He thought of James Morgan, and that cooled him off better than any stern self-talk. When he glanced at Olivia again, he only noticed that the blanket had fallen almost completely, and she was shivering in the air-conditioned chill. He walked over, tugged it up over her, and returned to bed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ricky picked me up at seven, and we rode to a diner he’d scoped out. I presume the food was decent, though I was too caught up in conversation to taste it. Even the possibility that our evening plans would be scuttled again didn’t dampen our mood. His father had called him in to deal with an escalating situation. If it couldn’t be resolved peacefully today, Ricky would have to help handle it tonight.

“Dad’s promised me tomorrow night off. If you’re free . . .”

“The cabin?”

He smiled. “That’s what I was hoping. Makes me feel like a cheap bastard, though. Promise you a romantic getaway and take you to my family’s cabin in Wisconsin. But you did seem okay with it the last time . . .”

“Um, more than ‘okay with it,’ as I recall. The answer is yes. Absolutely yes.”

“Great. It’s a date, then. Tomorrow night at the cabin, no matter what other shit comes up. I have his word on that.”

As we walked to the bike afterward, Ricky slowed and glanced along the busy road.

“Not really the place for a proper goodbye kiss.” His gaze swung behind the diner.

“Yes,” I said. “And please.”

The back was clear, with only a few half-dead bushes to navigate. I tugged him between the bushes and pulled him into a kiss that took about 0.5 seconds to go from “Good morning” to “God, I’ve missed you.” My hands in his hair, the kiss deep and devouring, me up against the wall, as he pressed between my legs and—

He cut himself short with a groan, and then shifted back to readjust my skirt.

“Sorry,” he said. “Wrong time and place. Just . . . skirt.”

“It tempts you in spite of yourself?”

“It does. Kind of like a half-open gate.”

When I sputtered a laugh, he said, “That didn’t sound right, did it?”

“Put it this way. I don’t need to wear a skirt for work. If the gate is half open, that’s because I left it half open.” I ran his hand up my bare thigh to my panties. “See? Only half open. Meaning I am amenable to the possibility, but there are no expectations.”

“I’m fine with expectations. Pretty damn good with them, actually.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Mmm, not really.”

I hooked my hands around his neck again. He played with the edge of my panties and then . . . not the edge of my panties. I arched against the wall as his fingers slid into me.

“Very, very sweet,” I said.