Loving Again(48)
• • •
Two hours after she got home that night, Sam appeared at her door.
“You must wonder about your luck,” she said when he took her in his arms. “How many men have women in their lives who are constantly suspected of murdering people?”
“Amanda, no one thinks … ”
“Yes, they do. Don’t b.s. me.” She turned her face up to him, hoping he didn’t see what was underlying her fear.
“We’ll find the person who did this and it’ll be fine.”
“I can’t go through this again, I can’t.” She buried her face in his shirt and wept.
When she’d stopped crying, he led her to the living room couch. He wiped her eyes with his handkerchief. “Tell me about yesterday.”
“I went to work at noon. I came home a little after nine. It was just the usual.”
“What about the phone call from Eubie Kane?”
“What about it? He called and asked if he could meet me at the studio. I told him he was welcome to come by before ten.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I thought we could get it straightened out. But he never showed. So, before I came home I called him to say I was leaving. He didn’t answer.”
“That’s all there was?”
“Why do you keep asking me questions? You don’t think I did this, do you?”
“Of course not. I’m only trying to work out what happened.”
“Are you and Detective Hartmann assigned to this?”
He avoided looking at her as he answered. “No, I’ve been … Danny’s working it.”
“So, you’re out of it.” She ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the ceiling so he couldn’t see that she was pleased he had been taken off the case.
“It doesn’t mean I’m not interested.” He gently tipped her face down so she was looking at him. “I’m trying to figure out why the killer went to the trouble of stealing that specific gun to use on a guy who came out of nowhere riled up about you. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
She teared up again.
Sam kissed her forehead. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s change the subject. How about I have a pizza delivered and stay with you tonight?”
“I’d love it, to all three suggestions. Thank you.” She wiped her eyes and started to get up. “I better go take care of Chihuly.”
“I’ll do that after I call for the pizza. Your usual Margherita?”
• • •
They went to bed early. Unlike most nights when they slept together, Amanda had donned a light cotton nightgown. It was convent-modest; the last thing on her mind was sex. But when she curled up in a ball clutching her pillow, Sam lay down beside her, still dressed, and slowly, rhythmically, rubbed her shoulders to relax her. In only a few minutes, she began to respond to him just as she always did, her nipples hardening, her breathing kicking up a notch or two.