Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [115]
“Jesus H. Christ,’’ Roy said around a cough. “Give me a minute, will ya? I gotta take a leak.’’ For another full minute Thane waited, watching as an old guy in a Dodgers hat flirted with a reed-thin waitress who, from the bone-weary look of her, must have already put in most of her shift.
Through the long-distance wires Thane heard the sound of water running, a hacking cough, the toilet flushing, then fumbling hands on the receiver. “Okay, I’ve been checking on everything you told me,” his friend said, the words muffled a little as, Thane suspected, he rammed his first cigarette of the day between his teeth. “If what your damned ex-wife told you was true, I can’t prove it. Yet.”
“You think it was a lie?” Thane asked, the quiet fury that had been his constant companion for more than three weeks surging through his veins again. “That she set me up for a wild-goose chase?”
There was the sound of a lighter clicking and a deep draw of breath. Thane felt the urge to break down and light up. Hell, he deserved it. “Wouldn’t be the first time she gave you the runaround, would it?”
“Nope.”
Mirthless laughter barked through the lines. “You never got over her, did you?”
If only you knew. “Doesn’t matter. Just find out if she was tellin’ the truth.”
“Surprised you’re not doin’ it on your own.”
“And have the police and press all over my ass?” Thane thought he’d explained this. “Remember. This is all under wraps.”
“Covert Op. I know.”
“I’ll call back tomorrow.”
“By then, I might have more info.”
“Good.” He hung up, feeling empty inside. Damn Mary Theresa and her games.
He thought about going into the restaurant and having a large cup of black coffee. He could use a jolt of caffeine, but decided against it. He didn’t want anyone to check the records of this particular pay phone, and if the police suspected he’d used it, they’d find out way too much.
Checking the street, he slipped out of the diner and hiked back to the hotel, where he planned to pick up his truck and his tail. He smiled grimly to himself. If Detective Henderson or the press had any idea what he was doing, they’d be all over him.
And what about Maggie? What would she do?
He gritted his teeth and shoved his hands farther down in the pockets of his jacket as he thought about her and the fact that, sooner or later, he was going to make love to her. Together they were like fire and paper—ready to ignite. That’s the way it always had been between them. It wasn’t gonna change. It had taken all of his willpower last night not to go through with the one act that seemed to bind a man and a woman together whether they wanted it to or not. Damn, but he’d wanted to claim her for himself, thrust into her, and feel the warmth of her body surround him.
“Christ you’re a fool,” he chided. “A goddamned romantic moron.” Maybe he should have done it. Hell, he’d come close. Too close. The smell of her skin had been his undoing. Even now, thinking about her trembling beneath him as he touched her with his hands and mouth made him so hard he ached.
He ignored a DON’T WALK sign and strode across an intersection after a sanitation truck had eased around the corner.
Doesn’t Maggie deserve the truth?
No, he decided. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
So you’re just going to bed her and keep her in the dark?
The way he saw it, he didn’t have much of a choice.
“You need your head examined,” Maggie told herself as memories of the night before curled seductively through her mind. “Oh, God.” What had she done? Hadn’t she warned herself a million times over about him? And yet last night…“Oh, Maggie, wise up!” She shoved her lank hair from her eyes. Naked, embarrassed, and alone in Thane’s bed, she scooted to a sitting position and glanced to the windows, where sunlight was streaming past the gauzy curtains. From the hallway she heard the sounds of doors slamming, footsteps, and conversation. Other guests were up and