“Which was?” she coaxed, smiling at Witt’s colorful descriptions. And the idea that he’d fought over her ... well, it kind of melted her insides.
“Which was that Pippa Lamont showed up at Nadine’s apartment on Friday night. Instead of sending Pippa packing, Nadine kicked him out. Put that together with the fact that my audiophile buddy positively IDed the two accomplices on the video as women ... ” He let his voice trail off.
“You made a logical deduction.”
“Not that it mattered. You had, as usual, taken care of everything yourself.”
Jeez, he smelled good, even when he was mad. Max smiled and leaned a little closer. “Is that why you’re pissed?”
“I’m not pissed.”
“Yes, you are. And it’s because you weren’t able to be my knight in shining armor.”
“You need a warden, not a knight.”
“Funny, that’s what Cameron said. He also said he nudged you.”
“Nudged me?”
“Hinted at where you could find me.”
“Are we talking about your dead husband again?”
“That’s him. Dead, but never silent.”
“I thought you said he was just a technique you used for working out problems.”
“I lied. He talks back.”
He put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. “I don’t think I can handle this.”
“How do you think I feel? It’s me he’s haunting.”
“I really can’t tell my mother all this.”
Her breath gave a little hitch. “I’m sorry about last night.” She was purposely evasive.
“For almost getting yourself killed?”
“For hurting your feelings.”
“Should be. Gotta be thick-skinned where you’re concerned.” He examined his fingernails, then looked at her. “No excuse for what I accused you of, though.”
Ah, he’d dropped a pronoun. Things were looking up. Even if he had slammed her last night about doing the bouncers. She had thick skin, too, especially when she’d goaded him. “It wasn’t important.”
He tipped his head, regarding her for a long silent moment. “Didn’t mean it, you know.”
“I know.” She’d known that last night, too. “You better go. You’ve got a case to work. I don’t want to mess up your career.”
He stared at her hand where she’d reached to grip the door handle. “My career’s fine. For now.”
“Are you sure? Scagliomotti and Berkowsky might start asking why you were so interested in their case. And there’s all that time you spend running down here to take care of me when you should be working. Not,” she pointed, narrowing her eyes, “that I need looking after.”
He ignored that one, probably for his own good. “Cops don’t rat on each other. At least, not for something as simple as asking too many questions. And my cases are clean.”
“So, you’ve just been using that as an excuse to keep me in line.”
“Max, I’d never presume you could be kept in line.”
“Good.” She opened her door. “I intend to testify, you know. In both cases.”
“I know. Still hope you don’t have to.”
“And your D.A. pals can wonder about it all they want.”
“They will. But at least there’s not a shred of forensic evidence against you. Cops are big on forensic evidence, you know.”
She climbed out. “I know. But it’s sure a helluva lot easier when the bad guys confess, isn’t it?”
He laughed. Another good sign. But damn, such an incredibly sexy sound. It sent a little shiver right straight down her center. “Yeah. Don’t I know it.”
“I’ll walk back. You’ve got a case to work.” She slammed the door and walked around the hood. She thought briefly about asking if he’d give her a call some time soon, but decided against it.
“Hey,” he called, “no more dead bodies, okay?”
She took a step closer to his car door. “I can’t promise.”
“Okay, so promise you won’t talk to any ghosts.”
“I really can’t promise that.”
“Come here.” He waved at her with one hand while with the other he reached across to snap in his seatbelt.
“You’re gonna be late,” she warned.
“Mom wants you to come for dinner a week from Wednesday.”
“For dinner?” It came out as a definite squeak. “At your mother’s?”
“Yeah. She’ll scalp me if you don’t.”
She bent over, hands on her knees, her head almost touching the car door, and managed at last to take a deep breath. Then she looked up. Damn, what had the man been saying about her? “You must be out of your mind.”
“Five o’clock. She likes to eat early.”
“Why a week and a half?”
“Takes her that long to choose the menu, make sure the house is clean, buy a new dress, and have the gardener in.”
Oh my God. Max was silent. Dumbfounded. Intimidated.
“Say okay, Max.”
“Okay, Max,” she answered like a parrot.
Then, quick as a snake strike, his hand curved around her nape. “Didn’t sound particularly sincere. Can’t say yes to Mom and back out at the last minute.”
“I won’t,” she said, barely above a whisper.