“Someone just broke into your house. How can you think about sex?”
“I always think about sex.”
“Mario is in the guest room!”
“Yeah, you'd have to try to control yourself and not make a lot of noise.”
“He's just a kid. You need to set a good example.”
“Which means what?”
“The couch. Zook's in the guest room, and you wanted me to spend the night, so I assumed you'd sleep on the couch.”
“You assumed wrong.”
“We're not married.”
“No, but we're old. There are different rules when you get old,” Morelli said.
“I'm not old.”
“Not to me, but to Zook anyone over twenty is old.”
“Okay, that does it. I'm going home. I'll be back tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn.”
“Oh for crissake,” Morelli said. “I'll sleep on the friggin' couch. There's a sleeping bag in my office. Throw it down with a pillow.”
I opened MY eyes and squinted at the clock. The room was dark, but the glowing blue digital readout told me it was five in the morning. And the sound of a drawer being opened and closed told me I wasn't alone. I reached for the bedside lamp, switched it on, and stared at Morelli. His hair was damp from the shower, he was freshly shaved, and he was naked.
“What's going on?” I asked him.
“I need clothes.”
No kidding. “I would have gotten them for you. What if Mario sees you walking around naked in my room?”
“First, it's not your room. It's my room. Second, I doubt he'd be shocked. You have to stop worrying about Zook. Third, he's asleep.”
“Did you sleep okay?”
“No. The couch sucks.”
Morelli was dressing in his usual uniform of jeans and T-shirt while he was talking. If the occasion dictated, Morelli sometimes wore slacks and a dress shirt, but Morelli avoided suits. He looked like an Atlantic City pit boss in a suit. And no one could keep a straight face at Morelli in khakis. Morelli was as far from preppy as a guy could get.
He sat on the bed, laced his shoes, leaned over me and nuzzled my neck. “I like when you're all warm and soft from sleep.” He looked down at the shoes he'd just laced and thought for a moment. “These could come off.”
“Tempting.” Really tempting. “Will you be late for work if you take your shoes off?”
“Yeah. Don't care. If the choice was a promotion and raise or doing you and getting fired, there'd be no contest.”
“The power of testosterone.”
“I thought it was love, but you could be right... it could be testosterone,”
Morelli said. “Not that it matters, because bottom line is ... I want you bad.”
I had the T-shirt halfway over his head. “Take your shoes off ., .fast,” I told him.
There were scuffling sounds in the hall and a timid knock on the bedroom door.