“Who is the woman who stole him from you?”
James shrugged. “A mistake. You ever make a mistake in a relationship?”
She glanced away at that. “All the time.”
“If you want, next time I see this Eric guy I can clear up any misunderstanding about our relationship.”
“We don’t have a relationship.”
“No?” He forked a last mouthful of peas and rice into his mouth, his gaze never leaving her face.
Shay felt a quiver run through her. From the moment she met him, she’d thought James Cannon was one unemotional son of a gun, except where his partner was concerned. But gazing across less than two feet of space into eyes so ridiculously blue they made her think of heat-blasted summer skies, she knew she’d made a mistake. Behind the cool law enforcement exterior, there was a lava flow of emotion held in check by a cocky grin. At the moment, all of that was directed at her.
Run. You don’t need this. You can’t handle it.
Needing to put distance between them, she picked up their plates and carried them to the sink before she spoke again. “You should be getting on the road.”
James nodded and tossed Bogart the last bite of his muffin. “You’re a great cook. Don’t know when I’ve eaten better. Only I won’t tell my sister Allyson.”
“You have lots of family?” She didn’t know why she asked when she was trying to get rid of him.
“Yes. Three sisters. All older, all married. So, two nephews and two nieces, plus my folks. And that’s just the immediate family. You?”
“No one.” She busied herself scraping plates with nothing left on them. “Mom died three years ago. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. So, what do you do?”
She shrugged. She knew she shouldn’t have started another conversation. It had just spawned questions she didn’t want to answer. That’s what cops did, ask questions.
But he was persistent. “What do you do for a living?”
Her expression flattened out as she turned around. “Nothing special.”
James came to his feet. Obviously the casual chitchat was over. Still, his ever-professional gaze narrowed in on her posture.
She was leaning her hips against the sink, a seemingly relaxed pose. But she was also twisting a dishrag between her hands as if she were trying to strangle it. Intuition said she was hiding something more than anxiety over Eric. She certainly didn’t like to answer even the most casual question. Experience said that he wasn’t going to find out why.
Sometimes you hand them your card and walk away.
He pulled one of his professional cards out of a pocket and held it out. “You have any more trouble, don’t hesitate to call.”
She came forward and took it in two fingers, careful not to touch his hand.
James shook his head and turned toward the living room.
“What are you going to do about your ex taking your dog?”
James looked back over his shoulder. Trust her to go to the heart of his remaining problem. “I’ll have to give that some thought.”
“She’s pretty. You’ll probably forgive her.”
He didn’t respond but the change in his expression made Shay suddenly a little sorry for the woman who would have to face this man.
She glanced over at Bogart.
But not that sorry.
She bent down to hug him one last time.
James saw the telltale sheen of unshed tears when she rose to her feet. Damn. He wished he could offer her something as consolation but he knew better than to sympathize with her again. “You should think about replacing Bogart with a dog of your own.”
“No one can replace him.”
“Right. But if you decide to look for real protection, you’re going to want a dog trained to act on command. You weren’t getting half the use you could have outta him. Want me to show you?”
She jutted out her chin. “What would be the point? You’re taking him away from me.”
James was rendered silent. It was those deep-set eyes framed by her bangs. Even though her mouth was saying back off, her gaze was vulnerable, heartbreaker sweet. Naturally, something stupid popped into his head.
“Tell you what. It’s Saturday night. We don’t have to be back on duty until Monday evening. Why don’t you keep Bogart until tomorrow? Say your good-byes.”
She studied his face for several seconds, trying, he suspected, to figure out where the trap lay in that offer. She must be accustomed to disappointment. “Where will you sleep?”
He glanced at his watch, hiding a smile. “Charlotte’s less than three hours away. I can still make it home in time to catch the end of a ballgame on TV.”
“You’d drive all the way back here tomorrow to pick him up?”
He racked his brain, trying to figure out why he’d opened his mouth in the first place. But now that he’d done it, he didn’t want to argue.
“Feed him in the morning, early, and then again about eleven A.M. He’s off his schedule and it’s important that he be back on it by the time we’re on duty Monday night.”
He turned and reached for his backpack, which he’d left by the kitchen door.