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He chuckled. "Nah, just Emmy and me. Dawson’s a plumber and owns his own company. He deals in shit, just not the same kind as Emmy and me."
She giggled. "That's a good one."
"So, tell me about Waylon. Why did you marry a piece of scum like him to begin with?"
She bit into a cracker and stared straight ahead. "Gosh damn, but isn't that the million-dollar question right now? I've been kicking myself since the first year."
She sipped her wine, and he watched her swallow, the graceful curve of her neck, her unblemished skin, her auburn hair looked thick and shiny, and he wanted to touch it—run his fingers through its softness and tuck the strands that had escaped her ponytail behind her delicate ear.
"In high school, he followed me around like a sad puppy. No matter where I went, he found me. After a while, I started talking to him, and he seemed nice enough. We became friends—just hanging out and watching television. I helped him with his homework and found him bright and eager to learn. He seemed ambitious, and I thought he'd really make something of himself. I went off to college in Kentucky for nursing, and he stayed in touch. When I came home to work at Kane County Hospital, he asked me out. It's not like I had a ton of other prospects, so I went out with him. We talked about his dreams for the future. He said he was working with a guy he liked and that he felt he'd be moving up in the company and was excited about it."
"What did he do?" Leaning back with his glass of wine, he watched her lips as she spoke.
"He said he was in transportation. Moving product." She sipped her wine again, then turned her head. "I was too stupid to ask what kind of product he moved. It took me years to figure it out." She shook her head, her lips turned into a frown.
"So, he was good at hiding it?"
"No, not really. I was just too absorbed in my own head to see it. By then my grandma had gotten sick and had to go to the nursing home. I changed jobs from Kane County to the nursing home, so I could watch over her. I spent a lot of time with her and Waylon worked weird hours and didn't demand a lot of my time. I actually thought it was nice. I could stay after work and sit with Grandma and not worry about having to be home at exactly five o'clock or something." She chuckled and shook her head.
"But, what happened then?"
She finished her glass of wine, and he reached forward to pour her another. He topped off his glass and sat back in his chair. He liked her voice. Not high-pitched and irritating, and when she chuckled, it was throaty and sexy.
"Oh, well, Grandma passed, and I was home more, and I began noticing things. Things came to a head when Waylon asked me to drop off a box for him at an associate's house in town. I should have asked what was in it, but I was still pretending I hadn't married a man who was capable of doing something illegal. I got caught up in a sting. The box contained money, and it appeared that I was a courier. I was arrested, thrown in jail for a couple of days until my sister could get me out, and then I divorced Waylon."
He stared into her eyes, telling himself not to get lost in them. "So, he was running drugs; that was the product he was transporting?"
"Yep, pretty stupid of me not to see it, right?"
"I wouldn't say that. It's amazing what we don't see when it's right there under our noses."
He jumped up to clear the dishes, but she followed him around the counter with her bowl in her hand. "I can clean up; you cooked."
"You're a guest. My mom would kick my ass if she thought I was making a guest work."
She giggled and shook her head. "Funny what sticks with us, isn't it?"
When she tilted her head up to smile at him, his gut twisted. He swallowed to moisten his instantly dried up throat and clenched his jaw—arthritis be damned. He inhaled deeply to get control of his breathing but what he smelled was her fresh, clean scent. Bad move.
Her face softened as she held his gaze, her head tipped slightly to the left, which allowed him the perfect position to just lean forward and ... his lips touched hers, lightly at first but he felt her moan, the light rumble vibrating between them. Then her hand gently lay against his cheek. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding in at her invitation and the heady taste of wine and feel of her slippery tongue as it slid along his, exploring and tasting her fully made his head spin. Her hand fisted into his shirt, and his arms pulled her into his body. The instant her soft breasts flattened against his chest, his body came to life.
He pulled away gently and laid his forehead against hers until he could catch his breath. His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears, and he wondered if she could hear it too. Then she stepped back, and he could see her nipples through the pink T-shirt she wore. He'd need a code word for himself to drag his mind from her, her body, her being, and dampen any desire he was feeling. Tamra. He'd think of his wife; that would do it.
Chapter13
Holy hell! She was bewildered that kissing could feel like that. Had her body ever responded to Waylon that way? The answer was a resounding no. Her heart was beating so hard she thought she'd pass out. Earth moving was an apt description. Her nipples beaded up, and the instant wetness between her legs sent a whole riot of emotions running through her. When he pulled her into his firm muscular body, her knees shook so badly she had to grip his shirt to keep from falling. Then he pulled away, and she wanted to cry at the loss.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped back again. "I should check on my laundry."
She saw him clench his jaw before she turned quickly and escaped to the basement, her face on fire. Switching her wet clothing to the dryer and hanging her wet bras on a hanger to dry, she tried focusing on what she was doing, but her head kept going back to the man upstairs who honestly seemed too good to be true. He was responsible, held a job, though it was terribly dangerous, and he was so very easy on the eyes. He thought nothing of bringing her here, a complete stranger, to keep her safe. He was nothing like Waylon.
Then her thoughts floated to that useless sack of human skin, Waylon. Besides working at all things illegal and wanting to get ahead in an organization that would always put them in danger, he'd gotten her arrested—on purpose. She'd found out after her arrest that he had gotten information that there was possibly something going down, and he felt that keeping her unaware ensured her release from jail because she'd have no information to release to authorities. She could still feel the anger of finding out he'd cared more for his stupid damned job than her. But in all honesty, hadn't she always cared more for hers and her grandmother than him? They'd been more roommates than lovers or husband and wife. Each living a separate life from the other. Thinking about it now made her sad and mad for the lost time in her life.
"You look lost in thought."
She jumped at the sound of his voice and being caught in her thoughts. Heat raged up her body and landed on her cheeks and ears as she turned to stare into the deep dark depths of his eyes. Damn, it would be so easy to look into his eyes forever. But that couldn't happen.
"Yeah, I guess I was." She glanced at her bras hanging in plain sight, and her cheeks burned hotter. She walked across the room where the counter for folding clothes stood, to bring his attention away from her hanging undergarments. "Um, did you need something?"
