He grinned at me. Then his hand came to my jaw, tipped my head back and he touched his mouth to mine.

When he lifted his head half an inch, he muttered, “Brilliant. Now I know I can pull the dangerous job card to get you to be sweet.” My eyes narrowed. “Finally,” he whispered against my lips as both his arms closed around me, “I’ve found a good use for it.”

Then he touched his mouth to mine again, this time longer, his mouth wasn’t closed, neither was mine and there was liberal tongue action.

Now that was brilliant.

When he broke the kiss and walked me back to North, I didn’t share with him that he didn’t have to use his job or freak me out enough to get what he wanted. All he had to do was kiss me and I’d be putty in his hands.

Not even that, all he had to do was call me baby.

* * * * *

Mitch took me home and kissed me at his door, not long and lingeringly, which I had to admit sucked. Then he told me not to worry if I woke up in the morning and he still wasn’t there. Whatever this was, it was going to take time, apparently.

Then he disappeared.

I washed my face and moisturized and got into my nightie and his flannel. Then I lit his candles. Then I put one of my chill out lists on his stereo.

Then I did something I hadn’t had time to do with any attention.

I inspected his house.

You could learn a lot just from music and if his music was garbage that would be an instant dealbreaker.

It was then I snooped without hesitation. He pushed this deal so I was going to find out what I got myself into.

I already knew his sister had good taste and his apartment looked like a show home but comfier and more lived in. I’d learned the day I cleaned it but also living there for a few days that Mitch wasn’t exactly tidy but he wasn’t a slob. Opened and unopened mail on a variety of surfaces (this I had organized). Sports jackets thrown over his very cool dining room chairs (these I had hung up). Sports magazines here and there, many of which should long since have been thrown away (these I’d stacked).

It was then I found he had great taste in music, excellent actually, more eclectic than mine and he invested heavily in CDs which was almost unheard of these days with MP3 but it was something I liked. He also had great taste in movies as evidenced by his DVD collection, heavy on the action with a good intermingling of thrillers. We were a half and half with the same taste in books. He read thrillers, as did I, but he also read true crime, which I did not.

I moved to the kitchen and noted what I’d previously noted. He drank American beer in bottles. I also noted he clearly cooked and when he did, he cooked more than chili. It wasn’t like he had a larder readily stocked just in case he was in the mood to whip up a cake. But he had spices that would indicate his culinary arsenal included more than chili and staples that evidenced that arsenal was a lot more than chili.

His medicine cabinet in the bathroom confirmed what I knew, that he didn’t use product in his hair. It also gave me the added and weirdly interesting fact that he was an ibuprofen person, just like me. No aspirin or acetaminophen to be found, again, just like me (if you didn’t count the recent addition of children’s Tylenol).

I stopped snooping, started listening to music, stopped listening to music then, yet again, I crawled into Mitch’s bed.

His bed was awesome but he really needed a mattress from Pierson’s. His mattress didn’t suck but it was nowhere near a Spring Deluxe. It wasn’t even in the same range as a Slumber Excelsior.

I decided to focus on advising Mitch on back health and the importance of having the proper mattress rather than the fact that I was again in Detective Mitch Lawson’s very cool apartment. I was again going to sleep by climbing into Detective Mitch Lawson’s very cool bed. But this time after the scary but undeniable fact that we’d had our first official date during which I had a feeling I agreed to be his girlfriend.

And throughout all this, I did not once slip out of the real world where Mitch lived and back into Mara World and mostly this was because I was concentrating on trying to keep at bay worried thoughts of Mitch out there providing backup on something that was safe…ish.

Then I fell asleep.

* * * * *

And now it was now. I was alone, as in no kids, in Mitch’s apartment, in Mitch’s bed with Mitch as, apparently, sometime during the night he’d come home (safe and sound, thank God) and got in bed with me.

Oh boy.

Then I decided, since he worked late, he needed his beauty rest so I was going to slip out quietly and let him have it.

Carefully, I started to move and got nary an inch before his arm around my belly got tight. I went back two inches, hit his warm, solid body and I felt his face burrow in my hair.

“Where you goin’?” he mumbled sleepily.

“I thought I’d get up but let you rest,” I offered thoughtfully.

“Unh-unh,” he growled decisively.

Oh boy!

Chapter Twenty-Two

Oatmeal for Lunch

“Back health is very important.”

Yes, this was what came out of my mouth after Mitch denied my exit from his bed.

His arm got tighter and he murmured, “What?”

“Lumbar support in mattresses, your mattress is very comfortable but you need more lumbar support. You have an active lifestyle but everyone needs to take care of their back.”

Mitch was silent. Then I felt his body start shaking. Then I felt my body moving and that was because Mitch was turning it to face him. Then I was facing him. Then I was feeling his arms around me and his hands moving on me over my nightie but I was too busy staring at his handsome face, his smiling lips and his somewhat sleepy and way more than somewhat hot eyes to pay attention to his hands.

“You gonna set me up with a good mattress, baby?” he asked, his voice still slightly growly with sleep and way hot. So hot I felt it seven places and those would be my scalp tingling, my br**sts swelling, my chest getting warm, between my legs getting wet and all my toes on both feet curling.

“Uh…” I mumbled, he grinned and rolled so he was mostly on top of me. That was when I whispered, “Mitch.”

And that was when his lips hit mine, his eyes held mine and he whispered, “Let’s see if I can tear that cocoon wide open and let my Mara fly.”

Then his head slanted and he kissed me.

His kiss was not sleepy. It was sweet, warm, gentle and wet. Then it got sweeter, warmer and wetter but not gentler. I realized my hands were on his sleek, warm skin and his sleek, warm skin felt really freaking good and my hands wanted to explore. So I let them. Then I realized his hands over my nightie were exploring too and I liked it, a lot. About this time his kiss got even sweeter, even warmer, a whole lot wetter and way deeper and I liked that even better. So much, I kissed him back the same way.