Handsome, she thought, stepping out of her car. She’d thought it before, but tonight he seemed particularly so. Not in the bulging, macho way of some men, but long and lean with a warm, brown gaze that never wavered.
Miranda started toward him. “Hey, partner. What’re you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you about something.”
Unlike her dad or brothers, Jake was a stand-up guy. Real and in the moment. Quietly there. It made him a good cop. And a good partner.
And sometimes, when he looked at her, she thought he saw her more clearly than she saw herself. Times like tonight.
Uncomfortable, she broke the connection and glanced at her watch. “It couldn’t wait? It must be really important.”
“It is.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re out late.”
“Visiting the Toasted Cat.”
“Getting toasted?”
She was, she realized. Slightly crispy anyway. “That wasn’t the reason, but it seems to be the result.” She climbed the porch steps and crossed to the door. “C’mon in.”
She unlocked the door and dropped her keys and bag on the front table. “Beer? Coffee?”
“Beer.” He trailed her into the kitchen. “Big day today, huh?”
“You could say that.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.”
“Sit.” She waved in the direction of the counter stools, then reached in the fridge for the brew. She popped the cap and handed it to him, then went back and retrieved a bottle of water for herself.
Miranda leaned against the counter. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Today. What happened in Cadwell’s office.”
“Which part?”
“The part where I backed you up.”
She waited. As the seconds ticked past, something about the energy between them changed. She didn’t know why, but suddenly it was prickly, somehow electric.
“I told you I backed you up because I believe in you.”
“Yup.” She brought the bottle toward her lips. “No longer true?”
“Only partially true.”
Miranda suddenly knew what was coming next. The swallow of water caught in her throat. She forced it down.
“The whole truth is because—”
“No, don’t—”
“I love you, Miranda. I’m in love with you.”
His words knocked the wind out of her. This was not a young man, saying whatever necessary to get into a woman’s pants, not shallow, in love with himself and the effect of his words, not greedy or selfish.
This was Jake. Partner. Friend. Totally present Jake.
“You don’t have to say anything. Because of today … I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”
In love with her? How, she wondered. Why? The questions came out sideways. “Are you sure?”
He half-laughed. “Miranda, of course I’m sure.”
She pressed her lips together a moment. “But you don’t really know—”
“You? Yes, I do.” He stood and crossed to stand directly in front of her. “I know you, Miranda.”
That direct, steady gaze. Deep and warm brown. The way those eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. She dropped her gaze to his mouth. The chiseled cut of his upper lip. The hint of a dimple at the corners.
She felt lightheaded in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.
He searched her gaze. “I know you’ve never looked at me that way. But what do you think? Maybe you want to give it a try?”
Today … tonight, everything was different. Richard Stark was the beautiful monster from her nightmares. She knew it without proof. In her gut. That’s why her fingerprints were at the scene. It’s why the news clipping about her was in his desk drawer.
Stark saved it, all these years.
Everybody thought Richard Stark was a paragon. But she knew the truth. And so did someone else. The person who killed him, the one who planted her fingerprints at the scene.
Jake drew his eyebrows together. “Miranda, say something. I’m hanging out here in the wind, feeling like a complete idiot.”
Should she take a chance? Cross this line?
Everything was different tonight. She was different.
Take the fork in the road, Miranda. Do it.
She cupped his face in her palms, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him. She felt his surprise, then his relief, as he drew her closer and deepened the kiss.
He tasted of the beer; smelled faintly of aftershave and the night. His body felt strong against hers and she let herself revel in that strength. She could be weak in this moment, she told herself. Just for now. With him she felt safe—something she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time.
“The bedroom,” she said against his mouth, the sound raspy with arousal.
“Where?”
“End of the hall.” She tightened her grip on his shoulders. “Hurry.”
Without breaking the kiss he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. Within moments, the bed rose up to meet them. They tugged at one another’s clothing, impatiently pushing garments aside, wriggling free of clinging fabric, greedy for what came next.
She wanted to feel him. His skin against hers, their joined heat. And she wanted him on top of her. Inside her.
She called his name and he understood. He rolled her onto her back, pinning her to the mattress. For a moment that seemed an eternity, he held her gaze. When it seemed she couldn’t wait a moment longer, he entered her with a slow, deep thrust.
“I’ve got you, Miranda,” he said against her ear. “I’ve got … you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
5:05 A.M.
Miranda opened her eyes to see Jake, one leg in his pants, hopping to balance himself as he inserted the other leg.
She smiled sleepily. “Hey.”
He fastened his pants and looked her way. “Hey. Sorry I woke you.”
She yawned. “What time is it?”
“Five.”
“Couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here, huh?”
He laughed and crossed to the bed. He bent down and kissed her. “Obviously, my timing sucks.”
“Your timing’s great. No complaints here.”
He knew she was referring to the night before and grinned. “Glad to be of service.”
“Stud.” She stretched and moaned, muscles heavy with sleep and sore in ways they hadn’t been in a long time. “You don’t have to go.”
“Small town. Figured you’d prefer it if no one saw me leaving this morning.”
Small town. Partners.
Major complications.
She sat up and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Wait. We need to talk.”
“Uh-oh, the ‘talk’ already.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t help but notice how beautifully molded his chest was. She recalled how those ripped muscles had felt against her palms and she averted her gaze.
“This probably wasn’t such a good idea,” she said.
He smiled. “I figured you were going to say that this morning.”
“I’m that predictable?”
“I know you that well.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Okay, so what was I going to say next?”
“That we’re partners. We have to work together. This can’t get in the way of that.”
He was right, nearly word for word. “And I was going to be right about that.”
“I know. This won’t get in the way.”
She smoothed the crumpled sheet, needing something to do with her hands. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she had to be completely honest. “There’s more. This wasn’t fair to you … I wasn’t fair to you.”