He had a feeling he'd been one of those attempts, and it bothered him. He'd never meant to hurt her.
"Love can be good," he said slowly.
She raised an eyebrow. "You're going to advocate love now?"
"Well, I've seen it in my grandparents. My father's parents have been married for sixty years, and they're devoted to each other."
"That is unbelievable," she said.
"And my father and Lynda seem to have a strong relationship. Sometimes on the outside it looks one-sided, like she does everything for him, but the old man can be a romantic."
Sara nodded. "He is romantic. I remember on one of Lynda's birthdays your dad hired a plane to fly over your house with,
I love you, Lynda
, in skywriting."
"That's Jack Callaway—bigger than life. He's always been about the grand gesture."
"Well, I was impressed. So was Emma. We sat on the curb watching that plane and talking about how one day we were going to find guys like that. Turns out they're more difficult to find than we thought," she said with a wry smile.
"Maybe you haven't been looking in the right spot."
"Maybe you haven't either," she retorted.
Their gazes caught and something passed in between, something amazing and a little terrifying.
Then Sara looked away, turning her attention back to the stove. "This is ready."
"I'll get some plates."
"No, just sit, rest," she said. "I can handle putting dinner on the table."
That was the easy part, he thought. After dinner, they had the rest of the evening to handle, and he had a feeling bringing Sara home with him was going to be one of the worst ideas he'd ever had.
* * *
Dinner conversation was casual, neutral, and Sara felt herself relaxing after the tense few moments before the meal when Aiden had given her a look that told her he was just as aware as she was that there was something going on between them, even if neither one of them wanted to admit it.
Or… Maybe she'd imagined that look. She had a long history of hoping Aiden would suddenly wake up and see that he was in love with her. She couldn't go down that road again. That fantasy was part of another life.
After they finished eating, Aiden went to take a shower, and Sara busied herself with the dishes. He'd offered to do them later, but she'd brushed off the suggestion. It wasn't that big of a deal, and she needed a distraction from thinking about Aiden's beautifully rugged body under a spray of hot water.
She wondered what he'd do if she joined him in the shower. He'd probably welcome her at first and then push her away when he came to his senses. That seemed to be the pattern with most of their encounters.
Frowning, she started the dishwasher and headed into the living room. She flipped through several channels on the huge television. For a man who liked nature so much, Aiden obviously spent some time on the well-worn recliner in front of the TV.
She paused on a game show. She loved intellectual games. In college, she'd been part of a super bowl academic team that had won a national competition with entries from every major university in the country. It had been one of her proudest moments.
As the contestant selected a category, the announcer asked, "This number, one of the first twenty, uses only one vowel four times."
"Seventeen," she guessed, beating the contestant by a split second.
"Seventeen," the announcer confirmed.
She smiled happily, waiting for the next question.
"To marry Elizabeth, Prince Philip had to renounce claims to this southern European country's crown."
She thought for a moment, then said aloud, "Greece."
The contestant guessed Italy. The announcer said, "You're wrong. The correct answer was Greece."
"I told you," she said smugly.
"Are you talking to the TV?" Aiden asked.
She hadn't realized he was out of the shower. "Bad habit. I usually play this game alone at home."
"It sounds like you win a lot," he said as he finished buttoning up his shirt.
For a moment her gaze lingered on his chest. Ruthlessly, she dragged it away, refusing to acknowledge that he smelled really good now, having obviously thrown on a splash of aftershave.
"Around 1542," the announcer continued, "Explorer Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo discovered this island off Los Angeles, and it's believed he's buried there, too."
"Catalina," she said, her answer coming in harmony with both Aiden and the contestant.
"Catalina is correct," the announcer said.
"Hey, I might be able to keep up with you," Aiden said, sitting down on the couch.
"That was an easy one."
"Ouch," he said with a smile.
"Hey, there was only one thing I ever did better than you, so I'm claiming game show questions as my strength."
He laughed. "All right. You can have game shows."
"Thank you."
"But I suspect there are a lot of things you do better than me, Sara."
"I doubt that. I had a ringside seat for a good portion of your life. And it seemed like you got award after award."
"You're thinking of Burke."
"Well, he had a lot, too, but you had your share, and you were more genuinely popular than Burke. He was someone the kids looked up to, but you were the one they really liked." She paused. "By the way, do you know that your television is obscenely large?"
He laughed. "Kyle bought that television when we first moved in together. After he kicked me out and moved Vicky in, I got to keep the TV as compensation for losing my roommate."
"Now, that makes sense, because I can't really picture you as a couch potato. Although, you have a lot of books in this apartment, so you must spend some time reading. And your favorite topic seems to be astronomy."
He tipped is head. "The night sky has always interested me. When I'm up in the mountains, far from civilization, there are a million stars in the sky. I figured I should know what I was looking at. So I got a few books."
"A few?" she echoed raising an eyebrow.
"I went slightly overboard on the online ordering. Then someone in the family found out I liked astronomy, and every Christmas or birthday another book shows up."
"I've never thought much about the stars or seen a night sky like the one you described. In New York, all I can see are the city lights, and San Francisco was the same. My parents didn't like to camp, so we never went anywhere that was far from a city, not that we really went anywhere at all. My dad liked to work. He did not like to vacation."
"It sounds like you're taking after him in that regard."
"You're right," she said. "I do not want to turn into my dad. I'm going to have to change that," she said.
"You should. I'd like to take you camping. I think you'd love it."
"Why on earth would you think that? I'm a city girl."
Aiden smiled. "Only one way to find out."
As he ran his fingers through his damp air, she became very aware of how alone they were and how many hours there were before bedtime. She still didn't know where she was going to sleep, but she didn't want to think about that now. "Should we go out somewhere?"
"Not much open around here on Sunday night after nine," he replied.
"Right. I forgot it was Sunday. The days are all mixed up for me."
Silence followed her words—a tense silence.
"There is one bar that's probably open if you're up for beer and peanuts," he said.
"Sounds great," she said with relief.
"I'll put on my shoes."
While Aiden finished dressing, she went into the bathroom and fixed herself up a little. Her eyes were nowhere near as red or swollen after her crying jag earlier that day, and with a little blush and some lip gloss, she felt immensely better. The pain of deception was still simmering right under the surface, but for the moment she was going to leave it there.
A few minutes later they were on their way to a bar named Gil's.
The bar was dimly lit, lots of western décor, and the music playing was country. They grabbed a table in the corner and ordered two beers from the waitress.
The waitress gave Aiden a sexy smile and said, "Haven't seen you in here in a while."
"Been away," he said.
Her smile dimmed. "Heard the bad news about your friend. So sad."
"Yeah, thanks."
As the waitress left, Sara could see that the tension had returned to Aiden's face. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea," she said.
"It doesn't matter. I had to come back sometime. It's kind of nice not to be here alone."
"So did you and that waitress…"
"No," he said with a shake of his head. "Never."
"She's interested."
"Well, I'm not."
"Okay," she said, wondering why he was suddenly so snappy.
A moment later, the waitress returned with their beers and a bowl of peanuts.
Sara lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip. It tasted great. She'd never thought of herself as a beer drinker, at least not since college. Most of the parties she went to now involved wine or hard liquor. But the beer was nice, and she liked the warmth and friendly spirit of the bar. People seemed to know each other and care about each other. She was a long way from New York.
"This isn't your usual kind of place, is it?" Aiden asked.
"No, but I like it. It's a nice change of pace. I've been moving so fast for so long, this is the first time in a long time I've really slowed down. It's a dangerous feeling. Makes me wonder if I'll be able to rev myself up again for the seventy-hour work week."
"What else do you do besides work?"
"Nothing."
"Come on. You must have some hobbies."
"Occasionally, I go to the gym, but usually I consider the three-quarter mile walk between my apartment and work to be my exercise. Museums and theaters and nightclubs surround me, and I never go to any of them. I do like Central Park though. Sometimes, I'll take a walk through there on a Sunday, especially in the spring when the flowers are blooming."
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his gaze solely on her. She'd never had this much attention from Aiden, and she found it both pleasurable and a little unnerving.
"I can see you in the park," he said. "You loved to garden with your mom. Don't you miss having some land of your own?"
"Sometimes," she admitted. "I never thought New York would be forever. I always thought I'd go back to San Francisco."
"You still can."
"Maybe." She sipped her beer and listened to the music. The latest song was typical country, some woman yearning for some man she couldn't have. The story was poetic and emotional, heartfelt. "I like songs that are about something," she said aloud. "Country always tells a story."
"Usually about some man who did some woman wrong," Aiden said dryly.
She smiled. "I was just thinking the same thing."
"At least my gender provides a lot of material for songwriters. But it's not all our fault, you know. Women can be very mysterious. They need to come with instructions."
"As if that would matter. When's the last time you read instructions?" she challenged.
He laughed. "Guilty. Your tongue is sharper than I remember. I like it."
She did not want him talking about her tongue or letting his gaze rest on her lips, because it only reminded her that the few kisses they'd shared had not been nearly enough.
"It's her," Aiden said suddenly, his attention moving across the room.
She turned her head to see a blonde woman talking to the bartender. "Who is that?" she asked, looking back at Aiden. "Is she another one of the women you've had fun with?"
"No," he said, his tone somber, his gaze speculative. "Remember when I told you that I'd seen Kyle with a woman outside of a hotel. That's her."
"You should talk to her. Ask her how she knew Kyle."
He hesitated and then gave a nod as he got to his feet. "I think I will."
Unfortunately, his doubt had cost him valuable time. The woman was already leaving the bar.
Aiden headed after her, but returned far too quickly.
"She got in a cab. I couldn't catch her," he said. "Damn, why did I wait?"
"Go talk to the bartender, or the waitress. They might know who that woman was. She must have had them call a cab for her."
"You're right." He went to the bar and conversed with the bartender for several minutes, then returned to the table, looking a lot happier with himself. "I've got a name. Sandra Ellingston. Bartender didn't know much about her except that she's divorced and comes in almost every weekend, usually with some other women."
"Well, that's a start. I'm sure Jeanne can find out more about her."
He nodded, pulling out his phone. "I'll text her right now."
While he was composing his message, Sara wondered if Kyle had been having an affair. It could explain why he'd distanced himself from Aiden. He might not have wanted to be judged for his actions. But…
As Aiden finished sending his text, she said, "Even if Kyle was having an affair, how do you think that played into his death?"
Aiden frowned and let out a heavy breath. "I don't know."
"Do you think he was just not paying attention that day, because he had other things on his mind?"
Something dark settled in Aiden's eyes.
"No, you don't think that," she said. "Aiden, talk to me."
"It's hard to say out loud." He paused for a long minute and then said, "Every time I close my eyes, I dream that I'm in that forest, and Kyle is walking away from me. I'm yelling at him, and he's ignoring me. It's as if he's deliberately going into the fire."
Her stomach turned over. "It seems too extreme," she said quietly, knowing where his thoughts were going. "An affair isn't worth dying for."
He met her gaze. "I hope not," he said. "But Kyle could be hard on himself. Who knows what guilt could have driven him to do? Let's get out of here."
Chapter Seventeen
Aiden felt unbelievably tense as he drove Sara back to his apartment. He couldn't believe he'd actually acknowledged aloud that Kyle might have killed himself. It was something that had been festering in his mind for weeks, and he felt like he'd just betrayed Kyle by putting words to the thought.