A shadow moved from the other side of the hallway. Blake
froze, and his fingers moved to his weapon. He blinked.
Nothing there. He dug in his pocket for his keys and glanced
at Missy's doorway.
Betty—wearing her pink sweat suit and flamingo
earrings—stood grinning at him. She winked, raised her
hand, and then knocked three times on Missy's door.
Blake's mouth opened and then closed. Betty disappeared.
He closed his eyes for a half a minute and then opened them
when he heard Missy's door open.
Missy stood in the doorway wearing the same clothes as
earlier. A white T–shirt, a pair of jeans, and a
simple necklace that hung between her breasts, spiraling the
memory of her body to the forefront of his mind. He knew
exactly how those curves felt under his hands and he craved
the feel of them again.
"Hey. Thanks for stopping by the bookstore today." Missy
pocketed her hands in her jeans, pulling them down just
enough for him to get a glimpse of her lower belly. He
swallowed in order to concentrate.
"You—you should look out your peephole before you
open your door." There. He'd be the concerned policeman who
lived across the hall. But how the hell had Betty...no, it
couldn't have been Betty. What was going on?
Missy frowned. "You feeling all right?"
"Yeah. Of course."
"'Cause I did look out my peephole and I saw you." She
tilted her head. "I sort of thought it was okay to open up
since it was my neighbor, the cop."
How had he gotten in front of her door? He'd been several
feet away when Betty...when.... Oh. He really needed that
beer now. Time for a change of subject. He'd process the
other stuff later.