She hadn’t thought of him as losing anyone. He was part of the Cavanaughs and as such, larger than life. People who were larger than life had no use for funeral parlors nor any working knowledge of one, either. They were invincible.
But obviously not, she thought. “Who did you lose?” she asked Declan.
“My mother,” he replied quietly. “Chapel Hills Funeral Parlor is a pretty decent place to deal with—as well as reasonable.”
That was what she needed. Reasonable. Charley nodded her thanks. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she told him and then went on to comment. “You know, you’re a pretty decent person.”
“And this surprises you why?” Declan asked, amused and curious at the same time.
“Well, to be honest, I got a completely different impression of you at the academy,” she admitted. “Every time I saw you outside the classroom or the gun range, you always had a girl on your arm—a different girl.”
“Just looking for the right one,” he deadpanned innocently.
She laughed then and it felt good. “Thanks,” she murmured when her laughter finally faded. “I needed that.”
Declan smiled into her eyes. “Anytime, Charley. All you need to do is just say the word.”
The waitress returned with their dinners. They waited until she was finished and had withdrawn before resuming their conversation.
They talked all the way through dinner, talked as if they had known each other well forever rather than just by sight or in passing the past few years. And the more they talked, the more drawn to him Charley felt, despite all the reasons she’d given herself not to be. She couldn’t seem to convince herself otherwise.
Moreover, as they talked, Charley couldn’t help but feel that Matt would have approved of this particular Cavanaugh with the wild, partially unfounded reputation. Because Declan was far more than just a really handsome man. He was a cop in every sense of the word. Bright, intuitive, dedicated and kind.
And she enjoyed his company.
A great deal.
And that, she knew in her heart, was dangerous.
Chapter 13
H
e drove Charley back to the police station parking lot to pick up her car. “Okay, now you can go home,” Declan told her as he parked his car next to hers.
“Sure, in a little while,” she said, getting out of his vehicle. “I just need to check something out first.”
He was out of his car in a second, coming around to the passenger side. “It’ll keep until morning,” he insisted. There was no humor in his voice.
“But—”
Declan didn’t let her frame her protest. There wasn’t anything she could say that would get him to agree to letting her work even a few minutes longer. She was going to wear herself out.
“No ‘buts,’” he warned sharply. “I want you home and in bed.”
Declan wasn’t prepared to have her laugh at the order. Just how exhausted was she? When he looked at her quizzically, Charley said, “Maybe not all that much has changed since your academy days.”
Only then did he realize what he’d said and what those words must have sounded like to her.
As they sank in, Declan also realized that a side of him wouldn’t have been all that averse to having exactly that happen: taking her to his bed.
Be that as it may, he needed to dig himself out of the hole he’d just created.
“As tempting as that might be,” he told her, “I’m speaking as the primary on this case, not as someone who’s attracted to you.”
Her eyes widened. Was that another slip of the tongue? Or...?
“Are you?” she heard herself asking. At least, it sounded like her voice, although for the life of her, Charley couldn’t have said where her question had come from.
The parking lot was deserted. The skeleton crew that was on duty had found parking in the front of the building. There was no one else in the immediate vicinity, no vehicles passing by. No one, he was acutely aware, to see them.
“No,” Declan answered, threading his fingers through her hair just before he cupped the back of Charley’s head. The words slipped from his lips in a hushed breath before he lowered his mouth to hers and did what he realized he’d been wanting to do since the first time he laid eyes on her seven years ago.
He kissed her.
Everything that she had suppressed, all the emotions that had been stirred up the morning she’d found Matt and had remained with her, bottled up and repressed, burst forward now, surging through her veins and taking her entire being prisoner.
If asked, Charley wouldn’t have even been able to describe what she was feeling, only that she
was
feeling. Knowing it was wrong, knowing this wasn’t the time, the place nor the man she should be having these feelings for, she still couldn’t make herself pull back, couldn’t shut down because for one brief, shining moment, it was intoxicatingly wonderful to actually
feel
again.
What the hell was this?
The question telegraphed itself over and over again in his brain as Declan tried desperately to make sense of what he was experiencing. He was practically
born
enjoying women and had never, ever lacked for companionship. The exact opposite was true. There were times when he had to practically fight the more aggressive women off. He certainly wasn’t a stranger to relationships of varying intensities.
But what he was feeling right now, what had suddenly risen up inside of him, was, for lack of a better way to describe it,
different.
He felt like a man who suddenly found himself on a tightrope without knowing how he got there. He could see where he needed to be in order to be safe again, but the distance between there and here was definitely
not
insignificant.
He hadn’t had so much as a glass of beer with dinner, yet his head was spinning. Survival instincts kicked in with a vengeance and had him pulling back—before he wasn’t able to.
“Nope,” he said in a voice that threatened to crack if it went above a whisper, “not attracted at all.”
She had to take a breath before saying anything and then echoed his sentiment. “Me, neither.”
Damn, what the hell had happened just now?
His knees felt weak, as if he’d made contact with a taser.
“Glad we got that out of the way,” he told her, still carefully enunciating his words. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth, unequal to the challenge of managing long words. “Now get into your car and go home,” he said. “That’s an order.”
“Sure. See you,” she said. When he made no move to get back into his own car, she asked, “Why are you still standing there?”
“Because I’m waiting for you to get into your car so I can follow you home,” he said simply.
“Follow me home?” she repeated incredulously. Her heart rate accelerated again in hushed anticipation. “Why would you do that?”
Did she think he was an idiot? “Because if I don’t, you’re going to turn around and go upstairs—and probably work through the night.” He noticed that she didn’t even try to deny it. Maybe he was finally making headway. “I was serious before—you’re not going to do me or the task force any good working beyond the point of exhaustion. Now get in your car and drive home,” he ordered. “Before I hog-tie you and drive you there myself.”
“Fine,” she snapped. He was right, but she definitely didn’t like admitting it. She’d never liked being told what to do.
The streets were empty. She drove home in record time. When she reached her house, she half expected Declan to get out of his car and march her inside.
But he remained in his vehicle. When she didn’t go to her front door immediately, Declan rolled down his window and gestured toward her door. “Go on,” he urged. “Go inside.”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, Charley opened her front door and went in.
When she came out again five minutes later, Declan was still parked in the same place, watching her.
“Are you planning to stay out here all night?” she called out to him, annoyed that he’d taken it upon himself to watch her.
“If I have to, yes,” he answered without hesitation. “It all depends on you.”
Charley realized that the exasperating detective with the lethal mouth meant it and if he did, then
he
would be the exhausted one tomorrow. God forbid they were called out for another victim. With only half his brain functioning, Declan would become a walking target. And if anything happened to him as a result of his compromised state, it would be her fault.
That wasn’t anything that she was prepared to live with.
“Okay, okay, I’ll go in and stay in,” Charley shouted. Turning on her heel, she walked inside and slammed the door in her wake. Hard.
Declan remained parked at her curb for close to half an hour longer, during which time he watched her shut all the lights on the ground floor except for the one directly by the front door. Eventually, he decided that she had stopped being stubborn and had gone to bed.
Stifling a yawn, he started up his car and then drove home. It was late, but that didn’t cause a problem. He had always had the ability to fall asleep instantly and tonight was no exception.
He was practically sound asleep the moment he walked in the front door.
* * *
Charley was back on the job almost at the crack of dawn. She came into the office, somewhat rested and ready to take a second or a third look if need be at the files, looking for that one slender clue that had been overlooked before. The clue that just might crack the case.
It continued to elude her.
Added to that, in the final analysis, she hadn’t gotten all that much sleep despite the fact that Declan had forced her to go home. Ironically, he was the one who was the cause of her sleeplessness.
Every time she closed her eyes and began to drift off, she found herself reliving those few moments in the parking lot. Those few moments that at the time felt as if they were going to go on forever and had, for all intents and purposes, redefined her sense of reality.
When Declan came into the department just before eight o’clock, she was determined to act as if nothing had happened between them last night. She knew via rumors and her own observations, that Declan was accustomed to having women throw themselves at him. Once they’d been with him, to a woman they all acted as if all they wanted was to be with him again.
Permanently.
She was
not
about to join that club or be viewed, God forbid, as one of his “groupies.” Yes, the man was a fantastic kisser and yes, she was exceedingly attracted to him, but that was a road that led nowhere and she knew it. She had a job to do, a killer to catch and a promise to keep.
She absolutely refused to get sidetracked.
Declan slid into his chair, depositing one of the large containers of coffee he was carrying on his desk. The other he pushed onto hers as if he’d been doing that all along instead of just this morning.
Was that a peace offering? she wondered. Or was that his way of saying that he felt like he owned her?
The latter was a crazy thought but ever since last night in the parking lot, her brain wasn’t exactly thinking all that clearly. Black was white, up was down and everything in between was possible.
For now, she nodded toward the tall, covered container on her desk. “What’s that?” she asked.
“Coffee,” he told her absently, leaning back in his seat, his boots crossed before him and resting comfortably on another chair. “Why?” he asked. “What do you usually get in coffee containers?”
She didn’t answer his question, saying instead, “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged off her statement. “Just thought it might keep everyone sharp first thing in the morning.”
Everyone?
That was when she looked around and realized that he had dropped off a large container of coffee on the rest of the task force members’ desks, as well.
“Oh,” she murmured, feeling rather dumb for the thoughts she’d just been entertaining.
Idiot, the man has not only been around the block, he’s been around the galaxy, for heaven’s sake. You’re not only not the only fish in the sea, you’re not even the only fish in the aquarium, so
get your mind back where it actually might do some good,
she upbraided herself.
“By the way, what are you doing for breakfast tomorrow?” Declan asked after a beat. His attempt at nonchalance failed miserably.
“Breakfast?” she echoed, looking up. Now what was he getting at? Was he trying to find out if she was eating the right foods?
“Yeah, you know, the meal you eat right after you get up in the morning.”
What did that have to do with anything? Frustrated, Charley shrugged at his question. “I don’t know. Eating, I guess. Why?”
She wasn’t sure he even heard her answer. His didn’t quite mesh with what she’d just said. “I’ll swing by and pick you up around seven, then.”
This was coming out of the blue. Exactly what was he getting at? “Pick me up and take me where?” she asked.
“To Uncle Andrew’s house.” His computer was having trouble booting up. He typed in a few commands on his keypad to get the program to come around. “The man loves to cook and he loves to have family come by so he can feed them.” This was word of mouth, the invitation coming via his father, Sean. “He didn’t have time to throw together one of his usual killer parties so he’s just gonna have a big breakfast—and when he says ‘big’ the man means huge.”
“What does this have to do with me?” she asked him.
“Uncle Andrew didn’t exactly spell it out,” Declan explained. “He just told me to bring you.” His best guess was that his father had told Andrew that they were handling the case and Andrew wanted to give her the once-over. What better time than when she was eating one of his meals? “He thought you might enjoy being around a family gathering.” That much was true, but that, too, had come via his father.
He had a feeling that if the invitation came to her thirdhand, she’d turn it down faster than she could draw a breath. Though he couldn’t exactly say why, he found himself wanting her to be part of the wild circus that was his extended family.
She stared at Declan. The man he was talking about, Andrew Cavanaugh, had ceased being chief of police before she came onto the force. From what she’d heard, he’d retired early to raise his five children after his wife went missing and was presumed dead. Andrew never gave up hope that she was alive and eventually, his faith had paid off. Charley had the utmost respect for a man like that. But that still didn’t begin to answer any of her basic questions.
“He doesn’t even know me,” she protested. So why would he want her there if he didn’t know her?
“Uncle Andrew knows everyone,” Declan assured her. In that, Andrew was very much like his younger brother, Brian. Both men seemed to have an eerie radar going for them when it came to the people working in the police department. “You don’t want to insult the man by turning down an invitation—do you? And FYI, he really is a fantastic chef. The food is to die for—no pun intended.”
She had no idea what to make of it or of the invitation she’d just been tendered. But Declan was right. She’d make no points in her present career if she turned down the former chief of police.
“Fine, I’ll come,” she told him. She made no attempt to hide the fact that she was more than a little bewildered.
* * *
A part of Charley felt like digging in her heels despite the fact that she was on the sidewalk and digging in would accomplish nothing, it would only be symbolic.
Doing her best to still the butterflies in her stomach, she tried to appear calm as she looked at Declan. “Are you sure this is all right?”
He could see how this sort of initial meeting might cause some anxiety, but he also knew the people she was meeting and they would all go the extra mile to put her at ease.
He knew that they certainly had when it had been his immediate family’s turn. Granted, before his father’s connection to the Cavanaugh family had come to light, he and his siblings had all been aware of at least some if not all of the various members of the impressive law-enforcement family. How could you be part of the Aurora P.D. and not be? But it still came under the heading of one of life’s more pleasant shocks to discover that they were all actually blood relatives and he could personally attest that they were all—to a person—incredibly easy to get to know.