“That’s the way to unwind from a long day at the office.” She stretched against the sheets, her back bowing off the mattress.
“That’s my kind of post-date celebration.”
Her euphoria diminished a bit. She sighed and pushed a hand through her disheveled hair. “It wasn’t a date, Jack.”
He was quiet for a long time. “I’ve been telling myself all along that I don’t want to date, that you’re far too dangerous to my peace of mind to be someone I date formally. I told myself I just wanted friends with benefits—or colleagues with benefits, as it were.”
Too dangerous for his peace of mind to date. What the hell did that mean? What exactly was he saying? Her heart tripped and she sat up, clutching the sheets to her breasts. She realized they were still clamped and she pulled the clips away, a shudder running through her as sensation roared back into her nipples. “I—I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Everything I was telling myself ... it was all bullshit. I like you. I want to date you.” He took a deep breath and folded his hands behind his head. “I don’t know where this thing with us can go, but I want to find out.”
It couldn’t go anywhere. Her time was ticking down like some bomb about to go off. Her insides squeezed, her throat tightening until she almost couldn’t breathe. “I’m not in a place in my life ...”
“That’s bullshit, too.” He turned his head a bit to look her directly in the eyes. “Give me a good reason why.”
What could she say? She couldn’t tell him the truth, that when they figured out who this killer was, he was going to murder her, too. And that was the positive outcome. The worst possible scenario was she died before they found out his identity, and she was gone before he was caught. She’d rather take the bastard with her. And there was no way she could tell Jack that.
He lifted his eyebrow at her silence. “Are you seeing anyone else?”
Throwing her hands in the air, she sighed. “When would I have time to do that? We’re in the middle of a murder investigation. I’m kind of busy.”
“So, we’re in an exclusive sexual relationship, we had dinner together at a restaurant, and then we came home and shagged like rabbits hopped up on speed.” He remained calm and relaxed against the pillows. “Sounds like dating to me.”
“It wasn’t a date, it was food followed by anal sex.” She folded her arms and glared down at him. “Don’t make it more romantic than it actually was. You finger-fucked me in a parking lot.”
His dark brows arched upward again, a wicked grin slashing across his face. “And you got off on it, so apparently my nonromantic approach does something for you.”
“Shut up.”
“Selina ...”
She frowned. Desperation began to crawl through her. She needed to deflect him. “Why are you pushing this? You said you’d been married before. I would assume that divorce would make a man leery of relationships.”
“I didn’t get divorced.”
Oh, shit. She closed her eyes as that deflated her. If he’d been married and was single now, without having been divorced, that only left one ugly option. “I’m sorry for your loss. I just assumed ... I shouldn’t have.”
“I didn’t specify, and it’s hardly odd for marriage to end in divorce these days. What is it now? One in two? Two in three? The odds were pretty high that you were right.” He sighed and sat up, propping his forearm on his bent knee.
“What happened?” She shouldn’t ask. She knew she shouldn’t, but she hadn’t been able to shut down her fascination with this human so far. Now was no exception. “How did she die?”
“She killed herself.” The words were blunt, and his gaze was locked on her face, waiting for her response.
The shock of it hit her, jolted her deep within. “What? Oh, gods. Jack.”
“It was a long time ago.” His tone was flat, empty, and that made her ache deep inside. His very lack of response dragged at her soul.
She had to reach out to him. She had to. Slipping her hand into his, she squeezed his fingers. “There’s no such thing with something like that. It lives with you.”
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “It really does live with you.”
Much like her cousin’s death had lived with her. On so many levels, they were so alike, and that was going to make leaving that much harder. Emotion she hadn’t let out in decades built up inside her, and she wanted to lay her head against his shoulder and sob for him, for herself, for everything that she’d lost, and for everything that she’d never have.
But she couldn’t. She’d locked so much of herself down when she’d lost Bess, just to stay sane and not let the guilt eat her alive. She’d iced over her heart because she’d had to. When had that protection become a prison? And did it really matter, since she was already on a collision course with Fate?
10
He’d never told anyone about his wife. Never. Not once in almost twenty years. There were people who knew, of course. People who were there through it all, like his mother and Darren, and people who’d read his personnel file, like Luca. But he’d never told anyone, point-blank, that his wife committed suicide. How could he talk about it and not relive the nightmare? All of it was better left behind him. He huffed out a laugh. It looked like Selina wasn’t the only one who’d put up walls.
“Is the coffee almost ready?” she called from somewhere in the depths of her house.
He slid the carafe into position and clicked on the machine. “Just about.”
“Most excellent.” The way her voice echoed told him she was probably in the bathroom.
A few seconds later, the sound of the shower spraying confirmed it. He smiled and continued moving around the kitchen, finally making her that French toast he’d promised. He cracked the eggs into the bowl, added a little milk and cinnamon, and mixed them together, only half his mind on the task. The other half still chewed over what had happened the night before. It felt like something fundamental inside him had shifted, some weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying around had lifted.
Whatever walls he had, this thing with Selina was making him break them down. He’d admitted—out loud—that he wanted more than just sex. He’d admitted—out loud—that his wife had taken her own life. It hadn’t even been that bad. Of course, Selina’s reaction to the little bombs he’d dropped on her had been mixed.
She hadn’t pitied him or fawned all over him, she’d given him tough sympathy, and it was the reaction he’d needed. No babying anyone and no bullshit, that was his Selina.
However, she’d also completely rejected the idea of anything other than an affair. It had taken him a long time to find a woman who made him want to try relationships again. He didn’t want to let that slip away.
Maybe it was that he was mortal, but he didn’t have five hundred years to get his shit together. His time was limited, so when he saw something he wanted, he went after it.
And he wanted Selina.
He’d tried to hold it off, tried to deny it, but it had been no use. It hadn’t been a lie when he told her he didn’t know where this was going, but he was going to pursue it and find out. If working with him on this case made it harder for her to avoid him ... Well, he was ruthless enough to take advantage of that.
His first wife hadn’t called him a relentless bastard for nothing.
The egg on the French toast sizzled when it hit the hot pan, and the tantalizing smell of it filled the air, mixing with the rich aroma of brewing coffee. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. It only took a few minutes to have a pile of piping hot slices on a plate.