“I don’t think it’s that kind of get-together.” I glanced in the mirror hanging over the front hall sideboard and tucked my shoulder-length hair behind my ears, displaying the gold and coral earrings Aunt Lydia had given me for my birthday. “Besides, I’m wearing nice jewelry. That elevates the ensemble, as the fashionistas say.”
Aunt Lydia tapped her cane against the hardwood floor. “I don’t believe the earrings accomplish quite as much as you think.”
“It will have to do. I’m late as it is.”
“Very well, if you can’t be bothered to look nice, I suppose I can’t be bothered to worry about it.” My aunt lifted her cane and waved it at me. “But you’d better not run back home in a minute or two, or I’ll know you didn’t make any effort at all.”
I walked to the front door and paused, patting my pocket to make sure I had my keys. “Really, Aunt Lydia, this is just a friend thing. You know, good neighbors and all that. Don’t try to marry me off to the poor guy.” I opened the door and stepped onto the porch. “And don’t forget to lock up behind me.”
Aunt Lydia met me at the door. “You don’t have to keep reminding me. Not that feebleminded yet.” She fiddled with the doorknob for a second before looking me right in the eye. “And Amy?”
“Yes?” I said as she pulled the door almost shut.
“He’d be lucky to get you.”
The lock clicked, and the dead bolt slid into place. I stared at the door for a moment before shaking my head and making my way down the porch steps.
The evening air was warm and laced with the scent of the roses that draped the fence between our two houses. I walked the short distance slowly, considering how I should react if Richard decided this was actually a serious date and not just a casual get-together.
But why would he? It was true that he’d flirted with me—I wasn’t so ignorant I couldn’t see that. But perhaps he flirted with every woman of a certain age.
And maybe he just wanted a friend in a town where he, like me, was considered an outsider.
I squared my shoulders and swiftly climbed the steps of his front porch. Pressing the doorbell, I decided I was going to enjoy this evening, talking with a neighbor. Making a friend. I could use a few more of those myself.
Besides, I had Zelda’s information to share.
Richard opened the door. I was instantly grateful for my instinct to wear something low key. He was dressed casually as well, in a loose gray T-shirt and some type of black workout pants. His feet were bare.
Yes, casual, just like me. Although he looked good.
Far too good for your own good . . .
“Hello, come in,” he said, waving me inside. “Hope you don’t mind just some snacks with the wine. I planned to make something but got called to campus to cover a studio today.”
“No problem.” I followed him into the living area of his front room. “I’ve eaten dinner, so I don’t need much.”
“You’re in luck, because it isn’t much. Just crackers and cheese to go with the wine. Have a seat.” Richard gestured toward the sofa.
I settled into the soft cushions with relief. It had been a long day, and I’d been on my feet for most of it.
Richard hovered near the sofa for a moment, adjusting the placement of a tray full of various cheeses and crackers before straightening and looking at me. “Now, white or red?”
He clutched his hands together at his chest. A tense gesture. Surely he wasn’t nervous?
No, come on, Amy. This guy has probably had women lined up ever since he was a preteen.
“White is fine. I like both, but in summer . . .”
“Yeah, lighter in the heat. Okay, just a minute. Be right back.” Richard left the room so fast, I almost laughed.
He really was nervous. Which was hilarious—and terrifying.
I wasn’t sure I wanted him to care so much. And yet, I wasn’t sure I didn’t.
Which was what really scared me.
I sank down into the sofa, hunching my shoulders. If I were smart, I would get up and leave now. That would be the safest option, all in all.
“Here you are.” Richard returned with two full glasses. He handed me one and sat next to me.
“Thanks.” I took a long swallow of my wine, not looking at him.
“Glad you could come by. To be honest, I get a bit tired of spending evenings alone.”
“Guess that’s one disadvantage of living out here. Hard to arrange casual get-togethers with campus colleagues or friends.” I took another deep drink, then frowned as I held up my wine and realized I’d already downed half the glass.
“I don’t mind that. I see those people enough when I’m at Clarion. It’s nice to escape to a totally different environment, to tell you the truth.”
I glanced over at him, noticed that he was studying me, and took another swig of my drink. “So I never really found out what happened with your fiancée,” I said after what felt like minutes of silence. “Not that it’s any of my business . . .”
“Oh, it’s fine.” Richard set down his wine glass and leaned back against the sofa. “It was for the best. Meredith—that’s her name, by the way—came to her senses before I did, that’s all. She was a dancer too.”
“I thought that might be the case.” I placed my now-empty glass on the coffee table.
“More?” Richard asked.
I shook my head.
He tipped his chin, staring at the ceiling. “Two dancers who met during a summer tour with a company. Not a new story.” Richard lifted his left arm and placed it across the back of the sofa, right behind my head.
“You knew each other for how long?” I slid forward to grab a slice of cheddar and a cracker.
“Three years. Yeah, I know. Should’ve figured out we weren’t right for each other sooner, but”—Richard sighed—“we were always on tour. Or I was teaching or off on some choreography gig. We rarely lived together in one place. Never shared an ordinary, everyday life.”
I glanced over at him. “And that was a problem?”
“Yes, apparently.” Richard grabbed up his drink and took a long swallow before absently swirling the wine in the glass.
“So what happened?”
“Reality.” Richard shrugged. “Meredith was upset when I agreed to take the position at Clarion. Got the news around January, and she was gone a week later. After she unsuccessfully tried to talk me out of accepting the job. I argued that I loved teaching and wanted to concentrate on that and choreography, but she thought I was making a mistake. Didn’t understand why I would give up performance opportunities while I was still young enough to dance. Asked me why I wouldn’t build on what little fame I had to keep performing now and wait to teach later.”
“From what I hear, you had more than a little fame.”
Richard took another drink before answering. “Of a sort. I mean, I’m fairly well known in the dance world. But I’m not a household name or anything.”
“Few dancers are.”
He cast me a warm smile. “True. Anyway, right after I accepted the position at Clarion, Meredith took off for New York to dance in an off-Broadway show. Said it would only be a few months. Then I got the call, though not from her. From a mutual friend who’d attended her spur-of-the-moment wedding to an old flame. An old flame who is a household name.” Richard finished off his wine and set the glass down with enough force to rattle the wooden coffee table. “That’s when I realized what Meredith had known before she left—that she didn’t want to settle down in some little university town. She didn’t want the dance instructor; she wanted the performer, the guy who could get her into parties, the ‘name’ she could flaunt to her friends in the know. Unfortunately for her, that’s only part of who I am. A part that I am less and less interested in. But apparently it was the only part she wanted.”
“Sorry.” As I sat back, I realized I was leaning against his arm. “Sorry,” I said again and slid forward.
“You don’t have to move.”
<
br /> I looked over at him, noting his pensive expression before settling back against his arm. “You’re better off in the long run. Breaking up before the wedding is a lot easier than after.”
“No question. I lucked out. Meredith and I weren’t a good match. Just like you and that Bartos guy. Not compatible in the long run. And it certainly is better to know the truth sooner rather than later. Anyway”—he turned his body slightly until he was leaning over me—“I’m glad you’re single. Makes things simpler for me.”
I scrunched into the corner of the sofa. “Simpler how?”
“Not having to compete with some other guy. Unless I’ve totally misread the situation, of course.”
“No, but . . .” I straightened, determined not to let his proximity unnerve me. “Well, you hardly know me. We’ve just met.”
“True, but”—he reached out and gently tapped my lips with two fingers—“the spark is there. At least for me.”
I considered lying and rejected that tactic immediately. We were always going to be neighbors. And no matter what happened, I also wanted us to be friends. “Yes, there is something. But”—I scooted to the front edge of the sofa—“I might want things to move a bit slower.”
He sat back, his gray eyes examining me in a way that made my fingers twitch. “Fair enough. I can be patient. And hopefully our little research projects will give us time to get better acquainted.”
“I do have some news to share. About the past, I mean.” I stood and crossed to the bookcase and studied the short row of archival boxes for a moment before turning to meet Richard’s interested gaze.
“Something related to the murder trial?”
“Not exactly. But it does put that whole orphanage tragedy in a new light.” I described the information Zelda had shared with me. “I mean, it doesn’t necessarily tie in with the Cooper case, although I have wondered if there could possibly be a connection. Some type of serial killer who only strikes every decade or so? Okay, that’s a stretch, but Zelda’s information might have some bearing on the recent murders. What if Clark Fowler was on the right track and that’s why he was killed?”
“Yeah, that confrontation in the diner.” Richard lifted his shoulders at my look of surprise. “I put two and two together from what you told Brad. Didn’t seem like the mayor would get so worked up over some guy’s comments unless they’d hit a nerve. I figured there might be a grain of truth in Fowler’s claims.”
“Hmm . . . you seem to be taking to this small-town ‘everyone is into everyone else’s business’ thing rather well.”
He grinned. “I’m a quick study.”
I had to fight my urge to run back to the sofa, drop down beside him, and give into what I knew in my heart I really wanted.
But . . . You promised to be more careful after last time, Amy.
I strolled over to the edge of his dance floor instead. “Did Sunny also tell you about the protest planned for tomorrow? It will be right next door.”
He rose to his feet. “She did. I don’t mind. Might even have joined in, but I won’t be around. Have to go into the city for a physical.”
He crossed the room to stand in front of me.
“Really? Wouldn’t think you’d need one. You look like you’re in pretty good shape.” I bit the inside of my cheek when I noticed his amused expression.
“It’s for insurance. For the new job. It’ll be blood tests and the whole lot. A pain, but what can you do?”
Standing there in a casual pose that was still somehow elegant, Richard exuded an energy that made heat rise up the back of my neck. I turned away and focused on the smooth expanse of dance floor. “I hope you realize this is going to make it difficult for you to sell this place in the future.”
“Not a problem. I have no intention of ever selling this house.” He circled around until he was facing me again.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You might meet someone who wants to live elsewhere.”
Richard leaned in, brushing my jawline with the back of one hand. “I doubt it. The girl I have my eye on would probably be happy to stay in Taylorsford. She has family here.”
“This isn’t exactly what I meant by slowing down.”
Richard moved away, crossing the room in a few graceful strides. “I think we need some music.”
“For what?” I walked over to the wall of mirrors but kept my eye on Richard as he fiddled with the controls on the sound system.
“Dancing, of course.” He turned around and held out his arms. “Best way to get to know someone.”
“Oh, no”—I leaned back against the polished wooden barre and grabbed it with both hands, locking myself in place—“that’s not happening.”
Music filled the room. Some type of Latin dance music.
He walked toward me. No, not walked. Even though it was just simple steps, his movements turned it into a dance.
I tightened my grip on the barre. “I’m hopeless at it.”
“What, dancing? Nonsense.”
Words floated over the music. Sway with me . . . I knew this song. My parents had taken ballroom dance lessons once and cha-chaed to that tune. But their version had been sung by a woman—Rosemary Clooney. This was someone else.
I allowed my mind to dwell on this puzzle, distracting me from the sight of Richard closing in on me while executing moves that were perfectly matched to the music.
And sexy. Far too sexy.
“Michael Bublé,” I announced.
“Do you mind? I have a dance mix on the playlist. This just came up first.”
Sure it had. Like those words didn’t matter.
“No, but . . .” I shrank back as Richard reached me. “I really can’t dance. Seriously.”
Richard glanced down. “Your foot is tapping.”
It was. I pressed my toes into the sole of my shoe before I looked up into his face. “It’s the music.”
“It’s your body’s response to the music. You should trust that, you know.” Richard placed his hands on my hips. “You want to move, you know you do. So move. Who’s looking?”
“You,” I said but dropped my grip on the barre.
“And I don’t care, so . . .” He pulled me onto the floor.
I grabbed him just to keep from tripping. He grinned and gently lifted my hands, placing one on his shoulder and the other at his waist.
“Now just follow my lead.”
“I’ll step on your feet.”
“No, you won’t.”
He guided me in a simple circle around the floor. Nothing fancy—just steps forward and back and an occasional glide. It was really almost as easy as walking. I caught myself swaying slightly to the music.
“See”—Richard pulled me closer—“you can do it, if you just stop worrying about what you look like or what anyone else thinks.”
As his lean body pressed against mine, I felt warmth envelop me like water in a heated pool. He dipped me slightly, and the muscles of his thigh rippled against my hip. I gasped and stumbled.
He caught me and set me on my feet as the song died away, only to be replaced with something equally seductive but much slower. “There you go, overthinking again,” he whispered in my ear.
I forced myself to stand completely still. “This playlist, you’ve used it before, haven’t you?”
“No”—his fingers caressed my skin, sliding from my ear to the hollow of my throat as he met my questioning gaze—“but I did create it earlier today. Deliberately, I confess.”
“To seduce me?”
“Yes. Is it working?”
I knew I should tell him no, but that was a lie. “Maybe.”
His smile lit up the room. “Good. Now just one kiss, and I will stop. I don’t want to move too fast either. I just want to . . . pique your interest.”
I couldn’t help but smile in return. “Oh, is that what you call it? Hook the fish, then give it some line?”
“Exactly.” He placed his hands on either side of my face, cupping my ch
in in his palms. “But only in the case of a very special fish, worth the time it takes to reel it in.”
His lips were inches from mine. I dug my toes into my sneakers and locked my knees to prevent them from buckling. “Have you caught a lot of fish this way?”
“A few. But ended up throwing them back. Don’t think I’ll want to do that this time.”
I pressed my palms against his chest, trying vainly to maintain some sort of equilibrium. “You can’t know that yet.”
“I know,” Richard said and leaned in to kiss me.
Just like with the dancing, despite my best intentions, I couldn’t resist. My arms slid around him, allowing him to pull me so close I could feel his heart rapidly beating against my chest. I moaned softly as my lips opened up under his. It was a terrible betrayal by my own body.
And totally, absolutely wonderful.
When he released me, I just stood there like an idiot for a moment.
“Well, that seals it,” Richard said, tapping my nose. “Keeping this fish for sure.”
I probably did look like a carp as I opened my mouth and closed it again without saying anything.
“Now, more wine? I promise we can sit and discuss the driest possible historical research like two platonic friends for the rest of the evening.”
“Um, no, I’d better go,” I said when I finally found my voice. “I appreciate the wine and cheese and . . . everything, though.” I forced a feeble smile and dashed across the room.
Richard followed, meeting me at the front door. “Didn’t mean to chase you off. I really do want to honor your request to slow things down.” He traced my lips with one finger. “It’s just—well, I can’t seem to help myself where you’re concerned. And that scares me too. Because it’s never happened before. I’ve always been the one in charge, in control.”
I met his searching gaze and read the honesty in his eyes. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Nothing at all.” Throwing caution to the winds, I leaned forward and kissed him before opening the door. “Reel me in, mister, but just allow me a little play on the line.”
He laughed as I stepped onto the porch. “Absolutely. Anything for such a prize catch,” he called after me as I skipped down his stairs and onto the sidewalk.
A Murder for the Books Page 16