Veil of Night by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online Page A

Like all cops, he paid attention to everything around him, all the noises, the cars driving by, anyone he saw on the street, but it was as if he did so on autopilot. A big part of his brain kept seeing Jaclyn’s legs, and thinking of sliding that black skirt up them.
    To hell with it .
    He pulled out his phone and her card, and thumbed in her cell number. After two rings she answered with a crisp, “Hello.”
    “I don’t want to wait a week,” he said bluntly, not even identifying himself. “Invite me over.”
    There was a pause during which he could feel his heart beating and his balls and dick getting heavier with every second, waiting for the yes he knew she wanted to say, a pause that went on so long he began to think she might say no instead.
    “Yes,” she said, her voice low. “Yes. Come over now.”
    What the hell have I done?
    Jaclyn stared at the phone in her hand. Oh my God. She hadn’t asked him if he’d lost his mind, she hadn’t simply given a polite “no,” instead she’d actually told him to come over. It was as if her mouth had been acting independently of her brain … and her brain was nowhere near being on the same page as her body.
    For a moment she seriously considered calling him back and telling him that she’d changed her mind, or that she’d been suffering delusions and had just regained her senses. Either way, the end result would be to send him elsewhere, anywhere but here. Every functioning brain cell, and admittedly she didn’t seem to have a lot of them right now, told her she was crazy to get involved with him, or any man, in any way. It wasn’t logical for her to trust a man she’d just met. Cop or not, polite or not, he was a stranger.
    But her instincts were whispering—hell, singing —a different tune. She wanted him pressed against her, into her. She wasn’t ready for the night to end; she wasn’t ready to let him go. She didn’t often ignore her common sense in favor of gut instinct, but tonight she was going with her gut.
    Her brain whispered, That’s not your gut you’re listening to .
    She didn’t care. Tonight she simply didn’t care. For years, the most impulsive thing she’d done was when she and Madelyn decided to open their own business, even knowing the horrible percentage of new businesses that failed within the first five years. Premier was almost seven years old, was stronger than ever, but she and her mother had worked their butts off for those seven years and tonight she didn’t want to be sensible, she didn’t want to take things slow, she wanted … hell, she wanted him .
    There was a small sense of disorientation as she placed her cell on the end table and walked into the bathroom, not hurrying, but not dawdling, either. After getting home she’d stripped off her business suit, removed her makeup and washed her face, then taken a quick shower and put on her comfortable thin white pajamas—a simple tank and loose-fitting pants. She’d taken her hair down and thoroughly brushed it, the strokes of the brush easing the last bit of tension from her scalp. Her scintillating plan for the evening had been to relax in front of the television for an hour or so, watch something easy like House Hunters or maybe the Food Network, then lights out. Tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.
    Now … this. Eric was coming over. For a moment she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, wondering if she should slap on some makeup again, maybe spritz on a little perfume, put on some clothes. It didn’t take her long to decide. No, this was her, fresh-faced and unadorned, her shoulder-length black hair hanging loose. She glanced down at her bare feet, glad she’d recently had a pedicure. Her toenails were a bright red, the only splash of color on her body tonight.
    As for putting on clothes … who was she kidding?
    She did brush her teeth, before returning to the living room to wait for him. Should she put on a pot of decaf? No. That would