When he cleared his throat and adjusted himself, she could tell he wasn’t unaffected by the tension crackling between them. “This isn’t about want, for Christ’s sake. If that was the only thing I had to consider, I wouldn’t think twice.”
“Then stop thinking.”
“I can’t. Taking off our clothes isn’t the right place to begin a relationship.”
Why was he saying that again? She’d already told him she didn’t want a relationship. There was no beginning. Only an end. And she’d let him choose what that end would be.
She gave him a rather tight smile. “I understand. Thanks for fixing my refrigerator.”
He went stone-still despite all the energy that seemed to be coiled up inside him. “Thanks? That’s it? What about a movie? Bowling? A hike? Boating on the lake? We could drive into Libby if you’re afraid someone here might see us and make an issue of it.”
Her head suddenly felt as if it weighed a ton; just holding it up became a struggle. She was too weary to continue carrying her usual load, which had been made all the heavier by Pat’s murder. And now she knew there’d be no relief, not even for a few hours. “No, but thank you.”
“This is crazy,” he said. “You want to sleep with me, but you won’t go out with me? Why?”
“I can’t.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
She pressed her palms to her eyes. “Please…go. I—I should never have asked. I wouldn’t have, except…” Except she had no other alternative. She felt she had to grab hold of someone before she lost all ability to cope. “Never mind. It’s no excuse for my behavior, but…I’m tired.”
“Listen.” The tension threatened to escape his control, but he managed to bridle it. “You’ve had too much to drink. That ties my hands right there. But…you never know where dinner might go.”
“I understand,” she said again. “But no, thank you. I had no business asking. I can’t even imagine how it must’ve sounded.”
“I want to get to know you better first, use a little caution. We’re not eighteen.”
“Right. It was my mistake. I’m sorry.”
That she agreed with him only seemed to bother him more. “But it’s still a no.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Fine. Forget it.” With a frustrated scowl, he strode to the door, where he turned back and studied her as if he couldn’t believe they’d reached this impasse.
She forced herself to look away. “Your daughter’s probably wondering where you are.”
Cursing, he grabbed his toolbox and left.
The click of the door echoed in Vivian’s mind as she sat alone, staring at the wine bottle that had come between her and some restraint.
“Great. I just propositioned my neighbor,” she muttered. “And it was the county sheriff.” What’d gotten into her? Could she really be desperate enough to make such a fool of herself?
Apparently so. Embarrassment would consume her in the morning. She could already feel a hint of what she had coming, dancing just beyond the fuzziness caused by the alcohol.
Pouring herself the last of the wine, she decided she could deal with that later. First, she had to contend with the cold emptiness that’d settled into the pit of her stomach.
Laying her head on her arms, she looked at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand move slowly from dot to dot. One minute… Two…
She hadn’t even gotten any information out of him about the murder. Shit… Shit, shit, shit…
Then she remembered the shock on his face when she propositioned him and started to laugh. If she didn’t laugh, she’d cry. And what good was crying? There was no one to hear her, no one to help…?.
As usual.
3
I have a better idea… What if we made an arrangement?… What kind of arrangement?… An arrangement that would last for one night…?.
Holy hell. Myles had so many hormones coursing through him he couldn’t even bring himself to sit down. Leaving the lights off—the darkness gave him a sense of privacy he desperately needed right now—he prowled around his living room, fighting the urge to return to Vivian’s. If he couldn’t convince her to go out with him, why not take what he could get? Tonight might be his only chance.
But that was a pretty creepy way to look at it. He really didn’t want to be that big an asshole. For one thing, she’d had too much to drink. That meant he couldn’t.
There were other issues, too. He still felt some loyalty to Amber Rose, hadn’t been with anyone since. Then there was Marley and how irresponsible it would be for him, as a father and a police officer, to be intimate with someone he wasn’t even dating. And what about Pat? The murder of a Pineview citizen should’ve been enough to keep him occupied and well beyond temptation. He’d assigned his two best investigators to the case, but he’d have his work cut out for him in the morning, when the press began to call and everyone started demanding answers. He should be getting some sleep. The whole community was depending on him…?.
But he wanted her. There was no question about that. As guilty and disloyal as it made him feel, he’d wanted her almost from the first day he saw her, watering her lawn wearing that pretty summer dress and no shoes. Would one night of hot, sweaty sex be that reprehensible?
If he indulged himself, maybe he’d be able to start living again. He felt as if his life had been on pause since Amber Rose died. He’d convinced himself to go out on a couple of blind dates set up by well-meaning friends, and he’d joined a softball team in an attempt to socialize, but he was merely going through the motions, pretending to be whole when he wasn’t. Except for the love he had for his daughter and the interest Vivian sparked whenever he saw her, he felt very little passion for anyone or anything—even, to a point, his work.
This might be the answer, might bring him back to the man he used to be.
He imagined taking Vivian to the lake, pictured himself peeling off her swimsuit and bringing his mouth to her breast, and nearly groaned. Allowing himself to dangle at the far edge of restraint was driving him mad—
“Daddy?”
His daughter’s voice acted like a splash of cold water in the face. Whipping around, he saw her charging down the steps, heading toward the kitchen. He’d left the light on in there. Her best friend, Elizabeth, trailed after her. Their movie must’ve ended.
“Yes?”
His answer, coming from the direction it did, startled her. She hadn’t expected to find him brooding in the dark.
After hesitating for a moment, she came forward. “Is something wrong?”
A lot was wrong. But he felt as though fifteen minutes with Vivian could fix at least some of it. “No, why?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Just thinking.”
When she leaned closer, he could tell she was trying to see him more clearly in the light spilling from the hallway. “Why is your hair messed up?”
Better his hair than his clothes, he thought, and jammed his hands in his pockets. “I must’ve shoved my fingers through it.”