Plum Girl (Romance) (34 page)

"Yeah!" the old woman barked gruffly. "Oh, hi. Are you Mabel?" Lonnie asked sheepishly. "Yeah!" she barked again, and Lonnie quickly took in the image. Mabel Wills was a heavyset, seventyish woman with thick gray hair in a loose Martha-Washington upsweep and an unforgiving frown. She certainly didn't appear to be in the mood to entertain—much less confess to Murder One—but Lonnie hadn't driven all this way just to turn and run. As much as she wanted to at that moment.

"Uh, hi there," she began. "My name is Lonnie Kelley, and I'm currently working at Twi—"

"Sometime today!" Mabel commanded with impatience. "What the hell do you want already?"

Lonnie swallowed hard, and shifted her eyes, avoiding direct contact with Mabel's all-but-loathing stare. "Well, you see, I'm sure you've heard about Lunther Bell's"—
cold-blooded murder
—"passing."

"Who? Oh, right. The pervert. So, what about it?"

"Um, well, I don't mean to impose on you, Ms. Wills, but—"

"What's with the 'Ms.' crap? Everyone calls me M. W.—Maw for short—and you can do the same, or get the hell off my property." Lonnie nodded thoughtfully, as if that were more than reasonable.

Let's face it, Mabel made Delia seem genteel, but Lonnie was trying to go with the flow. "Oh, certainly, M-maw."
Jeez, that sounds dumb.
"Anyway, like I was saying, I was hoping I could ask you about Lunther Bell. Specifically, I wanted to know if—"

"What, already! Damn it, get to the point! I haven't got all year for you to spit it out. Jesus H. Christ. You're startin' to annoy the shit out of me!"

Annoying the shit out of someone hardly seemed like the precursor to a heart-to-heart, but Lonnie continued anyway, because she didn't know what else to do. She blurted: "Did you quit Twit & Bell because Lunther Bell had sexually harassed you?" Then she chastised herself. That hardly conveyed heartfelt concern. But was it her fault that
Maw's
drill-sergeant bit had broken her concentration?

"Did he what? Try plain English, willya?" Well, she'd stopped shouting; that was good. "Do you mean, did he tell me about the baby shit? Is that what you mean?"

"Well... yes." She sighed in frustration. This was going horribly! Obviously Mabel was not traumatized by Lunther's antics. Unless he'd scarred her so much that she'd turned burly as a coping mechanism.

"You know what?" Lonnie backed away as she spoke, dying to make her escape. "I'm really sorry I bothered you, Ms.—uh, Maw," she said with as much sweetness as she could muster. It was all aspartame, of course, but as long as it got her out of there, she really didn't care.

Mabel only frowned more, until her mouth was contorted into a sneering, down-turned streak across her disgusted face.

"Um... best of luck with... you know... life." Lonnie gave a quick little wave. "Take care!" She scooted to her car as fast as she could, fiddled with the lock on the door—the whole time, casting nervous glances over her shoulder, while Mabel remained planted in the same spot, scowling and staring—and finally, slid into the front seat.

She reversed out of the gravel drive and peeled away, thinking,
never assume anything, and oh yeah, stop at J. P. Licks on the way home; you deserve a waffle cone.

* * *

Hours later, Lonnie was with Dominick, in his bed. She was slowly moving up and down on his body, trying to get a steady rhythm going. But all she was getting was more frustrated because she was out of practice. When his body jerked up, hers would move up, too, and when she tried to press down hard, she couldn't get him as deep as she wanted. She had her legs straddled over his, and her hands propping herself up, as she desperately rocked her pelvis back and forth. Her moans were changing into strangled sighs of frustration.

One of Dominick's hands let go of Lonnie's naked butt and moved up into her hair, which was tangled and damp from perspiration. "Baby," he breathed, and gently pulled her down to him. He captured her mouth in a soft kiss, and then moved his mouth to her ear. "Will you let me help you?" he whispered. She could hear the shortness of his breath, and knew he was feeling just as frustrated and hot as she was.

She answered him by sighing, pressing her lips to his, and relaxing her whole body against him. He licked into her mouth, slid both his hands around her smooth back, and started to sit up.

Lonnie had a vague, arousing sense of Dominick's stomach muscles contracting and her legs moving out in front of her as he guided them both into a sitting position. He was still inside her, while he kissed down her throat and back up to her mouth. Then Dominick tugged on her legs, bringing himself deeper. She shuddered.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked suddenly.

"Oh, no... no," she murmured, and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Within seconds, she was on her back, with her head at the foot of the bed and Dominick was driving into her.

His steady thrusts quickened, and the friction overheated her in the most carnal and exciting way. "Wrap your legs around me," he urged.

Lonnie pressed down on the bed with her hands and brought her legs up to lock them around Dominick's back.
Oh, my God.
Her new angle had Dominick thrusting against a supersensitive place deep inside her she'd never even known existed. She clutched the comforter and cried out, and he bucked his hips harder and faster.

She barely realized that all the rocking had moved their bodies forward, and now her head was hanging over the edge of the bed. "I... Yes...
Ahh! "
she started breathlessly, then shut her eyes and gave herself up to the heat and lust and orgasm that she could feel coming with each thrust. As soon as she heard Dominick's choppy, hard breaths, she knew he was about to come, too, and it sent her over the edge. She climaxed, crying out mindlessly, and clinging to his sweat-slicked back.

He let out a strained cry; she looked up because she wanted to see his face when he came.

As soon as he was done, he buried his head in her neck and covered her entire body with his. Their sweat fused, and their breathing slowly returned to normal. Then he rolled onto his back, hugging her tightly, and rolling her with him. Her head ended up nestled in the crook of his neck, and she felt so content that she had to fight the urge to say "I love you." She knew it was just the mellowness and satisfaction and postorgasmic bliss that made her want to croon all sorts of romantic things to him, and she had to keep that in check.

"I love you," he whispered.

Her heart dropped. She felt a rush of euphoria, and suddenly her just-mellow-and-post-orgasmic theory seemed like a lot of crap.
I think I love you, too! You make me so happy!
But she couldn't say it. She hadn't uttered those words since Jake, and now she was afraid to say them out loud.

So, instead, she brought her hand to the center of his chest and placed it over his heart. She kissed his jaw and throat, and then replaced her hand with her mouth and kissed him there. Suddenly, she felt one tear drop from her eye, but she didn't know why, and before long, they both fell asleep. With her cheek pressed against Dominick's heart.

* * *

Lonnie rolled over onto her side, but couldn't make her heavy-lidded eyes open all the way. She snuggled closer to him and listened to his even breathing.

They'd made love twice that night. The first time had left a lingering burning sensation on her as she drifted off to sleep. A few hours later, he'd stirred in bed. She'd rolled a little closer, covered his thigh with her own, and things moved quickly from there. Instinctively, he stroked between her legs, and she climbed on top of him, having no problem finding her rhythm this time. Fortunately, one of them woke up enough to grab a condom from the nightstand, and they moved against each other—into each other—hard and fast. She sucked on his earlobe while he made sounds like she was fucking him into ecstasy. When he came, he held her to him, and there was something more possessive—more savage—between them than ever before.

The truth was, she was too happy to sleep. She was so elated to be here with Dominick rather than with Terry. Or Jake. Or any man in the world. Just then, he shifted onto his side, which she knew meant that he would wake up any minute. He always slept on his back.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his hand over his eyes, to coax them awake. Then he got up and walked to the bathroom, naked. She fully appreciated the view as the bathroom door closed. His body was the stuff of carnal fantasies, and that butt was about the most perfect peach she'd ever sunk her teeth into. Well,
not hard.
She heard the sink run, then stop; she sighed.

Dominick was one hundred and eighty pounds of gorgeous man, whom she pretty certainly
loved,
and she still had trouble believing all of it was real. He slid under the covers again.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi. You're awake," he said, and draped his arm over her. She hugged him tightly and listened to his heart, which she loved to do, because it made her feel closer to him somehow. A silence fell over them for several minutes. She figured there was no need to fill the silence when they were so obviously in sync with each other in every way.

"So was it like this with Terry?" he asked. His tone was mild, as if the question
hadn't
just come out of nowhere. She lifted her head up.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her eyes blinking in confusion.

"The sex," he said calmly. "Who's better in bed, me or him?"

"Well, if I had to guess, I would say you." Placing kisses on his chest, she repeated, "You, baby. There's no doubt in my mind."

"So then I'm better?" he asked again.

She assumed he was kidding, although she failed to see the humor. In fact, mentioning Terry at all seemed like a real buzz kill. But she wanted to keep things light, so she just grinned, and said, "Get real. Like I would know."

"Yeah, right," he said... kiddingly?

"What?" she asked, hoping she'd heard him wrong and that his tone hadn't been sarcastic. Suddenly, she noticed that although his arm was around her, there was no real grip. It was just lying limply across her side. "What are you talking about?" she asked again.

"Nothing. I'm just kidding," he said.

But she wasn't convinced. Why would he have said it at all? She pulled back from him. "You know I didn't sleep with Terry," she reminded him.

"Except for that night he came to visit."

"I told you that was completely platonic," she replied hotly.

"Okay, okay, relax. I'm only joking."

"You are?"

"Uh... yeah."

"You are not joking. You're being serious!"

"What are you getting so defensive about?" he asked. So now he was turning it around on her—where was this
coming
from?

"Dominick, you're implying that I lied to you about my relationship with Terry. Jeez, it wasn't
even
a relationship—it was nothing. Do you not believe that all of a sudden? Are you implying that I actually
did
sleep with Terry, when I told you I didn't?"

"Look, Lonnie..." He averted his gaze. "You're making a big deal out of nothing."

"So then, you know I'm telling you the truth?"

"Uh... yeah. Whatever you say."

"Don't patronize me! This isn't like you—what's going on? Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" he asked, and rolled onto his back, still not looking at her.

"Like an asshole."

After a beat of silence, he shrugged. "Fine. Let's just forget it." As much as she wanted to forget it, she couldn't let it drop yet. It wasn't just his so-called joke; it was the way he was now acting distant and clueless. One hardly needed a lifetime of dating experience to recognize that textbook-guy ploy a mile away. Something was up with him, and she needed to know what it was.

Meanwhile, he rolled over onto his side, as if he were simply tired and going to beddy bye. As if she didn't know that he always slept on his back!

She pulled on his shoulder until he faced her again. "Wait a minute. Don't turn away from me. I want to know why you made that comment about Terry."

"It was just a question. Jesus, you don't have to make a federal case out of it." She waited for more elaboration that never came.

"Is that all you have to say?" He shrugged and said nothing else. She sat upright in bed. "I don't understand this," she argued calmly. "You were being normal before."

It was true. Earlier, they'd ordered Chinese food and rented a movie. She'd given him a choice between
Portrait of Teresa
and
The Stepford Wives,
and they'd talked and laughed throughout the evening. He'd told her about his new idea for GraphNet's Web page, and she'd amused him with her tale of visiting Mabel Wills in Blueville. Everything had been fine between them. Better than fine.

Hadn't it?

What could've happened between then and now?

"Lonnie, I'm tired," he grumbled, as if
she
were tiring him to no end. "Can we just go to sleep?" he said, and rolled onto that damn side again.

"So you're not going to tell me what's bothering you all of a sudden?" she persisted.

"Jesus Christ, just let it go already. I'm tired."

For the next few seconds, she sat there, agape, disbelieving, and nauseous. Her cheeks were rage hot and fury pink. Could this really be happening? Could Dominick really have changed like this?
Well, to hell with him!
She wasn't going to play his mind games.

"Fine, I'll leave," she said, hurrying out of bed and into the bathroom, making sure to slam the door hard behind her.

Dominick let out a frustrated sigh. He knew he was being an asshole, and he knew why. But what did she expect? She went to meet her ex-boyfriend the night before, and he only knew about the guy because her answering machine had blasted his message. For all he knew, Lonnie never planned to tell him about her ex who was still trying to get in her life. For all he knew, the guy might not even really be an
ex.

But that didn't sound right, even to him, as angry and jealous as he was. Lonnie wouldn't lie to him... not about something like that. Would she?