"You say apology accepted, but it doesn't feel like you've really forgiven me," Ross replied.

Snap. The pin-light illuminated a small circle of area between them. The upturned light cast harsh shadows over Mo's face. Her cheekbones appeared sharp, her eyes submerged in dark circles.

"I've forgiven you." She blew a tendril of hair out of her face. "Just because I didn't immediately offer you a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b, you act like I'm carrying a grudge."

"A b.l.o.w. .j.o.b would be fabulous, but I'd settle for a kiss."

"All right already. I'll kiss you." Mo leaned toward him with an exaggerated pucker. She poked her lips into his cheek like a dunking bird toy diving into the water gla.s.s. "There. Happy now?"

"I changed my mind," Ross said. "I'll take the b.l.o.w. .j.o.b instead."

"Ugh." Mo snapped the light off. They were in darkness again.

"How about a real kiss?" He softly whispered the words.

He heard rustling. Then Ross felt soft lips press to the corner of his mouth. Turning his head to meet the lips fully, Ross deepened the kiss. His arms came around Mo and grasped her to him. Hungry for her, he began to devour her mouth with his until she drew away.

"Is that good enough?" she asked.

"Excellent," he panted out.

"No. I meant is that a good enough kiss for you to believe I forgive you."

Was that a smile he heard in her voice?

"Oh, no. I need another kiss to really be convinced." Ross nuzzled her cheek and their lips locked together again.

Mo pulled back-too quickly for his liking.

"Clarence was murdered." Mo's breath was gentle against his cheek.

"Mmmmm. You already told me that." After clamping his hand on the back of her head, he pulled her toward him for another taste of the sweetness of her.

She allowed only a sip before withdrawing again. "The police suspect you did it."

"Don't change the subject." His hand came up under the hem of her shirt to caress her breast over the bra.

"What was the subject?"

"The forgiveness kisses you were giving me." His hand slipped inside the bra cup to fondle her.

"Oh yeah." Mo collapsed against him and they melted together for more mutual tasting.

Ross had taken the "forgiveness kisses" to another level and now they were sprawled together on the floor of the Hoochie Mama's House hide-hole. Mo had tried dropping the Clarence information and that hadn't even bought her a few seconds of distraction to save her from making another mistake with Ross. For "making a mistake", read "s.e.x".

It was really her fault. She had to admit it. She'd kissed him first. She'd pretended to herself that it was just to prove that she wasn't holding a grudge and that she wasn't afraid to kiss him. But the truth was that she'd wanted it to escalate to more.

She really should have pulled away.

But she didn't pull away. Instead, she hiked up his shirt and caressed the hard muscles of his chest over one erect nipple. Mo enjoyed the sharp intake of his breath between their kisses that her hands caused. Trying for more effect, she dipped her hand downward running over his naval then lower and he moaned.

"Do you want to stop?" Ross gasped out.

His question stunned her and her hand halted at his waistband. "Do you?"

"G.o.d no. But you just said something about this being a bad idea."

"I did?" She didn't realize she'd mumbled her thoughts out loud.

"Would I say so if you didn't? I'm in a little pain here. I think I'll die if you stop."

The fact that he would stop even though he so clearly didn't want to, removed the last of the barriers. She ran her hands and fingers over him almost like she was reading Braille. Mo found the part she sought and cupped his crotch through the denim. Ross jerked and she heard the thud of his shoes against one of the planks of wood holding up the paper wall.

"I'm not going to stop," she said with a laugh. "Just try not to kick a hole in our hiding place when I do this." The metal rasp of his zipper whispered in the silence.

As he waited the excruciatingly long time it took for Mo to open his pants and reach inside, the blood thundered through Ross's veins all rushing toward his stiff c.o.c.k. Breathing was almost impossible, but who needed to breathe? He just needed Mo. Needed her with a ravenous hunger.

The feel of her warm mouth-licking and sucking made Ross's rear end arch in carnal anguish. "I want to be inside you," he choked out. All this pleasure, this ecstasy had to be shared.

With some fumbling and tugging, they got Ross's pants down and Mo's panties off. Then she crawled over him and straddled his waist. The center of her was moist and ready as she brushed against his belly.

"Mo," he panted. "You're so beautiful."

She laughed through panting breaths. "Now I know you're full of s.h.i.take. You can't even see me in here," she said.

"I don't have to see you to know," he said. Everything about her inside and out was beautiful.

He felt her position herself before sliding down onto his shaft. Ross lifted his hips, driving himself deeper into her sleek wetness, to the core of her. Mo groaned and gasped.

Lifting and dropping, she rode him with tormenting slowness. Gripping her hips, he lunged upward not being able to keep from increasing the pace of their rhythmic movements. Finally, he felt her arch and tense. The convulsions of her inner muscles milked at his shaft, sending him over the edge into his own release.

Mo collapsed atop him, panting. Ross wrapped his arms around her, caressing over Mo's hair and down her back as they both calmed. For long minutes they lay against one another without speaking.

"It's a d.a.m.n good thing none of the thugs came back," he drawled. "They definitely would have heard us."

"And saw us," Mo said. He felt her smile against his chest. "If the parade floats a rockin', don't come a knockin'."

A hearty laugh burst from Ross and he squeezed Mo, cherishing her. G.o.d! This woman made him happy. After a few seconds his tone turned serious, and he said, "Thank you for forgiving me."

"What makes you think I did?"

"Cheeky," he teased with a chuckle and then lightly pinched her behind.

"Ow," she cried.

"What we did just now," he said. "Making love...that certainly felt like forgiveness to me."

"To me too," she whispered.

"Do you think the wall's intact?" Mo asked, still draped over Ross.

"I'm not sure." Ross felt around in the darkness. Then the light of her keychain came on. He pointed the pinp.r.i.c.k beam this way and that. "There's no damage. At least not to the wall." He turned the light off and put the keychain in his pocket. "I'm a different matter. I may never be the same." He stroked a hand through her hair and down her back. "You know I'm not as young as I used to be."

"You're just fishing for compliments and I refuse to indulge you," Mo said. "You've had enough birthday presents for this year."

"That's true. Even with all this nonsense with the Russian mob, this has really been the best birthday I can remember-because of you."

"Speaking of the Russian mob," Mo said, trying to divert him from the subject of their relationship-or whatever it was they had- back to the less dangerous subject of the people trying to kill them. "It sounds like Clarence and your fiancee, Heather, got us into this mess."

"She's not my fiancee, but yes they got us into this."

"I guess I can't hold it against Clarence, him being dead and all. It seems petty somehow to be angry with him." Mo swallowed hard. "Oh, Ross. I'll never forget how he looked with his head smashed up that way. And the big gun laying by his side covered with blood."

"You found his body?"

He felt her nod.

"Oh, baby. I'm sorry." He stroked her back and then hugged her to him. "What's that about the big gun?"

"A replica of the SpyMatrix gun was the murder weapon."

"Fab. No wonder the police suspect me," he muttered.

"Hopefully, I put them onto the trail of Kubikov and Gigantor where they belong."

They lay together and Ross felt their breath fall into the same rhythm.

"Can I ask you something important?" Ross questioned her.

Mo hesitated. "I guess so."

"Why are you using the food references?"

"This is not important. Besides, I already told you I just don't want to swear any more. That's all."

Sensing the significance, Ross pressed on. "Yes, but why such a strong commitment to avoiding the curse words."

Mo yawned. "I haven't wanted to admit it to myself, but I think it has something to do with guilt feelings. Like I've sold out or something." Mo's lips nuzzled his neck before planting a kiss there. "I went to culinary school but took a job at the agency when I couldn't afford to finish."

"You've got nothing to feel guilty for."

"I suppose I also felt like a failure at school. And I don't think I'm cut out for being a PI. I'm a failure there too."

"You're a fantastic PI," Ross soothed.

"Well...swearing just doesn't feel right anymore. The food words are automatic so I guess I'll stick with them." She lifted her head from Ross's chest. "Is that weird?"

Ross stroked her hair and nudged her head down to rest against him again. "Of course not my dear vegetable mouth."

"s.h.i.take's are a fungus, not a vegetable as you've reminded me before."

"Okay, fungus mouth."

"We'll get out of this tomorrow," Mo said in a confident tone.

"Definitely." Ross loved her feistiness, wrapped in vulnerability.

Mo yawned. "I'm so tired."

"I know. Go to sleep, sweet." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and felt her drift into unconsciousness. "Nothing will harm you as long as I can help it," he whispered.

The next morning Mo awoke to the realization that she was extremely uncomfortable. What had happened to her bed? The mattress was much firmer than she remembered. And where was her pillow? Noises of movement and conversation seemed to surround her. Had she left on the television? In fact, her bed was either moving or she'd imbibed way too much alcohol last night.

Disoriented, Mo opened her eyes and saw Ross crouched a few inches away. Oh yeah, Clarence dead, Russian mobsters, hiding in float... Blah, blah, blah. It all came flooding back.

Ross appeared to be staring out of one of the holes in the paper wall of their hiding place. Mo sat up, silently crawled to him, and found a hole of her own to peek through.

The trailer holding the float had been hitched to a pick-up truck, hauled through the overhead doors of the warehouse, and was now b.u.mping along the two-track dirt road awash in the sunshine and crisp air of the outdoors. Two figures loomed in the bed of the truck-Gigantor and the bouncer from the club. Two more men were seated in the cab.

Before long, the truck made a wide turn and the trailer swung onto the highway. Mo had to grab onto a two by four to keep from falling through the paper wall. She gripped the wood and sat down, spreading her legs out to ground herself. She felt more stable, but she'd lost her view of the pa.s.sing scenery.

Mo glanced over and saw that Ross had taken a similar position.

"I a.s.sume they're towing us to the St. Patrick's Day parade," Ross said. "When this thing stops we can make our escape."

"Maybe we should wait until we get to the parade. There'll be more people around then." Mo shouted to be heard over the noise of the truck and the wind whipping around the strip club replica. "I bet those guys in the truck are armed."

Ross nodded.

The trailer abruptly took an uphill trajectory and the wind tunnel sound effect increased. They must be pa.s.sing over the Talmadge Bridge that spanned the river. Mo chanced a peek through the wall and saw the huge spans of the suspension mechanisms with the sky as a backdrop.

Just as quickly the trailer nosed downward and Mo slid against the wood post, her hand crashing through the green paper wall.

"Bell pepper," Mo shouted, jerking her hand back. She retrieved some of the paper that was still stuck to the structure by heavy glue and pulled it back into place. But a few sheets flew away like miniature kites on the wind.

Grimacing, her eyes met Ross's and he mouthed something that looked like, "It's okay.

Mo didn't try any more peeks outside.

The trailer turned right and Mo imagined them exiting the bridge. A few more turns and she was lost in the mental imaging of the route. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes before the trailer pulled to a halt.