and experiences, and partly a difference in expectations, so let’s deal with both of those things right up-front. One—” she ticked off the point on a finger “—there’s no more experience gap. I’ve learned what I needed to know—and then some—over the past four years. And because of that experience, I don’t expect anything from you except a fair shake when it comes time for you to write my recommendation letter.”
He hung up her parka, movements deliberate, as though he was buying himself a moment. When he turned back to her, she read nothing more than faint impatience on his face, making her wonder if she’d imagined the darker, stronger emotions there before, whether she’d once again been projecting her own feelings onto him.
Not again, she told herself. Four years earlier she’d vowed to never again get herself caught in that sort of trap. Since then, she’d spelled out the terms of each relationship ahead of time, so there would be no surprises, no disappointments.
The system had worked before. It would work this time, as well.
“I know you don’t want me involved with you and Detective Stankowski on this case,” she said. “And I can’t say I blame you…but I’m also not willing to step aside. You said it yourself—this guy has my ID and my keys, and the likelihood is that he’s not just going to walk away and forget about me. That makes it my best interest to help you catch him.”
This time, she let the silence draw out between them.
Radcliff broke first, shaking his head and turning away. “We both know that’s circular logic, but I’m not going to waste energy trying to talk you out of it. Come on into the kitchen. I’ll fix us something while you go over the files. That way I’m in shouting distance if you have any questions.”
Without another word, he grabbed his soft-sided briefcase off the table where he’d dumped it when they’d first come in, and strode into the main living space of the town house.
Mandy stood in the entryway, rattled by his change in tactics. And that, she realized quickly, had been the point. He wanted her off balance and guessing, because if she wasn’t in control of the conversation, then that meant he was, and if there was one thing that hadn’t changed about Radcliff over the years, it was that he liked to be in control of the things—and the people—around him.
Muttering under her breath, she followed him to the kitchen.
The town house was a narrow structure that was three levels tall and only one room wide, with the rooms on each floor arranged in a line, shotgun-style. She passed through the first room of the middle floor, where tall ceilings, cream-colored walls and polished wooden beams gave the impression of lightness even though it was dark outside and few lamps were lit. To her left, one staircase descended below street level and another climbed to a third story, the spaces overlapping so the treads of the upper staircase soared above the lower stairs, all in warm, burnished wood that spoke of age and permanence. The load-bearing walls had been turned into arches and pillars, so two of the three rooms that had originally made up the main floor had become one large sitting area.
There, reproduction couches and chairs gave the look of antiques with modern lounge-about comfort, and were nearly buried beneath cushions and boldly colored blankets. A fireplace flanked one side of the room, a wide plasma TV hung on the opposite wall. Startling color and vibrance came from a profusion of green plants that hung in pots, sat on shelves and grew from wide clay buckets on the floor, all looking green and healthy, some even with blossoms—delicate pink and fire-engine red—though it was January.
Mandy automatically cataloged the plants, noting that many were varieties that needed daily care.
The thought of Parker Radcliff puttering around checking soil pH and moisture was so jarring she immediately knew he had to have a plant service, and probably rode them as hard as he did his staff. There was no way he took care of the greenery himself. Frankly she was surprised he’d bothered to install them in the first place. No doubt the plants were the decorator’s doing, Mandy thought, feeling a hint of amusement at the contrast between his place and her inexpensive apartment.
Most of her possessions were still in boxes, and her decorating efforts had been limited to hanging a few framed art posters. His place, on the other hand, was practically a showpiece.
When she reached the kitchen, she saw that the hardwood floors gave way to blue-green tilework, which added a splash of color to the cream paint and warm wood cabinets. The expensive fittings and appliances were brushed steel and the counters black marble, but additional touches of blue and green made the room feel warm rather than cold.
The man inside the kitchen, though, looked anything but warm. Frustration had deepened the hard lines beside his mouth and tightened the skin between his brows, making his expression thunderous and forbidding.
Any sane woman with an ounce of self-preservation in her soul would’ve backed away.
Mandy stepped forward, crossing the wide kitchen until she stood just opposite him near the sink. She lifted her chin and forced her eyes to match him chill for chill. “You left before I was finished with the ground rules.”
“I know.” He turned and crossed to a granite-topped island, and busied himself with the cold cuts he’d laid out, assembling sandwiches with precisely controlled motions. “We don’t need rules here because there’s nothing to legislate. I’m keeping an eye on you for the next day or so, that’s all. If you can give us something new from those—” he nodded to the medical files he’d laid out on a small table in the corner “—all the better. If not, we’ll figure out something longer term for your protection.”
Irritation flared, even though she knew his rundown wasn’t all that far off the reality of the situation. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Or have you conveniently forgotten laying one on me a few minutes ago?”
He glanced at her, his eyes darkening with a flash of heat that was there and gone so quickly she might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been feeling it herself.
“It’ll be a long time before I forget kissing you again,” he said. “But that just proves my point. There’s no way we can work closely together without remembering what we had together, and being tempted to go there all over again.”
Mandy gritted her teeth. “I’m not a green intern anymore, Dr. Radcliff. I’m an experienced E.R. physician who can hold her own, regardless of the situation.”
“We’re not exactly in a typical E.R. scenario right now, are we?” Emphasizing the point, he slid one of the sandwiches he’d made onto a plate, and handed it to her, then jerked his chin toward a pair of stools set into the intimate corner breakfast nook. “Have a seat.”
Their knees bumped as they settled into the niche, sitting too close together. Mandy was just about to suggest they move out into the main room when he caught her eye and lifted one eyebrow in challenge, as if to say, you think this won’t be an issue? Prove it.
So she settled into the breakfast nook and told herself not to notice how nice it felt to have her legs pressed up against his beneath the table, or how much warmer and safer she felt now than she had an hour ago, back at the police station.
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