Page 117 of Sworn to Silence
“Or I would have said something inappropriate and pissed you off.”
“Maybe we’re just a little out of practice.”
“You think maybe we could stumble through the basics?”
“If we put our minds to it and stay focused we could give it a shot. See what happens.”
We grin stupidly at each other. I don’t want this moment to be awkward, but it is. I realize neither of us are good at this kind of intimacy.
“You want a drink?” he asks.
“Will it help with the butterflies?”
“Helps with all sorts of things.” Stepping back, he goes to the cupboard above the refrigerator and pulls out the bottle of vodka. I turn off the stove, gather glasses and set them on the counter.
Scratching at the window draws my attention and I see the orange tabby, his face covered with a frosting of snow.
“Cold night for that little guy.” John crosses to the door and opens it. The cat darts inside, hisses at John, then disappears into the living room.
“He’s warming up to you,” I say.
“I’ve got that stray cat thing going.” He pours into our glasses and raises his to mine. “Here’s to the end of a long and difficult case.”
I clink my glass to his, and try not to wonder if the case is really over. We knock back our drinks without breaking eye contact. I know what’s going to happen next. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about acting on the reckless impulses running hot in my blood.
He takes my glass and sets in on the counter. The next thing I know I’m being swept into his arms. “What are you doing?”
“I was thinking about trying to get you into bed.”
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
He kisses me, but this time it’s not tentative. It’s the kiss of a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. “So are you okay with this?” he whispers.
He’s asking about the rape, I realize. “At one point in my life, I would have run away from this moment and never looked back. Or maybe I would have sabotaged whatever relationship we’d begun.”
“I thought I had the market cornered on the relationship-busting thing,” he says.
“You don’t.”
“Is that a warning?”
“Probably.”
He looks at me with those dark, intense eyes. “No pretenses, Kate. It’s just us. You and me.”
“And our baggage.”
Laughing outright, he carries me down the hall and starts into the first bedroom.
“Wrong room,” I say.
“Sorry.” He backs into the hall and carries me into my bedroom.
He puts me down next to the bed. His eyes go to the old kerosene lamp on my night table. “Does that thing work?”
“It belonged to mymamm.” One of the few things I have of hers. “Matches are in the night table.”
“Don’t go anywhere.” He softens the words with a smile.
