He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

shook his head, his jaw tight with strain. “You’re a good person, Amanda Stockton Jones. You need to let go of all that guilt. Nothing that happened to you or Dana was your fault.”
    Her throat suddenly felt tight as she looked up at him, saw the trust and faith in his eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
    “You’re welcome.” He started to lean forward, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. But then he pulled back. She swallowed her disappointment. Part of her wanted him so badly, but she understood his reluctance, considering she’d acted so crazy when he’d kissed her before.
    “It’s getting late,” he said. “I’d better take us on in.” He reached for the key to the ignition, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm, reluctant to let the evening end.
    “You spent the whole evening talking about me, finding out every boring little detail. I haven’t learned hardly anything about you.”
    “What do you want to know?”
    “Something, anything. What’s your favorite color?”
    “Blue. Midnight blue. With little blue-green flecks around the edges.”
    He’d just described her eyes. A delicious feeling settled in the pit of her stomach but she tried to ignore it. Determined not to let him get her off track she continued with her questions. “How old are you?”
    “Old enough to know you don’t want to know my age or my favorite color—”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “—and that you’re trying to work up the courage to ask me something else. Go ahead. Ask.”
    “You won’t tell me your age?”
    “Thirty-five. Now what do you really want to ask me?”
    Dropping her gaze to the picnic basket on the floor between their seats, she fingered the rough, wicker handle. She thought about that day at her house when he’d talked about the loved ones he’d left behind, the raw, far-away look in his eyes. A mom and a sister wouldn’t make a man look like that. “Who did you leave behind in New York?”
    He sighed and looked out at the dark water, toward the light burning on the end of the dock as the boat rocked gently on the current. Jasmine scented the warm breeze. “I’m divorced, Mandy.” He turned back and looked at her. “It was for the best. I know that now.”
    Mandy? Her heart did a little flip, hearing her old family nickname on his lips. Her pleasure was tempered by the unwelcome image of him putting a ring on another woman’s finger, pledging to love her and protect her.
    “Do you want me to tell you about her?” he asked.
    “No. Yes.”
    He laughed, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.
    “Did you love her?” she asked, immediately regretting her question.
    “Yes, I loved her. It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear this?”
    He loved her . A sick feeling twisted Amanda’s stomach, but she’d started this. She wasn’t going to back down now. “I’m sure.”
    He let out a long sigh. “When my father died, he left a hefty insurance policy and a hell of a 401(k). My mom had a decent retirement pension already, so she insisted that my sister and I split the insurance money and the investments between us. Madison and I put a third of the money into savings for my mother, in case she ever changed her mind. We invested the rest.”
    He grinned wryly. “To put it mildly, the investments did well, very well. Madison had champagne tastes. She bought her way into the upper social circles in New York, and dragged mom and me with her. We made appearances at Madison’s parties when she badgered us enough, and that’s where I met her .”
    “What was her name?”
    “Her name is Victoria. And if you ever meet her, don’t call her Vicki. Not if you care for that pretty little hide of yours.”
    His backhanded compliment had her face heating with a blush. “She sounds like a snob.”
    He laughed. “Not really. She liked the high life. I fell for her, hard, married her a few months later.” He looked out over the dark water. “I wanted children. When it didn’t happen, we both got tested. There was nothing wrong with either of us, except that she hadn’t gone off the pill. Turns out she wanted kids, too, just not with me.”
    He wanted children. She thought back to what he’d said about adoption earlier and wondered if he was the kind of man who could be happy not having his own children. “What happened to her?”
    He frowned and tapped the tops of his thighs. “She married another cop. Last I heard she had two kids and had moved to the