Sacred Sins

she kept her voice friendly. “Why don't we just leave it that I'm glad you're here, with all this…” Her gaze drifted to the phone.
    “Don't dwell on that now. Let me take it from here.”
    “You're right.” She linked her hands together, then pulled them apart. “If you think about something like this too much, you go—”
    “Crazy?” he suggested.

    “To use a loose, inaccurate term.” She moved away then, tidying the desk to keep her hands busy. “I was surprised to see you tonight, at the gallery. I know it's a small town, but—” It struck her then; the confusion and panic had obscured it before. “What are you doing here tonight? I thought you had a date.”
    “I did. I told her I had an emergency. I wasn't far off. What about yours?”
    “My what?”
    “Your date.”
    “Oh, Dean. I, ah, told him I had a headache. I almost did. But you didn't tell me why you came by.”
    He shrugged that off and picked up her paperweight, a crystal pyramid that ran with colors as he turned it. “Looked like a real upstanding citizen. College professor, huh?”
    “Yes.” Something began to settle inside of her. It took Tess a moment to recognize it as pleasure. “Your Trixie. Her name was Trixie, wasn't it?”
    “That's right.”
    “She looked charming. Loved her tattoo.”
    “Which one?”
    Tess only lifted a brow. “Did you enjoy the show?”
    “I'm fond of pretentious bullshit. Apparently, so's your professor. Great suit. And that natty little tie bar with the little gold chain was so distinguished.” He set the paperweight down hard enough to make her pencils jump. “I wanted to push his nose into his forehead.”
    She beamed at him. “Thanks.”
    “Don't mention it.” After a gulp of coffee, he set the cup on the desk. It would leave a ring, but she said nothing. “I haven't been able to think of anything but you for days. Got a name for that?”
    She met his angry look with a smile. “I like obsession . Such a nice ring.” She walked closer. There was no need for nerves any longer, or for pretenses. When his hands came up and took her shoulders, she continued to smile.
    “I guess you think this is pretty damn funny.”

    “I guess I do. And I guess I could take a calculated risk and tell you I've missed you. I've missed you a great deal. Would you like to tell me why you're angry?”
    “No.” He pulled her against him, felt her lips curve then soften, then yield against his. The silk of her kimono rustled as his arms went around her. If he could have walked away then, he would have, without a backward glance. But he'd known when he found himself at her door that it was already too late.
    “I don't want to sleep on that frigging couch. And I'm not leaving you alone.”
    She made the effort to open her eyes, but for the first time in memory she would have been willing to be swept away. “I'll share the bed with you on one condition.”
    “Which is?”
    “That you make love with me.”
    He drew her against him so that he could smell her hair, feel the way it brushed over his skin. “You drive a hard bargain, Doc.”

Chapter 11

    T HE SCENT OF coffee woke her. Tess turned from her side to her back and lay dozing with the homey, comforting smell. How many years had it been since she'd woken to the scent of coffee already brewing? When she'd lived in her grandfather's house with its high ceilings and tiled foyer, she would come down the arching staircase in the mornings to find her grandfather already behind a huge plate of eggs or hotcakes, the newpaper open, and the coffee already poured.
    Miss Bette, the housekeeper, would have set the table with the everyday dishes, the ones with the little violets around the edges. Flowers would have depended on the season, but they would always be there, jonquils or roses or mums in the blue porcelain vase that had been her great-grandmother's.
    There would have been the quiet whoosh of Trooper's tail, her grandfather's old golden retriever, as he sat beneath the table hoping for a windfall.
    Those had been the mornings of her youth—steady, secure, and familiar—of her young womanhood, just as her grandfather had been the strong central figure in her life.

    Then she had grown up, moved into her own apartment, into her own practice. She brewed her own coffee.
    With a sigh, she turned lazily, hoping for another dream. Then she remembered, and sat up straight in bed. It was empty, but for her. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she touched