“It seems fair. You’re trying to make me mad.”
She thought a moment and then confessed, “You’re right.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because I don’t want to think about what I’m doing.” She moved to the end of the bar and looked at the no-skid mats on the floor. She snapped a few photos, then lowered her camera. Just above a whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear, she said, “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
He straightened.
“It’s the same bar and mirrors and lighting and old cash register.” She set the camera down and grasped the end of the bar. “The only things that are different are the blood and the bodies.”
Mick walked toward her and set his glass on the railing as he passed it.
There was a catch in her voice when she said, “She died here. How can you stand it?”
He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t think about it anymore.”
She turned and looked up at him, her eyes wide and stricken. “How is that possible? Your mother killed your father right at the top of the stairs.”
“It’s just a place. Four walls and roof.” He slid his hands down her arms and back up again. “It happened a long time ago. Like I said, I don’t think about it.”
“I do.” She bit her lip and turned her head away to wipe at her eyes.
Mick had never met a writer before Maddie, but it did seem to him as if she were awfully emo tional for a woman writing a book about people she didn’t even know.
“This has just been so much harder than I thought it was going to be. I don’t take my own photos for the books, and I thought I could do this.”
Maybe she had to immerse herself in the details and feel them in order to write about them. Hell, what did he know? He didn’t even read books that often.
She looked up at him. “I have to go.” She grabbed her camera off the bar and walked around him. On her way out, she picked up her jacket and purse off one of the stools where she’d set them earlier.
This evening had turned to shit and he did not know why. He didn’t know what he’d done or hadn’t done. He’d thought she’d take a few photos. They’d have a drink, talk, and, yeah, hopefully get naked. He followed Maddie through the back and out into the alley.
“Are you going to be okay to drive?” he asked as he stepped from the back door.
She stood just inside the pool of light and fumbled to shove her arms into the sleeves of her jacket. She nodded, and her purse dropped to the ground by her foot. Instead of picking it up, she covered her face with her hands.
“Why don’t I take you home?” He moved toward her, then bent down and picked up her purse. He’d been raised by females, but he did not understand Maddie Dupree. “You’re too upset to drive.”
She looked up at him through liquid eyes as a tear spilled over her bottom lashes. “Mick, I have to tell you something about me. Something I should have told you weeks ago.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “You’re married.” He put her bag on the hood of her car and waited.
She shook her head. “I…I’m…” She let out a breath and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I’m not…I’m afraid…I can’t…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and glued her body to his. “I can’t get the crime scene photos out of my head.”
That was it? That’s why she was so upset? He didn’t know what to say. What to do. He felt helpless and he slid his hands around her sides and held her. The skin across his abdomen got tight, and he knew what he’d like to do. He figured it was a good thing she couldn’t read his mind, but it was her fault, really. She shouldn’t have pressed into him and clung to his neck.
“Mick?”
“Hmm?” Tonight she smelled like vanilla again and he ran his hands up and down her back. Holding her was almost as good as sex.
“How many condoms do you have on you?”
His hand stilled. He’d bought a box of Trojans yesterday. “I have twelve in the truck.”
“That ought to be enough.”
He pulled back to look into her face, her profile lit by the light at the back of Hennessy’s. “I don’t understand you, Maddie Dupree.”
“Lately, I don’t understand myself.” She ran her fingers through his hair and brought his mouth down to hers. “And where you’re concerned, I just can’t seem to do the right thing.”
Late the next morning, Maddie stood in her kitchen and raised a steaming cup of coffee to her lips. She wore her white bathrobe and her wet hair was slicked back from her shower. Last night she’d almost told Mick that Alice Jones was her mother. She should have told him, but each time she opened her mouth, she couldn’t say the words. She hadn’t been afraid to tell him, but for some reason, she just couldn’t tell him. Maybe the timing was off. Another time would be better.
More than anything, she’d needed him to help clear her head of the horrible images. She’d been to her mother’s grave and she hadn’t fallen apart. But standing in the exact spot where her mother had died, she’d felt like someone had reached inside her chest and ripped out her heart. Perhaps if she hadn’t seen the photos of her mother’s blood and her blond hair stained a dark brown. Perhaps her world wouldn’t have flipped upside down and she wouldn’t have gotten so emotional.
She hated getting emotional, especially in front of other people. Most specifically in front of Mick, but he’d been there and seen it and she’d needed someone to hold on to and focus on when everything seemed so unbalanced.
He’d followed her home and she’d taken his hand and led him into the bedroom. He’d kissed her in all those places he’d said he’d been thinking about. He set every nerve ending in her body on fire, and she knew she should feel bad about being with him again. It was wrong of her, but being with him felt too good to feel really bad.
“Meow.”
Snowball wove a figure eight between her feet and she looked down at her cat. How had her life come to this? She had a cat in her house and a Hennessy in her bed.
She set her cup on the counter and moved to the pantry to grab a bag of kitten food. A dead mouse lay on the floor and Snowball sniffed its tail. She’d moved the poison the night she’d decided to keep Snowball, but that didn’t mean the mouse hadn’t eaten the bait. “Don’t eat that or you’ll get sick.” She grabbed Snowball and carried her into the laundry room. Snowball purred and butted her head against Maddie’s chin. “And I know for a fact you did not sleep in your bed. I found white fur on my office chair.” She set the kitten in her Amazon box and poured food onto a little dish. “I do not want to walk around with white fur on my butt.” Snowball jumped out of her box and attacked her food as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. Last night as Mick had walked from the bathroom, a smug, satisfied smile tilting one corner of his lips, the kitten had stalked him across the carpet and attacked his leg.
“What the hell?” he’d yelped and danced around as Snowball had dashed back under the bed. “I can’t believe I wasted money buying that damn thing a collar.”
Maddie had laughed and patted the bed next to her. “Come here so I can make you feel better after the big bad cat attack.”
He’d moved to the bed and pulled her up so she knelt before him. “I’m going to make you pay for laughing at me.” And he had. All night long, and when she’d woken this morning, she was alone. Again. She would have liked to have woken and seen his face, his blue eyes looking at her, all sleepy and sated, but it was better this way. Better to keep a distance even though they’d shared a night as physically close as two people could possibly get.
While Snowball chowed, Maddie picked up the mouse with a paper towel and carried it to the garbage outside. She called a local veterinarian and made Snowball an appointment for the first week in August. Her low-carb granola bars had teeth marks on the outside of the box, but the bars looked okay. As she took a bite, her doorbell rang.