Deadly Deceptions by Linda Lael Miller Page A

me a sidelong glance that made me remember certain peak moments in our lovemaking and blush a little. “The frozen variety. The microwave is broken, so I’m reduced to using the stove.”
    I wanted to say I wasn’t hungry, but the truth was, I was ravenous. Hungry enough to eat chunks of chicken pot pie warmed up in a saucepan, actually. It didn’t occur to me to ask why he didn’t use the regular oven—I had reason to know he was the innovative type.
    I came as far as the table, but didn’t sit down.
    â€œWhy did you tell Allison you were with me?”
    â€œBecause she needs to know.”
    â€œWhy? Why does she need to know?” I could put myself in Allison’s place all too easily, I found. She had two children by Tucker. They’d been lovers, and built a life together.
    Tucker stopped stirring the mess of crust and veggies and chicken chunks and turned to look at me. “The divorce was Allison’s idea. I was a long time getting over it. Then I met you. Now, because she’s scared and she’s grieving, she thinks she wants me back. I want her to know it isn’t going to happen, Moje.”
    I pulled back a chair, fell into it. “Where are my panties?” I asked.
    Tucker grinned. “Damned if I know,” he said. “I searched the garage, but they’re gone.”
    I blushed, imagining some meter reader, or the kid who mowed Tucker’s little patch of lawn, finding them behind a dusty box.
    Tucker’s grin broadened. “You won’t need them anyway,” he told me.
    â€œBraggart,” I said.
    He took the food off the burner, scraped heaps of the stuff onto two plates and got out a couple of forks.
    The concoction looked bad, but it tasted all right. We ate in silence for a while.
    â€œI’m glad I’m not the only one who is grocery challenged,” I said, because I was starting to feel really embarrassed about the way I’d carried on, serving myself up like a meal in the backseat of his car, for pity’s sake. And when I’m embarrassed, I chatter.
    â€œI was going to make scrambled eggs,” Tucker said, his green eyes twinkling, “but I was afraid one of them might hatch.”
    â€œThank you,” I said, “for that image.”
    He set down his fork. Reached out to caress my cheek, the gesture so gentle that it made my throat hurt. “As soon as school lets out,” he said, “Allison’s taking the kids to Tulsa for a month, to visit her folks. Then I can move back here. By the time they get home, Allison should have regained some of her perspective, and Daisy and Danny will have calmed down, too.”
    I closed my eyes, opened them again. Tried to smile. “Or not,” I said.
    Tucker closed his hand over mine. Squeezed. “I know things seem pretty impossible right now,” he said quietly. “But I—care about you, Moje. Have a little faith, will you?”
    He cared about me.
    Had he been about to say he loved me?
    If he had, I would have bolted, and he probably knew it.
    â€œYou still care about Allison, too,” I said.
    â€œAnd you still care about Nick,” Tucker replied.
    â€œI do not,” I protested. “Nick and I had been divorced for a long time when he was killed. I was so over him.”
    â€œUntil he came back and haunted you. I saw your face when he did the final fade-out, Moje, and I know you miss him.”
    I wanted to say it wasn’t so, but it was. I just hadn’t realized that until Tucker brought it up.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Tucker said, and he sounded as though he meant it.
    â€œHe was a lying, cheating bastard,” I said.
    â€œHe also saved your life,” Tucker answered. “And you must have loved him a lot if you married him, especially considering all the secrets you were keeping.”
    I pushed my plate away. Pulled it back again. Took another forkful of chicken à la