“I’m glad.” But if that was true, why had he stopped short of making love to her? She wanted to ask but knew it was territory they’d be wise to avoid. “Thanks for dinner, but…I’d better get going.”
Although he took her plate, he didn’t turn toward the sink. “You’re not staying?”
A tremor of desire passed through her, as strong as ever. But she knew she’d be a fool to continue what she’d started last night. She was only making it harder to fall in love with someone else, someone who might actually be right for her. “No, um, not tonight.” She got up and edged toward the door. “But I appreciate dinner.”
He set her plate on the counter. “You didn’t eat much.”
“But it was good.” At least, she assumed it was. Everything tasted like cardboard these days.
When he came over to her, she forced herself not to back away. She wouldn’t look up, had no idea what he was thinking, but it was impossible not to shiver when he slid his hand down her arm.
“You didn’t enjoy yourself last night?” he murmured.
Her eyes lifted, seemingly of their own volition, and locked with his. He was so close. All she had to do was rise on tiptoe, and he’d kiss her.
She almost did it. But fulfilling her desire wasn’t worth the regret she’d struggle with tomorrow—she knew because of what she’d dealt with today.
“It was fine, er, generous of you to, ah, accommodate me, since you weren’t interested yourself. It’s just…I’m a little lost right now. I think I need to figure out who I am without David, and where I’m going with my life, before I start sleeping around too much.” She gave him a wry smile to indicate that she was joking about the sleeping-around part. “But if I ever decide to play fast and loose again, you’ll be the first person I call.”
“No one can make love like I can.” He wore an inscrutable expression when he repeated her words from their night together, but she’d made the right decision this time. She had to heal, become whole, before she could manage any kind of relationship, particularly with someone who could wield as much power over her as Isaac Morgan.
“True.” She clicked her tongue. “Just one of the many reasons all the ladies line up at your door.”
“What’s another?”
Reaching for the unobtainable came to mind, but she didn’t say that. “You know how to grill a steak.”
“You ate two bites of it.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t good.”
“Now that you’re impervious to my appeal and my cooking, you might as well stay over,” he said. “I don’t have an extra bedroom. One’s my office and the other’s a darkroom. But the couch is free. At least you won’t be alone.”
It was an appealing offer. One she wanted to accept, especially when she thought of returning home and facing the pictures of her and David on the walls. Or Leanne and the growing concern that she was drinking too much. Or the mystery shrouding her mother’s disappearance.
Her problems seemed insurmountable.
Because she was too tired, she told herself. Why not check out of regular life for a little while?
“That sounds good.” She briefly touched his chest in thanks. “Maybe we’ll be better friends than we were lovers, huh?”
She could tell she’d surprised him. He’d probably never had a woman over who’d opted to sleep alone.
“That’s what you want? To be friends?”
She thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. I could use a friend right now.”
He lowered his eyes. She suspected he was looking at the monkey bite he’d given her, which burned as if his mouth was still latched onto her skin. “I’ll get you some bedding.”
Generous of you to accommodate me, since you weren’t interested yourself.
Isaac almost laughed aloud when he remembered that line. Maybe he’d lost interest in other women—for months, he hadn’t paid any attention to who or what was available—but he definitely hadn’t lost interest in Claire.
She had no clue what she did to him, but he wasn’t about to let on. She was right when she said she was a little lost. The weight loss told him that much. If he really cared about her, he’d be the friend she needed and leave it at that. He had far less chance of letting her down as a friend than he did as a lover. There were still times when he felt he had to head out into the wilderness, to be alone for extended periods. He couldn’t imagine how that would go over if he ever entered a committed relationship. He just wasn’t cut out to be the kind of steady, reliable man David was.
Claire needed another David. She didn’t need him.
But it wasn’t easy to have her so close and not take her to bed. He should’ve made love to her last night while he had the chance. Then maybe he wouldn’t be staring at the ceiling now. He’d wanted to, but he’d been too stung, too disappointed that she hadn’t come for the reasons he’d wished…?.
The shower went on, which only made matters worse. He’d given her a towel, told her she could make herself at home, but picturing the water rolling over her naked body was driving him crazy. The shower used to be one of their favorite places to make love.
Actually, he couldn’t remember a place they hadn’t liked.
The phone rang. Surprised that he’d be getting a call so late, he checked the clock—1:20—as he reached for the handset. Was it someone looking for Claire?
Caller ID read Restricted.
“Hello?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing blindsiding Leland with that bullshit about David’s death not being an accident?”
His caller hadn’t bothered to identify himself, but Isaac recognized the voice. Rusty Clegg.
“What business of it is yours whether or not I call Leland about anything?” he responded. “It’s not as if I have anything to say to you.”
“It’s my business if it concerns David. You hardly even knew him.”
“I knew him well enough. Anyway, what does that have to do with whether or not his death was an accident?”
“It makes me wonder why you’re even getting involved.”
“And that makes me wonder why you’re so upset that I raised the question. Did I hit too close to the truth, Rusty? Do you know something you should’ve told the sheriff?”
“I work for the sheriff, damn it. And if there’d been the slightest chance that David’s death was anything but an accident, I would’ve jumped all over it.”
“Then you know he was investigating Alana O’Toole’s disappearance.”
There was a moment of silence. “That’s bullshit. David wasn’t doing any such thing.”
“You sure about that?”
“If he was, he would’ve mentioned it to me—not only because we were friends but because I was already working for the sheriff’s department. I’m the person he would’ve gone to for help.”
“Maybe he didn’t trust you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Adrenaline had vanquished any sleepiness Isaac had begun to feel. He got out of bed to pace. “Either that, or he didn’t have a lot of confidence in your ability, because he was investigating. And that’s a fact.”
“I don’t see how you could know anything about it. You weren’t even in town when he died.”
But he’d heard the news and flown back to attend the funeral. The whole town had turned out on that rainy day. Isaac would never forget hovering at the edge of the cemetery, wanting to comfort Claire as she stood crying under that umbrella long after everyone had left. He hadn’t let himself go anywhere close. Since he still cared about her it’d seemed too self-serving to sidle up to the grieving widow. But he hadn’t been able to leave until she did. “I didn’t realize you kept such close track of my whereabouts, Rusty.”
“I notice you.”
“Because…”