Page 442 of A Matter of Time

“Of course. It was August eighteenth.”

“I had no idea you⁠—”

“You’re eleven years older than me.”

His brows furrowed, and I got a growl. “I’m not old.”

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face to save my life.

“Leave me,” he muttered under his breath. “Never happen.”

But I could tell from the way he was acting, from the scowl on his face, the muscles flexing in his jaw, and the way he was gripping his cell phone that maybe our age difference had him a little spooked as well. I couldn’t have that.

“What’re you doing?”

It was perfectly obvious that I was comforting him. My hand was in his lap under the blanket, and my lips were pressed to his throat.

“Quit.” He shifted uncomfortably, trying to push me away. “You’re gonna give me a boner and I’m wearing sweats.”

“You’re not old.”

“Thank you, but I know that already.”

“You’re the hottest guy I know,” I said, slipping my hand down under the elastic waistband of his sweats.

“Stop before you⁠—”

I bit his jaw lightly before I licked it better, moving my lips back toward his ear.

“Baby,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around me fast, crushing me against his hard, muscular chest. “Stop. I can’t put you over the kitchen table right now, so…quit. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but my ego is not that delicate. All I gotta do is look at you when you see me to know that I do it for you big-time.”

I closed my eyes, surrendering all my weight to him.

“There ya go, just relax. I gotcha.”

We sat together on the couch, me in his arms with my eyes closed, drifting in and out as he talked on the phone to Dane and Agent Calhoun and his captain and his partner and so many, many other people.

It was four in the morning before he finally put me in bed. He kissed me good night, promised that he’d be right back, and tucked the down comforter around me. There were two officers outside our front door, and a patrol car parked on the street in front of the building. No one was getting anywhere near me. I wanted Sam to stay, but he had to go—there’d been a murder that he and his partner were needed at, and then later that morning, he was going to go visit Susan Reid with Dane. I argued that I should be there too, but he said I’d done enough. I needed to rest; it was all anyone expected me to do.

I realized when I heard the front door lock that I was more like a prisoner than anything else. Scary to think that I was no more able to do as I pleased than Susan Reid. Hard to imagine a time when it wouldn’t be like this. The last thing Sam had said was to concentrate on setting a date for us to fly to Canada and get married. I dreamed about that.

TWENTY-THREE

Iwanted to know what was going on, but when I called Sam as soon as I woke up later that morning, he didn’t answer. I got Dane on the second ring, and he said that, yes, Sam was with him and that neither of them could talk. He hung up on me before I got out another word. It was just plain rude.

I checked outside, and it was still pouring, still dark, and still overcast and gray. The police cruiser was there, and I saw it through the rivulets running down the window. Outside the front door were two uniformed policemen. I told them I would make coffee, and they were both very appreciative.

Walking around the apartment, I realized how cold it seemed, how shadowy. Maybe Sam was right; maybe moving back into his place was a better idea. Logically, I knew someone could break into Sam’s apartment too, but before someone bought it, maybe taking it off the market and moving back in was a better idea. Dane had never understood how moving into a rental and selling the place Sam owned was smart, and it wasn’t. I had just been too stubborn to agree with him. When Sam got home, I would tell him I had reconsidered and that his place could be our place again. I just couldn’t shake my feeling of unease, and I doubted it would ever go away.

I delivered the policemen outside my door steaming hot mugs of coffee and told them that I would make blueberry muffins shortly, since I wasn’t going to work. I had firm orders from Sam to sit my ass home. That was the note I had awoken to on my nightstand. Apparently even if I tried to leave the apartment, I wasn’t going anywhere—the policemen had orders. I resigned myself to being home, then called Aubrey, called Dylan, and finally Aja just to see what she was doing. She was dying to know what was going on as well, since she too was at home under police protection. I told her I was baking. She was doing conference calls on her cell. She won for being more productive.

I delivered the muffins to the officers with more coffee, then decided to take a shower. I was creeped out, though, and dragged a chair into the bathroom and wedged it against the door so no one could come in without me knowing. That was the very reason why I had a see-through vinyl shower curtain. Norman Bates was never going to get the best of me.

Once I was out and changed, I went to the kitchen and made myself some tea. I debated what I wanted to eat, or even whether I was hungry, and realized, after a few minutes, how cold it was in the apartment. I went to get a sweater from my bedroom, and when I started back, the door of the hallway closet was open. I froze, heard movement behind me, and when I turned, I came face-to-face with Caleb Reid.

“Jesus,” I croaked out, backpedaling before he raised the gun. There was a knock on the door then.

“Tell them you don’t want them inside, Jory,” he told me, his voice soft, controlled like it never was.