Sutherland waved back.
Evans came to her feet. “I think the consolation prize has arrived. Hank, get your act together. You can make a difference. But if you’re searching for perfect justice, you’ll have to look outside the courtroom.” She turned and walked away as Marcy slipped off the bar stool, the friction pulling her shorts up even higher.
“It’s hot,” Marcy said. She sat on the edge of Sutherland’s bed as he slid back the sliding doors that opened onto a patio. “What happened to the air conditioner?”
“It’s broken,” he told her. He moved a fan into the doorway and turned it on. “I hope you like getting hot and sticky.”
She rubbed her hands on her bare midriff, feeling the perspiration. A long and drawn out whisper escaped. “Ha-a-ank, I’m not into kinky stuff. We can go to my place.”
“Neither am I.” The heat of the day hadn’t broken yet and the night air blowing into the bedroom was still warm with just a hint of river smell. “You ever been in New Or’lans when you can cut the night like soft butter?” His voice had taken on a richer, more husky sound, almost Southern. It was enough to tease her imagination.
He kicked off his Birkenstocks and pulled off his socks. She stood up and pulled his shirt loose, undoing the buttons. “Strip the bed,” he murmured. She helped him pull off the bed cover and shove the pillows on the floor. She sat back down on one side and looked over her shoulder as he crawled across the bed to her. Kneeling behind her, he gently rubbed her shoulders as her hands clasped the edge of the bed. She turned into the breeze, closed her eyes, and let the warm air ruffle her hair. His hands touched her waist.
“God, it’s hot,” she whispered.
His fingers traced a path across the top of her shorts, barely touching her navel. He felt a slight tremor dance across her stomach. “It’s going to get hotter, darlin’,” he promised, his voice now darkly Southern.
Marcy rolled over in bed. It was still dark and he was gone. “Hank, where are you from?”
“Bastrop, Louisiana,” he answered from the living room. “Not much there. A nice little town to escape from and go back to occasionally.”
Marcy sat on the edge of the bed, clutched a pillow to her breast, and buried her cheek in it, feeling warm and safe. She stood and took a few steps to the open patio door and let the warm night air wash over her naked body. She dropped the pillow and nudged it with her toe into the moonlight before padding into the living room. Sutherland was sitting on the couch in the dark, and like her, he was still naked. He was holding an envelope. “Can you read in the dark?” she asked. He shook his head. “Who’s it from?”
“My ex-wife.”
“What does she want?”
“Beats the hell out of me. I haven’t opened it.” She sat on his lap and nibbled an earlobe. “Ouch!”
“Do you have any idea what you did to me in there?” she breathed in the same ear.
He laughed. “Wasn’t that the idea?”
She licked at his damaged earlobe. “Are you going to read the letter?”
His arms encircled her as he tore the letter in two and threw it on the floor. “Nope. I’m done with her.”
She nipped his ear again. “Whoa! You’ve got sharp teeth.”
“If only you knew.” She stood and pulled him back to the bedroom and out onto the patio. She pushed him into a chair and knelt on the pillow in front of him. She rubbed his knees, spreading them apart. “Try not to wake the neighbors.”
Sutherland was cooking breakfast when Marcy came out of the bedroom wearing one of his white shirts and holding a cordless phone to her ear. “I’ll get right on it,” she said. She dropped the phone in its cradle and leaned over his shoulder. “That smells good. I didn’t know you were a cook.” He reached under the shirt and patted her bare bottom. “You are a bit of a goat, Hank. I’ve got a story assignment over on the coast near Fort
Evans came to her feet. “I think the consolation prize has arrived. Hank, get your act together. You can make a difference. But if you’re searching for perfect justice, you’ll have to look outside the courtroom.” She turned and walked away as Marcy slipped off the bar stool, the friction pulling her shorts up even higher.
“It’s hot,” Marcy said. She sat on the edge of Sutherland’s bed as he slid back the sliding doors that opened onto a patio. “What happened to the air conditioner?”
“It’s broken,” he told her. He moved a fan into the doorway and turned it on. “I hope you like getting hot and sticky.”
She rubbed her hands on her bare midriff, feeling the perspiration. A long and drawn out whisper escaped. “Ha-a-ank, I’m not into kinky stuff. We can go to my place.”
“Neither am I.” The heat of the day hadn’t broken yet and the night air blowing into the bedroom was still warm with just a hint of river smell. “You ever been in New Or’lans when you can cut the night like soft butter?” His voice had taken on a richer, more husky sound, almost Southern. It was enough to tease her imagination.
He kicked off his Birkenstocks and pulled off his socks. She stood up and pulled his shirt loose, undoing the buttons. “Strip the bed,” he murmured. She helped him pull off the bed cover and shove the pillows on the floor. She sat back down on one side and looked over her shoulder as he crawled across the bed to her. Kneeling behind her, he gently rubbed her shoulders as her hands clasped the edge of the bed. She turned into the breeze, closed her eyes, and let the warm air ruffle her hair. His hands touched her waist.
“God, it’s hot,” she whispered.
His fingers traced a path across the top of her shorts, barely touching her navel. He felt a slight tremor dance across her stomach. “It’s going to get hotter, darlin’,” he promised, his voice now darkly Southern.
Marcy rolled over in bed. It was still dark and he was gone. “Hank, where are you from?”
“Bastrop, Louisiana,” he answered from the living room. “Not much there. A nice little town to escape from and go back to occasionally.”
Marcy sat on the edge of the bed, clutched a pillow to her breast, and buried her cheek in it, feeling warm and safe. She stood and took a few steps to the open patio door and let the warm night air wash over her naked body. She dropped the pillow and nudged it with her toe into the moonlight before padding into the living room. Sutherland was sitting on the couch in the dark, and like her, he was still naked. He was holding an envelope. “Can you read in the dark?” she asked. He shook his head. “Who’s it from?”
“My ex-wife.”
“What does she want?”
“Beats the hell out of me. I haven’t opened it.” She sat on his lap and nibbled an earlobe. “Ouch!”
“Do you have any idea what you did to me in there?” she breathed in the same ear.
He laughed. “Wasn’t that the idea?”
She licked at his damaged earlobe. “Are you going to read the letter?”
His arms encircled her as he tore the letter in two and threw it on the floor. “Nope. I’m done with her.”
She nipped his ear again. “Whoa! You’ve got sharp teeth.”
“If only you knew.” She stood and pulled him back to the bedroom and out onto the patio. She pushed him into a chair and knelt on the pillow in front of him. She rubbed his knees, spreading them apart. “Try not to wake the neighbors.”
Sutherland was cooking breakfast when Marcy came out of the bedroom wearing one of his white shirts and holding a cordless phone to her ear. “I’ll get right on it,” she said. She dropped the phone in its cradle and leaned over his shoulder. “That smells good. I didn’t know you were a cook.” He reached under the shirt and patted her bare bottom. “You are a bit of a goat, Hank. I’ve got a story assignment over on the coast near Fort
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