She adjusted the focus and snapped a picture of the empty tables. The strobe flashed and she said, “Of course.”
That stung, especially since it wasn’t true. “Well, honey, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“I give myself a lot of credit.” Another click and flash, then she said, “But I know how things are.”
He took a drink and the cool gin warmed a path down his throat and settled next to a spot of irritation. “Tell me what you think you know.”
“I know I’m not the only woman you spend time with.” She lowered her camera and moved to one end of the bar.
“You’re the only woman I’m seeing right now.”
“Right now. You’ll move on. I’m sure we’re all interchangeable.”
Mick walked away as the strobe flashed. “I didn’t think you had a problem with that.” He moved into the dark shadows and leaned a hip into the jukebox.
“I don’t. I’m just saying that I’m sure we’re all the same in the dark.”
She was really starting to piss him off, but he had a feeling that was her point. He wondered why the hell he’d wanted to see her so damn bad. She believed the gossip about him, and he wondered why he cared. She didn’t mind if he saw other women, and he wondered why that bothered him. Maybe he should. Maybe he should kick her ass out and call someone else. The problem was he didn’t want to call someone else, and that ticked him off almost as much as her attitude.
She took several photos of the floor in front of the bar from different angles, then he said, “You’re wrong about that. Not all pussy is the same in the dark.”
She glanced over at him. He’d meant to offend her, but typical of Maddie, she didn’t act like other women. Instead, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Are you trying to make me mad?”
“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
