It Isn't Cheating if He's Dead (20 page)

She washed a bite of chicken and tortilla
down with an icy swig of water. “Do you have the day off?”

“Afraid not.” He sat forward over his
plate, elbows on the table. “Should have been out of here a couple of hours
ago. Can’t imagine what held me up.” He grinned and shoved a dripping fajita in
his mouth.

“Hey, not my fault you can’t control your
urges.” She smirked, one eyebrow raised. “Will you be back later?”

“I could be. Have to run home and do some
laundry. Running low on everything.”

“You could do that here.”

He ate in silence for a few minutes, appearing
enthralled by the contents of his plate. When he finished his last fajita he
wiped his mouth and hands with a paper towel and sat back in the chair.

“I could. Maybe I could be here a lot
more.”

Her heart fluttered and her legs weakened.
She cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe. No pressure. But maybe we could try
living together.”

“Is it too soon?” Of course it wasn’t.
She’d been dying to ask the same thing. Aching to wake up to his face every
morning. “I mean, we’ve only been — together for a month.”

He leaned forward, pushed their plates
aside and reached across the table. He took both of her hands, picked up her
paper towel and wiped salsa and fajita juice from her fingers, stealing glances
at her every few seconds. He put the napkin down and brought her hands up,
kissing each finger. “I’ve been with you for years. I’d say it’s about time.”

Her heart melted. “You count the time
before we — as together?”

He nodded. “This last month was what I’d
hoped for all along. Didn’t think it would happen. But here we are.”

“Yes, here we are.” They stared at each
other for a minute. Then she squinted at him. “You’re not just looking for a
better place to live, are you?”

He leaned back in the chair and held his
hands up. “You got me.” He winked.

“You know, I’ve never even been to your
place. Where do you live?”

“Maybe we should stay there tonight. It is
feeling a bit neglected. How about I pick you up around eight? We can get some take-out.
And christen my bedroom.” He flashed his eyebrows up and down.

“I guess that would be okay.” She feigned
disinterest, but her smile gave her away.

He leaned over the table and kissed her.
“Excellent.”

At eight-ten, Jem slid on her black strappy
sandals with the three inch heels, smoothed the front of the fitted skirt she’d
bought that afternoon, and checked her makeup and hair in the antique mirror
that hung in the entry. It was only take-out at Finn’s house, but it felt like
a dress up date.

Five minutes later, Finn pulled up behind
her van. She didn’t wait for him to get to the door. She skipped down the front
steps and met him halfway up the walk.

“Wow, you look great. Greater than usual.”

“Thanks. Feels like a special occasion.”

They shared a long kiss in the front yard
for all the old fogeys to see, then he opened the passenger door of his
unmarked car. “I hope you don’t mind, I picked up Chinese.”

Twenty minutes later they wended their way
through the streets of an old and well-to-do neighbourhood. Near the top of a
long, twisting drive, a left then a right, he pulled into the driveway of a huge,
old sandstone house.

“Why are you stopping here?” She craned her
neck forward and gaped at the house through the windshield. The building seemed
to rest atop the city, basking in the glow of the setting sun. From her passenger
side vantage point the view of downtown was spectacular. From the top floor of
that house after dark, it would be breathtaking.

Finn put the car in park. “This is where I
live.”

“Excuse me? You live in this, this…
mansion?”

“It’s not a mansion. It’s a big old house.”

“In one of the oldest, richest
neighbourhoods in town.” She looked sideways at him and cocked her head. “Are
you on the take Detective? Silk suits and castles and such?”

“Funny girl.” He stepped out of the car,
came around to her side and opened the door. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

They climbed the many steps to the front
entry. The lawn was trimmed and weed-free, the walkway framed with fuchsia and
violet and cornflower and canary blooms that filled the evening air with sweet
perfume.

Inside the double wooden doors with leaded
glass, the old of the exterior fell away to a shining modern work of art. She
gawked at the high ceiling, the winding staircase, the marble floors and
massive framed paintings hanging everywhere.

Finn put one finger under her chin and
closed her mouth, then put his mouth to hers. “It’s not that big a deal,” he
said into her lips, then gave her a peck.

“That’s your opinion. I feel like I fell down
the rabbit hole.”

He took her hand and led her through an
arch into a large kitchen. Granite countertops gleamed, chrome shone, stainless
stove, refrigerator, microwave, dishwasher all sparkled. Everything was
spotless. Not even a fingerprint on the fridge handle.

“You spend all your time working or at my
place. How the hell do you keep this place so clean? The yard so perfect?”

“I hire people for that.”

One eyebrow shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

He put the bag of food on the granite
island and freed dishes and chopsticks from maple cupboards. He opened the
containers of noodles and ginger beef and Szechuan green beans. “My father
started a fledgling oil company back in the seventies. A year later the boom
hit and he expanded fast. Never looked back. It had its ups and downs, riding
that industry roller coaster, but he kept it privately held. And it afforded
him this.” He gestured around the room.

She slid onto one of the high wooden stools
that lined the other side of the island. “Amazing. So you live with your
parents?”

He laughed. “No, baby. They’re dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. When?”

“They never had any luck conceiving a
child. Then all of a sudden, in her forties, Mom found herself pregnant with
me. She had an aneurism shortly after I was born brought on by the stress of childbirth.”

“No. That’s terrible. You grew up without a
mother?”

“Afraid so. Had a lot of nannies. But no
mother.”

“What about your dad?”

“He had a stroke a few years ago. Lived in
a vegetative state for a few months.” Finn slid a plate of food across the
granite and handed her chopsticks. “Wine?”

“Sure.”

He turned to a wine rack built into the
wall between two banks of cupboards and pulled a bottle from halfway up on the
left. He uncorked it and popped an aerator in the top. “I should have decanted
it this morning, but this works in a pinch.”

She ran a finger over the smooth, cold
granite slab. “You must think I’m downright backwoods.”

“How so?”

“My wine doesn’t even have corks.”

He snickered and poured an expensive zinfandel.
The burgundy liquid glugged through the aerator and into a crystal glass. No
tumbler wine over ice in this house.

“Why aren’t you running your dad’s company?
Why on earth are you a cop?”

“I was never interested in the business. It
ate at him too, but he could never convince me to come on board. Since I was a
kid, all I wanted was to be a policeman. Too many games of cops and robbers I
guess. And I was always the cop.”

“So why are you still in this house?”

“I wasn’t for years. Moved out on my own at
nineteen. Dad put me through college and paid my expenses until I graduated.
Then I lived off my cop salary and had a small apartment downtown.” He handed
her a glass of wine and took a sip of his. “Then he died. Left me everything. I
couldn’t bring myself to sell this place. But I did sell the company. Took it
public. Hold thirty-five percent of the stock. The house is paid off, the
dividends alone pay for the housekeeper and gardener. And it beats the crap out
of that leaky apartment with the radiator that banged all night long.”

“Your wife didn’t get half?”

“Not of the house or the business. I came
into the marriage with that. We may have been high school sweethearts, but we
didn’t marry until two thousand-five.” He shook his head. “Didn’t realize until
now that she always said no until I inherited all this. Man, I’m a blind fool.”

“Love does that to you.”

“Sometimes.” He looked into her eyes. “And
sometimes it makes you see everything with complete clarity.” He leaned his
elbows on the counter and raised his glass. “To what I hope is the first of
many nights together under the same roof.”

Come on, Jem, wake up. This couldn’t be
real. He couldn’t be real. She pinched her thigh under the counter. Okay, that
felt real.

She raised her glass and clinked it to his.
“Hear, hear.”

“Is that a yes? To moving in together?”

“That’s a yes to talking about it. Because
one of us has to give up their house.” She looked around the kitchen. “And
obviously it’s going to be me.”

“Talking about it is a fine start. There’s
no rush.” He came around the island and put one arm around her waist, pulling
her to him, then dipped his head down to hers. “I’m not going anywhere.” He
kissed her, long and sensual. He was in no rush at all.

After they finished eating, he took her on
a tour. Behind the kitchen, the living room sprawled out across the back side
of the house, the outside wall was one massive window overlooking the tops of
trees and roofs of other homes. His house was the king of the castle, and the other
houses were dirty rascals. A projection screen television was mounted across
from chairs and sofas and loveseats that didn’t match but went together. And a
fireplace, floor to ceiling, slate framing its hearth, dominated one wall.

He led her through a wide hall and past a spare
bedroom and spectacular guest bathroom gleaming with more granite and stainless
steel. They mounted the staircase that curved from the foyer up to an open hall
overlooking the entry.

“Only one room that matters right now.” He
swept her up into his arms and crossed through another set of double doors into
a bedroom with a vaulted ceiling. He laid her on a king-size four poster bed
and kissed her while he unbuttoned her blouse and stared into her eyes. “Jem?”

“Yes?”

His eyes darted back and forth, focusing on
each of hers one at a time. “I’ve been holding something back. But I can’t do
this anymore.”

She pushed up and rested on her elbows.
“What?” Here it comes. She knew it was too good to be true. Time to wake up and
get back to her real life.

He ran a hand across her cheek and through
her hair then kissed her nose. He rested his forehead against hers. “I love
you, Jemima. Have for years. I wanted you to know it. Know that I’m serious.
That really, I’m not going anywhere. And I’m a patient man. It’s all so fresh,
with Gerald and all…”

She put a finger over his lips. The last
thing she wanted to think about in this moment was her dead fiancé. “I love you
too,” she whispered.

He laughed. “Oh, thank God.” Then he
devoured her with an open mouth kiss.

Don’t. Ever.
Stop.

Jem blinked against the light piercing her
eyelids. The room was awash in sunshine, the heavy drapes pulled open to the
edges of the picture window. Finn’s legs were entwined with hers, his arm
beneath her neck. If this was a dream, then please let her never wake from it.

She shifted to her back and lifted her
head. No alarm clock, but an old wooden mantle clock rested on his walnut
dresser. Five-fifteen. Time to haul ass or she’d be late to the park.

In one corner of his bedroom, its footprint
larger than the entire second floor of her house, an expensive, gym-worthy
treadmill sat poised for use. No laundry hanging off its handles like the
smaller, cheaper one in her basement. Shelves with a full set of free weights
were lined up in perfect order against the wall, and a write-on/wipe-off board
listed days of the week and exercises, sets and reps. He was dedicated. To
everything he did. He went after what he wanted with a determined single-mindedness.
In that way, he was like Gerald. But a little obsessive-compulsive disorder was
the only similarity.

She glanced back at Finn, the beautiful man
who now loved her. Whom she loved. Her pulse quickened, every spot on her skin
where his made contact was on fire. She went to reach for his face but
hesitated.

Couldn’t miss two days in a row again. The
residents depended on her. And she still had to get home and make sandwiches.

She slid out from under the covers and sat
on the edge of the bed. The view of a sparkling downtown outside the window
took her breath. Tonight she would make a point to see it in darkness. They
never strayed from the bed last night, her gaze never far from his face.

The sheets rustled and Finn’s lips were on
her neck, one strong arm around her belly. He pulled her back into bed and
curled around her from behind. “Don’t go yet.”