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“The risk goes with any job that requires guns,” he said simply.
She looked up at him. “I guess if a woman married a man who did that sort of work, she’d have to be willing to accept the fear. It’s something I could never do,” she added quietly. “I’d go crazy.”
His thumb rubbed gently along her lower lip. “I knew a woman who didn’t care if I died when I went out on a call,” he said, and he looked haunted for a minute. “Angie never worried about me at all.”
She winced.
He saw that, and it made him feel hot all over. It was unexpected, that they’d become so close in such a short period of time. He felt comfortable with her, safe with her. It was as if he’d known her his whole life, and it disturbed him. His headlong, growing passion for her wasn’t helping the situation, either.
“You’re brooding,” she accused quietly.
His dark eyes met her light ones. “I don’t mix well with people,” he said, searching for the right words. “I’m out of step with the world at large. I keep to myself mostly, except when I socialize with the guys in my office. Only a handful of them are still married. It’s a hard life for people who want families. You get moved around a lot. Or, if you are single, you get sent all over the country.”
“Like you are, right now,” she replied.
He nodded. “It depends on the openings and who’s the best person to fill them,” he said. “If you specialize in crimes against children, and there’s a vacancy in a department halfway across the country, you can be transferred there.” He pursed his lips and his dark eyes twinkled. “Or if you really tick off your SAC, you can get sent to a little town nobody ever heard of in Alaska, permanently.”
She laughed. “Do you tick off your SAC?” she wondered.
“I never see him,” he replied. “I get sent out on cases a lot. I don’t have a family.”
She drew in a soft breath. “Me neither.”
He scowled, because it bothered him to be so comfortable with a woman he’d only just met.
“You’ll hurt your brain if you keep straining it like that,” she said with a smile. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know you,” he said slowly. “But I know you. Right down to your bones.”
“I was just thinking that, about you,” she replied. “I don’t get close to people. I really don’t.” Her gaze went over him—soft, searching. “But this feels . . .”
“It feels familiar,” he said curtly. “As if we’ve been together forever.”
She nodded.
He sighed. “This was a very bad idea.”
She nodded again, and laid her cheek against his chest with a soft sigh.
His arms contracted. He sat, just holding her in the silence of the room. She was soft and warm and he loved the way it felt to cuddle her. His life had been littered with women like Angie, who weren’t affectionate or nurturing. They were sexy and aggressive and they liked him in bed. That was what made this little violet so rare, he considered. She was sexy, but she wasn’t cold or aggressive. And she’d feel it if he got hurt on the job.
He’d never had much nurturing. His parents had worked two jobs to keep food on the table for themselves and Tom and his late sister. There hadn’t been any cuddling or bedtime stories. The kids had been raised mostly by the television set and whoever had time to babysit them. It had been a fraught childhood.
“What are you thinking about?” she murmured.
“Violets,” he replied and a short laugh escaped him.
Her chest rose and fell against his. “I like violets.” She curled closer. “Why is life so hard?”
“Ask a philosopher. I just go after the people who try to make it harder.”
“I meant to ask if you heard about what happened at the Downing place today.”
His heart skipped. “Another murder?”
“Not at all. But that ex-boyfriend of May’s was over there to clean out gutters for Mr. Downing and he fell off the ladder, right onto the concrete. Some people should never climb ladders in the first place.”
“Why would May’s ex-boyfriend be working for Downing?” he asked. He’d known about the boyfriend, but he wanted to hear what she thought.
