Lacy sagged with relief. Nothing had happened. Thank God. His words suddenly penetrated her haze of euphoria. “Why do you want to talk to me?” Wariness slid over her, making her heart beat fast again. “It’s late.” And she was alone, she didn’t add.
“Do you suppose I could come in?”
Lacy couldn’t speak for a moment. Uncertainty suddenly warred with the almost overwhelming urge to lean into his arms. She remembered all too well how strong they were. He could hold her…make her forget for just a little while.
But he was the chief of police. It was his job to investigate the case of Charles’s murder. This wasn’t a social call.
Lacy hugged herself, suddenly aware of the cool night air against the silk of her robe and her skin. “Can’t it wait till morning?” she asked hesitantly.
His smile was subdued but all charm and persuasion nonetheless. “It could. If you’d rather wait and come into the office around eight, that’d be fine. I just thought we might handle this on a more informal basis.”
Lacy stared up into those steady gray eyes and silently admitted defeat. The same tension and throbbing lust that had plagued them back in high school was there still. She could feel his pull as surely as she could feel her own pulse racing. Steeling herself for whatever was to come, Lacy stepped back and allowed him to enter. Better on her turf than his. Cassidy wouldn’t approve.
“Your folks are away?”
“Yes,” she replied as she closed the door and turned back to him. For one charged moment she allowed herself to take in the complete picture of Rick Summers ten years older. Taller than most men, he was lean and hard. He filled out the pair of faded jeans he wore very nicely. The white, button-up shirt and the loosened tie hanging at his throat set him apart from the average good-looking, small-town guy one might run into in Ashland. But Rick wasn’t just any old average guy. He was the man who had taken her virginity all those years ago in the back seat of his daddy’s Pontiac. And now he was the chief of police investigating Charles’s murder.
“They’re in Bermuda for a couple of weeks,” she answered belatedly, trying her level best not to sound breathless with her heart thundering beneath her sternum.
His gaze slowly washed over her, heating her skin and making her feel restless. “You look good, Lacy.”
The sound of his voice, soft, warm, a little rough from lack of sleep and probably too much coffee and barking orders, curled around her, made her tingle inside. The beard shadowing his jaw only made him look sexier. “We can have a seat in here,” she offered. Her hand shook when she indicated the living room. She tightened her fingers into a fist and led the way.
Rick followed Lacy into her parents’ living room as he had longed to do a million times back in high school. He squashed that line of thinking. They weren’t kids anymore. He had to keep his head on straight here, had to focus.
Dammit. He should not have stopped. She’d been asleep in spite of the light being on. Few people prowled all hours of the night as he did. But it came with the territory. Not all aspects of law enforcement could be accomplished during daylight hours.
He almost groaned at the gentle sway of her hips. When she’d opened the door, she’d looked a little tousled, and a whole lot sexy. Rick had decided a long time ago that Lacy Jane Oliver had been put on this earth to drive him mad with the want of something he could never have. Not completely anyway. And now she was back, reminding him of all he’d lost—not that he’d ever really had her the way he’d wanted her. But that didn’t stop the immediate ache in his loins the instant he’d laid eyes on her at O’Malleys.
Hell, he’d had to banish her from his thoughts to get any work at all done tonight. Even then, she’d lingered just beyond conscious thought. Heating his blood, increasing his ache for her on a level over which he had no control.
He was a fool.
And she was a suspect.
Halfway across the living room, she stopped and turned to face him, the gossamer robe outlining her slender body. All that rich, mahogany hair draped her shoulders, whispering against the silk fabric when she moved.
“Would you like coffee?”
Rick swore silently. It irritated the hell out of him that he hadn’t been alone in the room with her for three minutes and already he was falling victim to her beauty, to the need he could never quite vanquish.
“No, thanks. I’ve had too much already.”
Her dark brown eyes registered satisfaction, as if she’d known his answer before he spoke. “Would you like to sit?” she inquired politely, too politely.
There hadn’t been anything polite at all about the way she’d urged him on that night…all those years ago when she’d been his for just one unforgettable moment.
“No, I think I’ll stand,” he said tightly. After all this time, the notion of touching her was still almost more than he could bear. Yet she stood there, watching him, seemingly unaffected, and he couldn’t even pull his thoughts together.
Wariness crept into her watchful eyes at his hesitation. God, he hoped she couldn’t read him that well. “All right then,” she said. “What can I do for you, Chief Summers?”
Chief, not Rick. So that was the way it would be. He almost laughed out loud at his own stupidity for hoping it would be otherwise. Hell, it had always been that way. She waited, perfectly still, her spine rigid, the wall of windows and expensive draperies an elegant backdrop to the sensual picture she made. The filmy white fabric looked stark against her olive skin, displaying a great deal more than it concealed.
“Is this about the investigation?”
He noted the movement of her lips as she spoke. They were full, ripe with color without the aid of cosmetics. He wanted to taste them, to see if the woman was as hot and sweet as the girl had been. Rick licked his lips. “Yeah,” he finally managed to grind out. “I want to run a couple of possibilities past you. Get your take on the scenarios.”
She was nervous now. He could see it in her eyes, her posture. “I’m listening.”
Rick surveyed the room, right then left, taking his time so that her tension would escalate. How often had he imagined how her home looked on the inside? Hell, he’d driven by every single day until she moved away. “Nice place.”
“Thank you.” She tunneled the fingers of her right hand through her hair, pushing the silky stuff away from the face that still haunted his dreams.
Drawing out the wait, he moved to the mantel and studied the photographs of the girl he’d known back in high school. Being an only child, there were plenty to look at. He tried to remember a time when he hadn’t been crazy about Lacy, but as far back as he could recall he had been.
But she hadn’t noticed…except that once.
“You and your friends were visiting when Charles disappeared,” he asked, his voice sounding too harsh after the long moments of silence.
Lacy ordered her heart to slow. She had to stay calm. “You already know the answer to that—you came by the hospital when we were with Melinda.” That’s right, she told herself, think rationally. Don’t let him trick you into saying anything you’ll regret. “You know we’re always there for each other. Not one of us has ever let the others down.”
He shifted from his intent study of the barrage of family photographs, and his penetrating gray gaze collided with hers. “He beat her pretty badly, didn’t he?”
Panic broadsided Lacy. She clenched her jaw to hold back the shudder that followed. “What are you talking about? It was an accident. Melinda fell down the stairs.” That was the story Melinda had told. She’d always covered up her husband’s abuse. Just another aspect of the past that haunted Lacy.
Rick moved toward her, one step, then