flyers as a teen. More than one dog had chased her or barked savagely at her.
“Well, Sherlock’s at home.” Marshall dusted the leather seat to get any stray dog hairs off. “Will you just get in the car?”
With a sigh, Tamara did just that. Marshall then started the car, and loud hip-hop immediately blared through the speakers. Marshall reached for the volume control and turned it down.
Tamara said nothing, just sipped her coffee as a way of avoiding having to speak. She was desperate to find out what had happened the night before, and also terrified. She knew it was very likely that she had behaved inappropriately, but she was embarrassed to ask.
Perhaps there was a part of her that needed that kind of wild encounter with someone to help make her feel desirable again. It had been a while since she’d been with any man. And as much as it was clearly out of character for her to engage in a one-night stand, obviously, on some level, she’d needed to get it on with someone.
“So,” Marshall began, “did you have a good time yesterday?”
Tamara’s stomach twisted. Was he talking about the wedding? Or afterward? Tamara looked at him briefly and then averted her gaze. “If you mean at the wedding,” she said pointedly, “yes, it was lovely.”
“What do you think I mean?” Marshall asked.
“I—I don’t... I didn’t...” Tamara’s voice trailed off.
“I’m a trained investigator,” Marshall told her. When Tamara glanced at him, she saw that he was giving her a curious look. “It’s obvious there’s something else on your mind.”
Tamara said nothing.
“Tamara?” She could feel Marshall’s eyes on her. “Why don’t you tell—”
“Look,” she interrupted him, releasing a heavy breath as she stared at him. “I’ll make this clear. Whatever happened last night, it can’t happen again. I mean, here I am in your car after a night at your house that I don’t even remember. This isn’t like me. I do—” She faltered. “I do remember kissing you. And then...I wake up half-naked in your bed?”
Marshall’s eyes widened, as though intrigued. “You don’t remember what happened?”
“No. Which tells me I obviously wasn’t in my right mind. And you...you should have known better, even if I didn’t.”
“So that’s why you seem on edge,” he said, sounding as though he finally got it.
For someone who touted himself as a trained investigator, he was also a little dense.
“Of course that’s why I’m on edge,” Tamara responded, her words a little harsher than she’d intended. “I’m not the kind of woman you typically date.”
“How would you know the kind of woman I typically date?”
“It’s obvious.”
“Really?” Marshall sounded amused. “How is it obvious?”
Tamara had started something, something she wished she hadn’t. She should have just kept her mouth shut. Moved on from the mistake of the night before and forgotten it ever happened.
“Come on. You say something like that, you’ve got to explain yourself. I met you last night. How on earth can you act as if you know me?”
“Didn’t you start off at the wedding with someone else?” Tamara raised an eyebrow as if she had just scored a match point.
“My cousin, Renee. I told you that.”
“Right,” Tamara scoffed. “She looked like she just came from the Playboy mansion.”
“She is beautiful. And she’s also my cousin. I wouldn’t lie about that.”
Tamara glanced at Marshall. He appeared truthful. Which only made her feel even dumber than getting so drunk the night before that she didn’t remember a thing.
But the truth was, she knew of Marshall’s reputation. He could pretend to be a choirboy, and maybe he had changed, but life had taught her that people didn’t just transform into better versions of themselves. She had married Patrick, ignoring his early bouts of jealousy, thinking he would calm down once he felt secure with the reality that she was his wife. Instead, Patrick’s behavior had only intensified.
Marshall had always had a reputation as being a ladies’ man, and she didn’t imagine that that would have changed throughout the years. The fact that she’d ended up at his house, in his bed, did more to prove he was the same man he’d been thirteen years ago.
“The fact that you took me home last night speaks volumes,” Tamara said.
“Does it, now?” Marshall asked.
“In my state of mind? Of course it does.” She still didn’t understand how she’d gotten so drunk, but that was a moot point now. “But I’m just letting you know that whatever happened, it was a one-time thing. I’m not the sort of woman who hooks up with men for one-night stands. That is totally not me.”
Marshall nodded slowly. “I see.”
“I suspect that’ll suit you just fine anyway,” she added in a voice that was almost a whisper.
“Excuse me?”
With a huge sense of relief, Tamara started to recognize her old neighborhood. “Oh, thank God. We’re almost there.”
“Can’t wait to get away from me,” Marshall commented, sounding as though he was speaking to himself. “I guess I should be offended.”
Tamara didn’t respond, just sipped her coffee. She wished she could be out of the car already.
Away from Marshall.
Maybe it was better that she had no recollection of last night. Even if all she and Marshall had done last night was fool around a little, it was still too much for her liking. Not knowing the details, she could pretend that nothing had happened.
Sure, it wasn’t the most mature way to look at things, but she didn’t particularly feel like being an adult about this. Because as she neared Callie and Nigel’s house, she was wondering how on earth she was going to explain herself to her son and to her friends.
Minutes later, Marshall slowed and turned into the driveway of Callie and Nigel’s home and pulled up behind Tamara’s car. Yesterday, between the wedding and the reception, Tamara had followed Callie to the house when she’d brought the boys to the sitter, and they had gone to the reception hall in one car. Tamara was extremely grateful she’d had the foresight to do that, which saved her from having to head back to the reception hall this morning.
As Marshall put the car into Park, Tamara began to undo the seat belt immediately. But as she reached to open the door with her other hand, Marshall took her gently by the wrist.
She looked at him. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t want to ask me what happened last night?
