Page 92 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

“Oh.” He grinned. “You did that on purpose.”

“Gotcha!” She laughed. “I do have a sense of humor, you know, though the past week or so it’s been pretty much dead.”

Setting his utensils down, he cocked his head and studied her. “You’re a fascinating woman, Caitlyn.”

“You think?” she teased, but was flattered.

“Complex.”

“Uh-uh. I’m the doctor, remember? My turn.” She pointed her fork at his chest. “Turn it off for a while. You know, the trouble with psychologists is that they’re always working. Every time they meet someone, it’s like a new case study ready to be pounced upon.”

“That’s a pretty general statement.”

“But true.”

He lifted a shoulder and she saw the amusement in his eyes, the slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, the intelligence etched in the features of his face. “Okay, Doctor, what do you want to know?”

“First of all. Have you ever been married?”

The smile tightened. “Once.”

“Hmm.”

“It was brief. A long time ago. As I said before, no kids.”

“You ever see her?”

“Rarely.”

“Any steady girlfriend?”

“At the moment?” He shook his head. “No. Remember, I just got into town.”

“But I thought there might be a woman waiting for you at home.”

“In the Midwest? No. No woman waiting.”

“I thought you might have been running from something; some deep, dark, shady past, and that’s why you’re here.”

“Maybe I was running to something.”

“What?”

“That remains to be seen now, doesn’t it?” he teased, his smile stretching more widely now that they were out of dangerous conversational territory. “Maybe it was kismet, or fate, or the alignment of the planets.”

“You think?” she asked, amused.

“Who knows, but I am here and right now I think it might have been one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. I mean, how great is it to be sitting outside in Savannah, eating fabulous food and spending time with a fascinating, beautiful woman?”

“One who told you she can’t remember if she was involved in her husband’s death,” she reminded him, and some of the magic of the evening seemed to dissipate.

“Hey—for the rest of the meal, let’s put that aside.”

“It’s not as easy as that.”

“Try.” He motioned to the waitress and ordered the pie with ice cream and two forks. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Okay.” And she did her best. Laughing, joking, letting him feed her a bit of the sweet confection, looking into the dark square across the street and trying not to imagine hidden eyes staring at her from inky hiding spots. She was safe with Adam. She trusted him, and when he paid the bill and refused to let her help, she didn’t fight him. Together they walked to his office, and when he took her hand as they cut through a back alley she didn’t fight him. They reached her car, and she felt a little disappointed that the evening was over.

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