Page 58 of Killer on the Homestead
He didn’t say anything to that as they approached his yard. But before she could break away and head for her truck, he grabbed her hand.
“I’m sure I’ve got leftovers in my fridge. Come in and eat some dinner.”
She studied the cabin. There was one light on inside, the porch light beaming at them like some sort of welcoming beacon.
Last night, she’d said yes. This morning she’d snuck out of his bed, and out of his cabin, without anything having happened last night. They hadn’t spoken about it all day. Hadn’t acknowledged it in any way. They’d focused on what was important.
She’d been given a reprieve. Time to screw her head back on and not be dazzled by him. She needed to take that save.
“I better not.” She pulled her hand out of his. “I’ll see you around, Ace.”
He frowned at her, but she turned away from him. Started walking to her truck. The sensible thing was to cut this off at the pass while she still could. If they focused on this case, then they didn’t have to deal with whatever aberration last night had been.
It was the smart, sensible,safething. And maybe that wasn’t her usual MO, but it had to be when it came to Duncan Kirk.
“Hey.”
“Hey what?” she asked, turning around. She’d barely gotten thewhatout of her mouth when his lips touched hers. His good arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close and into this…Vortexwas the only word for it, because everything else disappeared.
Over the course of the day, focusing on work and not mentioning last night at all, she’d almost convinced herself that the memory of kissing him was an exaggeration.
But it wasn’t. Nothing could be. She didn’t understand how one man could kiss her in a way that made every other kiss that came before stupid and pointless. Weak and pitiful compared to this wallop of a sensation. His mouth on hers, his arms around her. Avortexshe couldn’t fight.
Didn’t want to, damn it.
He eased his mouth from hers, but he didn’t let her go. His gaze was direct and intent. “This murder mess may take precedence, but this isn’t going away.I’mnot going away.”
Rosalie found herself utterly and uncharacteristically speechless. Her heart hammered, and it wasn’t just the kiss. The chemistry. It was the way he looked at her that seemed to unearth her foundations she thought were so steady.
He ruined them so damn easily. Made her want to melt when she knew all the disastrous ways believing in someone ended.
“Still going home?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
She should, just to prove that she could. She should, because she was a smart woman who knew how to guard her damn soft heart.
But she shook her head and followed him inside.
Chapter Seventeen
Duncan rolled over to find a naked, sleeping woman in his bed, and figured he could pretend there weren’t murderers wandering around for about five minutes to enjoy Rosalie Young sleeping in his bed.
He thought she’d try to sneak out sometime in the night, or early in the morning, like she had the night before. But exhaustion must have caught up with her, because her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even.
So Duncan slid out of bed, narrowly biting back a hiss at the throbbing pain in his arm. He moved as quietly as he could manage into the kitchen, got the coffee going, then grabbed a banana his mother had no doubt stocked yesterday. He scarfed it down with the express purpose of taking a few ibuprofen with something in his stomach.
He decided to consider it progress that the over-the-counter stuff was helping to take the edge off.
Owen using those pills—or someone using those pills against Owen—really made Duncan reluctant to replace them.
When Rosalie came out of his bedroom, her hair was a mess and she looked bleary-eyed and still half-asleep. She was wearing one of his T-shirts, which nearly went down to her knees.
His heart did one painful roll in his chest, and something inside of him seemed to say “this is it. Right here.”
But he hedged on admitting to himself what thatitwas. “Morning, sunshine,” he greeted instead.
She just grunted, shuffled over to the coffee maker, saw it hadn’t brewed a full cup, then grunted again.
It was amusing to watch. She was usually so put together, so…vibrantand in control of herself. She made it look like she was all instinct and wild, but there was a careful note to Rosalie hidden underneath all that bluster.
