Her frown relaxed and she chuckled. “Now you sound like Katherine.”
He thought about the angry words the two had shared that afternoon, then the way Katherine had smoothed the hair from Sophie’s face before sending her back to finish her scan. Their relationship ran very deep. “You’ve known her since you were a girl.”
“She was the mother I never had. Is,” she corrected herself with a small smile. “She is the mother I never had.”
Her face was dirty and streaked from the tears she’d shed. Her hair was disheveled, a few straggling strands having come loose from the tight ball of braids at her nape. He found himself wanting to smooth the hair from her face, just as Katherine had done.
But not for the same reason. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
Tall and strong, with her green eyes and golden hair, Sophie Johannsen was a beautiful woman with a bright mind and a quick temper. And a soft heart. She intrigued him as no woman had for some time. Two weeks, he warned himself. You wait two weeks, Ciccotelli.
But because his mind had already cut those two weeks down to one, he forced himself to change mental tracks. The sight of the body bag had triggered her extreme reaction. It didn’t take a detective to guess she’d seen one before.
“When did your mother die?” he asked and her hands stilled and her jaw tightened.
“She’s not dead,” she finally said, resuming her task.
Surprised, Vito frowned. “But… I don’t understand.”
Her smile was quick and flat. “That’s okay. Neither do I.”
It was a nice way of telling him to mind his own business. He was wondering how to probe deeper when she stopped working and began unbuttoning her coat. His brain stopped churning and he realized he was holding his breath, waiting to see what her bulky coat concealed. He wasn’t disappointed. She shrugged out of the coat, revealing a soft knit sweater that clung to every curve. He let the breath out as quietly as he could. Sophie Johannsen had a hell of a lot of curves.
She hung her coat on a hook on the back of the door, then turned back to her worktable, rolling her shoulders and he shoved his hands deeper in his pockets to keep from touching her. She glanced up at him before resuming her work. “You know you really can go. I’m fine here alone.”
Irritation scraped at him, obliterating whatever smooth segue he might have come up with. “So where is your mother then, if she’s not dead?”
Again her hands stilled and she turned only her head to look at him with a mixture of cool amusement and incredulity. “Katherine was right. You cops are nosy.” She said no more, concentrating on cleaning the piece as if she performed brain surgery.
Her dismissal irritated him. “Well? Where is she?”
She shot him a warning look and blew out an impatient breath. “So, tell me more about the brother who inhales chocolate. Him I can like.”
He’d pushed too far and for the life of him didn’t know why he’d done so. He wasn’t normally so rude. “Which translates to mind your own business,” he said ruefully.
She flashed a quick grin. “You detectives are so smart.” She lifted a brow as she opened the next cases. “So you and your brother are just bachelors roughing it?”
“You’re nosy, too, just more subtle about it,” he said and her warm chuckle told him he was right. It had been a while since he’d done this tango, but he still remembered the steps. She was establishing boundaries, which meant she was interested, too. “Tino’s kind of in between jobs. He was a commercial artist at this fancy advertising company, but they started taking on clients and projects he couldn’t morally support. So he quit. He couldn’t afford his condo in Center City anymore, so…”
“So you opened your home,” she said quietly. “That was nice of you, Vito.”
Her tone soothed his anger, brushing it away as if it had never been. “He’s my brother. And my friend.” And to Vito, that had always been reason enough.
She considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Then he’s a fortunate man.”
He said no more, warmed by the compliment she’d paid him with such effortless sincerity and a week was suddenly too long. The yearning was far stronger now. He wanted to race, to grab what he needed before it disappeared. One day, Chick. At least sleep on it. That he could try.
For now Vito contented himself in watching her go about her work. Finally, she stood and dusted her hands on her jeans. “I’m done.”
His hands itched to touch so he kept them in his pockets, not even offering to help her with her coat. “Then let’s go get your bike.”
Her brows slightly bent in question as she sensed his shift of mood. But apparently she really wasn’t as nosy as he was. “I’m parked around the back.”
Sunday, January 14, 11:55
P.M.
Sophie cast a wary glance up at Vito Ciccotelli as she locked the door to the Humanities building and led him to the parking lot. He’d watched her with an intensity that made her so nervous that what should have been a fifteen-minute cleaning had taken twice that long.
He’d watched her as a large cat would watch his prey, cautious and intent. She wondered why. Why he was so cautious, that was. She knew why she was the prey. She was accustomed to that look from men. When they got that look they wanted sex.
Sometimes they got it. But only when she needed it, too.
Which hadn’t been too often and certainly not recently. For the last six months she’d either been working or sitting with Anna, and before… Well, it was hard finding someone on the road and she never dated men on a dig. It was a politically foolish thing to do, career suicide. She ought to know. It only took one foolish, stupid, idiotic…
And years later, there was still talk. Easy, needy… desperate. She’d spent the years since focused on her career, striving to remain as sexless as possible. But she was human. She’d had to find men who’d never come in contact with her colleagues and that took time. So she’d spent the better part of her life alone, damning that one regrettable moment when she’d believed the smooth lies of a man she’d thought was her soul mate.
Not all men were pigs, she knew. Her uncle Harry was a sterling example of a kind, good man. Something inside her wanted to believe Vito Ciccotelli was as well. He obviously cared about people, both living and dead. She respected that.
Pocketing her key, she looked up at him. He was staring straight ahead into the night, his mind clearly elsewhere. Alone, she thought. Right now he looked very alone.
Two alone people might find a way not to be. For a while, anyway. It was something to consider. “Are you all right?” she asked. “You look… grim.”
“I’m sorry. My mind wandered.” He looked around. “Let’s get your bike and put it in the bed of my truck, then I’ll drive you home.”
Sophie lifted her brows. “My bike in your truck? I don’t think so.” She started walking and he followed, his huff of frustration audible.
She stopped next to her bike, and in the light of the streetlamps she saw his face flatten in surprise. “This is yours?”
“It is.” She unhooked her helmet from the seat. “Why?”
Sophie was relieved to see his broodiness had disappeared, replaced by a spark of excitement as he took a slow walk around her motorcycle. “Katherine said you had a bike. I thought she meant a bicycle. This…” He ran a hand over the engine reverently. “This is a real beauty.”
“You ride?”