At some point around the fourth song, Ford looked over and held her gaze, then reached out and gently tucked a lock of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear.
Victoria wasn’t naïve; she knew exactly what he was doing. The heated looks, the teasing, the playful touches here and there were all part of the dance—a fun summer fling between two people who were simply enjoying the moment.
So she leaned in and kissed him.
It was a slow, languid kiss, her lips moving over his as one of her hands rested on his thigh. He cupped the back of her neck, gently parting her mouth with his own. They were in a public place, so there was only so far the kiss could go, and perhaps that made it even more exciting. Because when his tongue brushed against hers in a barely there tease—she felt a zip of heat go straight to her core.
She pulled back, feeling flushed. “I think we should go.”
His eyes were as smoky as his voice. “I think so, too.”
Twenty-five minutes later, he had her pinned against the inside of his front door, both of her hands trapped in one of his as he kissed her neck and slid his free hand underneath her dress.
“I need my hands free,” she murmured, completely turned on by the feel of his lips and hands on her.
His voice was low and sinful in her ear. “I like having you at my mercy.”
“You’ll like the things I can do with my hands even more.”
Just like that, he released her. “All right. Show me.”
Her lips curved, she tugged his shirt over his head, dropped it to the floor, and smoothed her hands over his chest.
So beautiful.
Then her fingers skimmed down to the fly of his jeans. She held his gaze, watching as heat flashed in his eyes when she undid the button. Slowly, she slid the zipper down, her fingers brushing against the hard length of his erection.
She got down on her knees.
“Victoria.” His voice was low and guttural.
She slid his jeans and boxer briefs past his hips, wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, and took him into her mouth.
“Fuck, baby, that’s so good,” he groaned, flattening one hand against the front door.
After a teasing lick, she looked up to meet his gaze. “I’ve noticed you like to talk during sex, Mr. Dixon. Just remember, the soundproofing is terrible in this place.”
He curled his fingers tightly into her hair, his eyes blazing down into hers. “I’m going to make you pay for this, you know.”
She smiled wickedly.
Oh, she was counting on it.
Twenty-one
VICTORIA SPENT MOST of Monday morning in a settlement conference, working out a custody schedule for the divorcing couple’s three children. It was hardly a pleasant meeting—both parties got particularly emotional when dividing up the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays—but for the sake of their kids, everyone at least remained generally civil to one another.
In her book, that was a major victory.
When she got back to her office, Will handed her a stack of messages. “The usual suspects. Oh, and Ford Dixon called. He said he tried your cell first.”
Interesting. She wasn’t expecting him to call. “I had my phone on mute during the settlement conference.”
“And how is our intrepid, Adonic neighbor these days?” Will asked cheekily.
Not bothering to dignify the comment, she simply gave him a look and headed into her office. She shut her door for privacy and flipped through the messages to make sure none of them were urgent.
Then she dialed the number to Ford’s cell phone.
“Ms. Slade,” he answered warmly. “What are you doing tomorrow between twelve and two?”
She turned in the desk chair to check her calendar on her computer. “I don’t know, why?”
“I thought we might pencil in a nooner.”
Seriously.
“Please tell me you did not just say that in the middle of the Trib newsroom.”
He chuckled. “You’re safe—I’m out grabbing lunch. And the real reason I called is to tell you about Plan D.”
She smiled, not at all surprised to hear that there was, in fact, a Plan D already. The man was always coming up with some sort of scheme—he was rather annoyingly clever that way. “All right. Tell me.”
“I went by Peter Sutter Number Four’s three-flat this morning. He lives only two blocks from a Red Line stop, so I thought I’d hang out for an hour or so on the off chance I could catch a guy with brown hair walking out the front door of the building to take the L to work. But when I got to his place, I discovered something even better: a For Sale sign that says there’s going to be an open house tomorrow. And since I know you’re going to ask—yep, I already checked. It’s for unit three, Sutter’s condo.”
Ooh . . . that was interesting news. “Is it for sale by owner? Do you think Sutter will be there tomorrow?”
“Doubtful. The place is listed with a real estate agent named Melanie Ames. But there’s likely to be some photograph of him somewhere inside the place. I can snap a picture of that with my phone and forward it to Nic. And if that doesn’t work, there’s always Plan E.”
“What’s Plan E?”
“I steal his toothbrush for a DNA sample. Which brings me to the point of my call: if I have some eager real estate agent following me around, it’ll be hard for me to do my thing. So I was thinking it’d be nice to have someone with me who could act as a decoy.”
“That’s what you were thinking, huh?” Victoria checked out her calendar. “I have a call scheduled for noon tomorrow that shouldn’t last more than a half hour. Why don’t you text me Sutter’s address and I’ll meet you there at one o’clock?”
“Actually, why don’t I come to your office at twelve thirty and we can cab over together? It’ll work better with our cover story if you and I arrive together.”
“What cover story?”
“That we’re a couple, sweetie. You and I are taking the plunge and buying a place together.”
Oh, boy.
* * *
FORD COULD ONLY imagine what the cabdriver thought he and Victoria were up to.
“Okay, another worst-case scenario,” she said, her body angled in the backseat of the cab so she could face him. “What if I get stuck in a conversation with this real estate agent while you’re doing your thing, and she starts asking me questions about how long you and I have been dating? Or how we met?”