Sherryl Woods - Twilight

His gaze locked with hers. “I am a healthy male,” he confirmed softly. The mood suddenly shifted as he stepped closer. “You’re a beautiful widow.” One finger stroked lightly, provocatively along her jaw. “I know exactly what your house looks like, so obviously I’ve spent time there.”

Dana swallowed hard, but she couldn’t seem to make herself look away. She knew he was just trying to make a point, but she was too caught up in unexpected sensations to reason out what it was.

“So, Ms. Private Detective, would you say you and I are having an affair?”

She should have anticipated it, but she hadn’t. The taunting, softly spoken suggestion shocked her. Dana scowled at him, even as a traitorous tingle of awareness and anticipation shot through her. She forced herself not to back away, not to show any sign at all that he had shaken her with that slight caress.

“Touché,” she said, her voice husky and uneven, despite her best efforts. “Sometimes the facts may not add up.”

“Maybe it would be best if you and I stick to the things we can prove,” he suggested, his tone astonishingly casual considering the level of electricity that had been humming through the air just seconds before.

Dana could only nod.

“Have you thought about what you’d like to do here?” he asked as if the conversation up until that moment had been about nothing more consequential than the weather.

For once, she was grateful for the quick change of subject. “Poke through the files,” she said readily.

“I meant with the kids.”

She sighed. “You’re really going to make me go through with this, aren’t you?”

“It’s part of the deal. Reading, cooking, sewing, whatever. It’s up to you.”

She thought over the choices he’d offered and rejected all of them. She wanted something that would potentially reveal more of their personalities. “How about photography?” she said impulsively. “I have some experience with that.” Of course most of it had been snapping shots of errant husbands in the arms of the other woman. She supposed she could translate that and her two formal classes into an impromptu course of some sort.

Rick looked doubtful. “I don’t know.”

His lack of enthusiasm only fueled hers. “Why not? It’s a skill that they might be able to use.”

“But to get the equipment they’ll need, they might resort to theft,” he said realistically. “We can’t afford to buy the digital cameras.”

Dana wasn’t sure whether it was real enthusiasm for the idea or just plain perversity that made her say, “I have several old cameras at home and I can pay for the supplies.”

“You would trust these kids with your cameras?”

His doubting expression had her hesitating, but only for an instant. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t willing to put herself on the line in exchange for the information she so desperately wanted. “Until they give me reason not to,” she said firmly.

A grin spread across his face. “Well, well, Mrs. Miller, now you’re beginning to sound just a little like your husband. There may be hope for you yet.”

The hard-won, if somewhat mocking, compliment pleased her more than it should have. She forced an indifferent shrug. “One small step at a time. What should we do? Put up an announcement of some kind?”

“Just set a time for the start of classes and tell Maria. Believe me, word will get around.”

“And if no one shows up, do we still have a deal?”

He shook his head. “You have to win them over. That was the deal. If photography doesn’t work, I guess you’ll just have to come up with something else, won’t you?”

The challenge was unmistakable. Dana resolved then and there that she would make the photography class work. She would teach these kids the skills they would need to take first-rate snapshots. Maybe, with a little luck, she’d even find one who could become a professional. Catching herself, she realized she was actually getting carried away. She saw how easy it was to become excited about possibilities.

She was also, once again, getting distracted. She eyed Rick suspiciously. Was that what he really intended? Had he hoped that she would get so caught up with these kids, so emotionally attached to them, that she’d forget all about the little matter of identifying her husband’s murderer?

“It won’t work,” she said quietly.

“What won’t work?”

“I won’t forget about Ken’s death. I won’t drop the investigation.”

His unblinking gaze stayed level with hers. “Never thought you would.”

Either he was being straight with her, or he was a masterful liar. It was too soon to lay odds on which.

“When do you want to get started?” he asked.

“The sooner the better, but I’ll need my equipment.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

She nodded. “I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

“Better wait till afternoon. These kids are supposed to be in school in the morning,” he said dryly.

“But those in there—”

“Dropped out or were suspended. We’re working on getting them reenrolled. I don’t want to reward them by offering a special class in the morning. Make it four o’clock. That way, more kids will be here and I’ll have time to get some work done before I come out to pick you up and bring you in.”

“That’s not necessary. I can drive myself in.”

He shook his head. “I thought we’d settled that. On my turf, I make the rules.”

“I’m not one of your strays.”

“No, but you are here because I’ve made it possible,” he reminded her in a way that reaffirmed who held the power.

“It’s a public building,” she countered defiantly.

“You think you can get these old bricks to talk, go right ahead and try,” he retorted smoothly.

Dana sighed. “Okay, you’ve made your point. Four o’clock will be fine. Am I expected to sit in the corner until you’re free, or are you taking me home now?”

“No, I am not taking you home now. I’m taking you to lunch. You’ve lost too much weight. You’re obviously not eating.”

“How would you know a thing like that? You’ve never seen me before today.”

Before she realized what he intended, he reached out and snagged a chunk of material at her waist and tugged. There was at least an inch or better to spare.

“Evidence, Dana. Solid, irrefutable evidence.”

“Maybe I just like to wear my clothes loose.”

He grinned. “Give it up. You’re not going to win. Ken was very proud of your fashion sense. He often wished he could persuade you to teach these girls a thing or two about style.”

He had expressed the same wish to her on several occasions, but she had always dismissed the idea with one excuse or another. She had never realized that he’d shared those thoughts with Rick.

“He said you were too busy with other commitments,” Rick said, though it was clear he hadn’t bought the excuses.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I have lost a couple of pounds,” she conceded. “I haven’t felt much like eating.”

“Today you will,” he assured her. “I’m going to stuff you with black beans and rice, maybe a few enchiladas, maybe a taco or two.”

Despite herself, her mouth was watering. “Spicy?” she asked.

“If that’s the way you want them.”

“Is there any other way?”

He nodded approvingly. “See there, you and I do have one thing in common.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she warned.

“Hey, I’ve always believed that the path to victory was to find the first little chink in your opponent’s armor.”

“Is that what we are? Opponents?”

“Aren’t we?”

For some reason that she didn’t care to explore too closely, Dana suddenly regretted the accuracy of his assessment, but she couldn’t dispute it.