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“Blake...” Her soft voice in his ear sent his blood boiling. She inhaled shakily. “Where are you?”
“On your bed.”
“My bed?”
“Yeah. Your bed. I came to get my bag but then I walked into your room, sat down on your bed and...I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“It’s a nice bed.”
“It’s a very nice bed.”
For a few moments it was silent. But he could hear her moving in the bath. Damn.
“Jim phoned,” he said, to distract himself from the noises of her splashing.
“Jim?”
“Policeman from this morning?”
“Oh, yes. Anything?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Do you know where Mark is?”
“No.”
Again, it was quiet for a few minutes.
“You kissed me,” she said.
“I did.”
“Twice.”
“Indeed.”
“Why?”
“I...I was worried about you.”
“Do you kiss everyone you’re worried about?”
Thinking of the many weird characters he’d worried about at some time or another over the span of his life, he had to grin. “No.”
“That’s not an answer!” she called out.
“That’s my answer.” He waited a beat. “For now.”
He rubbed his face. What the hell was he doing? Flirting with Lindsay? He knew better than most that in these kind of tense situations, feelings were seldom real.
Whatever this was, it was temporary. And even if it was something deeper, he could never again allow anyone to depend on him. There were two dead bodies in his past that served to prove his point.
“I have to go,” he said, and before she could say anything else, he ended the call.
––––––––
Charlie was waitingin the room when Lindsay entered from the bathroom.
