“Guess we’ll have to come up with something else to do as highly trained professionals.” Forcing himself to put his hands on her shoulders, Ric pushed her back—and God, it had to be the hardest thing he’d ever done—and said, “We’ll have to come up with something else tonight. Not here.”

“You don’t want anyone to know about us?”

“I really don’t care who knows. But there’s such a thing as decorum and standard operating procedure, which I’m pretty sure doesn’t include sex on my desk.”

“What about in your kitchen?”

“Never in my restaurant kitchen. Hygiene. But all bets are off at my house. We just have to make sure to clean up before Mrs. M. shows up for work.”

“Okay. Okay. I got it.” She stood and if his cock had hands, it would have wrung his neck by now for letting her get away.

While Dee walked to the door and he tried to get control of his baser urges, Ric said, “Wait.

When you caught Wendell . . . what did he say to you?”

Dee stopped in front of his desk and slowly faced him. “Nothing,” she said after a long moment, which worried him.

“Dee-Ann . . . what happened?” If his brother had touched her . . .

“I, uh . . . kind of beat the hell out of him.”

“Pardon?”

“Look,” she explained, “among the Smiths, there are just some things you don’t do to your own kin. You don’t steal a wolf’s ’shine, his vehicle, his She-wolf, unless she ain’t marked proper and she wants to go, or his money. I figured that’s what he was trying to get to so I . . . punched him a few times and kicked him in the face and, uh . . .” She cleared her throat. “I shoved him down the garbage chute.

Your Mrs. M. showed me where it was.”

“Just tell me one thing, Dee-Ann”—Ric’s hand gripped his desk—“were you . . . naked?” Now it was Dee’s turn to feel embarrassed. Lord, her cheeks were hot! She wasn’t sure she’d ever blushed before. Then again, she was willing to bet that rich, cultured Ulrich Van Holtz had never had one of his overnight guests shove his brother down a garbage chute. She could only hope her momma never heard of it.

“Lord love you, Dee-Ann,” her mother would exclaim. “Must you be so much like your daddy?”

“Were you, Dee-Ann?” Ric pushed.

“Well . . . you know I ain’t one for puttin’ on clothes first thing. I was hungry so I got up and—” He was up and around his desk like a shot. When he caught hold of her arm, she thought for sure he was going to toss her out and tell her he didn’t want to see her again. But instead he grabbed her other arm and pushed her until her ass hit his desk. Taking hishand he swiped everything off except his computer and shoved her back against the polished wood.

“Uh . . . Ric?”

Busy pulling down her shorts, he stopped and asked, “You locked the office door, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Good.”

Her shorts and panties went flying and suddenly Dee had a tongue between her legs.

“I thought”—her eyes crossed—“no foolin’ around in the office?” His tongue danced across her clit before he lifted his head and answered, “Do you know how often I’ve daydreamed about shoving my brother down that garbage chute? I’ve also thought about throwing him into a moving plane propeller, but I know that would be really wrong.”

“And first-degree murder.”

“Right. But you . . . you shoved him down the chute. And you did it for me.”

“Because he shouldn’t steal from his kin.”

Ric laughed and there was a touch of bitterness to it. “He doesn’t have a great role model for that. But I was lucky enough to have Uncle Van.” The bitterness faded and the grin returned. “And now I’m lucky enough to have you.”

“Hope you’re not thinking about making this permanent, Van Holtz,” she warned.

“Is this where you tell me you don’t do permanent?”

“No. This is where I tell you that I like you too much to think of you being buried in a shallow grave behind my momma’s house. Because that’s what’s going to happen if my daddy finds out a Van Holtz is messin’ with his only baby girl.”

Big hands with incredibly talented fingers stroked down her thighs. “Guess it’s too bad I think you’re worth the risk.”

“You go up against my daddy, Van Holtz, you won’t win.”

“I know.” He slid his arms under her legs and dragged her to the edge of the desk, spreading her thighs wide. “That’s why I’m going to have to be a little . . .” Her eyes narrowed. “Wily?”

“Like I said, Uncle Van’s my role model—and the man is good at wily.” Then his grin disappeared between her legs and Dee didn’t have the strength to stop a superbly talented tongue from giving her the best head ever.

Dez sat at the red light, waiting for it to change so they could head into Jersey. Malone sat in the passenger seat and Dee-Ann was in the back. Janis Joplin’s “Me and Bobby McGee” was playing on the radio while the sun began to set for the night.

At first, Dez thought Cella was humming along with the radio. She had a nice voice, too, throaty and mellow. She usually sang along with all the old rock songs. Anything from the sixties and up.