Copper Lake Confidential - By Marilyn Pappano Page 0,80
if she asked.
She was looking at him curiously, so he changed his statement to a tentative offer. “You and Clary could go home with me.” His house wasn’t much more accommodating, though he did have a sofa Scooter would happily share with Clary and a bed he would happily share with Macy.
Not that they’d ever talked about sharing a bed, or done anything beyond a few amazing kisses. He wouldn’t turn down more, of course. He wanted her. He missed her when he was away. He worried about her. He fantasized about her. He was pretty damn sure he’d fallen in love with her.
But he wouldn’t pressure her.
He swallowed over the enormous lump in his throat. “I could, uh, sleep on the couch and you two could, uh, have the bed.”
Her head was still tilted, her gaze still curious. Heat flooded his face and pumped into his body with his blood.
After a moment, she sighed. “You don’t know how tempting that is.”
Which even he understood translated into Thanks but no, thanks.
“This has been a tough day, and I...”
Wanted to retreat with her baby and forget any of it had happened. He understood that, too.
He stood and helped her up, and for a moment, they stayed there, the three of them in a silent embrace. He pressed a kiss to her temple, dropped another on Clary’s head, then stepped back so Macy could lead the way inside.
Their footsteps echoed through the house. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the place seemed even colder, less welcoming. It was the missing furniture and rugs, he told himself, all the softness removed, but that wasn’t entirely true. It was also the threat. He couldn’t name it, couldn’t even say at the moment that it wasn’t Mark’s ghost, as she’d suggested, but he didn’t like it. He would be happy the day he’d seen the last of it. Even happier the day Macy and Clary saw the last of it.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” he asked at the bottom of the stairs.
Macy’s smile was meant to be reassuring, he figured, but it just made her look vulnerable. “We’re safe. I’ll set the alarm, and there are panic buttons in every room.”
“Really? I haven’t seen any.” Not that he knew what a panic button looked like.
“On the nightstands. Underneath Mark’s desk, the dining table, Clary’s crib, the kitchen island. On the control panels themselves.” She shrugged as if there were too many to mention. “Brent and Anne are right out back, and you know how loudly I scream. They’ll hear me if I need them.”
They’d been safe before lunch, too. Daylight, people in and out, and still...
“I can spend the night,” he said. “I can manage that old couch or drag a chair in from outside.”
This time her smile was stronger. “You need rest. So do I. I think I’m tired enough to sleep through anything.”
He doubted that. After he left, she would put Clary to bed, then probably pace the room until she exhausted herself, and still she wouldn’t rest. Whether there was a ghost or not, the house haunted her.
“Please, Stephen. I appreciate the offer, but I’m a grown woman. I’m emotional, but I’m not crazy. I’m not even alone.”
“Okay.” Reluctance shaded his voice. “You have my number.”
“I do.” She stepped closer and nuzzled his jaw.
“Do one thing for me.”
She raised her gaze to his, so close he could see the shades of brown in her eyes.
“Let Scooter spend the night. He’s not trained as a watchdog, but he’s great about picking up on things that are out of place.”
Finally her smile became a real one. “I guess it would be good practice for when we get Roscoe and Bertha. And Clary will be thrilled to wake up in the morning and find him here.”
He kissed her, then bent to unsnap the leash. “You’re staying here, buddy, okay? Keep an eye on my girls.”
“Brent referred to the Right Track women as girls and one of them practically squared off with him. ‘I’m nearly nineteen,’ she said. ‘Don’t call me girl.’” She grinned. “I am woman. Hear me roar—or, more likely, whimper like a puppy.”
He chuckled then kissed her once more. Walking out the door was hard to do, but at least she’d agreed to keep the dog. It was a small comfort, but it was better than nothing.
* * *
Macy came awake suddenly. After wrestling a semiconscious Clary into pajamas and tucking her in, she’d barely had energy to change