Revealed: The Missing Years
Page 29
“I don’t see any violation in that.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Agent, never enter my office with that attitude again. I don’t care what bone you have to pick with me.”
“Yes, sir, I apologize. Will you take my concerns to the deputy director?”
“Put in for your leave, son. We’ll talk when you return.”
“Yes, sir.”
The scrumptious aroma of garlic and the light rhythm of jazz overpowered Harry’s senses and loosened the tension as he entered his condominium in Palo Alto. Walking quietly toward the kitchen, he stopped and gazed toward the stove, more specifically toward the woman unaware of his presence. Her hot black skirt, long tanned legs, and bare feet could make him forget everything else that he’d endured throughout his day. Still unaware of his voyeurism, Liz stood near the stove swaying rhythmically to the music coming from her phone, her attention monopolized by the amazing Italian sauce in the pan. He watched as she’d stir, taste, and hum. Quietly, he stepped behind her, wrapped his arms gently around her waist, and planted a kiss at the base of her neck.
Jumping, she shrieked, “Hey!” Immediately, the stovetop was dotted in a rain of tomato sauce. Turning into his embrace, she chided, “Look what you made me do.”
“Hey, yourself,” Harry chuckled. “I know what I’d like you to do.” His finger swept across the stainless stovetop swiping sauce in its wake. Placing his red-coated finger between his lips, he tasted her delicious concoction. “Hmm, this is good.”
“Good?” Her lower lip pushed forward in a feigned pout.
“Hmm…” He nuzzled her neck. “…yes, good.”
“I’ve been cooking for hours and all I get is good?”
“Well,” Harry teased, “all things are relative. The sauce is good. This…” His lips once again found the soft skin above her collarbone, each kiss dipping lower and lower along the scooped neckline of her blouse. “…is delectable.”
“Oh?”
“Do you doubt me?” He asked as his bright, innocent eyes met hers and his thumb found the roundness of her breast. “I’m fairly confident that as delicious as your neck is, under this blouse…” He ran his hand over the firmness of her behind searching for a zipper on her skirt “…and under this skirt, it’s even better.”
The spoon which had commanded Liz’s attention now lay on the tomato-splattered stovetop as her head fell back, giving Harry better access to her exposed skin. As his hands wandered, she said breathily, “I think I may see where you’re going with this.”
Turning off the stove, Harry tugged on Liz’s hand and pulled her toward their bedroom. “I think I’m suddenly famished.”
Caressing the hardness in his jeans, Liz giggled. “Maybe I’m the one who’s hungry?”
“I like the way that sounds.”
“B-but,” she stuttered, putting on the breaks. “Amber and Keaton are coming to dinner tonight.”
Lowering her to their soft bed, Harry watched her golden hair fan behind her blushed cheeks. “Let’s cancel. I like the idea of our own private dinner.”
Liz looked over at the clock, her blouse now untucked and her bra exposed. “They’ll be here in a half an hour.”
“I’d rather take longer,” Harry said. “But I’m never against fast food.”
Liz playfully hit his shoulder. “You’re crude. I need to finish dinner.” Standing and adjusting her clothing, she added, “Besides, if I’m the dinner, I’d rather be a three-course meal. I’m not fast food.”
Harry lay alone on their bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Then let’s change places. I’m all right with being the meal, and I’m pretty sure I can do fast, if necessary.”
Liz laughed as she threw a pillow his direction. “Sorry, buddy. Besides, I love your being between assignments. We have plenty of time for all the dining you want.” Looking at his exaggerated pout, she said, “Just wait until after they leave.”
“Fine, I can wait, I suppose.”
“You don’t have a choice. I still need to set the table and make the salad.”
Propping himself up on his elbows, Harry said, “If I help with dinner, can I make reservations for later?”
Shaking her head, she walked back toward the kitchen.
The conversation flowed light and easy as Amber and Liz talked about SiJo, and Harry and Keaton discussed their predictions for the upcoming basketball tournament. It wasn’t until Amber kicked Harry under the table that he even listened to his sister’s question. “Why didn’t you tell her? I’ve been dying to say something all day. Liz, I can’t believe you haven’t seen the news,”
Harry searched from Amber to Liz. “Well, you see, sis, I just got home and, well, we had better things to do than talk about the latest news.” He took a bite of garlic bread and smiled a toothy grin. “We were kind of busy.”
Amber kicked him again.
“Ouch!”
“You’re gross. TMI!” Amber retorted.
“What are you talking about?” Liz asked.
“Fine, I’m spilling the beans. Keaton and I’ve been talking about it all day.” Amber’s eyes sparkled with untold secrets. “Both Anthony Rawlings and Claire have been arrested!”
“Arrested?!” Liz said. “For Simon’s death? Claire had something to do with Simon?”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Agent, never enter my office with that attitude again. I don’t care what bone you have to pick with me.”
“Yes, sir, I apologize. Will you take my concerns to the deputy director?”
“Put in for your leave, son. We’ll talk when you return.”
“Yes, sir.”
The scrumptious aroma of garlic and the light rhythm of jazz overpowered Harry’s senses and loosened the tension as he entered his condominium in Palo Alto. Walking quietly toward the kitchen, he stopped and gazed toward the stove, more specifically toward the woman unaware of his presence. Her hot black skirt, long tanned legs, and bare feet could make him forget everything else that he’d endured throughout his day. Still unaware of his voyeurism, Liz stood near the stove swaying rhythmically to the music coming from her phone, her attention monopolized by the amazing Italian sauce in the pan. He watched as she’d stir, taste, and hum. Quietly, he stepped behind her, wrapped his arms gently around her waist, and planted a kiss at the base of her neck.
Jumping, she shrieked, “Hey!” Immediately, the stovetop was dotted in a rain of tomato sauce. Turning into his embrace, she chided, “Look what you made me do.”
“Hey, yourself,” Harry chuckled. “I know what I’d like you to do.” His finger swept across the stainless stovetop swiping sauce in its wake. Placing his red-coated finger between his lips, he tasted her delicious concoction. “Hmm, this is good.”
“Good?” Her lower lip pushed forward in a feigned pout.
“Hmm…” He nuzzled her neck. “…yes, good.”
“I’ve been cooking for hours and all I get is good?”
“Well,” Harry teased, “all things are relative. The sauce is good. This…” His lips once again found the soft skin above her collarbone, each kiss dipping lower and lower along the scooped neckline of her blouse. “…is delectable.”
“Oh?”
“Do you doubt me?” He asked as his bright, innocent eyes met hers and his thumb found the roundness of her breast. “I’m fairly confident that as delicious as your neck is, under this blouse…” He ran his hand over the firmness of her behind searching for a zipper on her skirt “…and under this skirt, it’s even better.”
The spoon which had commanded Liz’s attention now lay on the tomato-splattered stovetop as her head fell back, giving Harry better access to her exposed skin. As his hands wandered, she said breathily, “I think I may see where you’re going with this.”
Turning off the stove, Harry tugged on Liz’s hand and pulled her toward their bedroom. “I think I’m suddenly famished.”
Caressing the hardness in his jeans, Liz giggled. “Maybe I’m the one who’s hungry?”
“I like the way that sounds.”
“B-but,” she stuttered, putting on the breaks. “Amber and Keaton are coming to dinner tonight.”
Lowering her to their soft bed, Harry watched her golden hair fan behind her blushed cheeks. “Let’s cancel. I like the idea of our own private dinner.”
Liz looked over at the clock, her blouse now untucked and her bra exposed. “They’ll be here in a half an hour.”
“I’d rather take longer,” Harry said. “But I’m never against fast food.”
Liz playfully hit his shoulder. “You’re crude. I need to finish dinner.” Standing and adjusting her clothing, she added, “Besides, if I’m the dinner, I’d rather be a three-course meal. I’m not fast food.”
Harry lay alone on their bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Then let’s change places. I’m all right with being the meal, and I’m pretty sure I can do fast, if necessary.”
Liz laughed as she threw a pillow his direction. “Sorry, buddy. Besides, I love your being between assignments. We have plenty of time for all the dining you want.” Looking at his exaggerated pout, she said, “Just wait until after they leave.”
“Fine, I can wait, I suppose.”
“You don’t have a choice. I still need to set the table and make the salad.”
Propping himself up on his elbows, Harry said, “If I help with dinner, can I make reservations for later?”
Shaking her head, she walked back toward the kitchen.
The conversation flowed light and easy as Amber and Liz talked about SiJo, and Harry and Keaton discussed their predictions for the upcoming basketball tournament. It wasn’t until Amber kicked Harry under the table that he even listened to his sister’s question. “Why didn’t you tell her? I’ve been dying to say something all day. Liz, I can’t believe you haven’t seen the news,”
Harry searched from Amber to Liz. “Well, you see, sis, I just got home and, well, we had better things to do than talk about the latest news.” He took a bite of garlic bread and smiled a toothy grin. “We were kind of busy.”
Amber kicked him again.
“Ouch!”
“You’re gross. TMI!” Amber retorted.
“What are you talking about?” Liz asked.
“Fine, I’m spilling the beans. Keaton and I’ve been talking about it all day.” Amber’s eyes sparkled with untold secrets. “Both Anthony Rawlings and Claire have been arrested!”
“Arrested?!” Liz said. “For Simon’s death? Claire had something to do with Simon?”
