She felt terrible for whoever the donor was. Thank God, it wasn’t Stacy. But if she found out that it’d been a young mother who left three little kids behind, she knew she would find that, too, difficult to deal with. “At least it’ll be closure.”
She needed that as much as Bing did. They both had to have closure before they could truly move forward. Soon she would know about her donor, and Bing would get his wife’s killer. They could close the door on some of the past and start something new. Hopefully together.
She made oatmeal for herself and scooped some dog food for Peaches. When the doorbell rang, the dog charged forward barking, tail wagging. She went too, with a smile on her face, expecting it to be Bing. Maybe he had a call out this way and he’d decided to check on her.
But the smile turned into a frown as she opened the door. “Jeremy?”
He wore designer slacks and a pink-and-purple-striped designer shirt, the gold watch that’d been a graduation present from his father, leather shoes that would have paid a month of her utilities. Sharp and clean-cut as always, he held out a large plastic cup of steaming coffee. “Decaf choco-mocha-chini with no-fat whipped cream.” He smiled, as handsome as ever, his blue eyes fast on her face. “Your favorite.”
Drool gathered in her mouth as the delicious scent enveloped her. Okay. Five minutes. He’d helped her when she’d been sick; he’d stood up to her mother for her and supported her choice when she decided to go ahead with the transplant. He didn’t deserve to be turned away at the door.
She reached down to grab the dog’s collar when Peaches would have pushed forward, growling. “I’m going to put him in the backyard. Let yourself in.”
Chapter Eleven
Her phone rang as Sophie closed the back door behind Peaches and turned to Jeremy. She took the call. Mark Villon. The sooner she finished this last project for him, the sooner she’d be rid of him.
“I have just one more thing,” he said. “I bought an old abandoned row house on Twenty-Fourth Street last week. Any chance you could come out and take some pictures for the web site? I want before and after pictures. You’re better at the creative than I am. And then no more changes. I swear.”
She’d done this for him before. For one, she had the right camera. “Sure. Let me call you back with a date once I have a chance to look at my calendar.”
“I’d love to take you to lunch when you come out.”
That wasn’t going to happen, but she didn’t want to argue about it on the phone, not in front of Jeremy. “I have to go. We’ll talk later.” She hung up. “Sorry,” she told Jeremy. “A client.”
“You can’t be serious.” A frown marred Jeremy’s face. “You can’t have a dog in the house.” He glanced around as if looking for further evidence of irresponsible behavior.
“He’s a stray. He’s only here temporarily.” An idea that she was beginning to hate. She’d gone from hoping someone would call to hoping that she could keep him.
“He needs to go to a shelter. Right now.”
“The shelter is full.”
“Nonsense. I’m going to put him in the trunk, drive him over, and drop him off. End of story. They’ll have to take him.” He was using his in-charge voice, pushing closer. He stood just a few inches taller than she, blondish hair perfectly cut, fingernails trim, everything about him fastidious.
She passed by him to wash her hands in the downstairs bathroom. By the time she came out, Jeremy had found her disinfectant spray under the sink and was spraying the floor everywhere the dog had walked. Memories assailed her, both good and bad. She pushed them away.
He caught her gaze, his lips pressed into a line. “This is beyond irresponsible.”
“I’m being very careful,” she promised.
He flashed her a we’ll-talk-about-this-later look, put away the spray bottle, washed his hands, then wiped them with a disinfectant wipe he pulled from the bag in his pocket. He glanced around again. “So this is it?”
“All mine,” she said proudly.
“It’s old.” He caught himself and softened his expression. “I just mean something new would be easier to clean. Something that doesn’t have decade-old dust and maybe mold and whatever.”
“It’s cozy. I like it.”
“Of course.” He smiled. “How have you been?”
“I had a good checkup.”
“I’m very happy to hear it.” He hesitated. “I missed you. Listen, I think I might have been rash. I think we made a mistake. I still love you.” His smile widened, an expectant look on his face as if he was giving a gift and was ready for the gratitude he’d be receiving. “I want you to come back.”
“I live here now.” She shook her head. “We’re not getting back together.”
He stared. “But you love me.”
“I don’t. I’m sorry.” At this point, she wasn’t sure she ever truly had.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I was grateful, more than anything. And I’m still grateful. I didn’t know what love was—”
“And now you do?” he cut her off.
“I’m beginning to learn.” Bing’s mocha eyes flashed into her mind and her heart skipped a beat. In a good way.
There’d been a time when she’d hoped that Jeremy would see the light, accept her as she was now, and they would get back together. But things had changed. She had changed.
He stayed for an hour and used the time to try to convince her of the error of her thinking. He left in a huff, angry and disappointed.
She needed to get to work, so she let Peaches back in, then plodded up to her home office, planning out what she was going to cook for Bing for dinner. And daydreaming about them making love again.
But when darkness fell, Officer Joe Kessler showed up instead. He looked like those cop strippers that went to bachelorette parties in chick-flick movies. There had to be something in the water at the Broslin police station. He flashed her a blinding smile, but it didn’t affect her like Bing’s wry grins.
He explained that Bing was out with a hit-and-run, documenting the scene of the accident and interviewing the witnesses. Kessler told her he’d be out in his cruiser by the curb and gave her a cell phone number to call if she heard any strange noises in the night.
She acknowledged the twinge of disappointment that Bing couldn’t come. But this was what it would be like to be in love with a cop. His time wasn’t his own. An inconvenience, yes, but Bing was definitely worth it. They had something good between them, something worth the trouble and the wait, something she wanted to hold on to.
She thought of him and went to sleep with a smile on her face.
* * *
Bing was at her place first thing in the morning, bringing his pickup instead of his cruiser.
“Sorry I couldn’t come last night,” he said when she opened the door, peering at him through the steam of her decaf, trying hard to pretend it was real and the caffeine kick would be coming.
He patted Peaches, who pushed by her. “I’d like to make it up to you.”
“Not necessary. This is what being police captain means. I’m okay with it. Really.”
He reached for her and pulled her to him, closing his eyes as he bent his head and rested his forehead against hers. Then he smiled as he kissed her.
She’d never thought she’d ever say this about anything, but being held in Bing’s arms was better than coffee. Oh man. Way better.
The tingles started where their lips met, the soft heat of his mouth fit perfectly against hers. Then those tingles ran down in a straight line directly to the tips of her nipples that were pressed against his hard chest. Then other parts came alive, farther south.
Every part of her screamed in protest when he pulled away. It was some consolation that he seemed as reluctant to put some distance between them as she was.
“How about, before I have to go into work, I take you and Peaches someplace where he can have a good run?”
Right, because he had to go in. Life could be unfair to the extreme. “I need to change.” She really wished she had makeup on. Or that she wore something other than sweatpants with an old cotton shirt.
“You’re perfect as you are. Just toss on a light coat and bring your coffee.” He turned toward his truck, and Peaches followed him.
“Do we need a leash?” she called after them.
“Not where we’re going.”
She grabbed her coat, slipped into sneakers, and locked up behind her, the key turning smoothly in her new lock. Peaches was in the back by the time she reached the passenger side and climbed into the cab.
“I hope you’ll like the place.” Bing started up the truck, then drove out past the reservoir, up the hillside that overlooked the water and the town, to some kind of a horse farm with brand-new stables, dozens of horses in the far pastures, and an ancient log cabin at the top of the hill.
“Hey, riding a horse is on my IFIL list,” she told him, watching the animals frolic in the sunshine.
“What’s an IFIL list?”
“If I Live.” She pressed her lips together for a second. “When I was younger, I used to make up elaborate lists of what I’d do if I lived through the next surgery. It’s silly. It was a trick to give myself lots of good reasons to make it. Like making a promise that if I live, I’ll someday go and visit Disneyland. Or learn to ride a horse. Ride in a hot air balloon. Silly stuff.”
Then, as she grew older, new items got added to the list. True love. A happily ever after. Hot sex on the kitchen counter… She bit back a grin.
“Not silly. It’s called coping skills. It kept you going.” He parked in front of the log cabin, which had serious holes in the roof, then got out and let Peaches loose.
She stood next to the pickup, slowly taking in the storybook surroundings. Pretty enough to be painted. There was such a sense of space, of pure and unadulterated nature, of peace. You could live on top of this hill, she thought, and die happy.
She turned to Bing and found him watching her. “Isn’t this private property?” Although it didn’t look like anyone lived in the log cabin and nobody came from the stables to protest their intrusion.
“It’s mine.” He gave a modest smile. “You like it?”
“Love it. So you’re a rancher on the side?”
“Not with my schedule. I rent out the stables and the fields. Someday, if the house in town sells, I’d like to rebuild the cabin here, add some modern conveniences, a wraparound porch. I think it’d be a nice place to live.”
She could certainly see the attraction. And she could picture him here. He had a rugged edge that fit the land. It’d be a clean start for him. Living day-in, day-out in the house where he’d found his wife murdered couldn’t be easy. She didn’t think she could do it. But this was nice. This was right. This was for him.
“Family land?” she asked as she drew in the crisp spring air, turning her face to the soft breeze.
He nodded. “Great-grandfather established it. Grandfather doubled it. Father drank it away. I’ve been buying it back piece by piece over the years.”
“Police work pays that good?” She caught herself and winced with embarrassment. “Sorry. That’s really none of my business.”
“I own some rental properties in town. At one point, I decided not to get any more. So now I’m putting the profits into making the old Bing homestead into something.” He shrugged. “I give work to a couple of locals who wouldn’t have it otherwise. And when Hunter gets out of the army, he’ll have somewhere to go.”
Policeman, businessman, landowner, amazing lover. The man had layers. She smiled at him. “It’s beautiful. And impressive.”
He puffed out his chest as he winked at her. “Now that’s what men like to hear.”
Peaches tore around like crazy in the open field nearby, chasing butterflies and birds, barking at the horses in the distance, who paid no attention to him.
“Thank you for bringing us here,” she said as the tension of the last couple of days ebbed away from her.
He took her hands and pulled her close, wiggling his eyebrows. “Any chance of showing me some of that gratitude?”
She bit back a smile. “Maybe.” And then she rose to the tips of her toes so she could brush her lips over his.
He took it from there and blew her mind with the kiss that followed, full of hunger and promises as they stood there in the sunshine, in the spring breeze at the top of the hill.
Life could be this wonderful, she thought, dazed. Who knew? Then he did something with his tongue, and she could no longer think.
* * *
After dropping Sophie off at home, Bing switched to his cruiser and drove to work. He had thirteen calls waiting to be returned. He set those aside when he saw Joe bringing Mark Villon in. The man’s alibi had fallen apart once again.
Bing followed them into interrogation.
Joe threw the facts at the man right off the bat. “The client doesn’t remember your meeting. He was with someone else that morning. Want to try again?”
Villon shrugged. He had his chin down, his hands on his lap. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his overconfident ways. Even his hair was flatter.
“You had opportunity,” Bing said. “You weren’t at work that morning. You’ve lied twice to the police about that now. It’s not going to look good in court, I can tell you that. If you and Kristine did have an affair, and she threatened to tell her husband, that’s motive. The means…” He watched Villon. “We’ll see about that. We should have a warrant momentarily. I’m particularly interested in your knife drawer.”
The man’s face hardened, anger lighting up his eyes. “If I give you my alibi, I’ll lose my job.”
“Should have thought of that before you did whatever it is you did.”
Silence stretched in the room.
Bing put some steel into his voice when he said, “You wouldn’t want to lie to me a third time.”
Villon swore. “I was with the intern at the Hampton Inn down the road from work.”
“She’ll verify that?”
The man rattled off a phone number. “You can call her right now. That’s her cell. And I paid with my credit card at the hotel. They can verify that.”
And the security cameras would show the exact time of his arrival and departure.
Joe glanced at Bing then walked out to take care of all that, make the calls, get the warrant for the hotel’s security tapes.