They could use both sleeping bags. Of course, she didn’t say that aloud.
“One,” he continued, “is that I like my job. You’re not a suspect, I meant that, but you’re not just a witness, either. Two, what if I still have to arrest your father? Or—”
He didn’t finish, but she could fill in the blank. Your brother. A suspicion as ridiculous, in a different way, as believing her father could kill anyone.
“You’d hate my guts,” Tony finished, gruff now. “It would be worse for both of us if we’d had sex.”
He’d downgraded it from making love, Beth couldn’t help noticing. At least he’d given her a chance to regain some semblance of dignity. She stepped back, and his hands dropped from her waist.
“You’ve made your point,” she said, annoyed that her voice sounded a little husky. “Maybe you should have thought it out before you started this.”
“I did, but I get irritated when you shrink into yourself the way you do. I can tell every time your confidence takes a hit even if I don’t know why.” He was all but glaring at her now.
“How can you tell?”
“Body language.” He waved a hand at her. “Expression. Your eyes give you away. I don’t know. I just can.”
“That’s…that’s ridiculous.”
“We both know it’s not.”
“Well, quit!” Beth made sure he couldn’t see any of her self-doubt now. “I’m not some pathetic woman who needs you to buck up her self-esteem. As if one kiss from you is a magical cure.” She wished. As therapy, it had actually worked really well while he was applying it. Long term, all he’d managed to do was intensify her lack of confidence in her physical appeal.
Except, he’d undeniably been aroused.
He was a man, and she’d been rubbing against him like…like a cat in heat. She cringed at the thought.
He snapped an obscenity. “There you go again!”
Beth lifted her chin pugnaciously. “You have no idea what I was thinking.”
He leaned forward, hands planted on his hips. “Oh, yes I do.”
They glared at each other until he made a rough sound, bent his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I have to get out of here.”
“Fine.”
He drew a couple of deep breaths, presumably meant to be calming, then looked at her again. “Can we resume this after lunch? Or are you too mad at me?”
“We have to finish. I’m doing this for my father’s sake, and I won’t back off.”
Somehow, he cleared all expression from his face. She’d seen him do it before, but this time it really bothered her. He was wiping away the importance of this scene—the kiss and the argument. Getting back to business.
Well, if he could do it, so could she. She nodded at the portfolio. “Are you taking the jewelry and that?”
He followed her gaze. “I am. There’s no surface large enough on the pendant or earrings to hold a fingerprint, but I’d like an appraisal. We need to look for fingerprints on the drawing, and maybe the portfolio itself.” He hesitated. “With your permission, I’ll take some of her things so we can lift her fingerprints.”
“And Dad’s,” she said slowly.
“Probably. He’s likely to have touched anything that was in their bedroom at some point, and certainly when he packed them up. I’ll have to ask him for prints, so we can eliminate his.”
Sure. Elimination. That’s what was on Detective Navarro’s mind. What he’d said made sense, though. Dad’s fingerprints would be everywhere. Except on the drawing, and probably the other art. He might have glanced in the portfolio before he threw it in the box with the various framed prints Mom had kept. But pull anything out and look? Not Dad.
“Fingerprinting is messy,” Tony said. “I can’t guarantee some of the artwork won’t be ruined.”
Beth absorbed that. The drawing was what he really he meant. Repulsion gave her goosebumps. “I don’t care. I never want to see it again.”
“Good.” He scooped up the jewelry and looked around. “You have anything I can put this in?”