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His smile faded. "This cant be good. "
"What cant? I--"
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, right there in the restaurant, in front of everyone. It wasnt one of those you-could-be-my-grandma kisses, either. Oh, no.
"Wow," she said when it was over. She realized she was swaying slightly. She tried to remain still. It was difficult; her heart was pounding. She wanted him with a ferocity that surprised her. "But we need to talk," she said, trying to think straight.
"Later," he said in a gravelly, desperate voice. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the door. "Were going to my place. "
She gave in. It was impossible not to. "Can we run?"
"Definitely. "
Outside, Angie was surprised to see that it was still light. Then she remembered: It had been a lunch date. They ran through the rain down Yesler Street, turned on Jackson.
Conlan jammed his key in the lock.
Angie pressed up against his back and put her arms around him. She moved her hands down to his waistband.
"Damn," he muttered, trying another key.
The lock clicked open.
He pushed through the door and dragged her toward the elevator. When the doors opened, they tumbled inside, still kissing.
Angie was on fire. She touched him everywhere, kissed him until she felt dizzy.
She couldnt breathe.
The doors opened. He swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall. In minutes--seconds--they were in his bedroom.
Conlan placed her gently on the bed. She lay there, feeling dazed with the kind of desire shed forgotten about. "Take off your clothes," she said in a husky voice, propping herself onto her elbows. He knelt at the foot of the bed, between her legs. "I cant stay away from you," he whispered. There was both wonder and disappointment in his voice.
She knew there would be a price for this moment.
Right now, she didnt care.
TWENTY-FIVE
NAKED, ANGIE STOOD AT THE WINDOW OF HER husbands--ex-husbands--apartment, staring out at Elliott Bay. Rain gave the world a blurry, distant countenance. Cars rumbled north and south on the viaduct. The windowpanes rattled ever so softly from all that traffic, made a sound like the chattering of teeth.
If this were a movie moment, shed be smoking a cigarette and frowning while a montage of images from their failed marriage and newborn reconciliation flashed across the screen. The last image, as the movie returned to the present, would be Laurens face.
"You look worried," Conlan said.
How well he knew her. Even when she stood in profile, with her back slanted toward him, he could tell. Probably it was in her stance. He always said she tilted her chin up and crossed her arms when she was upset.
She didnt turn to face him. In the window, a ghostly image of her face, blurred by rain, gazed back at her. "I wouldnt say worried. Thoughtful, maybe. "
The bed springs creaked. He must be sitting up. "Ange?"
Finally, she went to the bed and sat down beside him. He touched her arm, kissed the swell of her breast.
"What is it?"
"I need to tell you something," she said.
He drew back. "That doesnt sound good. "
