“I thought we agreed I didn’t need someone to protect my reputation anymore.”
“No, we agreed you didn’t need anyone looking out for your virtue. Your reputation is something else.”
While he got dressed, she went into the bathroom, emerging in a hotel terry cloth robe. “Will I see you tomorrow — today — later — at the Convention Center?” she asked as she walked him to the door.
“How about breakfast at seven-thirty? I’m going to one morning session, then back to work.” After she nodded agreement, he took her face in his hands, said, “I’ll see you then. Sleep well, sugar,” kissed her and was gone.
She slumped against the door after he’d closed it behind him and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her back to the door, her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Her lips were swollen from his kisses; her breasts tender from his mouth. She could feel his arms holding her, his body loving her. Could see the way he looked at her. How could this be? Making love with Tony? It wasn’t possible. But it happened.
It took every bit of her willpower to stay on the floor when what she wanted to do was run after him and beg him to stay. She wanted him to curl around her while she slept, wanted to wake up to him the next morning.
Oh, God, what was she thinking? Obviously she needed some distance, a chance to think about this. Figure it out. She needed a good night’s sleep to clear her head.
Like that was going to happen tonight.
• • •
He walked out onto Broad Street into the warm summer night. He hadn’t reached the first corner when he turned and started back to the hotel. He didn’t care about anyone seeing him; he wanted to spend the night with her. He stopped. No, that was a very bad idea. He couldn’t do that to her. He turned toward his apartment. Then he stopped again. He could be careful; no one would see him. He took two steps toward the Bellevue. Stopped again. Jesus, anyone who saw him would think he was drunk. He shook his head and some last vestige of common sense clicked into place. He couldn’t go back to the hotel. Period. He strode down Broad Street in the direction of home.
At least he made one good decision tonight. He wasn’t so sure about some of the others. What the hell had happened back in that hotel room? Sweet Jesus, Mother of God, he’d never been blindsided like that before. He was always the one in control of what went on with the women in his life. At least since the Nicole debacle. How could this have happened?
And with Margo. He’d known her all his life, loved her like a sister — okay, that wasn’t accurate. He’d never looked at her like a sister, not since they were kids. So he cared for her, liked her a lot, they were friends, more than friends, although less than lovers. Until now. Sure, they’d dated a little, made out a lot. He’d always like kissing her, wondered what it would be like to take it further but she’d never seemed interested and that had been okay. It was complicated with all the history between their families and the three thousand miles between them.
Then at Mary Ellen’s wedding, when they’d been alone in that small dark room, would have gone back to his apartment if his nephew and her mother hadn’t interrupted, it seemed to change. He thought maybe she wanted it, too. So he set it up.
But what happened tonight wasn’t what he’d bargained for. It blew his mind, scraped raw his emotions and opened his eyes to something he never expected to see.
So now what?
Chapter 7
“Are you by yourself? Can I join you?” Danny Hartmann asked. Margo was standing in front of the breakfast buffet, scanning the room, when the tall, blonde Portland detective found her.