Page 30 of The Pretender

“The crime scene guys took care of most of it,” Ted said.

Kramer slapped a second piece of cheese on his burger. “Good.”

“Enough sad talk. Craig is riding over and picking me up.” Ted stole the chips back from his father’s side of the table and passed them to her. “We’re heading for a night out bar hopping. Want to come?”

It sounded fun... except for the drinking, the bar and leaving Harris. Really, none of it appealed to her, but she thought it was sweet for Ted to ask. “No, thanks.”

“Craig is a good influence,” Kramer said over a mouthful of food.

Ted laughed. “Man, I hope not.”

For Craig’s and Ted’s sakes, she hoped Ted was right. “I always liked you.”

It was almost nine by the time she left Kramer’s house. Dinner went longer than she expected. Trading stories did that. Time whizzed by and darkness had fallen.

She walked into the guesthouse living room area and just stood there, staring down at the pile of pillows and blankets Harris had used for his makeshift bed last night. They were stacked beside the coffee table now. The room was dark except for the light in the lamp right by his head. He held his cell and she could tell from a quick look at the screen he’d been reading the news.

When he glanced up, her mind jumbled. Outside of the guesthouse, she could keep her thoughts clear and focused. Now inside with Harris, the energy spinning inside her took on a different feel.

She’d expected to be nervous around him. All this subterfuge made a woman tired. But this wasn’t about anxiety or exhaustion. The usual internal rush to walk away from confrontation, to go find an easier few hours before bed, didn’t hit her.

Jumpy... excited. Those sounded more on target with the sensations moving through her.

“Have a good dinner?” Harris asked from his seat on the end of the couch.

She balanced on the armrest right next to him and her heart flipped. She could hear the slight uptick in her breathing. The revving inside her had her shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position on the wobbly perch.

She wanted to blame the way they left things and the expectation that he could not let the conversation between them drop. He’d made it clear he wanted to know about the shovel... and her. Not that he’d demanded, but she felt his undercurrent of frustration. She could almost feel the clock ticking down to zero as her time ran out.

“I’ve known Kramer for almost twenty years,” she said as she wrung her hands together.

“And the son?”

That sounded like an interrogation. Interesting coming from the art appraiser guy who hadn’t ventured near a painting while he was here. Not so far.

But even that thought didn’t stick in her head. She wanted to question him, doubt him, but that wasn’t what her body craved. After fourteen months of locking her needs away, of hiding who she was and what she thought and all her dreams, she wanted to unleash. To feel something, anything. With him.

She cleared her throat, trying to hold back the tidal wave of heat crashing into her. She glanced away from him, scanning the room. Seeing the family photos and the stacks of what her father called coffee table books. The piles of books her mother collected showing beautiful interiors of beach cottages. She’d loved the water. Loved blue and white and overstuffed furniture.

Harris put his hand over hers. “Gabby?”

The simple touch shot through her. Every need flipped into hyperdrive.

“Ted Kramer is two years younger than me. Always been an overachiever. He was a bit of a player a few years back. Always decked out with a touch too much of cologne. The girlfriend is a good influence. He’s grown, become more serious and dependable.” She figured she’d give him Ted’s bio and save Harris the time. “He runs a landscaping company outside of Baltimore.”

“Not an ex then.”

Good lord. Here she was trying to block out the movie running in her mind of Harris stripping off that sweater and pulling her down on the couch, and he was busy thinking about her with other men. Talk about mixed signals.

“Is that what the clipped questions are about? No, Harris. Never. I put Ted more in the brother category than partner category.”

Harris released her fingers and his hand slid back down to the couch cushion next to him. “Does he know that?”

It was the way Harris asked it. With a strange note of darkness in his voice. “I think he’d laugh his butt off at the thought of us being in a relationship. He sees me as an annoying older sister.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” She could actually hear the ticking of the clock on the wall now. She never noticed it being that loud before.

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