Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,175

lead on the female victim. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He rubbed his palms on his thighs and she couldn’t help but follow the motion, because he had spectacular legs. Thankfully, she’d averted her gaze by the time he looked up, his gaze uncertain. “What happened to Mike?”

“Mike?”

“Your friend. The one who came to see you on Wednesday.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “And who you went out on a date with on Tuesday night.”

She shrugged. “We’re just friends.”

“He didn’t seem to think so.”

If she hadn’t already had her hopes dashed, she’d think he was jealous. But she had had her hopes dashed, and she wasn’t letting them get away from her again.

Which was a total lie. “He said the same about you.”

“Why did you go out with him on Tuesday?”

She sighed, exasperated. “Because he asked me to. Can we not have this conversation?”

“That’s fine,” he said levelly. “But please answer the question first.”

“Then it’s not fine!” She stood up and spun to face the far wall. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” he asked, and she jumped because he was right behind her now, and she hadn’t even heard him get up. “Can’t do what?”

The timbre of his voice sent a shiver across her skin. She swore it had dropped an octave. His breath was warm on her neck, and her heart was racing faster now.

Hope sparkled in her chest and she shoved it back. “Don’t,” she whispered. “It’s not fair.”

The pressure at the base of her neck was a shock. It wasn’t his forehead, like it had been on Thursday in his house. This pressure was soft and warm and mobile.

His lips. He was kissing the base of her neck. “What can’t you do, Liza? I need to know.”

She shook her head, angry arousal bubbling around the damn hope. “No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to tell me that you don’t feel the same and then come in and do this. What do you want from me?”

The pressure of his mouth had disappeared with her first no. “I want you to tell me why you went out with Mike on Tuesday night.”

“Fucking hell,” she snarled. “You want me to tell you everything, but you don’t tell me anything. Why did I marry Fritz? How long have I loved you? Now you want to know why I went out with some other man who doesn’t even matter?” Guilt prickled, because Mike did matter. “He’s a nice person. He liked me. He made me feel special. And when he asked me to go out with him, I said yes, because I am not a nice person. I used him to get your attention because I am not a nice person! Is that what you wanted to know?”

She was shouting now, desperately wishing for the sweet pressure of his mouth on her skin. “I wanted you to say, ‘Hey, maybe I could ask her out. Maybe I could make her feel special.’ I wanted you to wake the hell up, maybe even be jealous, but all you did was talk basketball.” Her voice broke. “And give the man your fucking autograph. So the joke’s on me, I guess.”

“Will you see him again?” he asked quietly. So damn calmly.

She wanted to scream. “No. I told him that I wasn’t ready. I told him about Fritz.”

He drew a deep breath, but he must have taken a step back, because when he exhaled, she couldn’t feel it. For the best, she thought. He must have been toying with her after all.

Except . . . Tom isn’t like that. He wouldn’t humiliate me like that.

For a brief moment she wondered if he was doing this to make her so angry that she’d quit Sunnyside. But Tom wasn’t like that, either.

“Look,” she said wearily. “I thought I could do this. I thought I could talk to you and be your friend and help you shoulder the burden for this case. But I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“So Mike isn’t coming back?”

He was about a foot behind her now. She was tempted to take a step forward, but that felt like retreat and she wasn’t going to do that anymore, either.

“No. He’s not coming back. Why?”

“Because he had flowers sent to you.”

She stilled. “What?”

“I went home to walk Pebbles after the party and there were flowers on your doorstep. The card said they were from Mike.”

Liza rubbed her temples. “I don’t . . . I didn’t .