Page 17 of Bedroom Therapy

Now—

Now she suddenly remembered why he’d knocked on her door and why she had kicked him out of the house the last time he’d been here. She also remembered she was wearing little more than a long tee shirt.

Breaking the kiss, she pressed her hands against his shoulders, then watched his gaze come back into focus. He dropped his hands and took one step back, his expression hardening.

“You’re getting out of here.”

Her brain struggled to make sense of the statement. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I rented this house for six months.”

“Staying in this house isn’t a great idea,” he said in a voice that left no room for argument. “I was hired to find out what happened to Esther Knight. She’s dead. Now you’re in danger. Have you made any enemies in town?”

“I haven’t been here long enough to make enemies.”

“Then we’re back to a link with Esther Knight.”

“Or someone who targeted a woman living alone.”

“Either way, a bad guy was staking out your place. I told you I saw a white van hanging around this afternoon. I saw it drive away again tonight.”

“The same van?”

He hesitated. “I can’t be one hundred percent sure. As you said, there are a lot of white vans on the road.” He looked toward the window. “By the way, where are the cops? Didn’t you call them?”

“I asked a neighbor to do it. He threatened to shoot me.”

“Nice guy.”

“We could call the police now,” she said.

“We can do that later. Right now, I’m moving you somewhere safer.”

She tipped her head to one side, trying to wrap her head around his words and the brittle tone of his voice. “Why? Why should you get involved?”

She saw him swallow. He turned away and walked toward the window, looking out into the darkness. His shoulders were hunched, and she could tell from his body language that whatever he had to say wasn’t coming easily. “I don’t want to make the same mistake I did last time,” he finally said.

The answer made her blink. Last time what?”

“Last time I let a woman get harmed because I was too blind to understand what was happening.”

“I think you’d better explain that.”

He nodded, then pivoted to face her. “I used to be a police detective. But when I got married, my wife thought the job was too dangerous. I started a PI business.”

Her fingers went to her lips as the memory of the kiss sizzled through her. “You’re married?” she said in a voice that she couldn’t hold steady.

He kept his gaze even. “Not anymore. A thug I’d put in prison got out and decided to even the score. He kidnapped Mindy. I figured out where he was holding her. The cops and I got her back. But she was . . . pretty traumatized. After that, the marriage was over. We’ve been divorced for more than a year.”

“Oh.”

“But let’s cut the conversation. I’m getting you out of this house. Tonight.”

“Because you feel guilty?” she asked carefully.

“Because I care about you.”

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