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He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could go crazy thinking about this. The past was long over. He would never know what could have been. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered except the fact that coming back to Landing had been a mistake. Williams had been dead wrong on this one.
"You want a drink?" he asked suddenly, crossing the room to the tray Alice kept set up beside the fireplace.
He poured two fingers' worth of brandy into an expensive crystal glass, then turned and raised his eyebrows expectantly.
Megan blinked. "I've never had spirits before." She blushed. "Except for that sip from your flask. It wasn't very good."
He thought of the cheap liquor he'd barely been able to afford. "ITiis is better," he promised.
She looked doubtful, then nodded.
He carried the drink to her, then returned and poured himself a slightly more generous serving. After capping the decanter, he raised the glass. "To your soiled reputation."
She smiled tightly and took a tentative sip. She didn't gag, but her grimace had him fighting back a smile.
"Yes, it's much better," she lied, and quickly leaned forward to place the drink on the nightstand.
She didn't fall out of her bodice. He was torn between being grateful and disappointed. It was going to be a long hour. He glanced around the room, searching for the safest place to sit. Probably outside, he thought humorlessly. He settled on one of the velvet wing chairs by the fireplace.
"What are we going to talk about?" he asked as he rested one booted ankle on the opposite knee.
She looked at the ceiling as if searching for a topic. Her fingers tapped together. "Bonnie!" she said at last. "She's learning to read. Just yesterday..."
But he didn't listen to what Bonnie had done just yesterday. He took another sip of the brandy and watched Megan speak, without hearing the words. Her mouth moved, and she smiled often. Her arms raised as she used her hands to describe something. Her bare skin gleamed like the silk iress she wore. A shudder raced through him as he thought Df how she would feel if he was to touch her, stroke her, love ler into mindlessness.
With her hair done up so intricately and her dress billow-ng around her, he thought how he'd like to take her in his inns and dance with her. Around and around the room un-
til they were too exhausted to do anything but hold each other.
His direct gaze unnerved her. He could tell by the way she darted quick glances at him, then looked away. Her presence here would start a scandal the likes of which Landing hadn't seen in years. Probably not since he'd left. He shouldn't have let her come in his room. She'd caught him so off guard, he hadn't been thinking. It was too late now, he told himself. The cards had been dealt and she would have to play the hand. As he had seven years ago.
"You're not listening to me," she said.
"Sorry. What were you saying?"
"It doesn't matter. Is there any news on the investigation into Laurie's murder?"
He shook his head. He didn't like thinking about that, but it was better than wondering if Megan was wearing her French silk and lace undergarments. "Nobody here knows anything, either about Laurie's murder, or the murder of the saloon girl four years ago. I've been thinking of going to neighboring towns and seeing if anyone there had heard of similar crimes in their area."
"Why would they?"
"I know it's not likely," he admitted. "However, if other towns have had the same sort of murders, we might be able! to find a pattern."
She shivered. "It's so awful. Why would anyone do something so horrible?"
"People do strange things."
"This investigation is very important to you, isn't it? Is it because you don't want to let your friend, the sheriff, down?"
"Partly." He took a sip of the brandy. He hadn't poured enough to affect him, but he wished he had. He'd planned on coming back to his room tonight and getting drunk. He didn't know how else he was going to forget what had happened this afternoon in his office. Even now he could feel Megan's eager body pressing up against him, and her tongue penetrating his mouth. He bit back a groan.
Forget it, he ordered himself. Think of something else. Think of the murders.
"Part of it is Williams. He would expect me to do my best. Part of it is that someone died."
