Page 44 of Heaven Help Me

I let out a curse that ends on a moan, trying to push her knee away. I need caffeine and a little something on my stomach before I can tolerate pain like that.

“He’s gone!” Valentina hollers in a voice even more throaty than usual.

Keeping my useless hand over my private parts, I try to sit up. We’re tangled together in a space not made for two sleeping adults. We finally manage to sit upright after some cursing and a few pointed glares at each other. You’d think we’d be kinder to each other after sleeping together, literally and figuratively, but that’s not how we roll.

“What do you mean, gone?”

“As in, not here, ciuccio,” she snaps back, running her hands over her hair to smooth down the wild strands.

I look toward the empty spot where the car was parked overnight. “Guess he’s an early riser. Wait ’til Bettina hears you botched a stakeout.”

I can’t help it. It’s in my DNA to tease her. To push her buttons and watch her light up in pissed-off flames.

Valentina snorts her indignation. “Oh, I didn’t botch the stakeout. You did. You had morning shift.”

I’m already shaking my head. “No, morning shift was you. Besides, stakeouts are kinda your thing, not mine. I sell suits, baby.”

She gives me a dirty look, but it lacks heat when there’s a line across her cheek from where her face was pressed against my shirt all night. My brain flashes to her head tossed back, riding my cock last night.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted by my impressive body…” I drawl.

She reaches down to the floorboard and comes up with her elbow cocked. Her sandal hits me square in the chest. “I hope your screams for help one day go unanswered. I hope your marshmallow always catches on fire. I hope your hot coffee is cold and your iced coffee is warm.”

I laugh at her creativity, which pisses her off more. She climbs over the front seat, giving me a perfect view of her rounded ass. I pat her on said ass as she goes, which earns me a growl. I mean, she had my dick in her mouth last night, I’m pretty sure that gives me the right to touch her ass, right? We didn’t exactly lay out ground rules.

I climb out next, getting the door open and to my feet to stretch my aching back. Then I come around and open her door, squatting down to slip her sandal back on her foot. She doesn’t say thank you, but she doesn’t wish me death either. It’s progress.

“I think I’m too old for stakeouts,” I grumble, climbing back behind the wheel and firing up the engine.

Valentina grunts. “Yeah. Used to be a lot easier, that’s for sure.”

I pull out of the parking lot and head toward home. There’s silence between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. Something switched in my head last night and I’m not even sure why. I’ve still been holding on to resentment between us. For her stabbing me. For the way we parted back when we were teens.

And yet, I like Valentina.

There. I admitted it. Even just to myself. I actually like this woman and I don’t want to be competing against her anymore. I doubt she’d fully admit we’ve competed against each other our whole lives, but it’s true nonetheless.

And I’m done with it.

“Let’s go home, change, and head to the clinic.”

Valentina blinks and then swallows hard, like she forgot about the broken condom. “Okay.”

Thank fuck she didn’t fight me on it like she usually would. Maybe we both turned a corner last night. We get home, both of us heading for our separate bathrooms to shower and change. We meet back downstairs and I have a plate of scrambled eggs ready for us. She eats while leaning against the island and rinses the plates, thanking me for breakfast under her breath. She’s back in a floral dress, this one knee length, which has me staring at her calves, especially when she gets back in the car and the hem rides up her thighs a bit.

Jesus. What is wrong with me? We fucked just last night. I should have her out of my system by now.

I have a bad feeling that might never happen.

The clinic is small but already has a few people waiting in the chairs out front. I leave Valentina in one of them while I go in the back to speak to Georgia, a woman I dated a good ten years back who’s since gotten married and had a baby. We’re still friends because I’m the kind of guy who’s still friends with all his exes.

Except for Valentina, of course.

“Georgia! You’re looking like a ray of sunshine this morning!”

The woman, seated at a desk as she types away on the computer, nails clacking away, spins at my greeting. Georgia brightens when she sees me. As she pops up from the chair, I give her a hug and kiss her cheek.

“How’s the baby?”