Jill Shalvis - The Detective’s Undoing

Delia’s breath came in uneven little pants, and her lush mouth was still wet and now slightly swollen. Clearly she was in no better shape than he to examine what had just happened and why.

“Time for pizza?” he asked, his voice gravelly with desire.

“Yes!” she agreed quickly. “Yes.” Backing away, she adjusted her seat belt, ran a hand through her hair, anything to avoid meeting his eyes. But that was okay with Cade because he knew what was in his eyes-a mixture of confusion and lust, and he sure as hell wasn’t ready to face either. Not with this woman, the one woman in far too long who seemed able to saunter right past his defenses directly to his heart.

Switching on the ignition, he drove out of the quiet park and back into the real world, where he was just the private investigator on a case that would soon be over, and she was just a client. Where neither of them would be tempted again because they were wrong for each other, all wrong.

Wrong for each other, he reminded himself at the pizza parlor where he watched Delia try to win the approval of a brother who wasn’t going to be easily reached.

Wrong for each other, he reminded himself again on the drive to the hotel she’d chosen when it was all he could do to concentrate on the road, when he really wanted to snag the too-quiet Delia close for an embrace he was sure wouldn’t be entirely for comfort.

Wrong for each other, he reminded himself yet again when they got to the hotel and their separate rooms, and Delia disappeared into hers, her willowy body slow with exhaustion, her eyes shadowed and troubled.

Suddenly it hit him right there and then, with the force of a tornado, as he stood there in the hallway of the hotel holding his key in one hand and his heart in the other, ready to be crushed. Again.

He was starting to fall.

It wouldn’t, couldn’t happen. First of all, with the exception of that one amazing kiss, she didn’t want him. She wanted someone who could give her a home, a future. Love.

He couldn’t do any of that.

He didn’t want a home, not ever again. It was bad enough he’d been stuck out on the ranch for as long as he had with his case. No, what he needed was to get out, to be free without any restraints, and he needed this with a violent urgency he nearly couldn’t contain.

He had other cases, he reminded himself. Plenty of them. And all along, when the coziness and warmth of the Triple M had gotten too much for him, when it reminded him of things better left in his past, he’d used those cases to run.

But he’d always come back.

He was going to have to remedy that.

Easier said than done, because that night, when he could have been working or reading or even sleeping, he lay in bed in his lonely hotel room and studied the ceiling. Thinking.

Yearning. Aching.

Watching Delia tonight had been heartbreaking.

Jacob was a small kid, but with eyes as sharp as a tack. He didn’t miss much, and certainly not the fact that Delia was trying to please both him and Scott.

Jacob had weaseled a shocking amount of quarters out of her, then managed to snub her when she offered to play some of the games with him, instead choosing Scott, who’d looked delighted at the invitation.

Unintentional or not, Scott hadn’t helped matters any, because his mere presence made it easy for Jacob to ignore Delia.

Cade figured all Jacob needed was to be told Delia was his sister and that was that. Family was family. The kid was decent, but he was wary and afraid, almost as if he needed to give himself permission to accept Delia.

Cade had wanted to do that for her, to slam his hands on the table and tell Jacob to listen up and face facts. He’d wanted…to act like a father.

Wasn’t that a joke. He’d had his one shot at being a father, a husband, too. His family had loved him in spite of all his faults, and he’d returned that love with all his unscarred heart. But he’d failed them, and because of that, had caused their deaths, no matter how inadvertently.

Wouldn’t everyone who knew him now be shocked to know that? Shocked to know he did everything in his power to not think about it? That he used his job to hide from his past?

Yeah, maybe thinking about the hauntingly beautiful Delia helped a little, helped him forget his weaknesses, but he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve a second shot at happiness.

Ever.

“The house looks perfect, Delia. You really outdid yourself.” Maddie smiled as she came into the front room, which would serve as the living room and reception area for their guests.

Delia looked around at the old but polished wood floors, at the antique furniture they’d hauled down from the attic and cleaned, at the huge picture windows that so perfectly showcased the mountains in the distance.

“I didn’t get that highest window clean enough,” Delia murmured, seeing a smudge nearly twelve feet up, close to the open-beam ceilings. “I just need to get a ladder and-”

“And nothing,” Maddie said firmly, coming closer. “Honey, you’ve been working for two days solid, ten hours a day, ever since you got back from L.A. You can’t keep up this pace. You’re going to get sick.”

“Hard work never hurt anyone. But that window-”

“Is far more fine than you. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m just going to-”

“Take a break,” Maddie said smoothly, snatching Delia’s rag from her hand. “You’re going to take a break and tell me what’s going on, what’s hurting you inside so much that you’re working yourself to death.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Maddie didn’t back down, just kept her caring gaze steadily on Delia. “I thought you said it went fine with Jacob.”

Delia tried to draw a steady breath and couldn’t, nor could she find her calm. She’d been holding back for days now, and it was killing her.

God help her, she’d actually lied to her sisters. She already felt so useless to the ranch. So unnecessary. The shame of failing with her brother had been too much to bear, so instead of telling them the truth-that Jacob had been less than thrilled with the thought of having her as a sister or moving to Idaho-she’d been noncommittal about the entire trip.

And Cade. She’d been noncommittal about him, too.

Maddie was looking at her much as a worried mom would a wayward child, which never failed to make the usually cool-as-a-cucumber Delia squirm. No one, certainly not she or Zoe, could ever hold up against that stare.

Which was funny because Maddie was a small woman, with the delicate features of a porcelain doll. But she wasn’t nearly as frail as she looked, not even close. After twenty years together, Delia thought, she should know.

When they’d been young, Maddie hadn’t been able to speak at first. No one knew what had caused this trauma, and Delia and Zoe didn’t know to this day, only that she’d come from some horrible situation. But with Delia and Zoe watching out for her, eventually Maddie had learned to both speak and smile and even laugh.

Now, years later, Delia was convinced Maddie was the strongest of all three of them. So strong that Delia could come clean and sob out all her woes, but she didn’t. She held back with an effort that had her at the end of her rope. But she had to, had to be strong to get through this.

Eyes narrowed in deep concern, Maddie came closer while Delia tried to act tough.

“I’m not going to stand by and let you keep your hurts to yourself,” Maddie told her gently. “Share.”

“Maddie.” Delia managed a laugh. “Come on. We have guests coming tomorrow. We have Zoe’s wedding in three weeks. There’s a million things we need to be doing, not to mention the wedding dress and two bridesmaid dresses I’m still working on, all by myself I might add, since the two of you are so pathetic with a needle and thread, and none of it involves spilling my guts-”