"We need to talk," she said quietly.
She'd been crying. Over Nick. Jared gritted his teeth and nodded. "Not here."
"Fine." She cleared her throat. "My office is only—"
"Not there. Too public." He gripped her elbow and steered her toward the side entrance. "Do you have your car?"
"Yes, but—"
"Let's just get out of here first." He struggled against the urge to stop and pull her into his arms, to murmur words of love and comfort, to kiss her until they both forgot everything that had happened since the last time they'd kissed. "Then we'll talk."
She remained silent but managed to free her arm. Without looking over her shoulder, she marched toward a red BMW with a vanity plate that read LOVENICK.
Perfect. Just frigging perfect. She punched her remote and the locks clicked. Jared reached in front of her and opened her door. She glanced back at him, her eyes wide and filled with questions, her lips slightly parted and beckoning.
He cleared his throat and pressed his hand to the small of her back, urging her to enter the car before he did something stupid, like kiss her. Besides, the sooner they were away from the Studfinder, the safer he'd feel. Having Margo here, where she could be in danger if his cover was blown, made Jared nervous.
A nervous cop is a dangerous cop.
Remembering those words from his training didn't help put him at ease. Once she slid into the driver's seat, he slammed her door and hurried to the other side. Within seconds, he was in the posh leather interior, buckling his seat belt.
Margo locked the doors and started the engine, backed the car out of the parking space, and pulled toward the exit. The engine purred, the ride like skating on butter.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Your place."
"I don't think that's wise."
He looked at her. Big mistake. Trying to ignore the lick of lust that damned near made him groan aloud, he said, "You have questions for me, and my answers aren't for public consumption."
She set her lips in a thin line. "Very well, but this is just business."
"Whatever you say." He flashed her a grin, enjoying the leap of her pulse in the side of her neck and the color creeping upward from the neckline of her blouse. "Nice car." Except for the license plate.
"Nick bought it for me." She sighed.
And the vanity plate. Jared didn't want to talk about Nick, but they had to. Dead or not, Nick still lurked between them. He always would.
"I–I'm sorry, Margo." He waited a beat and bit his lower lip. "About Nick. I didn't know."
"You must not go back to Riley's Crossing very often." She turned the corner, keeping her gaze on the traffic, sparing Jared those devastating gray eyes of hers. "The whole town was in mourning."
Because Fred Riley still owns the place. "No, not once since college. My uncle moved to Florida — no reason to go back."
"That's right. You didn't have any other family."
You were the only family I wanted.
Margo stopped at a wrought iron gate and inserted a card. The gates swung open for her, and she drove into the complex. Posh condos sat in a parklike setting among immaculate gardens, fountains, and trails.
Jared kept expecting to see Nick Riley's gloating expression, and every time the thought struck, guilt answered.
Margo punched a button and a garage door opened. She steered the car inside, killed the engine, and lowered the door. Only a small light overhead dispelled the darkness. She punched yet another button on her handy remote and a brighter light filled the garage.
So, this is the good life. Nick had always known how to appreciate the finer things. "Nice place."
"It's all right." She opened her door and Jared unfolded himself from the passenger side.
"Just all right?" he asked over the roof of the car.
She lifted a shoulder. "Nick wanted this, but I wanted a little Victorian fixer-upper across town."
He met and held her gaze. "So move."
She looked nervous as she slammed the door. "No. Not yet anyway. This is fine."
She's not over Nick. Remembering the way she'd left the breakfast table this morning, why did that surprise him? Because he wanted her to be over Nick. Damn.
Jared followed her up a flight of stairs, where she keyed some numbers into a control panel and opened the door. They emerged into a huge kitchen where everything gleamed a blinding white, from the ceramic tile beneath their feet to the cabinets and appliances. The place was so contemporary it almost made his eyes ache. There was nothing homey about this kitchen.
Nothing Margo.
Surprised, he wondered what kind of kitchen would suit her. The Victorian she'd mentioned, of course. He could picture her surrounded by wood, some of it a bit scarred or distressed. Ruffled curtains, old-fashioned copper pots hanging from hooks, and friendly pottery sitting all over the place.
And if that wasn't the most unmanly thought Jared Carson had experienced in his adult life, he didn't know what was. He shook himself, banishing the image. DEA agents didn't think about kitchen decor. A smile curved his lips. Damned good thing no one could read his mind.
Margo turned on the flame beneath a white kettle. "Tea?" she asked over her shoulder.
"Sure." Jared never drank tea, but for Margo he'd have said yes to battery acid. She arranged white cups on a white tray with a white carafe. The white thing was really getting ridiculous.
A few minutes later, they were sitting at a small table off the kitchen that overlooked the fancy gardens below. Jared felt uncomfortable as hell. The tabletop was glass, and the base was wrought iron. White wrought iron…
He had to ask. "Is the whole place white?"
Margo smiled, and a distant expression flickered in her eyes. "Pretty much. Nick liked the sleek, modern look. He almost fainted when I mentioned painting one wall in the den red."
"I'll bet." The last thing in the world Jared wanted to discuss was anything about Nick, but he didn't want to rush Margo. He still had hours before he was due at the club. "Red, huh?" He managed a smile, just for her.
"Good chi." She laughed at herself and poured tea into both their cups. "Milk? White?"
"Uh… no. Just sugar. White." Not that Jared knew enough about tea to be sure of his answer. He liked black coffee with sugar, so tea was probably the same.
She leaned back in her chair and took a sip, "Well, I suppose we've delayed this long enough."
Jared met her gaze, hoping his eyes didn't reflect his churning emotions. "I suppose."
She set her cup down with a clatter, reaching out to steady it with both hands. They trembled, making the china clatter even more. Finally, she bit her lip and clutched her hands together on the glass surface. "I'm sorry."
"Nothing for you to be sorry about." He took a sip of tea and remembered immediately why he was a coffee drinker. He set the cup aside, congratulating himself for not shuddering.
Until he saw Margo's hands on the table. Unable to stop himself, he reached over and covered her hand with his own. She flinched slightly, and her eyes widened. A moment later, she blinked and turned her palm upward, into his.
"It really is good to see you again." Her voice trembled a little. "You look well."
"You look ravishing." He followed the comment with a smile, hoping he wouldn't scare her away. This Margo seemed uncertain and frightened, very unlike the self-assured, loving young woman she had been in his arms.
Had Nick done this to her? No. He shoved the thought aside. Nick Riley had been selfish and competitive, but he never would have harmed Margo — at least, not physically.