another couple of hours. She says he’s having the time of his life with the animals. Her boys will be over there soon, too. Billy will be in heaven with all that attention.”
“But his dinner...”
“Is taken care of. They shared a fried chicken dinner that I brought them from White Pines.”
She regarded him suspiciously. “Something tells me that fried chicken was meant for you. Did you use it to bribe Dani to go along with this scheme of yours?”
He grinned. “What if I did? All it proves is that I will go to astonishing lengths to grab a few minutes alone with you.”
“Don’t,” she commanded softly.
“Don’t what?”
“Be nice to me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t deserve it.”
“Darlin’, everyone deserves to have someone special be nice to them.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No, Justin. This can’t be,” she whispered, turning away.
She heard his quick movement, felt him behind her, but it was a long while before she felt his hand on her shoulder. It rested there gently, reminding her of his presence, soothing her but asking for nothing. The undemanding reassurance couldn’t last forever, though. Sooner or later he would want something in return—answers, at the very least.
“Patsy?”
She sniffed and reached for a napkin to wipe away the dampness on her cheeks. Slowly he turned her to face him, then tucked a finger under her chin and lifted it until their gazes met.
“Tell me,” he pleaded.
“I can’t.”
He brushed the hair back from her face, then lingered to caress her cheek. When he grazed her lower lip with the tip of his finger, the wonder of his gentleness almost shattered her. Slowly, so slowly that she told herself she must be mistaken, he lowered his head until their mouths were a scant hairsbreadth apart.
Hurry, hurry, she wanted to shout. If he rushed, if he simply stole the kiss, she could tell herself forever after that she hadn’t wanted it to happen. But this way, there was no denying the pull, no pretending that she didn’t want it with every fiber of her being. There was time enough for longing and more than enough time for guilt.
At the last possible second, when she could feel the warmth of his breath fanning over her flesh, honor intruded. She jerked away, moved until the width of the counter was safely between them again. She grasped the cool Formica merely to steady herself, but held so tightly that her knuckles turned white and the edge cut into her hand....
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No,” she said adamantly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I do,” he insisted. “I knew better. I knew it wasn’t what you wanted.”
“But I did,” she whispered, her voice thick with fresh, unshed tears. “More than anything.”
“Why, then?”
Looking into his eyes, she saw that he already knew the answer, that he’d guessed it somehow.
“Who is he, Patsy?”
“Nobody,” she said at once. “There’s nobody.”
Something that might have been pain flared in his eyes then. His expression turned weary. “You’re lying,” he said softly.
She turned away because she couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes.
“Maybe someday you’ll realize you don’t have to lie to me,” he told her. “Maybe someday you’ll trust me with the truth.”
And maybe, she thought wistfully, maybe someday there would be angels to look out for women whose hearts had been every bit as battered as their psyches or their bodies.
Chapter Six
Justin cursed himself six ways from Sunday as he walked home after leaving Patsy at her front door. She’d barely said a word to him as she’d closed up Dolan’s or as they’d walked up the block to Dani’s.
At least he’d been wise enough not to pressure her any more by asking to come in or by walking on into his sister’s clinic to say hi to Dani and Billy. No, for once he’d done the smart thing. He’d said good-night, reminded her of his promise to take Billy out for spaghetti the next night and left.
He figured it would be days and not hours before he forgot the wounded look in her eyes when he’d accused her of lying. Even though they both knew the accusation was true, pointing it out hadn’t helped anything. Now she would only be more wary of him than ever. He regretted that almost as deeply as he regretted not getting to steal that kiss.
Of course, that had been a mistake, too. Had he forgotten so quickly Tate’s warning to maintain his objectivity or, if he found he couldn’t, to turn the unofficial investigation into Patsy’s