The kiss deepened. He pulled away, leaned on an elbow, studying her.
“I didn’t know that’s what I was going to do. I hadn’t even decided to take the position when we…when I saw you. I had a meeting this morning to find out more about it. I couldn’t have said anything, because I didn’t know anything.” He remained silent, watching her. She was talking too much, she knew, as if she had to keep going. “I know seeing me there, doing something so important for your investigation…I’m sure it was surprising. But I didn’t know a thing about it until we were on the way to the morgue. I was an art major for a long time. And…well, usually people have a relationship first and then sex, rather than sex and then…”
Her voice trailed off. She still wasn’t sure they had a relationship.
“Ms. Montague?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up,” he commanded before his lips touched hers again. The tenderness was still there, along with a raw edge of urgency. And with that one touch, she was electrified. She turned into his arms, pressed her lips to his flesh. And felt his tongue moving into her mouth with that intimacy that seemed to suggest the most carnal acts to follow. She was bathed in the warmth of his body, the extraordinary expertise of his lightest touch, and the greater force of the urgency replaced sensual finesse. She lost all concept of time, place or reality. Later, as she lay quietly at his side once again, she drifted to sleep, awakened, knew that he, too, was awake.
“Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“How come you came to the hospital tonight? Have you learned anything?”
“No, I’m sorry.” He didn’t turn toward her.
“But you believe me? That there’s got to be more behind what happened to Stuart?”
He was silent for a few moments, then turned toward her. “Ashley…I don’t know what to believe. I do know that Carnegie is a good cop. I can do some investigating on my own, especially where that paper he’d been freelancing for is concerned, but…you have to think long and hard about whether what you’re feeling is absolutely solid, or if…”
“If what?”
He rose on one elbow as he spoke seriously. “If maybe you just feel a certain guilt or something because you slept with him and then lost touch.”
She felt as if she’d been drenched with a bucket of ice water. She stiffened, coming up one elbow so she was face to face with him. She was not going to dignify his incorrect assumption by even responding to it. “Oh, really? The way you think there are people breaking into your boat but really it’s all tied up with the fact that you were sleeping with your partner?”
She was startled by the violence of his reaction. Not that he touched her. But he withdrew with such force that it felt as if a whirlwind had gone through the bedroom. Up and on his feet, he padded out of the cabin naked, presumably in search of his swim trunks.
Ashley lay there for several seconds, feeling the sudden chill in the air. She bit her lip, sat up and decided that their insane, instantaneous, affair—was over. As to what emotion that evoked in her heart…she couldn’t even fathom it. She just knew that she had to get out.
She reached for her clothing and realized that it, too, was all over the living room. Summoning what dignity she could, she walked out of the bedroom, taking the two steps down to the living area. The door to the deck was open. A soft breeze was drifting in, touched with the scent of the salt and the sea. As she searched frantically for her things, she was startled when she heard him speak.
“Don’t go.”
She’d just found her bra. She turned and stood at the sound of his voice and cracked her temple against the counter. He reentered the cabin, closing the door behind him. He walked straight to her, heedless of the scrap of clothing she was clutching over her chest. His palms cupped her skull, and he looked into her eyes. “Don’t go. I’d like you to listen to me, if you’re willing.” She nodded as best she could with his fingers threaded so tensely through her hair. He wasn’t hurting her; she didn’t want him to think that he was.
“I’m listening,” she said softly.