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Claire tasted the lasagna and made an appreciative sound. “Mmm... Delicious. And you’re right. I’m a lot hungrier than I realized.” She paused, staring at her plate. “I’m really torn up over this case. I not only feel horrible about the murders, I feel guilty that I can’t pick up precise enough energy to stop them before they happen. And worst of all, I’m coming up empty on anything that would protect Casey. It’s like...it’s all just out of my grasp.”
Ryan set down his wineglass. “You’re not the only one who feels like you’re coming up short. I’ve got some of the best forensic tools around and I’m still a step behind Glen Fisher. If science can’t do it, I doubt metaphysical energy can,” he said with a rueful look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to diss you. Your insights have been dead-on.”
“No problem.” Claire wasn’t insulted. As much as Ryan tried to accept the value of her gift, Claire knew the whole thing was hard for him to swallow. “It doesn’t really matter whose technique comes through in the end. As long as one of them does.”
“Agreed. Now let’s change the subject,” Ryan suggested. “That was the whole point of this dinner. Shutting out the frustration and the intensity of this investigation. Just for a few hours. We’re entitled to that.”
“You’re right. We are.”
From that moment on, they intentionally kept the conversation light, steering clear of anything relating to Glen Fisher. There was nothing more they could do that night, and recouping their emotional and mental acuity was important.
“Thank you,” Claire said as she finished her cup of herbal tea. “Dinner was wonderful. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it. But I did.”
“Me, too.” Ryan rose and closed the gap between the two sofas, taking Claire’s hand and pulling her to her feet. “There’s one thing I did know I needed. And that’s this.”
He kissed her, long and hard, tangling his hand in her hair and deepening the joining of their mouths.
Claire responded, wrapping her arms around his neck and returning the kiss with the same level of passion.
Ryan backed her across the apartment to his bedroom, never breaking contact as he did. They broke apart only to tug off each other’s clothes, and then fell onto the bed.
It was the way it always was—mind-blowing, all-encompassing sex. Sex that wasn’t just sex at all, but a kind of raw joining that dominated their senses and took them by surprise every time it happened.
Afterward, they lay quietly together, their legs entwined, Claire’s head pillowed on Ryan’s chest.
“Wow,” he said in a harsh rasp.
Claire nodded, too winded to speak.
“I don’t know what the hell this is,” Ryan said bluntly. “But it’s like nothing I’ve experienced before.”
“Me, neither.” Claire was quiet for a moment. “I swore I wouldn’t tell you this, but I was insanely jealous of Leilah,” she blurted out. “It was irrational and totally out of character for me. But I couldn’t shake it.”
“Well, shake it. Whatever Leilah and I had is over.”
“That’s good. But it’s not enough. I don’t want you with other women.” Claire stunned herself with the unyielding quality of her tone. “I realize that’s contrary to everything you’re used to. But I’m not willing to share—not this time.” She tilted back her head, gazed up at Ryan. “Is that a deal-breaker?”
Her choice of words made him grin. “No.” He shook his head, feeling as bewildered as she obviously was as he spoke the truth. “Ever since you and I have been together, I haven’t wanted anyone else. And if you hooked up with any guy but me, I’d probably beat the shit out of him. I never saw this coming. But it’s here.”
“Yes. It is. Whatever it is.”
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
Ryan pulled Claire over him. “I say we celebrate it.”
“I second the motion.”
During the hours that followed, all of Claire’s senses were alive and focused on Ryan.
There was no room for anything else—not even the powerf
ul dark energy that she would normally have felt like a knife twisting in her gut.
* * *
Trish Brenner stayed at the library longer than usual.
