Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,78

there anything else we should . . . discuss?”

“Let me consider that while I fold the laundry and take care of the flowers. I’ll come find you after I’m done.”

“I’ll leave the door open.” Smiling, she nudged him with her hip and padded barefoot down the hall, throwing him a wink over her shoulder.

A slow grin tugged up the corners of his mouth. Alison’s flirty behavior did far more to fuel his libido than Carolyn’s suggestive touches and innuendoes.

Yet he’d come dangerously close to falling under the newswoman’s spell. Of succumbing to temptation.

His lips flattened. If the situation with Eve hadn’t occurred, who knew how this would have ended?

At least that was one positive outcome from all the trauma.

Plus, he no longer had to worry about whether Carolyn was involved, as he’d feared. The detective had put that concern to rest yesterday with the news that a suspect was under investigation. She was aggressive and ambitious, but she wasn’t a criminal.

She was also on her own going forward if she wanted to pursue a career as a radio show host.

Doug dived into the laundry, folding at warp speed.

Come Monday, he’d send her one final text—for closure, so there was no misunderstanding about his position.

And now that he was confident she’d had nothing to do with Eve’s problems, he could end that chapter in his life with no lingering doubts or regrets.

“Come on, Meg . . . if you felt well enough to go to church, you ought to be able to handle a little cuddling.”

As Steve gave her an engaging grin, Meg dropped her purse on the kitchen table. She’d managed to keep him at arm’s length since Friday night, but she couldn’t feign sickness forever.

Yet reconciling the information Detective Lange had offered with everything she’d believed about Steve was proving difficult.

Who was she supposed to trust?

She bit her lip and studied the man across from her.

If the police had sufficient evidence to charge him, he wouldn’t be in their kitchen this morning. He’d be in jail. Or out on bail. And he had been sweet to her yesterday—in his own way. Yes, he’d kept his distance to avoid any stench of vomit, but he’d bought her a carryout dinner. High-carb, of course—but it was the thought that counted, right?

Still . . . she wasn’t ready to cuddle—or go where that would lead. If he’d targeted Eve or fooled around with Candy, that was a game changer. So until she knew for sure, she had to keep her distance, no matter how hard he pushed.

“I’m not up to it, Steve. Going to church wore me out.”

His good humor faded. “So you have time and energy for God, but not your husband.”

Guilt pressed in on her, but she pushed it aside. For once in her life, she had to stay strong. If she’d been wrong about Steve . . . if he’d used her . . . sticking her head in the sand was stupid. “Give me another day or two.”

His eye twitched, and a muscle clenched in his jaw. “Fine.” He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his keys.

“Where are you going?”

“What do you care?” He brushed past her none too gently as he stomped toward the door.

“I care.”

“Yeah.” He paused on the threshold. “How much?”

“What does that mean?”

His lip curled. “Do you care enough to cuddle for a while?”

She fought back a wave of nausea—this one for real. He was measuring her love by whether she’d bend to his will. Do something she was less in the mood than ever to do. Let him control her.

Was that all their relationship was to him? A power play?

“Well?” He glared at her.

She could feel the color draining from her face.

He frowned. “Are you going to puke again?”

“Maybe.” She groped for the back of a chair to steady herself.

Disgust contorted his features. “I’m out of here.”

With that, he swiveled away and pushed through the door, slamming it behind him. Less than thirty seconds later, the garage door rumbled up . . . then down.

He was gone.

Legs quivering, Meg sank into the chair and dropped her head in her hands.

Now what?

If she walked out on him and he was innocent, her marriage would be over—along with the life she’d dreamed of.

But it’s been more dream than reality anyway, Meg. You have to accept that. Admit you made a mistake.

A sob caught in her throat, and her vision misted. That was the harsh truth, and she couldn’t ignore it any longer.