“Believe me, they’ll find out,” he said grimly. “And did you read the newspaper report on Jefferson? They gave him a wonderful burial. A heart attack. Very sad. A good man cut down in his prime.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get moving.
We’ve got a lot of packing to do. I’m not going without you and if they call . . .”
“You’ve got to go.”
“And you’ll be coming without all of your fancy equipment.”
Jaimie straddled his body, settling over his hips, her knees on either side of his thighs. “Are you absolutely certain we have to go right this minute?”
He reached up to wrap a hand around the nape of her head, slowly pulling her down to him. “I guess we’ve got a little time.” He fastened his mouth to hers and just let himself drown.
The End.