Abandon - Carla Neggers [53]
Finally, she stood back, utterly spent and as unembarrassed as he was.
She scooped up her shirt and bra and grinned at him. “You really are a bastard, you know. Honestly. Making me be the only one who…” She didn’t finish.
“Regrets?”
She slapped him lightly with her shirt. “Not hardly.”
“Your stitches—”
“Intact. All intact. You didn’t hurt me, Andrew.” She slipped on her shirt, not bothering with the bra, and smiled at him. “I was never in pain.”
He believed her. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So when we were having coffee that night in the rain, you were thinking—”
“Not then.”
“You are such a bad liar.”
He pulled himself together, then kissed her—softly this time, romantically. “Now,” he said, smiling, “we have unfinished business.”
She let out a breath. “I think we just might.”
On his way home, Rook drove too fast and was so agitated he almost missed his own damn driveway.
His nephew was reading a gaming magazine and listening to his iPod at the kitchen table. Rook pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. “How can you read and listen to music at the same time?”
“What?”
“How…” He sighed. “Take the damn headphones off and you’ll be able to hear me.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Brian grinned, removing the earbuds and hitting the pause button on his iPod. “Bad day?”
“It had its moments. What about you?”
“Just hanging out here. I ran the dishwasher and picked up my room.” He nodded toward the microwave. “I’ve got leftovers heating up.”
Rook decided not to push him about his future plans. Brian’s father could tackle that problem. “What leftovers?”
“I don’t know. I dumped a bunch of stuff I found in the fridge into the microwave. There’s enough for two, if you want.”
In a brief flash, Rook saw his nephew’s loneliness and uncertainty. His friends from high school were off to college or had jobs, and Brian was in Arlington, eating leftovers with his uncle.
Rook suddenly didn’t feel that great about his own life, either. He’d let his emotions get away from him with Mac, and he didn’t know what the hell came next. He was worried about her—but he was worried about himself, too, because tonight proved he had no self-control at all, not with her. Spotting her with Bernadette Peacham last week and seeing a potential conflict between his professional and personal lives, he’d thought he’d put on the brakes in his usual efficient, objective manner.
But he hadn’t. He was in a free fall.
He got to his feet and took a pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. At least it was fresh. If it’d been stale, he’d have felt damn pathetic.
When he filled two glasses with tea and turned back to the table, Brian had already stuck his earbuds in place and tuned into his music again.
Eighteen
Jesse entered the small campus auditorium just as a panel discussion on current issues in legal ethics—he liked that—let out. Four middle-aged men rose from chairs at a cheap table. Calvin Benton was on the left end, facing the audience of about fifty law students and professors. He shook hands with his fellow panelists, the polite applause fading quickly as people started filing out.
Despite the intense police search for him in New Hampshire, Jesse had done nothing to conceal his identity. Beardless, clean, dressed in expensive clothes, out of context, he doubted even Mackenzie Stewart would recognize him, at least not from a quick glance. Up close, the way she’d been on Friday, was another matter. He could still see her now, in her bright-colored swimsuit, water dripping down her face as she’d tried to figure out what had caused the noise she’d heard.
Stop, he told himself, pushing the image from his mind. He stiffened, shielding himself against any further intrusions of the redheaded marshal. She’d captivated him, but Deputy Stewart would love to put him behind bars,