Public Secrets

her, with himself, with everything, he ran a fingertip down her bare arm. “You want like a scale of one to ten?”
“Shut up, Michael.”
“Just as well, because you went right off the scale.”
He only flustered her. “It’s never been like that for me before,” she murmured. “I’ve never … I didn’t think I could—” She broke off again, then taking a deep breath got the rest out of her system. “I thought I was frigid.”

He nearly laughed, but he could see by her face that it wasn’t a joke. Latimer again, Michael thought and had to take several seconds to control his voice. “You thought wrong.”
His careless response was exactly the right one. Looking up again, she smiled. “If I had followed my instincts that day on the beach when I kissed you, I’d have known differently a long time ago.”
“Why don’t you follow them now?”
She hesitated. Rising up to her knees, she linked her arms around his neck and kissed him. Michael tossed the half-eaten drumstick over his shoulder. She was laughing when they rolled over the bed.

S TAY TONIGHT .”
The sun was going down as she started to dress. “Not tonight. I need to think.”
“I was afraid you’d start thinking again.” He reached for her, holding her against him. “I love you, Emma. Why don’t you think about that?”
Her only response was to close her eyes.
“I need you to believe me.”
“I want to believe you,” she told him. “I don’t trust my own judgment right now. Not so long ago I thought Drew loved me, and that I loved him. I was wrong on both counts.”
“Goddammit, Emma.” Biting off the words, he moved away to pull up the shade. Twilight crept in.
“I’m not comparing you.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.” She knew he couldn’t understand how far she had come already to be able to go to him and rest her cheek against his back. “It’s me I’m not sure of. My problems didn’t start with Drew. It would be difficult enough if they had. I have to be sure I know what I want before I ask for it again.”
“I’m not going to settle for one day with you.”
She sighed and kissed his shoulder. “Da and Bev will be going back to England soon.”
He turned at that. She could see the glint of fury in his eyes in the dying light. “If you’re thinking about going back with them, think again.”

“You can’t bully me, Michael. I’m past that.” Until she’d said the words, she hadn’t realized they were true. “I’m thinking of staying on at the beach house. They need to get on with their lives and I need to decide what I want to do with the rest of mine.”
“And you want me to back off?”
“Not too far.” She put her arms around him again. “I don’t want to lose you, I’m sure of that. I just don’t know what to do about it yet. Can we leave things as they are for now, for a little while longer?”
“All right. But understand this. I’m not going to wait forever.”
“Neither am I.”

Chapter Forty

S TRAINING FOR PATIENCE , Michael propped his feet on his desk and studied the ceiling. The high, excited voice in the phone receiver rambled on and on. They would haul the little weasel in as a material witness sooner or later, he knew. He just wanted it to be sooner.
“Listen, pal,” he interrupted at length. “I got the impression Springer was your friend. Yeah, well, talk’s cheap. He may have been a worthless two-bit bagman, but once we get the stiff, we take a personal interest.” He paused, listened to another moment of babbling. No one was more uncooperative than a jumpy witness with a fistful of priors.
“That’s fine. You don’t want to come in, we’ll find you.” He glanced up as the sergeant dropped a load of files and mail on his desk. “Take your chances on the street. We’ve always got room for one more at the morgue.” He listened as he pushed through the files. “Good choice. Ask for Detective Kesselring.”
Michael hung up and scowled at the paperwork. He’d hoped for five minutes to call Emma, but the odds were against it. Resigned, he tuned out the noise of the squad room and went for the mail first.
“Hey, Kesselring, we need your ten bucks for the Christmas party.”
Michael decided if he heard the word “Christmas” again, he’d shoot somebody. Preferably Santa himself. “McCarthy owes me twenty. Get it from him.”

“Hey.” Hearing his name, McCarthy wandered over. “Where’s your holiday spirit?”
“In your wallet,” Michael told him.
“Still