And just as he did with any other puzzle, he kept looking at all the pieces. Turning them this way and that, trying to fit them here or there to create the whole picture. When something mattered enough, when the feeling was strong enough, there wasn’t any other choice.
“Greg. Hi.” It wasn’t the most welcoming tone as Beth opened her door to him that Wednesday night. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her since she’d left his sister’s right after dessert, late Sunday afternoon.
She’d blamed her early departure on Ryan’s grumpiness on waking, but Greg wasn’t convinced that was the only reason.
Maybe he should’ve taken time this afternoon to stop at home and change out of his uniform.
“I knew that if I asked you to dinner or a movie—or anything else, for that matter—you’d say no, so I decided to just come by.”
Face softening, though not quite into a smile, Beth leaned against the door. She was wearing a black tank top and black sweats cut off just below the knee. One of the sexiest outfits he’d ever seen.
“If you know I don’t want to go out with you, why bother?” she asked.
She hadn’t shut the door. Nor did her question seem nearly as off-putting as it could’ve been. As a matter of fact, she sounded curious.
Good.
“I don’t think we’ve established that you don’t want to go out with me. Only that you’d say no if I asked.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
Glad he’d come, Greg shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He paused, pretending to consider. “Nope, not at all.”
She straightened. “Well, it seems like the same thing to me,” she said.
She’d tensed again.
“It would be a good idea to ask me in,” Greg said quickly, before she had a chance to dismiss him. “You know, before the neighbors see a uniformed officer at your door and start to talk.”
Beth grinned, looking out at the street in front of her house where he’d left his car. “Oh yeah, like that thing with the big ‘Sheriff’ emblazoned on the side isn’t going to raise any suspicion?”
“Hell, no.” He grinned, too, hands in his pockets as he stood his ground. “They’ll just think the sheriff’s sweet on you.”
“And that won’t cause talk?”
“Well, not the kind I was referring to. You know, the kind where everyone whispers about the possible secret life you’re living and they start to weave fantasies about bank robberies or jewel thefts and lock their windows and doors at night and give you a wide berth anytime they run into you at the grocery store.”
“Oh, that.” Beth started to pale at the ridiculous situation he was describing, but then she laughed. “Yeah, that’s about as likely as the sheriff being sweet on me.”
“I sure hope not,” he said, almost under his breath. And then wished he hadn’t. That was good for a slammed door in his face.
Because he didn’t know what else to do, Greg met her eyes. And that was when it always happened with them. From the first time he’d met her, he’d recognized something in that deep blue gaze. And until he knew what it was, what it meant, he had to keep coming back.
She didn’t shut him out or close the door.
“May I come in?”
Beth just stared. Her eyes were trying to tell him something…if only he could decipher what it was.
“I won’t stay long.”
Still without a word, she stood back, holding the door wide. Greg quickly stepped inside and followed her into the small living room. It was as neat as it had been the last time he was there. Neat and bare.
“Where’s Ryan?” he asked. He’d expected the boy to be playing quietly on the floor, had expected to see some toys out, stacked along the wall, something.
As far as he could tell, Ryan Allen hadn’t discovered the terrible twos yet.
“He’s asleep already. Normally bedtime isn’t until seven-thirty, but I had a cancellation today and we spent the afternoon at the day care. He was beat.”
“Did he and Katie acknowledge each other?” Greg asked, taking a seat on the edge of an old but relatively clean tweed couch, elbows on his knees.
“Nope.”
“Your son doesn’t like my niece?”
“More likely, your niece isn’t interested in giving my son the time of day.” She had a challenging glint in her eyes.
God, he loved it when she was feisty. And wondered why he saw that side of her so infrequently.
“No way,” he said, shaking his head as he grinned up at her. “Katie’ll make friends with anyone.”
“You make it sound like she shows no discrimination at all.”
He shrugged. “She’s a day care kid,” he said. “She really will play with anyone. So the problem has to be Ryan. The boy’s stuck on himself.” He was being outrageous and didn’t care. He’d made her smile.
“Or maybe Katie thinks since she’s so much older, it would be beneath her to play with a two-year-old.”
“Were you that way in high school? Too good to go out with the younger guys?”
“Probably not.”
“Why just probably?”
She looked away, her shoulders hunched as she rested her arms along the sides of her chair, an old but sturdy rocker. “Oh, you know,” she said, “you never see yourself in quite the same way other people do.”
True enough. “Tell me what you think you were like in high school.”
It took her a long time to answer. “Not one of the stupidest kids in class, but not one of the smartest, either.”
“I’ll bet you never failed a single test.”
“Not that I can remember.”
“And you had dates every weekend.”
“Well, I don’t recall a single weekend without one.” She grinned, but was still evading his eyes.
“Did you have a steady boyfriend?”
“Nobody who stayed with me.”
She was finally talking to him. Sort of. He wondered what she’d been like before the loss of her husband, before his death had locked her so deeply inside herself.
But Greg wasn’t going to let her reticence deter him. He understood the grieving process—from personal experience—but he also knew you didn’t stop living.
“What do you enjoy doing?” For someone who interviewed people regularly, he was doing a pretty lame job of gaining his subject’s trust.
But then, Beth wasn’t a subject. She was a woman who had insinuated herself into his thoughts so thoroughly that she was interfering with his calm, predictable life.
“I’m good at business. Numbers. That kind of thing.”
Not quite what he was looking for. And yet, perhaps the first piece of personal information she’d given him.
“So did you go to college?”
He’d just assumed she had no higher education—based solely on the fact that she was cleaning houses for a living. Yet Greg knew better than most how often