Jared’s voice sounded strained, even in his own ears. He glanced up. The bedspread was motel thin, and the light on the other side shined right through it, casting Cat’s form into delicious, seductive shadow. “Oh, damn.”

“What’s that?” Cam asked. “Hey, where are you?”

“Joplin,” Jared croaked, watching Cat bend over her suitcase. Her hum lowered to a purr as she arched her back, her fanny in the air, and stretched to lift items out of her bag. It was all Jared could do not to groan.

“Missouri?” Cam asked. “That’s great. You’re halfway there. How’s Cat?”

“Fine,” Jared gulped. He watched Cat’s shadow as she shimmied out of her shorts with all the sensuality of a burlesque dancer. When she stepped out of them and tossed them onto the bed, Jared gasped.

“Can I speak with her?” Cam asked.

“No!” Jared snapped. “She’s in the shower.”

“Really?” Cam asked.

“We’re sharing a room,” Jared explained.

“Oh,” Cameron said.

“But it’s not what you think,” Jared said. “Really. Nothing’s happened.”

“Okay,” Cam said.

“Absolutely nothing,” Jared said. “I’m treating her just like a little sister.”

“I’m sure you are,” Cam agreed.

“Yep, you don’t have to worry about me making a move on her. No sirree,” Jared said.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Cam said. “I believe you.”

“You do?” Jared asked.

“Of course, I do,” Cam said.

“Oh,” Jared said. Glancing back at the curtain, he watched her unsnap her bra and slide it down her arms. He couldn’t talk to his friend in this condition. As it was, he figured he’d have to go outside and bench press the van just to regain his sanity. “Look, we’ll call you when we get to Arizona.”

“Okay. And Jared?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Cam said.

`“Right,” Jared said and hung up. He flopped back onto the bed and watched her pull on a short robe, tying it about her waist while still humming. The longing to rip the bedspread down, dive across the space between them, push her onto her back and climb on top of her was as primal an urge as he’d ever felt. Fighting it tooth and nail, he fisted the sheet in his hands and began to bang his head on the hard mattress. He doubted it would help, but at least it was something to do.

“Jared, what do you know about cars?” Cat asked.

“Why?” He glanced up from the map he’d been studying.

“Well.” She grimaced. “I’m not positive, but I think the white puffs of steam coming out from under the hood are a bad thing.”

“Pull over,” he ordered, tossing his phone aside.

Cat flipped on her signal and veered onto the shoulder. The steam was now billowing from beneath the hood. She glanced at Jared.

“Overheated.” He frowned at her.