When she finished what was in her glass, the sheriff was still waiting, and watching her closely. “He was abusive, okay? I’m sure you’ve guessed that already. But if you want to hear me say it, I just did.”
“Physically?”
She winced as she remembered some of the humiliating things Tom had made her do, how easily he’d been able to manipulate her because of their children. “Yes.”
He leaned over and touched the scar where Tom had cut his initials into her arm. “Did he do this to you?”
That had been minor, compared to some of the other stuff. She pulled away. “That and more.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I just hope he never finds me.” There were others she feared far more, but she couldn’t tell him that. This would appease the sheriff’s curiosity; make him believe he understood why she was so withdrawn and secretive. Make him stop questioning her about the past.
“You think he’s looking?”
“He could be.” She’d had a lot to drink tonight, too much, and wanted even more—anything to further numb the sharp edge of fear—so she refilled her glass.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wouldn’t have pushed. Except…I’ve tried asking you out so many times.”
She didn’t want to talk about them. “Sheriff, please.”
“Sheriff?”
“Myles, then.” It wasn’t easy to say his name; it felt too familiar. “In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not interested in a relationship.”
Instead of getting offended, he leaned forward again and caught her chin so she had to meet his eyes. “Is that right?”
She got the impression he wanted to touch her. Desperate for even this small amount of contact—it’d been so long since she’d been with a man—she drew a shallow breath. “You don’t believe it?”
“Sometimes the way you look at me is…a bit contradictory.”
Gazing at him from beneath her lashes, she attempted to deny it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Take now, for instance.”
The wine was going to her head. But she welcomed it. She’d had to battle for her life and the lives of her children for so many years that she felt too weary to continue. “Now?” she repeated.
“Yeah, now. This very second. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re definitely…interested.”
He could’ve said aroused, because she was. The warmth of his body appealed to her, the hard muscle, the completion he could offer, but… “Not in a relationship,” she said.
“Then what?” The softness of his voice begged her to level with him, but she couldn’t. The fantasies she’d indulged in over the past twelve months stood between them. So did his job.
“N-nothing.”
“You know I’d never hurt you the way your ex did, right?” He ran his fingers down her arm, light as a faint breeze.
“Look, you—you don’t want to get involved with me,” she said, but turned her hand over to reveal the more sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist.
“You’re sending me mixed messages again,” he pointed out.
She couldn’t seem to help herself. Although she was starved for the physical stimulation she’d grown accustomed to during the year she’d spent with her brother’s best friend and former cell mate, she couldn’t let this go any further. Myles had a daughter. And he’d suffered enough with the loss of his wife. She needed to take that into consideration. She’d hate herself if she brought any more pain and unhappiness into their lives.
“You’ll have to trust what I say.”
His fingers continued to glide back and forth, creating goose bumps. “What if I prefer what you’re not saying?”
He didn’t realize what he was doing, stirring up such longing. She was so tired and scared she couldn’t seem to marshal her self-control. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.
His hand stilled. “I’m thinking yes to dinner would be nice. Any chance we could start there?”
Dinner? That wasn’t enough. Not now. Everything she’d been missing, craving, imagining in the dark hours of night was bearing down on her all at once—distilling into a reckless abandon unlike anything she’d experienced before. Nothing seemed to matter except obliterating that aching need. “I have a better idea.”
He cocked his head, and she swallowed hard before continuing. “What if we made an…arrangement?”
“What kind of arrangement?”
Her heart felt like a fish flopping around on the sand. “An arrangement that would…last for one night.”
When his eyes narrowed, she knew she’d piqued his interest. “The only arrangement I know that lasts for one night is called a one-night stand.”
When she didn’t tell him he’d gotten the wrong idea, as he so obviously expected, he sat up and blinked. “When a woman turns a man down for dinner as many times as you’ve turned me down, he pretty much figures sex is out of the question.”
That didn’t mean it had to be. They couldn’t have a relationship. But one night wasn’t a relationship. It was an escape.
She wet her lips. “Is that a no?”
He took an even closer look at her. “You’re serious.”
“It’s a simple question.” She’d knocked him off balance but she’d been off balance from the beginning. “Do you want to make love to me or not?” Don’t say no. I can’t keep waging this battle alone. Just one night with company in my solitary world. That’s all I ask…?.
He shoved back in his chair, the small movement a sudden explosion of energy. “Is that a trick question? Because if this is…some sort of test…I mean, if you think that’s all I’m after—”
He was searching for pitfalls when there were none. “You don’t understand. That’s all I’m after. One night. Just promise me two things.”
Several creases appeared in his forehead. “What?”
Vivian curled her fingernails into her palms. “You have to keep it to yourself—”
“What kind of person do you think I am?” he retorted.
She didn’t bother answering, because this next part was the clincher. “And you can’t ask me out again. Ever. You can’t come over here hoping for a repeat, either. We agree to forget about tonight, act as if it never happened, and we go back to being polite neighbors. That’s all. It’s a…a time-out for both of us.”
Jumping to his feet, he paced to the counter. “Listen, I’m sure it’s probably been as long for you as it has for me. I understand how—” he seemed to be choosing his words carefully “—lonely you must be…living the kind of life you’ve been living, taking care of your kids, working so much and devoting any free hours to your garden. But…there’s a lot we don’t know about each other. And we’re not the most transparent people in the world.”
He was trying to be kind, using we.
“I’m not sure having sex is the best way to start a friendship,” he finished.
“It’s not a friendship,” she corrected. “It’s a one-night stand, like you said.”
“But we’re neighbors. We live in the same small community.”
She knew it would be awkward afterward, but they could deal with it, put the barriers back up. And if they couldn’t, she didn’t care. She refused to be logical, to acknowledge the risks. Fortunately, the wine made that easy. Couldn’t she just act for once, before her self-control regained the upper hand and denied her yet again? How much more sacrifice could life demand? She was thirty years old and she’d had one fulfilling sexual relationship, which had lasted less than a year. “You don’t have to explain or justify your decision. You merely have to make up your mind. Do you want me or not?”