at her graceful profile as she stared out the window, back straight, mouth tight. He wanted to hug her again, but she looked like she might shatter if he touched her. “Problems with work?”
She tossed her head, a vain attempt to look casual. “That was the owner of the diner where I work part-time. I was supposed to be there by now to prep. I might have just gotten fired.” She dropped her face into her hands. “This, I did not need. Could things get any worse?”
“Yes,” he said.
She looked up, incredulous. “Gee, brighten my morning a little more, why don’t you? That was a rhetorical question, McCloud!”
“Don’t ask questions if you don’t want answers,” he replied.
“You’re some comfort,” she said sourly. “A little ray of sunshine.”
“Comfort won’t help you right now.” He made his voice hard. “You need the cops. If you don’t want real help, don’t ask for comfort.”
She put Mikey down and blew her nose. “I’d rather not. I rub cops the wrong way. Problems with authority. Daddy issues. You know.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. But if you don’t have the nerve to tell me the truth, at least don’t insult me by feeding me a raft of shit.”
She winced, and lifted defiant eyes to his. “Would you stop that?”
“Stop what?”
“Didn’t anybody ever tell you that staring is rude? I can’t deal with that kind of scrutiny today. I don’t even have my makeup on.”
He trained his eyes into his coffee cup. “Sorry,” he said. “I can’t seem to help looking at you. I find you…interesting.”
She looked wary, but her lips twitched. “Interesting, huh? That’s one of those sneaky, double-edged words. Interesting how? Interesting like flesh-eating bacteria? Interesting like something out of The X-Files?”
“Let me pick another word,” he said smoothly. “Fascinating.”
She snorted. “Oh, get out of town. Fascinating, my butt.”
“That, too,” he said, before he could stop himself.
She muffled a crack of laughter behind her hands. “Look who’s trying to be cute. Hang on to your day job, McCloud. You weren’t cut out to be a comedian.”
He was pleased to have made her laugh, even if it took making an ass of himself. “Please call me Davy.”
“Davy.” She said the word slowly, like she was tasting it.
He reached across the table and took her cool, slender hand in his. “You want to talk, Margot? I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
She hesitated, mouth trembling, and slowly pulled her hand away. “No. Not now. It’s a long story, and I’m late for work.” Her voice turned brisk. “I dragged you out of bed at an ungodly hour—”
“I get up early anyhow,” he assured her.
“I really appreciate the moral support, but if you’ve got things to do, you don’t have to hang around here. I’m past the worst of it. Now I just have to get on with my day somehow.”
He could’ve howled with frustration. She’d been so close to talking. “We could go someplace and get some breakfast,” he said.
She flinched at the mention of food. “God, no. I’ve got to clean that blood up somehow, and get Mikey to the kennel, and see if I can get to work in time to salvage my job, so maybe you should just—”
“I know a good cleaning service that can take care of your porch,” he offered. “And I’ve got a friend at an independent crime lab. I’ll take a sample of that blood to be analyzed. You don’t know who or what it’s from. Don’t handle it yourself. Let professionals deal with it.”
She looked doubtful. “I don’t think I should have to handle it either, but I can’t afford the luxury of—”
“They’re my friends,” he insisted. “They’ll cut me a deal.”
Her eyes were full of wary confusion. “Don’t, Davy,” she said softly. “It’s sweet of you, but…just let it be. I’ll take care of it when I get back.” She stopped whatever else she was going to say, shook her head and scurried into her bedroom.
He headed out to the porch and stared at the dark, glistening pool. He wasn’t great with blood. He could handle it if forced to, but it made him queasy and depressed, stirring memories he really didn’t want to unearth. He forced himself to concentrate as he scraped a sticky flake of the blood into a plastic bag with the point of his knife.
When he came back into the kitchen, she was dressed in a dowdy blue waitressing uniform, somehow managing to look sharp and sexy in it. Her hair was twisted up into a spiky fountain of dull brown wisps.
She pulled a set of purple spandex workout gear off the drying rack in the kitchen, shoved them into her gym bag and pulled open the door. She jerked her chin for him to precede her out.
“Will you have dinner with me tonight?” he asked, as she followed him out. “We can do Thai, or sushi. You’ll be hungry by then for sure.”
A reluctant smile curved her soft mouth. “You’re slick, McCloud.”
“Call me—”
“Yeah, OK. Davy. But tonight’s not good. I’ve got a lot to deal with. As you well know.” She locked the door and marched down the steps, head high, back straight. Her moment of weakness was definitively over.
He tried again as she deposited Mikey in the passenger’s seat of her car. “I should drive you to work. Your hands are shaking.” He cupped the slender hand that held her car keys. “You want a ride?”
Her hand vibrated in his grip, but she didn’t pull it away. “No, thanks. I need to be mobile right after my shift. I’ve got gym classes to teach afterwards. And, uh…Davy? One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
She hesitated for a second, then launched herself at him, grabbed him around the waist and hugged him, tightly. Almost angrily.
He practically jerked away, he was so startled. She just hung on harder. He came to his senses and grabbed her back just in time, as her grip was loosening. His heart thundered in his chest, his breath had gone ragged. Every part of him that touched her tingled and burned.
She lifted her face from where it was pressed against his shirt. “Thanks, Davy,” she whispered. “For everything.”
“For what?” he demanded. “You won’t tell me anything. You won’t trust me. You won’t let me do a goddamn thing to help you.”
She shook her head, and rubbed her cheek against his shirt. “You’re sweet,” she said. “You came when I called you. You gave me a hug when I needed one. You’re sweet. A good guy.”
“Nah. Not that
