Wanting to was a bad idea, especially with the way her pulse quickened and her mouth tugged into a goofy grin. Kick off the shoes and run like hell, her inner voice advised, but just for a while, she wasn’t going to listen. “Okay.”
She let herself into the house, moving quickly before he had a chance to retract his invite. In the bedroom, she traded her skirt for shorts, tugged on socks and buckled on her favorite Rocket Dog sneakers, then slung her purse with the.45 over her head and one arm. By the time she’d tucked her cell phone into her pocket and locked the door, Joe and the dogs were waiting on the porch.
She shrugged into the slicker he offered, this one lemon yellow, zipped it up and tried not to be obvious as she inhaled the scent of him from the cotton lining. She didn’t recognize his cologne, but it would probably haunt her dreams again tonight.
They crossed the grass to the road, then turned toward the street. Mrs. Wyndham’s house was mostly dark, the only lights in an upstairs room. The place looked lonely in the night rain.
“I don’t think I could live alone in a house that big,” Liz remarked as they reached the end of the driveway and turned onto the sidewalk.
“Me neither. But Miss Abigail’s lived here since she got married at nineteen, first in the blue house, then the big one.”
“So the cottages weren’t servants’ quarters.”
“No. The old Mrs. Wyndham, Abigail’s mother-in-law, had six kids and built the cottages as a way to keep them close. They moved out of her house. They moved into a cottage. The houses were small, originally two bedrooms, no kitchen, because she intended that the children, and their families when they had them, would do most of their living in the main house-meals, entertaining, et cetera.”
“She wasn’t a little controlling, was she?”
Joe laughed. “Her plan worked for about ten years, until the families began outgrowing the houses. Abigail was pregnant with their third child when the old lady died. Abigail’s husband, as the oldest, got the house, and she’s lived there ever since.”
Liz let Elizabeth drag her off the sidewalk to investigate something in the shadows of an azalea. “I wouldn’t want to live in my mom’s backyard as an adult, especially if I were married. But cottages like that would be great when all of us go home for a visit at the same time.”
“Are your brothers married?”
“Nope.”
“Any kids?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Sam, Max and Eric were good guys. If any of them had a child, they would have taken the responsibility and made the kid a part of the family. If they didn’t, their mother, Emilia, would have done it for them. “Which would you prefer? Sons or daughters?” She moved out of the way after Elizabeth had peed on the bush so Bear could do the same, then they continued along the street.
“Boys.”
“Girls,” she disagreed. “Favorite holiday?”
“What is this? One of those e-mail surveys without the e-mail?”
She laughed. “It’s called getting to know you. Come on, favorite holiday. Like every child, elf and adult in the world doesn’t know the answer to that one.”
In the dim light from the street lamp he scowled at her. “Fourth of July.”
“You just said that to be difficult, because the right answer is Christmas.”
They reached an intersection, and Bear sniffed the Stop sign while Elizabeth strained hard at her leash and stared intently into the darkness behind them. Aware of the comfortable weight of the pistol beneath her slicker, Liz looked in that direction, too, seeing nothing but rain, trees, shadows and brightly lit houses. Natalia had laughed about Elizabeth going on alert if a butterfly fluttered or a leaf rustled. She hadn’t been exaggerating.
“Look at me,” Joe said. He hadn’t bothered pulling up the hood of his slicker, and his hair was plastered, dark gold, to his head. His jeans were damp and getting damper where Bear’s wet leash was wrapped once around his legs-and again around the Stop sign. “I have these dogs, global warming, a slow economy and you hanging around looking for Josh. I don’t have to say things to be difficult. My
Liz made a dismissive sound. “You’re a lucky man, and you know it. You have these two wonderful pets giving you unconditional love, you’re doing your best to slow global warming and to help the economy and you’ve got me hanging around brightening your days. What more could you ask for?”
He stared at her a moment, his mouth twitching before he finally grinned. “Josh is good at twisting things around. Did you learn from him?”
The grin made her warm all the way down to the toes of her soggy shoes, but the mention of Josh chased away all that warmth. She tugged at Elizabeth ’s leash to get her moving again and stepped off the curb into the street. “Can we have just one conversation that doesn’t include your brother?”
They were approaching the other curb by the time Joe untangled himself and Bear and caught up. “Hey, you’re the one looking for him.”
“For the last couple years, everything’s been all about Josh. Can I have a break for one evening?” From the moment she’d been assigned the case, he had been the focus of her life. It was impossible to forget he existed-especially when she saw his face every time she looked at Joe-but she would love to try.
“If you want a break, you could forget about finding him and go back to wherever and do whatever.” After a few steps, he asked, “Where would that be? And what would you be doing?”
Where would be Dallas, and
“Someplace smaller than San Francisco and Chicago. Doing the usual jobs.” She gave him a sidelong look. “Maybe someplace small enough that I could get a bike and ride to work. I haven’t been on one in twenty years, but they say you never forget.”
“Borrow Natalia’s and we’ll go for a ride Sunday. You can see where Copper Lake gets its name.”
“Sure, if Natalia doesn’t mind. Although I may do good to not fall off in front of the house.”
“You keep your balance in those ridiculous heels. You can keep your balance on a bike.”
“You like those ridiculous heels.”
His smile was faint, serious, and his voice husky. “Hell, yeah.”
If she’d been wearing heels, she would have been lucky to reach the curb to sit down before she fell. Her legs were that weak.
Because she didn’t have a clue what to say and he seemed to have no follow-up, they fell silent for a while. An occasional car passed, its wipers working to keep the windshield clear. It was after nine o’clock on a Friday night, and the closer they got to downtown, the more activity there was-traffic, other people hurrying their pets through their evening business, bright lights shining in the few businesses that were still open.
“Football or baseball?”
Liz glanced at Joe.
“Which do you prefer?”
Ah, the survey. “Actually, basketball. The shortest of my brothers is six-four so they had to play whether they wanted to or not, and I had to go to the games to support them. I don’t have to ask you. I know it’s baseball.”
“Hey, it paid my way through three years of college.”
“You were that good?”
He shrugged. “Good enough for college ball, not a chance in hell at going pro. I focused on classes the last year, since that was going to earn me a living. Baseball wasn’t.”
“I’m impressed.” Not that she hadn’t already been impressed with him.
“Winter or summer?”
They stood at the intersection across from A Cuppa Joe, waiting for cars to pass. Only a few lights were on inside the shop, and she had no doubt they were the funky reduced-energy curly kind. “That depends on whether you mean winter like in Colorado or in Southern California. I don’t like cold.”
“Me neither.” Bear was starting to drag, and Joe gave him an encouraging word. “Paper or plastic?”
Liz laughed. “Like I don’t know the right answer to that. I saw those canvas shopping bags on your kitchen table. I’ll probably even be tempted to buy a couple of my own next time I’m at the grocery store.”
“Watch out. Before you know it, you’ll be looking at hybrid cars and local produce and giving up paper towels for real ones.”
She laughed again as they strolled to the end of the street, then turned into the square, following the path to the gazebo. Its roof provided a nice respite from the rain, letting her tug down the slicker’s hood and shake out her curls. She drew a deep breath of damp, fresh air and faded cologne and knew if she stepped close enough, she could smell the same scent, warm and sexy, on his skin. The thought made her shiver.
Leaning against the railing a few safe feet away, Joe asked, “Are you cold?” His voice was husky again, and she could tell by the way he looked at her that he already knew the answer. How could she be cold when all she had to do was stretch out her hand and touch him? When one step was all it would take to bring her body into contact with his?
“A little,” she lied.
“Maybe we should keep moving.”
Maybe we should move together. What would he do if she said that aloud? Point out the reasons they shouldn’t? Pretend he misunderstood? Or agree?
Her hand was as shaky as her smile when she pulled the hood back into place. “Yeah, I guess we should.”
They went down the opposite steps, Elizabeth balking at going back into the rain. Finally she relented, but retaliated as they reached the sidewalk by showering them both with water.
They were walking alongside the iron fence that encircled River’s Edge, not talking, the sort of silence shared by two people who were comfortable with each other. She didn’t feel the need to talk-just to jump his bones-and he apparently didn’t want idle chatter either.
As they neared the side gate, an engine back down the block revved and tires squealed. Liz glanced over her shoulder at the dark SUV barreling down the street.
Then the driver passed the last car parked in the street, jerked the wheel and drove up over the curb with a jarring bounce, heading right for them. Instinctively she reached for her gun, realized it was impossible to access and grabbed Joe’s arm instead. Thankful that the gate opened on first shove, she dragged him and the dogs through it, one swearing, the others yelping. They stumbled into the yard, landing in one tangled mass.
Liz hit the ground hard, her bag shifting underneath so that the.45 was in the middle of her back. Pain stabbed through her, hot and sharp, but she shoved herself
