Page 74 of The Dearly Departed

Through the corner of my eye, I saw Dean smile momentarily.

“Yes, sir.”

I grunted an acknowledging sound and shook my head with a sigh as I walked across the marble floor to the bottom of one side of the winding staircase.

"Is he here?" I asked, looking up toward the second floor of the house.

I didn’t have to specify who he was. Dean already knew.

"Mr. Crowley is taking a shower at the moment," he replied, standing behind me. "Would you like to wait? Or if you'd prefer, I can give him a message."

"I'll wait," I mumbled, turning to press my back against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, kicking one ankle over the other and crossing my arms over my chest.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Dean asked.

“No,” I replied.

He gestured toward an open doorway, which led into a large room full of artwork with various seating options, and asked, “Would you like to take a—”

“No.”

He sighed, as if my insistence to stand was making him restless. But he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he nodded, clasped his hands at his waist, and stood guard beside me.

I make him nervous.

He didn’t reveal as much with his expression, but I could sense it by the way he kept tightening and loosening his grip on his hands and flicking his eyes in my direction. I was sure he thought he was inconspicuous with that small, nearly imperceptible tell. But I was a man who had grown up overly aware of people and the way they changed under different circumstances. I memorized their tone when they were happy, sad, angry. Their footsteps when they’d had a good day or were on the hunt to start trouble with someone smaller and weaker than themselves. And Dean here thought he was appearing cool and calm, like a good little soldier, but I knew better.

My presence disturbed him.

Good.

"Well, it appears the plague doctor has come to pay us a visit once again. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”

I turned abruptly at the sound of her voice. My lips parted with a silent exhale as Analise came into view, standing against the railing between the twin staircases. And suddenly, she was Juliet, perched above on her balcony, and I was Romeo, coming to sweep her off her feet, and somehow, I knew that our story—if there ever was to be one—would be every bit as tragic.

But she looked like a princess, dressed in a floor-length black robe made of silk, her long ebony hair cascading over her shoulders in lustrous waves. I wondered if she was wearing anything underneath, how exquisite she undoubtedly looked when naked, and then I wondered why I had to care at all. It didn't matter. It never would. Yet the thought aroused me just the same in ways I had never experienced before, and I clenched my fists to tamp down every shred of my desire, knowing I'd inevitably fail.

Dean's watching, I told myself. But my stupid dick didn't seem to care if it had an audience or not.

"I didn't think you'd come back," she said, implying she had thought of me in the first place.

How much? I wondered. How often?

Because, if I gave my mouth the opportunity to speak the truth, I'd tell her, before Gerald had come to the cemetery, when I wasn't thinking of Leonard, she'd been the only thing on my mind since the moment I’d left the driveway outside that door.

I had dreamed of her.

I had replayed every moment I’d spent with her, as if every moment before had been nothing but a prelude to when I finally met the woman to steal my breath and knock me on my ass.

It was just too bad I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

"I'm here to see Gerald," I said in that fake, raspy voice.

She sighed and nodded. "Well, forgive me for being disappointed. I was hoping you were coming to see me.”

Dean sighed, a disapproving sound, but he didn’t get the chance to say anything as Analise added, “Anyway, I'm sure this guy already told you Gerry’s a little busy right now."

I glanced at Dean, who had allowed himself to smile, and I was surprised to find a touch of affection in his eyes as he looked up at Analise. But there was no hunger in the way he stared at her, no desire whatsoever.