The Ninth Month by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson [PATTERSON, JAMES and DILALLO, RICHARD]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2022-08-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

52

A TALL, GOOD-LOOKING DETECTIVE goes to the apartment of a woman whom he’s just met. He’s visiting to check the locks.

Okay. I know. I know. I’m not that naïve. It sounds like the beginning of a porn flick. I never understood the appeal of porn, but my housemate at Princeton, Quinn Church, was a connoisseur (code word for addict). What’s more, I think I really believed that the lock agreement between Tierney and me was innocent. I don’t think I was looking for anything more.

Okay. Who am I kidding?

I’m not sure that it’s only sex that I’m hoping for, although I can’t dismiss that motive from my mind at all. But talking to Joel Tierney back at Ted’s, I felt safe with him. I felt at peace with him. I thought that here was a guy who doesn’t seem to mind that I’m pregnant or a recovering alcoholic or, I’ve got to admit it, someone who comes across as just a little bit eccentric (code word for crazy).

Tierney doesn’t even try the knob or lock on the back service entrance. He just bends down toward the door, examines the lock for two seconds and says, “You’ve got a Kwikset 991 here. You can’t get a better lock unless you know someone in US Army supply acquisition. You’re okay. Safe at home.”

“I’m just a lucky girl,” I say.

“No, I’m a lucky guy.”

And now it’s that time. Okay, I’ve been here before, but each time feels new. A little bit of experience mixed with quite a bit of instinctive improv.

Joel looks at me, the tiniest curl to his lips, almost a smile, just a millimeter away from a smirk. The man keeps his eyes steady. Eyelids don’t blink; he knows they’re not blinking. This is when a woman tries to figure out the future of the night. Am I standing here with a good guy—a not-too-rough, not-too-gentle man who’s looking for fun, for both himself and for me? Or am I about to encounter what we used to call a sex slob, a guy who’s only interested in pouncing and running hard to his own finish line? Yes, there are slight variations on both these types, but these are the two general divisions—nice guy or asshole.

I am happy to announce that Joel Tierney turns out to belong to the former group.

Now, in my NYPD-approved safe apartment, he moves behind me and brings his lips to the side of my neck. He slips his arms over my shoulders and cups my breasts in his hands. Yeah, I know, a very traditional move, but it’s a move I haven’t experienced in quite a while.

He whispers, “I gotta tell you. I love pregnant women.”

“What a great coincidence,” I say. Then I add, “You should hang outside of places where they give natural childbirth courses.”

“It’s crossed my mind,” he says.

“Ewww. Creepy,” I say. But he knows I don’t mean it. Tierney seems anything but creepy. The vibe here is tender but likes action.

We move to the

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