His heart—the heart that had come so close to never beating again because he had a job and lived a life that put him in harm’s way, because an assassin’s bullet had damn near killed him.
The thought chilled her as nothing else could have, and with the chill came a return of common sense, of willpower. Bo pulled her mouth from his, tucked her head; her forehead was resting against his chest, her hand lying lightly over that heart that was still beating strongly, despite all odds, because he’d had the strength to overcome what should have been a fatal injury. She had to keep that reality front and center before she started doing stupid things such as hoping they could have something together. No, face the facts: she was already being stupid by kissing him; he’d been plain about what he wanted, and she’d just underscored her own weakness where he was concerned. He was too astute not to have realized what this episode revealed.
She felt the need to clarify her standing, despite what her present actions were saying, or maybe because of what they were saying. “Rules haven’t changed. No sex.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she winced in embarrassment. Mixed signals, much?
“How about a celebratory kiss?” His tone was low, his breath brushing her hair as he slowly rubbed his lips against the hollow just below her ear, then so lightly, delicately, licked it as if he were tasting her. All the nerve receptors in her skin lit up, and her nipples pinched tight, making her want to rub her entire body against him.
It would be silly to say no to what they’d already done. Just because she had no intention of getting involved with him . . . did that mean she couldn’t allow herself the purely physical enjoyment of kissing him? And that way lies a slippery slope, she thought, because the same logic, or lack of it, could also be applied to sleeping with him.
Regretfully she made herself release him, step away. “We’ve just had it,” she pointed out. He let her go without effort, and a tiny part of her mourned that, wanted him to persist. How perverse was that? But it was human; she wanted him to want her the way she wanted him.
But he was smiling down at her, a crooked smile that invited her to join in his amusement. “Is there a rule about how many celebratory kisses are allowed?”
“Yes. One.”
“What idiot wrote that rule?”
“I did.”
“Scratch the previous comment.”
His prompt reply had her laughing. The man was a fast thinker. He’d have to be, though, or he’d have been killed long ago.
She sighed as she turned to the desk and gathered up the scraps of their now-cold meal. She wished he hadn’t kissed her—but he had, and once again she’d been complicit. At least he’d done nothing more than kiss, though she suspected that was more because he was too damn wily than because his interest had cooled. He didn’t strike her as a man who blew hot and cold, but rather as a man who went after what he wanted and was very good at planning his strategy.
That worried her. She didn’t want to be the target of any strategy . . . or did she? She had no idea what she wanted. She knew what she should want, knew what was safest, but for the first time in a long, long while she wasn’t certain she could stay the course she’d mapped out for herself.
He looked around the office. “Are you finished here?”
“I am. I’m getting out of Dodge—or in this case, Hamrickville—before anything else can happen.” Maybe, with the court hearing over and both Melody and Miss Doris out of jail, they would have peace again.
She locked up and they went to their respective vehicles. Tricks loaded up into the Jeep, looking very happy to be in her special place with Bo. Bo pulled her thoughts away from what she shouldn’t, couldn’t, have and concentrated on the very good things that were in her life now. She reached over and rubbed Tricks’s neck. “Did you play ball with Morgan’s machine? Was it fun?” Man, she wished she had a video of that.
Tricks gave her a tongue-lolling-out-the-side-of-her-mouth grin.
From his vehicle, Morgan motioned for her to lead. Fifteen minutes later, after a stop at the mailbox to retrieve the day’s offerings, they parked side by side in the dark driveway. The security lights came on, and he’d left the porch light on to dispel the shadows on the patio. She didn’t like going into a dark house, never had, so the light was a welcome relief. She wouldn’t tell him that, though; he’d gotten his way about the added security and that was enough.
As she got out of the Jeep and let Tricks out, the mild spring night folded around her, rich with the sweet scents of wild rhododendron and fresh grass. The crickets were chirping, some night birds offering an occasional liquid note. She paused a moment to savor the smell, then joined him on the porch.
They went in together, man, woman, dog. It was almost like a family, she thought wistfully before she caught the recurring theme. Morgan was not family. She and Tricks were family, they were the ones who’d still be there when he was somewhere on the other side of the world.
Tricks ran to her bowls and first checked to see if food had magically appeared in her food bowl, then transferred her attention to the water. Morgan dropped into “his” spot on the sofa, propped his boots on the wood and steel coffee table, and turned on the TV. Bo stood there for a minute, absorbing the new rhythms of her life that had become commonplace without her noticing.
“Stop watching me like that,” he said without looking at her. “Or we’ll have to go upstairs.”
Damn it, she should have known he’d be able to pick up when he was being watched. She felt her face getting warm. There was no denying it though she wasn’t happy that he’d noticed. Denying her interest would be silly; giving in to it would be downright dangerous. “No,” she said. “We won’t.” Then she added, “You said it’s my decision, remember?”