Chapter 11

"Shit!" The lieutenant rolled away from Jessica, swung over to paw through the pile of his clothes and pull out the beeper. He pressed the button then rose and crossed to John's desk, making a call.

Still trembling from the erotic electricity that had flowed between them, Jessica lay there, watching him. He spoke briefly to someone, frowned, then slammed down the receiver.

"I take it that means no seconds," she asked wryly.

He sighed, started pulling on his clothes. "Gonna have to take a rain check, honey. That was my superior. Supposed to hurry up here with the investigation and get the hell back to the station for some stupid-ass meeting."

The investigation. The sweet forgetfulness of sex dissolved.

"I need to talk to your boss, honey. And to a Nick Tyler. They were both involved in the negotiations, right?" At her nod, he added, "Much as I hate to do it, you need to get up and get dressed. I don't suppose you know where to reach either one of them?"

She rose, struggled into her clothes. "No, they're gone."

At his raised-eyebrow glance, she added hastily, "I don't mean gone, like for good. See, the Benson place...the deal was all set, a huge commission...and they were...they, uh...well, John, anyway, said he was going out and get drunk."

He shook his head. "Guess I might be tempted to do the same thing."

Her voice shook as she added, "Why are you wanting to question them anyway? Surely you don't suspect anyone here had something to do with the fire? That's crazy. We wouldn't do something to lose that kind of money."

He walked out front with her. "Don't get shook up, honey. No one's accusing anyone here, of anything. But the fire did happen just before the closing of the sale. Naturally, we have to check all the angles. I'd better take off. Have your boss and the other guy phone the station whenever they do return."

Lunch time came and went. None of the men returned to the office. Jessica was left alone with her thoughts. And they weren't pleasant ones.

There was no way she could accuse Roy Prescott of anything, no matter how much she believed he was responsible. A belief shared by the others in the real estate off ice, she knew.

All her instincts told her it was the work of a professional, an arsonist hired by Prescott. But she had no proof.

She slumped at her desk, sighed. "So the feud goes on."

John looked terrible when he walked in the next morning. Grimly, wordlessly, he motioned for her to follow as he strode back to his office.

Jessica went after him, a little uneasy at his bearing. Inside, she closed the door after her and turned to him.

John pulled her to his body, nuzzled his face in the hollow of her neck. Jessica held him tightly, feeling the tension drain from his taut shoulders.

He lifted his head, grinned at her ruefully. "Thanks, I needed that, as they say in the commercials," he quipped.

She smiled back, kissed him hungrily.

"I just needed something good, after all this," he said.

"And after the night you probably spent too," she retorted.

He grimaced. "God, no shit. Luckily, I don't remember most of it."

Her fingertip traced the faint darkening of a bruise on his cheekbone. "Like how you got that?"

He nodded. "Saw it when I was shaving this morning, and can't for the life of me remember where it came from, or who gave it to me," he chuckled grimly.

John gathered her closer. "You know, and I know just who's probably responsible for all this. But Lord, Jessie, what to do about it? If anything can be done."

Her heart went out to him. He sounded so tired, so.. . so defeated.

"Damn, Jessie, I wonder if he really will pull it off," John muttered. "Really take us down."

"No!" She clung to him, knowing she had the means of preventing it.

"No," she repeated, drawing away, turning to leave. "It'll be okay, John, I know it."

Back at her desk, she sat down. She'd almost done it before; she would do it now. For John, the company. . . but most of all, for herself.

The phone rang.

Jessica looked at it. She knew.

"Graham Real Estate. May I help you?" her voice was breathless, and she hated herself for betraying the flush of excitement that had started coursing her veins.

"Hello, Jessica." His voice, in contrast, was suave and contained a hint of amusement.

"Mr. Prescott. Somehow, I'm not surprised to hear from you," she said, trying vainly to sound cool and composed. "Have the police been to see you?"

He chuckled. She felt a shiver run up her spine. "Oh, yes, they've been here and gone." He offered nothing more, and she frowned. "Well."

"Well, what?"

She floundered, "Well, did...did anything happen?"

He laughed. An easy, amused laugh. "In other words," Prescott said, "did I do it and are they going to arrest me? No, Jessica. On both counts."

So he's denying he had a part in the fire, she thought, not believing it for a minute.

"You're not convinced, I'm sure," Prescott added. "Well, pet, that's too bad, but I'm not about to try and assure you of my innocence. Let me say just one thing. I know Jerry Benson from way back...back when he had nothing and started building that fortune of his. And one thing Jerry never does, never did...that is, give up something he didn't want any more."

"But that doesn't make sense," she protested, bewildered.

"Oh, it does. To someone like Jerry," Prescott replied. "He hates to have his possessions belonging to others...even when he doesn't want them any longer. And he no longer wanted that imagine showplace of his."

"Sure, and his switching to our company didn't bother you at all, right?" she snipped.

"Of course it did, pet," he said. "But in that talk with Benson, when he told me he was switching to your company, I got the distinct impression that it would end up to my advantage anyway. As I said, I've known Jerry for a long, long time."

"Then why didn't you warn us?"

"I didn't want to," he said, the sound of laughter back in his voice. "I'm sure the police in their infinite wisdom, will discover enough evidence to reach the same conclusion I did. This time, I'm afraid, Jerry's paranoia went a little too far."

He cleared his throat and Jessica felt a sudden tension in her body.

"Enough of this, pretty Jessica. That's not the reason I called. I'm sure you know that."

"Wellll," she hedged.

"Yes," he chuckled. "Don't be coy, sweet. You do remember that offer I made before. The fuck...the job. Either, or both. Take your pick. Are you taking me up on it?"

She hesitated. Even though she'd made the decision moments before he'd called, now she was a little wary. But she remembered the look on John's face. She felt the longing in her body.

"I don't want to work for you," she said slowly. "I really do like my job here...but. . . "

"Yes.. . do go on, pet," he urged huskily.

"I...I do want to fuck you," she blurted. "I...God, how I want you."

The man didn't bother to hide the triumph in his voice. "Excellent. Now, I dis-like unnecessary layers of clothing in a female. Do discard your panties and bra, pet...I'll be over in a few minutes."

He hung up and Jessica sat, staring at the phone. Then, with quivering excitement, she hurried to the bathroom, to do just what he'd instructed.