The Truth About Comfort Cove

And the phone rang.

Ramsey waited. If Lucy was being called in to work, she’d let him know she was leaving.

Maybe he could ride along. Be of assistance.

And if she wasn’t…

He listened for her voice. Heard nothing. And went back to work.

At three, he awoke from a doze and sat instantly upright.

He’d heard something. A shuffle? A…

Cupboard. In the kitchen. Lucy was up.

Settling back against the pillows, Ramsey willed himself to ignore the fact that someone else was in the house. It didn’t matter what she slept in. Or if she’d pulled on a robe for his benefit.

Didn’t matter if she was having a sleepless night. Or if the phone call had upset her.

She had his cell-phone number. She’d call if she needed him. She always did.

Or…she could always knock on his door.

Pulling the computer to his chest once again, he went back to work.

CHAPTER TWELVE

J ack Colton’s English professor, Melissa Beck, had just been starting her career twenty-seven years before. Now she was the head of the English department and, with an eight o’clock class, Lucy and Ramsey figured the best time to get her was before that. Which meant that they were leaving Lucy’s house before six in order to make it to UC in time.

They were leaving before Sandy would be up, Lucy thought as she pulled out of her driveway and confirmed that there were no lights on in her mother’s small bungalow across the street.

“Is that your mother’s place?” Ramsey was following the direction of her gaze.

“Yes.”

He didn’t say anything more. Didn’t ask to meet Sandy. And Lucy was thankful for his lack of interest. She’d learned early in life to keep Sandy off-limits from the rest of her associations.

And to keep her associations off-limits from Sandy. If her mother had any idea she’d had a man spend the night with her, Sandy wouldn’t rest until she met him and knew for certain that he wasn’t going to take Lucy away from Aurora. Away from her.

“I heard your phone ring last night.”

“Oh.” She’d felt like an interloper in her own home the night before. “Sorry. I was hoping it didn’t wake you.” Because what she’d wanted to do as soon as she’d hung up the phone was to knock on the spare-bedroom door and ask Ramsey Miller if he’d…what? Be her one-night stand? Lucy hadn’t had sex since she’d slept with her guns instructor at the academy. He’d been a mistake. She’d thought that she and the thirty-yearold bachelor had something. The arrogant jackass had talked about her in the locker room.

“Was it work?”

“No.” Two could play Ramsey’s game—one word or less when it came to answering personal questions.

But then, he didn’t ask personal questions. Until now.

Was he feeling a change in their relationship, too? Was her attraction to him reciprocated? At least a little?

Would he have opened the door the night before if she’d knocked? Invited her in?

Could be he was just making conversation. They had an hour sitting in small confines ahead of them.

“Everything okay?” He was looking out his passenger window. Maybe following the progress of the barge that was making its way slowly upriver.

Sandy had had another nightmare. They’d handled it. “It’s fine.”