"He's a good kid, most of the time. Listen, James, I need to ask your opinion on something."
Yes, I think you're pretty. Yes, I'd like to kiss you again. Hold you again. "What's that?"
"I didn't give Kevin every box of paperwork. I have three that are filled with the most incriminating files. I'm not sure what to do with them."
"I'll look through them, if you don't mind, then we can talk about whether to include Kevin. I'll pick them up tomorrow night, since he'll be working. You can let me know." He stood. "By the way, Caryn, I don't think you have to worry about Kevin and Venus as yet."
"Really?"
"He implies not."
"That's enough to make you believe it?"
"For now." He headed to the staircase, because he wanted to stay. "And you don't have to walk me to the door," he added when she stood, too.
She followed him anyway, at least to the top of the stairs. "You okay?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Not sure if you want me in your son's life?"
"I'm sure. He needs you. I see that."
"Not sure about yourself?"
"I wouldn't say that."
"What would you say?"
"Nothing. Yet."
He smiled. "You surprise me a lot, Mysterious."
"Good."
His gaze dropped to her mouth, to her red lips. "Is it easier for you to call me than for me to call you?"
"Probably. If you answer your cell phone, no matter what, because I never know when I'll be given a break."
"It's rare that I can't answer it, but it happens."
"I'll try, then."
She'd lost that fragile look from earlier in the evening, and the I'm-tired-of-being-alone undertone to her voice. He didn't mind her needing him a little, but even more he liked the strength and capability he saw. "Good night."
"Night."
He didn't exactly tiptoe down the staircase, but he didn't hurry, either, although the wood creaked under his weight. When he pulled the door shut behind him, he noticed she wasn't standing and watching, waiting for him to leave. She'd walked away.
He grinned.
He sat in his car for a few minutes, listening to his voice mail on both his cell and home phone answering machine, in case he needed to return an urgent call. If he hadn't been taking care of business, he wouldn't have seen Venus knock on Kevin's door-and Kevin pull her in fast then stick his head back out, looking up and down the street before shutting the door.
Nor would he have seen, seconds later, their silhouettes against the downstairs curtains. No one could say she was keeping her distance.
Ten
Caryn drove home after work the next day, showered, changed into a flowy blue skirt and soft white cotton T-shirt, loaded the three boxes of paperwork into her car, then headed for James's house. She'd called him during her lunch break. Even though Kevin would be at work, they'd decided to meet at James's house. He'd told her to come over whenever she was ready.
She wondered how much work time he'd lost in the past week because of her and Kevin. James was on her mind most of the time, and it was hugely distracting. Was he distracted, too? She didn't think that was a good thing for someone in his line of work.
He must have been watching for her, because he came down the steps as soon as she parked.
She liked his smile.
"Boxes in the back?" he asked.
She nodded. There was something different about him today, but what? He wore jeans and a plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up a few turns. He was still clean-shaven. She didn't think he'd had a haircut since last night.
"What?" he asked, his arms loaded down with two large boxes.
She'd been staring at him. She couldn't imagine what he'd seen in her expression. Then it struck her what was different. She'd kissed him-or he'd kissed her. She was looking at him through different eyes. Not as the mother of a child they shared biologically, but as a woman. A hungry woman. A needy woman. She'd been waiting for him to kiss her hello, when there was no real expectation of that. Last night was just … a fluke.
"What?" he repeated, an edge to his voice this time.
She smiled-because she felt good just being there with him. She could lie to herself and say it was nice to be able to share the responsibility of Kevin with someone else again, but it wasn't the only truth. Far from it.
"Nothing," she answered.
His brows lifted. "Nothing?"
She shrugged.
"Unpredictable," he muttered then headed up the stairs. "You wanna grab the other box, please?"
She got the smaller box from the car, then set the alarm and followed James. Jamey. Even though he seemed to want her to call him that, she didn't think it suited him. He was a James-calm, steady, reliable. Which was at odds with the risk taker she knew must be part of his makeup.
She followed him into his office. He took the box from her and set it on top of the other two. She wondered if he knew how hard it was for her to let him see the paperwork that proved Paul was a gambler, and not a very good provider. He would see everything about their finances over the past few years, good and bad. Her life would be bared.
Caryn looked at the boxes. She'd given him everything except one letter. A letter Paul had mailed to his private mailbox the day before he died. A letter she'd been forwarded not long ago. She hoped James would investigate the accident, come to the same conclusion as the police, so that she could believe it, too, then she would destroy the letter. Maybe she should have before.
"You aren't inhabiting earth today," James said from close beside her.
She turned toward him. "Sorry."
He eyed her seriously, steadily. Her heart picked up speed.
"Did Paul have a copy of his high school yearbook?" he asked.
"I didn't come across one."
James pulled a book from the shelf behind him and flipped it open, then turned it around. She smiled at the picture of Paul at seventeen, dragged a finger across the photo.
"Cute," she said. "He didn't look that much different when we met, a couple of years after this. Where's yours?"
He flipped ahead to the Ps.
She leaned over the book. "No doubting Kevin's paternity, is there? The resemblance is remarkable. Do you have baby pictures?"
"I'm sure my mom does. I could take you to meet her, if you'd like."
"Not yet, thanks." She would let Kevin establish his relationship first, because his mattered the most. She rested a hand on the top box. "Would you like to go through these together?"
"No." A short, simple answer.
"Why not?"
"I'm handling the investigation as I would any job I'd taken on. I'll ask questions when I need to."
"How do you separate yourself like that?"
"It's easy." He glanced at the stack, as he had every few seconds.
"You're anxious to dig in." That he wanted to work instead of spend some time with her prompted a little envy in her.
He finally focused on her, his demeanor softening. "You look very nice, Mysterious."
She couldn't tell him how much she enjoyed her nickname, but she did. A lot. "Thank you."
"I hope you'll stay for dinner."
She had noticed a wonderful scent in the air when she first walked into the house. Before she answered, he moved an inch or two closer.
"We're going to be in each other's lives for a long time, Caryn. We might as well learn to be comfortable together."
She was comfortable-too comfortable-even as he invaded her personal space.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. "I already appreciate who you are," he said. "A good mother, a loyal and faithful wife, and a woman of her word. I know you struggle with sharing Kevin with me, and I admire you all the more for being gracious about it."
"You give Kevin things I can't. I won't deny him what you offer, even if it stings a little." She stood a little taller. "So, what's for dinner?"
"Pork roast, scalloped potatoes, green beans almandine and sourdough bread."
"Are you trying to fatten me up?" She knew she would be healthier with a little more weight. Maybe it had been a big turnoff for him, holding her skinny body.
"I like good food," he said. "And it's even better shared."
Good answer. "Okay. I'd love to join you for dinner."
"We've got about fifteen or twenty minutes until it's ready. Would you like something to drink? Wine? Tea?"
"White wine, thanks."
"Go take a seat in the living room. I'll join you in a minute."
The last time she'd been there, she'd noticed the room only as a way of distracting herself from the high-pitched emotion of the moment. What struck her now was how restful the room was. Music came from speakers hidden somewhere, classical, nothing she could identify. The fireplace looked ready to set a match to.