Joan Pickart - Body of Evidence

“I will when you do. Besides, there are four place settings. Where would you like me to sit?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Such a small oversight should not have been an embarrassment, but Maggie felt her face flame. Instantly she became defensive. She wasn’t perfect, especially in this sort of situation. She should have removed two of the place settings from the table before doing anything else in the kitchen. “If you’re still looking for something to do,” she said a bit sharply, “you can gather two of the place settings and put them on the counter.”

“Glad to do it.” Josh could tell she was terribly uneasy. Almost clumsy, in fact, when at work she walked and moved with the utmost grace. He moved the extra settings to the counter then turned to look at her. She was just about to open the oven door when he asked quietly, “What’s wrong, Maggie? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

She straightened, stared wide-eyed at him and then humiliated herself beyond belief by getting tears in her eyes. “I…I’m so…stupid,” she whispered, and grabbed a paper towel from the roll near the sink and dabbed at her wet eyes.

Josh took one big step and clasped her upper arms. “Why would you say something like that? Why would you even think it?”

“You make me think it.” Her voice was thick from emotional unshed tears.

Josh studied the moist depths of her eyes. They were standing no more than six inches apart. His hands on her arms were like a live-wire connection, and he felt the desire for her that had been badgering him off and on since the night of the murder taking control of his system, including his ability to deny how much he wanted her.

“If I’ve been doing that, then I’m sorry,” he said huskily.

“I…I don’t think you mean to do it,” she whispered. “It’s me, and…”

“And what?”

Maggie slid her eyes away from his. “I’m sure you didn’t know it, but I…I had an awful crush on you when…when you and Tim were friends.”

“And that makes working together now tough for you?” Josh laid his hand on her cheek. “Look at me.” She brought her eyes back. “First of all, I knew all about that crush. I also knew it wouldn’t last and that teenage kids seem to love torturing themselves with crushes…”

“That’s not true! It lasted…forever!”

They stared into each other’s eyes. Josh dampened his lips with his tongue. “You’re not saying those old feelings are still making your life miserable, are you?”

Again she angled her gaze away. “Something is,” she said in a shaky little voice.

Josh was astounded. “Maggie, I’m ten years older than you!”

“And that’s important because?” she asked with heavy sarcasm.

“I could almost be your father!”

“Oh, for crying out loud. Don’t overdo the drama, Benton. Who ever heard of a ten-year-old father?” She wriggled free of his grasp and went to the oven. “Sit on the far side of the table. We’re going to eat.” She took the hot dishes from the oven and placed them on the table.

Then she brought out a bottle of chilled white wine from the refrigerator and set it and a corkscrew near Josh’s plate. “Do the honors, if you don’t mind,” she said and brushed away one more errant tear.

Josh didn’t know what to do. Maggie couldn’t seem to stop crying, dinner was on the table, and he felt like pond scum, although he didn’t know why he should. So what if she’d had a girlish crush on him ten years ago? It was a common enough occurrence and shouldn’t be bothering either one of them at this late date.

But it was. It was the reason Maggie couldn’t keep her eyes dry, and maybe had a lot to do with why he wanted to haul her off to the bedroom instead of sitting down to eat the fine meal she had prepared.

Just to do something with his hands, he opened the wine and poured some into the stemmed glasses by each plate. Then they sat and Maggie said, “Help yourself. The chicken is baked and I’m sure you’ll remember that vegetable casserole.”

Josh looked at it. “You’re right. Your mother used to fix that.”

“It’s her recipe. You know, Tim called today and he said something that sort of surprised me. He said that you used to come by the house to see Mom, as well as him. Is that true?”

“Probably. I like your mother. How is she?”

“Dead.”

“My God, Maggie, you didn’t have to say it like that!”

“Fine, I’ll try to say it in such a way that it won’t affront your tender sensibilities. She passed away at age fifty after one hell of a battle with cancer. Is that better?”

“It’s terrible. I never knew.”

“Well, after Tim moved to California, Mom got a better job in Detroit, so we moved, too. It never occurred to me that you would come by after Tim left, so you probably never knew. Unless Mom talked to you.”

“No, she didn’t. I went by your old place about a month after Tim had gone, and someone else was living there. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I thought you and Lottie had also moved to California.”

“But you never really tried to find us.”

“Through the department, you mean? No, I never did. Did you ever try to contact me so I would know where you were?”

“Did you ever talk to Tim again after he left?”

Josh realized that they had both raised their voices. He put down his fork and sat back. “Why are we at each other’s throats?”

“I can’t speak for you, but I’m sore because we…none of us…meant enough to you for you to keep in touch.”

“Nor did your family keep in touch with me, Maggie. And everyone knew where I was.”

“Which makes the Sutters the villains and you Mr. Innocent.”

“I didn’t say that, but maybe it’s partly true.” Josh shook his head. “No, it isn’t. None of us kept in touch and with only a small effort we could have.” After eating a few more bites he said, “This is good, Maggie. You want to know something? You don’t look anything like a cop tonight.”

“And you do?”

Josh grinned. “Don’t I? What do I look like to you?”

“If you think I’m going to say something dorky, like a movie star, think again.”

“A movie star!” Josh roared out a laugh. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

Maggie smiled weakly. “Hilarious. Actually you look like a banker in that striped shirt. Or a stockbroker. Maybe an attorney…a well-dressed attorney.”

“Ah, so it’s this shirt that eradicates my cop image. I’ll have to remember that. Want to hear what destroys your cop facade? It’s the way your hair looks tonight, and that pretty blue outfit, and your legs and feet in high heels, and…” Abruptly Josh fell silent. What she’d said about her crush lasting forever had finally sunk in. Should he believe that she had feelings for him now that had endured through ten years of separation?

His pulse quickened. So what if he was older? Thirty-six wasn’t ancient, by any means, and she was twenty-six now, no longer a teenager and certainly no novice to male-female relationships.

Maggie became aware of the changing expression in his eyes as he regarded her. She’d had just enough wine to be bolder than usual.

“What’re you thinking?” she asked.

“You don’t look like a cop tonight, but now you’re sounding like one. What are you suspicious of, Maggie?”

His soft voice touched like a whisper of silk. “I’m wondering just how far you would let your imagination carry you.”

“How far does your imagination take you?”

“Unlike yours, not far at all. But then it’s hard to even try to imagine things that one has never experienced.” Maggie froze. She’d said too much! “Uh, how about some dessert? Ice cream and chocolate sauce?”