No. There would be no talking his way out of this one. When the phone rang, he was glad of the distraction.
"Sinclair."
"You don't sound happy," Alan said.
"I'm not. What have you got?"
"Nothing, really. Pinchon is still on the loose and from everything we've been able to gather, staying in this general area. He's a slippery SOB. How's the vacation, Don Juan?"
The first response that came to mind was horribly obscene. Dean decided to keep it to himself. "Fine."
Alan laughed. "That was the most disgusted-sounding 'fine' I've ever heard in my life."
"Well, there you go," Dean said.
"Has Reva said anything to you about her ex-boyfriend breaking out of prison?"
Dean's heart got heavy. His gut suffered another ugly twist. "Not a word." And that was the stickler, wasn't it? Reva should be scared. At the very least, she should be concerned. For Cooper's sake, if not her own. She wasn't worried. She didn't even lock her doors most of the time.
Tomorrow night he would confront her with everything, and he'd tell her the truth. The whole ugly truth. She was making him dinner. Cooper would be spending the night with Tewanda. Reva had told him all about the plans for Saturday night while they'd sat on the monstrous piece of furniture she called a fainting couch and straightened their clothes.
Reva expected a romantic evening, and he wanted to give her that more than anything.
Instead, there were going to be fireworks.
* * *
"Well, well," Tewanda said. "A real day off?"
"You don't need me," Reva answered. "And if you do, I'm close by."
"The last time you took a day off, Cooper had a fever of 102."
"I know," Reva said.
The two of them stood in the foyer of Miss Reva's. Edna, Nicole and Judith were already busy in the kitchen.
"Does this day off have anything to do with your date that's not a date?"
Reva smiled. Was Tewanda able to see the change in her? Did she glow outside, as well as in? Her relationship with Dean was temporary, she knew that. It was impulsive and unwise. But it was also extraordinary. "It's a date. What on earth am I going to wear?"
"Something sexy," Tewanda suggested.
"I don't own anything sexy," Reva said with a short laugh.
Tewanda didn't argue with her. "I can loan you my red silk dress. You'll have to scrape his tongue off the floor."
Reva shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks. That red dress looks great on you, but it's not my style."
"You could always meet him at the door naked."
"I don't think so!"
Tewanda's smile softened. "I don't think it matters what you wear. Studly is crazy about you."
Reva's heart did a quick flip in her chest. She didn't want Dean to be crazy about her. They had a strictly physical relationship, and it had to stay that way.
"What are you cooking?"
Reva gladly told Tewanda about her menu for the evening. No grilled cheese sandwiches, no tomato soup. She wanted to knock Dean's socks off when they sat down to dinner.
She wanted to knock his socks off after dinner, too.
"Way to go, sweetie," Tewanda said. "If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, studly won't have a chance."
It wasn't Dean's heart she was interested in. There was no room in her life for any man's heart. "The menu is fine," Reva said. "I'm not worried about the food. But what am I going to wear?"
* * *
Dean threw a baseball high in the air. It took a gentle arc toward Cooper, who ran back and forth in the yard beyond the cottage. The kid zigged and zagged.
"Keep your eye on the ball," Dean shouted.
Cooper finally planted his feet and set his glove. The ball landed in the grass about three feet behind him. The kid picked up the baseball and threw it to Dean so they could try again. His aim was off and the ball went about six feet to Dean's right.
And so the afternoon had gone.
"How about we take a break?" Dean asked as he retrieved the ball.
"I'm not tired," Cooper said as he ran forward. "I need to practice."
"Just a break, kid. We'll get back to work after we have something to drink."
"I want lemonade," Cooper said as they walked toward the house.
"I could use a cup of coffee."
Cooper climbed the cottage steps and stopped, turning to look Dean squarely in the eye. Blond hair had been mussed by the afternoon's activities, and his cheeks were pink from exertion. Cooper's expression was serious as he said, "Caffeine is a drug."
"Oh, it is?"
"That's what Sheriff Andrews said when he came to school to talk about drugs. Are you 'dicted?"
"Addicted," Dean said, correcting the child almost automatically. "Probably."
"My mama won't let me have caffeine," Cooper said in that bright voice of his.
"Your mama's a smart woman," Dean replied, horrified by the very thought of Cooper on caffeine.
"I know. She won't let me have candy, either. Except sometimes a little bit on a special occasion, like Halloween. But I can't have too much candy because Mama says it make me riper."
"I'm thinking you mean hyper."
"Yeah, that's it." Cooper spun around and ran to the front door, throwing the door open with more energy than anyone should have after an hour of chasing a baseball. Even a six-year-old. "Mom!" he shouted. "Can Mr. Dean come in?"
Dean stepped onto the porch just in time to hear Reva say, "No!" in a surprised voice.
"But he needs coffee," Cooper said as he walked into the living room, leaving the door open. "He's 'dicted."
From another part of the house, the kitchen perhaps, Reva laughed. "I'll make Mr. Dean some coffee."
"And I want lemonade," Cooper added.
Dean sat in one of the rockers on the front porch, took a deep breath and enjoyed the quiet. Cooper was a great kid, but he could be absolutely exhausting.
And why wouldn't Reva let him into the house?
One part of him, the same misbehaving part that had gotten him into trouble yesterday, imagined that Reva didn't want him in the house because she was preparing all sorts of surprises for their date. A more deeply ingrained and naturally suspicious part of him wondered what she was hiding.
She was definitely hiding something. The question was, how much? Was she still involved with Eddie Pinchon in any way? He couldn't see any deception when he looked at Reva, but he was blinded where she was concerned.
In a few minutes Cooper came bouncing onto the front porch. Reva walked right behind him, carrying a large white coffee cup. "Here you go," she said with a gentle smile.
"Thanks." He took the hot mug and studied the woman who had carried it to him. Slowly. Her hair was pulled up and away from her face. Her snugly fitting T-shirt was royal-blue and dusted with flour. The cutoffs she wore revealed those legs he admired.
"No problem." She stared at him for a moment, her smile grew a little bit wider, and then she sashayed back into the house and to whatever secrets she kept there.
Cooper leaned back in the rocking chair that matched Dean's and took a deep drink of lemonade. "Next year instead of T-ball, we play coach pitch. If you're still around, maybe you can help me learn how to bat."
"I won't be around next year," Dean said. He wouldn't lie to the kid and tell him otherwise, not even for a few days.
"Oh. Maybe Coach Charles will be our coach again and be can help me. Some of the dads usually help the coach, even though most of the time he doesn't want help. But next year he'll want help for sure because we all have to learn how to bat." He took another long drink of lemonade and then said, "My dad is dead. He died before I was born."
The statement came out of nowhere. Dean took a sip of hot coffee while he tried to decide what to say. So Reva had told the kid his father was dead. Not the work of a woman who planned to take up with the bastard again. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Me, too. Sometimes
I think I should try to find another one, you know, a stepfather like Jimmy Lee got last year when his mama got married. But Mama says we don't need a dad."
Dean didn't know what to say. He finally decided on a safe "You have a great mother."
Cooper laid wide blue eyes on Dean and gave him his full attention. "Do you really think she's great?"
"Sure I do." Dean drained his coffee and set the cup on the porch beside the rocking chair. Before Cooper could say more, before the kid could suggest the possibility that Dean might become his new dad, Dean grabbed up the baseball and headed for the yard.
"Come on, we don't have all day. Before I'm done with you, you'll be the best T-ball center fielder in the state of Tennessee."
Cooper drained his lemonade and followed Dean, skipping past him and tossing his glove into the air.
* * *
Reva vacillated between being excited about the evening to come and being absolutely terrified. While the Cornish hens were in the oven, she went through her closet almost frantically, hoping to find something she'd forgotten she owned. Something sexy, something eye-popping. She wanted to open the door when Dean arrived and have him take one look at her and say, "Wow." What would make Dean Sinclair go "Wow?" Maybe she should have borrowed Tewanda's red silk dress.
There had been a time when everything she'd owned had been too tight, to short and low-cut. Eddie had insisted. That had been Eddie's idea of sexy. And her mother's, too, Reva admitted, which was why she'd bought into the concept for as long as she had. And the concept was, If you've got it, flaunt it.
Her hand stopped, midsearch. What on earth was she doing? Dean liked her just the way she was. She didn't have to dress up like someone else to impress him. An unexpected calm settled over her. Yes, she wanted to look nice tonight. That didn't mean she had to pretend to be someone she wasn't. Those days were behind her.
She finally settled on a simple black sheath. Shoes that had a little heel, but not too much. Pearls—fake, but elegant. Pearl studs, also fake, for her ears. She wouldn't dress until she was finished in the kitchen, but she wanted everything laid out so she wouldn't be running around the house at the last minute searching for something she'd forgotten.
Through the window, she saw Dean toss another ball high in the air. Cooper ran one way, then another, then back. Finally he stopped, positioned himself and caught the ball in his glove. It wasn't the first he'd caught this afternoon; he now caught more than he missed.
The latest catch was followed by her son's happy dance of triumph, which made Dean laugh. She couldn't hear the laugh, but she could see his face clearly enough. Why did she have a feeling Dean Sinclair didn't laugh this way very often?
If she could afford the luxury, she'd try to convince Dean to stay here in Somerset. If she ever took a man into her life again, it would have to be someone like him. Dean was so solid and real, and he was wonderful with Cooper. The way he made her feel when he looked at her, when he touched her, that was nice. But it wasn't everything. Sex wasn't everything.
But it was all she could have. If Dean hadn't promised her that he wouldn't stay, tonight could never happen.
* * *
It was almost dark as Dean walked across the yard toward Reva's front door. He had showered, shaved and dressed in khakis and a golf shirt, the only casual outfit he'd packed when he'd come to Somerset. He felt like there were a hundred eyes on him—and he was probably right. Miss Evelyn had seemed much too interested in his date, going so far as to hand him a bouquet of yellow roses from her own garden as he left the house. The flowers were wrapped in tissue paper, and there were no thorns. His landlady had removed them all.
As he'd walked from the house, he'd heard her say something about the brass ring again.
Dean's step slowed. There would be no brass ring for him, not tonight, not ever. Before things went any further, he had to tell Reva why he had come to Somerset in the first place. Maybe when he told her that he was no longer here on official business but of his own volition, maybe she wouldn't kill him. Maybe.
He would not apologize for doing his job. His decisions hadn't been flawless since coming to Somerset, but that didn't change the fact that in the end he was right. Eddie had to be found and stopped, and if that meant surveilling his acquaintances, old and new, then there was nothing to be done for it.
Maybe she'd understand.
Fat chance.
Dean climbed the steps and knocked on the front door. How best to start? There's something I have to tell you. Something I should have told you days ago. I'm not just a cop. I'm a federal agent and I came here to watch you. By the way, do you know where Eddie Pinchon is hiding out?
Yeah, she was going to kill him.
She opened the door and his mind went blank. "Wow." It was all he could manage.
Reva smiled and her dark eyes positively twinkled. "You're right on time."
Dean stepped inside, handing her the roses and checking her out without shame. From head to toe, she was perfect. Hair silky, dress simple and showing off her shape, just a little bit of leg revealed. Perfect.
And he was going to ruin the evening before it got started.
"Reva," he began. "I really have to—"
He didn't get far. She held the roses to the side, leaned in and up, and kissed him. It was a gentle, sweet, welcoming kiss and it stopped him cold.
"I'll put these in water," she said as she walked away. He followed. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Smells good," he said gruffly.
He peered through the kitchen door to the dining room. The dark, antique furniture in that room suited the cottage, but the elegant table and chairs were rarely used. It was the kitchen where Reva and Cooper took their meals; Reva had told him that a few days ago when he'd been fixing the drip in the kitchen sink.
Tonight she had gone all out. The dining room was decorated with a dozen candles and an assortment of flowers from her garden. Two places were set with china, silver and crystal. She had managed to make the room cozy and elegantly romantic at the same time. A couple of dishes had already been placed on the table, and a very fancy chocolate cake had been placed atop the buffet.
He couldn't tell her now, not when she'd gone to so much trouble.
After dinner.
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
Reva took Dean's hand and led him from the dining room, shaking her head when he offered to help her clear the dishes from the table and clean up the mess she'd made in the kitchen. That could wait.
Dean had eaten well enough. He'd claimed to love the oysters Rockefeller and the Cornish hens with cherry sauce, the steamed asparagus and the homemade rolls. But he'd seemed distracted all through dinner. Perhaps he was thinking ahead, as she was. She wanted it all. The dinner, the conversation, the kissing. This had to be a night that would provide her with memories to last a lifetime.
"We'll have cake and coffee later," she said as they walked into the main room. Should she put on the Norah Jones CD? Or take her chances with the quiet?
No music, Reva decided. She didn't want anything to distract her. She sat on the sofa and tugged on Dean's hand to invite him to sit beside her. He sat, much too reluctantly.
"Everything was really great," he said. No smile. No twinkle in his eye.
"Thank you." She brushed his hair with her fingertips. Maybe he was just nervous. She was, though she tried to hide it. She was nervous about what was to come. But she was also excited, especially when she remembered yesterday afternoon. She'd forgotten passion, she'd buried it so deeply. Dean awakened a part of herself she'd left sleeping for too long. Only Dean.
"Reva, there's something I have to tell you."
She didn't like the way he said those simple words. The tone told of unwanted information to come. So did the indecision in his blue eyes and the set of his mouth. He should be kissing her already, not delivering bad news. And he did look like a man who was about to deliver bad news.
He didn't w
ant her and wasn't sure how to tell her. That thought gave Reva a chill. She'd been so sure that he felt the same way she did, that even if they didn't have anything else, they had passion. His and hers.
"When I came here—"
Reva very quickly leaned up and in and pressed her mouth to Dean's, surprising him, silencing him, kissing him. It was the only way to know how he felt. Words wouldn't tell her how he felt, but his reaction to her kiss would. After a very brief moment one arm circled her, and Dean began to kiss her back. Yes, he wanted her. He craved her; she tasted that craving in his kiss. But he did, eventually, draw his mouth from hers and back away.
"Listen—"
"No." She placed a hand on his cheek, staring at his mouth, not his eyes. It was safer that way. His mouth looked well kissed and promised more. "No secrets, Dean, no confessions. You don't tell me yours, and I won't tell you mine."
"But—"
"Have you changed your mind? Are you going to stay in Somerset?"
"No."
"Of course you're not," she whispered. "You're not cut out for a place like this. It might make for a nice break from your reality, but living in a small town would eventually drive you crazy. Tonight isn't the start of a relationship that requires full disclosure. It's just about tonight."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," she said. "You can't." No one had the power to hurt her anymore. She didn't allow anyone that opportunity.
Her hand swept down to his neck and lingered there. She held on, keeping him close, brushing her fingers against his skin. "Make me feel like a woman, Dean," she whispered. "That's all I'm asking for. I haven't felt this way in so long … and I need it. I need you. Don't ruin tonight with some long-drawn-out confession about why you can't stay or why we're not right for each other. I know this isn't permanent, and I know you're not looking for anything more than a vacation fling. If you were, you wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be here. I don't have that much to give. But I do have tonight and maybe tomorrow and maybe the day after that. Make this a night I won't ever forget. Don't ruin it with—"
This time he silenced her with a kiss. His tongue parted her lips, and the gentle, relentless throb began at the center of her body. The awkward conversation was over, thank goodness, and there was just this … this touch she had been thinking of and craving all day. Dean's body hovered over hers, and he held her close. Close, but not too tightly. She fit against him perfectly, curve for curve, hill to valley. He was so large and she felt so small against him. How was it possible that they fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle?
ON DEAN'S WATCH Page 13