“No,” he assured her, grabbing her arm and keeping her in bed when she would have tossed back the covers and vaulted off the mattress. “I’m widowed…er…widowered.” His frown deepened. “Is that even a word? Whatever.” He waved an impatient hand through the air. “You get the point. But I thought you knew.”
“N-no,” she managed even though her throat was dryer than the Carménère wine her father had liked to drink on Christmas Eve and special occasions.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He made a face and shrugged. “Huh.”
Huh? Huh? That’s what he had to say? She didn’t… She couldn’t… She wasn’t…
Shock. Penni was in shock. And she knew her mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, but she couldn’t stop herself. Questions formed and dissolved one right after the other. A dull swoosh, swoosh, swoosh sounded between her ears. And was it just her, or had the room halved in size? The walls were closing in, weren’t they?
Finally, one question bloomed to life and retained its shape long enough for her to grab hold of it. “H-how did she die?” she asked, not surprised her voice came out reedy and thin.
Dan’s a widower! He had a wife! She couldn’t believe it! Then again, there was that flash of pain she occasionally saw in his eyes. And she suddenly remembered the conversation they’d had in Kuala Lumpur when he tried to convince her he wasn’t worth her time, when he admitted he was dealing with a bunch of personal stuff and was all fucked up about it. But he hadn’t expounded beyond that. And she hadn’t pressed.
Oh, why hadn’t she pressed?
Because you didn’t want to know, that’s why. You just wanted to get naked with him.
True, true. Which just proved, once again, that she was a total ass.
“Violently,” he admitted, pulling her from her swirling thoughts. His left eyelid twitched. A muscle in his jaw did the same. There. There was that sadness, that flicker of pain. Her heart ached for the way it caused his beautiful green eyes to darken. “She was gunned down just inside the gates.” He bobbed his chin in the direction of the BKI’s entrance. “It’s a long story that involves a hired thug, some stolen files that incriminated a U.S. senator, and a shoot-out. But basically it comes down to her being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Despite the fact that Penni was reeling, absolutely reeling with the knowledge he’d been married before, that he’d still be married if life and evil men hadn’t interfered and taken his wife—his wife, Christ almighty!—from him, Penni was able to whisper, “I-I’m so sorry, Dan.” Tears of sympathy gathered and burned behind her eyes. She was feeling a gazillion different emotions, but the ones she could identify were compassion and understanding. So she decided to just go with those. “That’s… It’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, rolling in his lips, growing quiet. Then, “But it’s probably not much different than a nineteen-year-old girl losing her father in the crossfire of two rival gangs.”
Her brow furrowed. She blinked. “What the… How do you know about that?”
“I may have done a little research on you when I got back from Kuala Lumpur,” he admitted, his expression sheepish.
“Y-you did research on me?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, rubbing a hand over his beard stubble. “And I’ve been wanting to tell you how sorry I am for your loss, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. It’s not something you just say right out of the blue, you know?” That charming way he smashed his words together made it sound like right outta th’blue, y’know.
“Thank you,” she told him. The dull ache that knifed into her stomach anytime she thought about the night her father died was so familiar she could ignore it. “It was a really long time ago.” And that had another one of those flimsy, ephemeral questions swirling around in her head suddenly solidifying. “How long ago did she die?” When she realized how nosy that sounded, and how insensitive, she was quick to add, “Sorry. I’m so sorry. Geez. Don’t answer that. You probably hate talking about it.” After a shake of her head she added, “It has become glaringly apparent to me that I am a blue-ribbon-worthy ass.”
“No you’re not.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You’re wonderful. And it’s okay to ask me anything. I’ll always give you the truth.”
Yeah, he would. Because he was an honest, upstanding guy. And she was…a blue-ribbon-worthy ass. She couldn’t help reiterating.
When he squeezed her shoulder again, she instinctively scooted away. All the comfort and ease she usually felt had vanished. It was weird to be in bed with him, naked. You know, what with his wife smiling at her from the photograph. She nonchalantly tucked the comforter around herself, trying to play off the move by pretending to pick distractedly at a stray thread.