Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [93]
The exit was there, and he eased into the lane. Once off the expressway, they were only a few miles from the prison.
“What if we can’t . . . you know, make it as anything other than friends?” she asked.
“You really think that’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know what will happen. I’ve never seen this type of thing work out.”
“Of course you have. Look at Genna and John. You don’t have to look far to find relationships that work when both people want them to work. Stop looking so hard for a reason not to . . .” He paused, then said, “Unless, of course, you don’t feel that way toward me. If that’s the case, then—”
“I don’t know what to call what I feel for you. I can tell you very honestly that I’ve never felt that way about anyone else, though.” She leaned back into her seat, her blue eyes focused on his face. “Do you really think that things would have been the way they were between us if I hadn’t felt something really strong for you?”
“A guy can hope.”
“It’s hard to put a name to something you’ve tried to avoid thinking about for so long.”
“Well, I think that’s my point. We’ve both been avoiding this whole relationship thing for years.” He pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. “We never talked about it, but we’re talking now.”
“I’ll give you this much”—she unsnapped her seat belt and leaned over and took his face in her hands—”there’s never been anyone but you. I’ve never known what to call what I feel for you, but the whole time since we’ve known each other, there’s never been anyone else.”
“I can live with that, for today. For now.” He drew her close and kissed her, almost weak with relief. He held on to her as if to a lifeline, his heart pounding. He wondered if he’d ever tell her how the thought of this conversation had struck terror in his gut. He’d been so afraid she’d shoot him down.
“I think we can work this out somehow,” she whispered, returning his kiss and running her top teeth along his bottom lip, because she knew it made him a little crazy.
“We’ll work on it.”
“Day and night until we get it right.”
He laughed and kissed her again, wanting to feel her pressed against him, but there was the console, and the steering wheel. So he kissed her one last time and said, “We can do this. No more joking around. We can do this.”
“I’ve missed you, Will. Missed the closeness. Missed this.” She was as close to him as she could be, and still be in her own seat. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s time to . . . like you said . . .”
“Take it to the next level.”
“Right.”
“Move the relationship ahead.”
“That, too.”
“See where the road leads.”
She began to laugh softly. “See how many more really tired clichés you can come up with.”
“I got a million of them.” He rubbed the back of her neck gently.
“Save a few for after we chat with Vince.”
“Don’t worry, babe. There are plenty more cheesy lines where those came from.” He turned the key in the ignition. “But you know, I’m thinking maybe we don’t need to be at Mara’s until tomorrow. Maybe if Jayne and Aidan are there to keep an eye on things . . .”
“There’s always the Fleming Inn. Just about forty minutes from the prison.” She grinned as she leaned back into her seat. “Less, of course, if I’m driving . . .”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
“So, do I get to ask him anything?” Will asked as he and Miranda made their way across the parking lot toward the entrance to the prison. “Or are you really planning on doing all the talking?”
“Hey, Vince and I are old buddies. This will be like a reunion.” She grinned, ignoring the look on the face of the guard when he saw her come through the door. She pulled her credentials out of her bag and smiled. “Agents Cahill and Fletcher. We’re here to see Vince Giordano.”
The guard glanced from her badge to Will’s, then at the visitor’s log for the day.
“You’re not on the sheet,” he told them. “You weren’t expected?”
“When did ‘not on the sheet’ ever keep a federal agent out of a prison?” Miranda narrowed her eyes and stared the guard down.
“I was just saying . . .” the guard mumbled, then grabbed the phone. He turned