“Don’t be naive.”
“Trimble is garbage. It’s ancient history. I knew about all that last night when I told you that I love you.” He smiled. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Our love affair started with me playing a dirty trick on you.”
“A dirty trick? That’s not how I remember last Saturday night.”
“I lied to you from the start. That will always be in the back of your mind, Hammond. You’ll never completely trust me. I don’t want to be with someone who is constantly second-guessing everything I do, and gauging the truthfulness of everything I say.”
“I wouldn’t.”
She smiled, but it was a sad expression. “Then you wouldn’t be human. I’m a scholar of human emotion and behavior. I know the lasting impact that events in our lives have on us, the injuries that other people inflict, sometimes deliberately, sometimes without meaning to. I see the result of those injuries every day in my sessions with patients. I’ve suffered them myself. It took me years to get myself emotionally healthy, Hammond. I worked hard to get free from Bobby’s influence. And I did. With God’s help I did. That’s why I’m able to love you the way—”
“So you do? Love me?”
In an unconscious gesture, she raised her hand and touched her heart. “So much it hurts.”
His pager beeped again. Cursing softly, he turned it off. The distance between them seemed wide, and he knew that it would be inappropriate to cross it tonight. “I want to kiss you.”
She nodded.
“And if I kissed you, I’d want to make love to you.”
Again she nodded, and they exchanged a long, meaningful stare.
“I love making love to you,” he said.
Her chest rose and fell gently. “You should go.”
“Yeah,” he said huskily. “As you know, I’ve got to get up very early tomorrow.” His brows came together in a steep frown. “I don’t know how it will play out, Alex. I’ll be in constant touch. You’ll be all right?”
“I’ll be all right.” She gave him a reassuring smile.
He started backing out of the room. “Sleep well.”
“Good night, Hammond.”
* * *
“Dammit!” Loretta Boothe glared at the coin-operated telephone as though willing it to ring. Twice she had paged Hammond after getting no answer on either his home or cell phones. The telephone remained stubbornly silent. She checked her wristwatch. Nearly two. Where the devil could he be?
She waited sixty seconds longer, then plunked another coin into the phone and dialed his house again.
“Listen, asshole, I don’t know why I’m chasing around in the middle of the night covering your ass, but for
the umpteenth time, I left that fucking fair with a material witness in tow. Please advise ASAP. He’s antsy and I’m running low on charm.”
“Ms. Boothe?”
She hung up and called, “Coming!” to the man riding shotgun in her car.
At first he had been eager to talk about the case and news of Alex Ladd’s arrest. Then, when she told him that he could very well be called as a material witness, he had begun to backpedal in double time. He had said he didn’t want to get involved. He wanted to be a good citizen, but…
It had taken hours of cajoling and all her powers of persuasion to get him to commit to cooperating. But she didn’t trust his commitment. At any moment he might have a change of heart and bolt, or conveniently develop a mental block and forget everything he remembered about last Saturday.
“Ms. Boothe?”
Flipping her middle finger at the pay phone, she returned to her car. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Loretta? Want another beer?”