Page 116 of The Homewreckers
He groaned again as he rolled over and zipped up his pants. “You’re sure? Nothing’s broken?”
“Sorry to disappoint, but no. I think if anything was broken, you’d be screaming in agony.”
He sat back up again, resting his elbows on his bent knees. “You know, I’ve actually never had a broken bone.”
Hattie stared. “Seriously? Never? Like, not even a sports injury?”
“Nope. Not even a sprain. I’m not really very sporty.”
She considered this for a moment. “Hmm. A straight man who admits to not being athletic. That’s a first for me.”
“Now you’re going to ask me if I’m sure I’m straight, right?”
“Pretty sure that’s not an issue.”
“Okay, good.” He stretched out a hand to her. “Help me up, okay? It’s the least you could do after jumping on top of me.”
Hattie stood, grasped his elbows, and in one swift movement jerked him to his feet.
“Owww.”
She rolled her eyes, but didn’t release her hold on his hand. She was loopy and she knew it, but didn’t care.
“Which reminds me. Just how old are you?”
He considered the question. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but this is strictly confidential.”
“What’s the big deal? Age is just a number, right?”
“Only someone your age—what, midthirties? Only someone your age would think that age isn’t a big deal. In my business, it’s a very big deal. I don’t want people to think I’m old. Or irrelevant. But since you asked, I’m forty… two. Actually, since I’m being totally honest here, I’m forty-six.”
“Seriously?” Hattie leaned in to examine his face. “I never would have guessed.”
Trae placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her forehead, and then her lowered eyelids. “Botox,” he murmured.
“Hmm. Interesting. Tell me more of your secrets to eternal youth.”
His lips traveled to hers. “Collagen fillers. Not something you’ll ever need with lips like yours.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “Really?”
He kissed her again, deeply. “Mmmm. These lips were the first thing I noticed about you. Very erotic.”
His lips lingered there, and Hattie wondered which was moreintoxicating—good champagne or being kissed by an expert like Trae Bartholomew.
Now he was kissing her earlobes, and then her neck.
“Neck cream,” he whispered, his hands running along her shoulder blades. “People don’t think about wrinkled necks, but it’s a dead giveaway. Your skin is flawless, but start using it now. You’ll thank me later.”
As he kissed and caressed her, Trae was slowly inching her toward the living room wall until her back was pressed against the mantel. Her arms were wound around his neck and he pressed himself against her, his hands pushing his way beneath her shirt.
53The Trouble with Bubbles
“What are we going to do about the body?”
Mo squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples with both hands. He had Rebecca on the speaker on his phone, and she’d been pounding him with questions about the latest development at the house.
“Weare not doing anything about the remains,” Mo said. “The police are handling it. I spoke to the police detective, and the family has tentatively identified the body as the missing school-teacher. I understand they’ll give some kind of press conference tomorrow.”
