Nice, very, very nice.

He started to move.

“I want you in my house, in my bed. I want you to move in by the weekend.”

My eyes were closed but they flew open and I saw he was looking at me.

I still wanted to take our relationship slow, he was talking hyper-drive.

I could not deal with this, not now. He hadn’t stopped moving and he felt good inside me.

I wrapped my arms and legs around him, sliding a hand in his hair.

“Lee…”

I didn’t intend to say anything else, just shut him up so I could concentrate.

“Jesus,” he buried his face in my neck, “there’s nothin’ better in the world than hearin’ you say my name when I’m inside you.” He slid in deep, filling me. “I’ve been waitin’ years to be right here.”

Holy crap.

His mouth was at my ear.

“I could be on assignment, in a desert as hot as an oven, in a jungle as close as fuck and sometimes I’d get through it dreamin’ of you sayin’ my name like that.”

Holy crap, crap, crap.

“I’ll move in by the weekend,” I said.

He lifted his head and smiled.

Fucking Lee.

* * *

I was in the bathroom swiping on makeup.

The bruise on my cheek was nearly gone and my mental body checkup declared only slight aches and pains after a day of no mishaps (and a night and morning of great sex which apparently was an effective muscle relaxant). I was thinking my luck was turning as yesterday, outside of finally doing it with Lee, my adventures only included one dead body which fortunately wasn’t mine. Therefore good and bad instead of all bad.

Then Lee walked into the bathroom wearing just the faded navy sweat-shorts.

I glanced at him in the mirror and tried to tamp down my panic.

In the heat of the moment, I’d agreed to move in.

Okay, so it was more about what he said than the heat of the moment, but I’d still agreed to move in.

Further, I’d just noticed something I hadn’t really taken in the night before. Judy had given me a makeup drawer in Lee’s bathroom vanity.

It was all too much.

He slid a fresh mug o’ java on the vanity counter and put my cell beside it.

“Your phone’s beeping,” he said.

I moved aside to make room as he prepared to shave. I took a sip of coffee and let my mind run wild.

Dear Lord in heaven, I was putting on makeup and Lee was shaving, at the same time, in the same room, after having sex, lots of sex, even sex in this very room!

I stood, frozen to the spot, and stared at him.

He lathered his cheeks with a thin gel and his eyes slid to the side. He checked me out from their corners.

“Something wrong?”

“I’m not really a bathroom sharer,” I informed him.

He looked back in the mirror and continued doing exactly what he was doing.

“Honey, it’s good you’re gorgeous or you’d be a pain in the ass.”

Well, I’m so sure.

I grabbed my phone, looked at the display and saw seven missed calls.

Yikes.

How did that happen?

I called my voicemail while I leaned as best I could on my half of the vanity (I had to admit, it was a big vanity… maybe I was being a bit of a wuss) and swept mascara on my lashes.

Four voicemails.

First up, Willie Moses.

“Indy, Willie… call me.”

Hmm.

Second, Marianne.

“I know Ally said it’s none of my business but give me a break, I live with my parents, I don’t have a life. Yours is better and I want to know everything. Let’s meet at The Hornet tonight if you can guarantee we won’t get shot at.”

Yikes.

Third, Stevie.

“Well? How’d it go? Don’t forget Chowleena, I’ll be leaving just before noon. Tod will be home tomorrow, early, so if you still have her for a sleep over, just leave a note. Kisses.”

Fourth, Duke (who obviously was talking before being given the beep).

“… ass in here or I’m gonna kill him.”

I poked myself in the eye with the mascara wand.

“Holy crap,” I said.

“That looked like it hurt.”

I was blinking fiercely, my eye was tearing up, making my other eye tear up and I was trying to see my phone to replay Duke’s message.

Lee tore off some toilet paper, handed it to me and took the phone.

“Listen!” I told him. “The last message.”

I opened my mouth as far as it would go, which was a feminine mechanism that one had to use to open one’s eyes as far as they would go. I dabbed at the tears and blotches of mascara, trying to avert a cosmetics disaster.

“Who does he want to kill?” Lee asked.

“I don’t know, it’s Duke. He has the patience of a gnat and a three centimeter fuse. Do you think it could be Rosie?”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know, it’s Duke!” I cried, exasperated. “He refuses to buy a cell phone or answering machine. He’s a fucking caveman.”

Lee was scrolling down my phone book and he punched a button.

“Dolores? It’s Lee. Can I talk to Duke?”

Quick Thinker Lee decided to call Duke and Dolores’s home phone. Simple. I hated it when I was an idiot. Thank God he was the private eye in the family.

Oh jeez, did I just think “in the family”?

Must… stop… brain.

I reapplied some shadow and fixed the mascara while Lee was talking and then he said, “Yeah? Got it. Thanks.”

I screwed on the cap to the mascara and threw it in the drawer while Lee flipped shut the cell and slid it on the counter. Then he calmly went back to shaving. I slid the drawer shut with my hip.

“Well?”

“The police took the tape down at the store. Willie called you to let you know and when he couldn’t get you, he called Duke. Apparently, there’s a crazy Italian guy at Fortnum’s saying he’s your new coffee guy. Jane called Dolores because Duke was getting heated. Dolores called the cops. They’re handling it.”

“What crazy Italian guy?”

Lee tilted his head to see his jaw and slid his razor up his neck.

“Don’t know.”

“I didn’t even know we were open today! We have to get down there.”

“Dolores didn’t seem upset.”

“Dolores lives with Duke and thinks he’s cuddly. She works at The Little Bear where people throw around their underwear. Dolores isn’t a good judge of when to get upset!”

Lee looked at me in the mirror. “I’m thinkin’ at this point, you aren’t either.”

I was dressed, khaki low-rider shorts (not Britney-Spears-low-rider but they showed a hint of back), sky-blue, fitted t-shirt with the word “Xanadu” across my chest in glittery lettering and a wide dark-brown belt with a thick matte-silver buckle.

I walked out and went to the closet and grabbed a pair of flip flops with ribbon straps with sky-blue funky shapes against khaki. I slid them on, snagged my purse and pulled it on my shoulder. I walked back to the bathroom, snatched up my phone and dropped it in my bag. Then I rested my hip on the edge of the counter and clicked my nails against the top, my other hand on my hip.

And I stared at Lee.

He grabbed a towel, wiped his face and threw it in the sink.

“Hey! You can’t just throw your towel in the sink! Who’s gonna fold that towel and put it back on the rail? I’ll tell you who it won’t be. Me!”

That’s when he grabbed my hips, pulled me to him and grinned.

“You’re tryin’ to break the land speed record for gettin’ an offer to move in rescinded, aren’t you?”

“No. And it was hardly an offer as much as sexual blackmail.”

His grin widened into a smile.

Fucking Lee!

“Hello!” I called. “Fortnum’s? My bread and butter? The family business for the last…” Wow, I didn’t even know how long it had been in the family, I’d have to wing it. “Umpteen years! Crazy Italian guy? Duke’s homicide threat? Ring a bell?”

He drew me closer to him. “Have I told you you’re cute?”

Grr.

* * *

We walked into Fortnum’s and my crazy morning got crazier.

Terry Wilcox, Goon Gary and The Moron were all facing off against Duke.

“What’s going on?” I asked when I walked in, my stomach lurching. You could feel the bad energy in the room.

No customers (thank God, kind of) and Jane was nowhere to be seen (thank God again).

“This idiot has brought the Italian guy back after the police took him away. Says he’s a fucking present,” Duke said.

“India. You look well,” Terry Wilcox said, his eyes sliding down the length of me.

Yuck.

I was getting that queasy feeling that my body seemed to save for my encounters with Terry Wilcox. I was hoping they would only number two, this one and the last.

Luckily, Lee’s hand felt warm and strong where it settled at my hip.

“Coxy,” Lee said.

“Lee,” Wilcox replied.

“You know him?” Duke asked.

“Yeah,” Lee said and that one syllable said he didn’t like him much.

Duke moved toward us at the same time that Lee put pressure on me to move behind him. I planted my feet and stayed where I was.

Goon Gary and The Moron were shifting, getting ready for action.

Great. Just what I needed, a brawl in Fortnum’s.

Wilcox decided to play peacemaker.

“There’s no need to get excited, boys,” he said. “India, you said you had a problem, you lost your coffee guy and were losing business. I’ve brought you a new one, from Italy, where they invented espresso. This is Antonio and he’s very talented.”

I looked at a man I hadn’t noticed who was standing behind Goon Gary. He looked like an Italian version of Rosie except better groomed. Slightly better.