UNCOVERED
Fallen Angels
"Slug. Shouldn't be helping out instead of snooping through the garbage?"
Startled by the verbal intrusion, Harris glanced up and got snared in Clair's disapproving green gaze. Her hair was loose, parted on the side and hanging in blunt lines to just skim the very tops of her shoulders. She had her head tipped forward a bit to look at him over the rim of her glasses. Her eyes were twinkling at the pleasure of insulting him. Obviously, she didn't consider him sensitive.
"It's not garbage," he grumbled.
"No?" She went on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder.
Harris held the photo out of reach. "You don't want to see this, Clair."
"I do too."
"I doubt that." He grinned, imagining her reaction if he showed her. "They're photos."
"That's private. You shouldn't be looking either."
"Someone threw them away." He shrugged. "Free for the pickings."
Hands on her hips, she demanded, "Let me see, Harris."
Prodded by the devil in him, Harris decided why not . With a flourish, he handed her the photo.
Her face went beet red and she gasped so hard she nearly strangled herself. "Harris!"
"Hey, I'm not the photographer." He winked. "I just found it."
"That's... that's obscene."
"You really think so?" He took it back from her and stared some more before murmuring with great sincerity, "Nice ass."
"Pig."
Laughing, Harris searched through the shoebox. "Here's another." He handed her the one of the woman getting into the shower. In that pose, she had one shapely leg bent, one arm raised. Gorgeous.
Clair narrowed her eyes and accepted the photo. After several moments scrutinizing it, a small frown pulled down her brows. But at least this time she didn't choke.
"And one more." Harris gave her his favorite, the one of the woman reclined in bed. He thought she might be sleeping, she looked so boneless and relaxed. Her back was smooth and graceful, rising up to a plump rump then tapering down again to long thighs and shapely calves.
Clair stared so long that Harris cleared his throat. "Anytime you're done with it..."
"Oh, sorry." She looked bothered about something, then glared. "I can dispose of those for you if you want."
"Not on your life." Harris held the photo protectively out of her reach. "I'm keeping them."
Clair's mouth fell open. "Keeping them? But that's... lecherous! You don't even know that woman." And then in a smaller voice: "Do you?"
"Nope. But I know she has a major case for me." He tapped the letter. "Says so right here."
Clair went white. She tried to grab the letter. "You just said you don't know her."
"I don't. Yet. But she obviously knows me." Harris opened the note and pointed out his name. "Harris the firefighter. Gotta be me, right?" He folded the paper and put it back in the shoebox for safekeeping. "So actually, this pertains to me. I have a right to this stuff."
"You're sick."
"I'm in lust." Harris touched her nose. "But then, you wouldn't know about that, would you, Clair?"
Her back snapped straight. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm just saying that you don't date much. Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get to work."
Smiling sweetly, Clair said, "Want me to hold that shoebox for you?"
"No." Harris laughed at her fallen expression. "I'm going to run it over to my place and lock it inside, safe and sound."
The way her jaw worked, Harris thought she might be grinding her teeth. "So you can stare at the photos and fantasize tonight?"
"Don't sneer, Clair. It makes you look like a prude." As he walked away, Harris heard Clair call him a choice name. He glanced around in time to witness her stomping toward her apartment. Too bad Clair didn't understand about lust. If she ever turned all that emotion loose in the sack, she just might be magnificent.
Harris caught his train of thought and growled. He better find his mystery lady soon, because lack of nookie was making him crazed.
He needed a woman - the mystery woman in the photos. Sexy. Provocative. And she thought he was sensitive. What more could a guy ask for?
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