Then why did she feel like crawling under the nearest rock? Nick is dead. She struggled for another breath, and though logic demanded she accept her husband's death and his rivalry with Jared, she couldn't. Traitor.
Steph extended the key card that had belonged to Nick toward her. "Want this back?" She flashed her a sheepish grin. "Sorry."
"Don't be silly." Margo cleared her throat and noticed the fury glittering in Raquel Eastwood's eyes. Why would she be angry about this? It made no sense at all. Of course, Raquel's early morning breakfast invitation hadn't either.
"Looks like we arrived just in time," Raquel said, her voice sounding deeper than it had before.
"That's a matter of opinion," Jared said quietly.
Raquel took a step toward him. "Yeah. Mne."
"What the—"Steph looked from Raquel to Jared, then back again. "You may be tall, but I think Jared could take you with one hand. Besides, what's it to you?" As usual, Steph had the courage to voice Margo's thoughts.
"I'm interviewing Jared for an article." Margo retrieved her notepad and pencil, as if she needed proof. Ridiculous.
"Sorry for interrupting." Raquel's apology came through gritted teeth and was clearly not genuine. However, at least she'd unclenched her fists.
"Interview, huh?" Steph's eyes twinkled, and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Raquel needed a ride to the office, and I remembered I need to borrow your purple dress, so…" She shrugged, still smiling.
Margo would never hear the end of this one.
"I'll get the dress."
"I'll help you."
Margo hurried into the bedroom she'd shared with Nick, which augmented her guilt. She hadn't kissed a man since his death, and the first one had to be the one who would have hurt him the most.
Steph came in behind her and put her hand on her shoulder. "Don't you dare feel bad about kissing that sexy hunk of man. It's about time you—"
"Don't, Steph." Margo drew a shaky breath, reeling in her emotions. She turned and faced her sister. "There's — a lot more to this, and I can't go into it with you right now."
"Oooookay." Steph gave her a quick hug, then flung open Margo's closet. "I'm starting to wonder about Raquel."
"Starting to?" Margo shook her head. "She's very strange."
Steph retrieved the purple dress in question and draped it over her shoulder. "She was the one who mentioned we were passing right by your place."
"How…" Margo paused to contemplate that. "She probably saw my address at the office or something. Or maybe from the police station last night."
"Maybe."
Why didn't it seem that simple to Margo? Because Raquel had shown an inordinately strong interest in her. That made it personal.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Steph tilted her head, her expression contemplative. "I'm sure she'll take no for an answer."
Margo would've bought her sister's sincerity, if not for the gleam in Steph's eye as she grabbed the doorknob.
"You're rotten," she muttered to her sister's retreating back.
"I love you, too, sis." Steph giggled all the way back to the den.
Raquel and Jared were still in neutral corners. At least that was something.
"C'mon, Raquel, let's give these two some privacy."
"I'm not sure that's wise," Raquel said, her murderous gaze still on Jared. "After all, Margo is still in mourning."
Steph coughed and grabbed Raquel by the elbow. "Hon, Nick was a really cool guy, but it's been two years. Life goes on."
Raquel paused at the door and faced Margo. The glower she'd directed at Jared was gone. Now the expression in the redhead's mascara'd eyes could only be described as sad. Rejected? Get a grip, Margo.
"I see you kept the painting," Raquel said quietly as she shifted her gaze from Margo to the painting in the entry-way.
Before Margo could ask the woman how she knew about the painting Nick had purchased while on their honeymoon, Steph had dragged Raquel Eastwood out the front door.
"That was… interesting," Jared said.
"More than you can possibly imagine." Margo turned slowly to find that he looked as bewildered as she felt. "Yes, interesting is one way of putting it." Crazy would've been more accurate. Had Raquel been here before? Ridiculous. After giving herself a mental shake, she grabbed her notebook and pencil again. "Now, where were we?"
Jared touched her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. "Don't you remember?" He took a step nearer, his warmth closing the short distance between them as he cupped her face in both hands and brushed his lips across hers.
Her knees quaked, and her heart pressed upward against her throat. She still wanted this man with the same intensity she had in college. He had the ability to reduce her to little more than crazed hormones with no effort at all. Problem was he seemed hell-bent on exerting a lot of effort.
She was in serious trouble.
"Jared…" A simple whisper shouldn't have ignited the flame in his eyes she saw now. He obviously knew her resistance to his charms was practically nonexistent. "I… we can't do this."
"Oh, I definitely can." He exhaled very slowly, resting his forehead against hers. "But I'm a gentleman. Remember?"
"Yes." Margo swallowed hard, and wished more than a little that Jared Carson would forget he was a gentleman, and that she could stop feeling as if she were betraying her dead husband. "Back to our interview."
Margo sat in a chair across the room from Jared this time, and he took the couch. Alone. Better this way. Really.
"I can't tell you much about the life of an exotic dancer, since I'm really not one." He held his hands palms up.
"Looks like a duck…"
"Cute."
"I thought so." She scribbled down a few comments.
"What are you writing? I haven't said anything yet."
"Just that the subject seems ashamed of his chosen profession. Embarrassed."
"You can say that again."
"Once will suffice." Warmed to her subject, Margo scribbled more notes.
"Just a thought…"
She looked up, trying to ignore how delicious he looked sitting on her couch. "What?"
"Aren't you doing the real dancers a disservice?"
"How?"
"By putting my embarrassment in the article. Maybe some of these guys like this job."
"Oh." What had she been thinking? Very unprofessional — and very unlike her. "You're right. I can't do it
"Don't want me to see you wiggle up there again?" She grinned but could tell he was serious. "Jared, I have a job to do here."
"Tell me what you want to know from the other dancers, and I'll ask them."
She studied his expression, the worry in his intensely blue eyes, and almost surrendered. "Look, as you pointed out, I've already almost blown this assignment." She stood, tossing her notepad onto the coffee table. "If I'm going to write this story, I'm going to do it right. That means interviewing a real dancer. Lakeview only has one Studfinder."
He rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed. "The real Margo Knutsen has returned."
Stunned, she waited for him to meet her gaze again. "What's that supposed to mean?"
His eyes softened. "I didn't mean to insult you, but you haven't exactly been yourself." One corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Except for when I kissed you."
Her cheeks flamed, and she cleared her throat. "I… well… It's been hard. Losing Nick and all."
"I know." He sighed and walked around the coffee table. "Come here."
Margo hesitated, but she saw compassion in his eyes instead of lust. Between two beats of her heart, she found her head nestled beneath Jared's chin and his strong arms wrapped comfortably around her shoulders. He made no attempt to kiss her this time.