IT WAS JOE. It was Joe.
There was no one in the world I wanted to see more.
“How many times have I told you . . .” I said, heart racing, getting out of my car on the street side, slamming the door.
“Don’t sneak up on an armed police officer?”
“Right. You’ve got something against telephones? Some kind of phobia?”
Joe grinned sheepishly at me from where he stood on the sidewalk. “Not even a hello? You’re tough, Blondie.”
“Ya think?”
I didn’t feel tough, though. I felt depleted, vulnerable, close to tears, but I was determined not to show any of that. I scowled as I drummed my fingers on the hood of my car, but I couldn’t help noticing how great Joe looked.
“I’m sorry. I took a chance,” he said, his smile absolutely winning. “I just hoped to see you. So anyway, how have you been?”
“Never better,” I lied. “You know. Busy.”
“Sure, I know. You’re all over the newspapers, Wonder Woman.”
“More like, wonder if I’m ever going to solve a case,” I said, laughing in spite of myself. “And you?” I said, warming up to Joe through and through. I stopped drumming my fingers and leaned a little bit toward him. “How’s it going with you?”
“I’ve been busy, too.”
“Well, I guess we’re both keeping out of trouble.” I locked the car, but I still didn’t take a step toward him. I liked having that big hunk of metal between us. My Explorer as chaperone. Giving me a chance to think through what to do with Joe.
Joe grinned, said, “Yeah, sure, but what I meant was I’ve been busy trying to get a new life.”
What was that? What had he just said?
My heart lurched and my knees started to give. I had a flash of insight — Joe looked and sounded great because he’d fallen in love with someone else. He’d dropped by because he couldn’t tell me the news on the phone.
“I haven’t wanted to call you until it was final,” he said, his words dragging me back to the moment, “but I can’t move the damned request through the system fast enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I put in for a transfer to San Francisco, Lindsay.”
Relief overwhelmed me. Tears filled my eyes to the brim as I stared at Joe. Images flashed, nothing I could help or stop, snatches of our months of high-flying romance, but it wasn’t the romantic part that I remembered most. It was those homey moments, with Joe singing in the shower, me sneaking a peek in the mirror at his receding hairline when he didn’t know I was looking. And the way he crouched over his cereal bowl as if someone might take it from him because he’d grown up in a house with six brothers and sisters, and none of them had the exclusive rights to anything. I thought about how Joe was the only person in my life who would just let me talk myself out and didn’t expect me to be the strong one all the time. And okay, yeah, I flashed on the way he handled my body when we made love, making me seem small and weightless, and how safe I used to feel when I fell asleep in his arms.
“I’ve been given assurances but nothing definite . . .” His voice trailed off as he stared at me. “God, Lindsay,” he said, “you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
The wind coming off the bay blew the tears off my cheeks, and I was filled with gratitude for the unexpected gift of his visit and the night ahead. I still had an unopened bottle of Courvoisier in the liquor cabinet. And massage oil in the nightstand. . . . I thought about the delicious coolness of the air and how much heat Joe and I could turn up just lying together, before even reaching out our hands to touch.
“Why don’t you come upstairs?” I finally said. “We don’t have to talk on the street.”
Something dark crossed his features as he came toward me and gently, deliberately, encircled my shoulders with his large hands.
“I want to come in,” he said, “but I’ll miss my flight. I just had to tell you, don’t give up on me. Please.”
Joe put his arms around me and pulled me to him. Instinctively, I stiffened, folded my arms over my chest, dropped my chin.
I didn’t want to look up into his face. Didn’t want to be charmed or swayed, because inside of three minutes, I’d ridden the entire Joe Molinari roller coaster.
Just over a week ago I’d steeled myself to break away from him because of this damned magic trick of his — now he’s here, now he’s not.
Nothing had changed!