“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He didn’t mind it, and he only needed to spend a couple of days at it, long enough to get an up close look at the penthouse across the way. “This morning I have a meeting down at the station, though. And some paperwork to catch up on.”
There hadn’t been a meeting scheduled, but while Claire was in the shower Luke had called his sergeant about this new development, and he had called them in to discuss the pros and cons of adding this vantage point to their stakeout. Providing Luke could find a way to get Claire to go along with it. Could he convince her to do that without letting her in on his real reason for wanting to be here? Sure, he wanted to be with her, and after last night, he figured he had a pretty good shot at spending more time with her. He knew a thing or two about satisfying a woman, and Claire was satisfied. But nobody in their right mind shacked up after one date. But Donald...that jerk just might provide him with the in he needed.
She sipped her drink, and he leaned in to take care of the foam on her lip before her tongue got to it. He liked that he could do that, loved that she would let him.
And there was that smile again. Definitely satisfied. Not that last night had only been about finding a way in here. Last night had been amazing. For the past two years, since getting sober, he’d taken his AA sponsor’s advice and avoided relationships, even one-night stands. Last night he’d been more than ready to move forward, and it turned out sober sex was mind-blowing. Huh. Who freakin’ knew?
“What about you?” he asked. “Is Saturday a day off?”
“Never. I’m showing condos to some young newlyweds this morning and this afternoon I’m hosting an open house at a property I listed last week.” She glanced away. “Before that, I have to call a locksmith.”
He touched her arm, her shoulder and finally snagged her chin, turning her to face him. “Let me call someone for you. They usually charge an arm and a leg to come out on weekends, but I have a connection.”
“You have a friend who’s a locksmith?”
“Not a friend.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, brought up a number. “A contact I made on the job.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Does this guy just keep bad guys out? Or does he help the good guys get in?”
Interesting that she would ask. “Some questions are best left unanswered.”
She laughed. “Fair enough. If you can get me a deal and get it done right away, that’s all I need to know. That, and what you’d like for breakfast.”
“I never turn down a meal. What have you got?”
“Eggs.” She got up and opened the fridge. “Green onions, red peppers, mushrooms. I can make an omelet as long as you’re okay with no cheese.”
“Sounds good to me.”
He stood and picked up his coffee, making the call to Marty at Lock ’N’ Key as he crossed the living room to the windows. The glass of the opposite building reflected the morning sky, making it impossible to see anything or anyone inside. A good pair of binoculars used from a discreet vantage point would change all that. He needed to make this work.
After making arrangements to have the lock changed, he rejoined Claire in the kitchen. He picked up the knife next to the cutting board and, while she cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them, he chopped the onions and sliced peppers and mushrooms.
“You’re very handy in the kitchen,” she said.
“And you thought I was just a pretty face.”
She laughed at that.
He tossed a sliver of red pepper into the air and caught it in his mouth. When he offered one to her, she parted her lips so he could slide it inside. He practically groaned out loud.
“I’ve had lots of practice. With cooking,” he added, in case she thought he was talking about something else. “Comes with the territory.”
“Confirmed-bachelor territory?”
He couldn’t tell if she was baiting him. “Something like that. But even when I was with Sherri, I did most of the cooking. When we ate in, which wasn’t often.”
Claire set a skillet on the stove and turned on the element. “Do you miss her?”
No one had ever asked him that. “No, I don’t. I guess that makes me a bit of a jerk.”
“Being in a relationship doesn’t mean you’ll miss the other person when it’s over. I sure don’t miss Donald, especially after last night.”
“Is that right? I was that good?” It was a smart-ass thing to say, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Her face went from flushed to flaming in a matter of seconds, but she was grinning, too. “That’s a pretty lethal weapon you have.” She plucked a slice of pepper off the cutting board and slid it into his mouth. “I’m sure Donald would agree.”
Donald? What the...? She’s talking about the Glock, genius.
“Getting back to you and Sherri...” She poured olive oil into the pan. “Sorry. I don’t have any butter.”
He’d caught a glimpse of the inside of her fridge and noticed she didn’t have a whole lot of anything. As for him and Sherri, he might as well get that out in the open.
“She’s the reason I quit drinking, so I’ll always be grateful to her for that. But stuff happened, bad stuff, and there was no getting past it.” With the onions and peppers sliced and ready, he started on the mushrooms.
Claire poured the egg mixture into the pan. “I’m listening.”
“We were both drinking,” he said. “A lot. I used to hide the car keys because once she was into a bottle, there was no stopping her. No matter how hammered she was, she’d get behind the wheel, especially if she ran out of booze.”
Between using a spatula to check the underside of the omelet and adding the vegetables to the pan, Claire gave him an anxious look.
“God knows, I’m no saint,” he said. “But I got good at juggling the liquor so I was sober when I was on duty. Sherri didn’t work so she didn’t have that to keep her grounded.”
“Do you think a job would have grounded her?” Claire asked.
He leaned against the counter, watching her. “I don’t know. Maybe not. Probably not. Anyway, one night she found the keys. Or maybe I forgot to hide them. I’m not sure. She went out, with a blood-alcohol reading that was something like three times the legal limit, and plowed into a tree.”
Claire looked up at him then, eyes brimming with concern. “Oh, Luke. Was she hurt? Was anyone else?”
“She was. No one else, though.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t know if he should tell her. Aside from that night at the E.R., he’d never talked about the baby. Not with anyone. Not even Sherri.
“That’s a good thing, at least. Is she okay now?”
Should he tell her? Did it make sense to tell her? After all this time, here he was. Here. With her. He hadn’t known how much he wanted to be with her until she’d invited him into her bedroom last night. He wanted to spend more time with her. Starting tonight, if he could find a way to make it happen.
You know what you need to do.
Step four: Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
Step five: Admit to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
Here goes nothing.
“She wasn’t wearing a seat