Heart of Gold - B.J. Daniels Page 0,70
he hadn’t even known had dozed off.
He smiled and shook his head. “Ice-skating it is.”
Now as he cruised around the rink with Meg beside him, he couldn’t imagine why he had stopped ice-skating. It was exhilarating. Just like being here with her. What was it about this woman that made him want to discard all rational thoughts regarding his age, his social position, his stodgy lifestyle?
After going dancing and then going back to her place and making love in her king-size bed, he’d said, “You make me want to buy a VW bus and hit the road with no plan at all.”
She’d laughed as she cuddled next to him. “So why don’t we?”
He’d held her, getting glimpses of a future he’d never considered. “You’d be bored within a week.”
“Try me,” she said and turned to look at him. “What about you?”
“I don’t know, but I have to admit, you have me looking at my future differently than I did just days ago.”
She smiled at him. “That’s a good thing, Billy.”
That was when she suggested ice-skating and then he’d fallen asleep, smiling to himself. It was one of the best night’s sleeps he could remember.
But that little voice in the back of his head warned him that this was moving way too fast. He needed to watch his step. Mostly, he needed to watch himself because this woman was dangerous when it came to a man’s heart.
* * *
SHEP RETURNED TO the apartment to find Charlie curled up on the couch, his stack of paperwork next to her. He could see she’d been crying.
“Did you talk to Jason?” she asked. Her look told him she knew exactly where he’d gone.
He nodded as he shrugged out of coat and boots and tossed his Stetson on a hook by the door. The temperature outside had dropped. Snow drifted down from a white blanket of sky. There was little chance that Bozeman wouldn’t be getting a white Christmas.
“Well?” she asked, pushing the paperwork aside and patting the couch next to her.
“He said he was just curious about you,” Shep said. Instead of going to the couch, he went into the kitchen. “Want some wine? I’m going to have a beer.”
She appeared next to his elbow as he bent to look in the refrigerator.
“What aren’t you telling me? What haven’t you been telling me all along?” she demanded. “I went through everything you’ve collected. What is it you’re so afraid of me finding out?”
He pulled out a beer and turned to face her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jason has a crush on you.” He shrugged. “Who doesn’t?” He tried to step past her, but she caught his arm.
“Lindy knew her killer and her killer knew her,” Charlie said. “It was a crime of passion, isn’t that what they call it? Which means it was someone who hated her with such intensity...” Her voice broke.
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this—”
“Who could have hated her more than I did that night?” Charlie demanded.
“Hold on. Remember? You heard someone come into the house that night.”
She was shaking her head. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I made it up to hide what I did.”
“How can you say that when you don’t even believe she’s really dead?”
Charlie glared at him. “Whoever killed the young woman behind my house thought she was Lindy. It was so brutal... Maybe they did make a mistake. I know I saw Lindy recently. I had her scarf in my hand.” She closed her eyes. “Maybe I’m losing my mind. Maybe I lost it that night.”
He could see how confused and scared she was. He set down the beer and firmly took her shoulders in his hands. “You didn’t kill her.”
Tears streamed down her face as she opened her eyes. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I know you.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly against him. “I know you, Charlie.” He let her cry, smoothing her hair as he kissed the top of her head. “I know you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SHEP KEPT her busy the rest of the weekend with several shopping trips to get food for meals he wanted to make her and more home improvement shows to watch and card games to play. Charlie knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to keep her mind off Lindy.
While she hadn’t seen her stepsister again, Lindy was never far from her thoughts—just like the worry about what had really happened that night. Charlie had never