was easy between them. Good. She had to look at him in a new way. He wasn't an enemy anymore, the man who'd wrecked her life. This Rick was new, an equal. He'd grown up and so had she.
"All this talk about restaurants is making me hungry," Tawney said. "I hope you have food."
"An Alaskan is always prepared."
Rick stood and stretched. His sweatshirt rode up, giving Tawney the tiniest peek of the light coating of hair on his stomach. A flat stomach. Her long dead libido roared to life, startling her. It had been a long time since a man had sent her pulse rocketing.
"How about some fettuccini?" Rick asked.
"Really?" Her stomach rumbled. "That sounds fantastic."
He stood. "Come on, you can be my sous-chef."
"I'd love to."
Tawney chopped the garlic and grated the cheese, while Rick worked on the sauce. In a matter of minutes the dish was prepared, and they sat down at the table, a bottle of wine in the center.
"Dig in," Rick said.
Tawney did. The creamy noodles tasted like heaven against her tongue. Her eyes slid shut.
"I can see you hate it," Rick said.
"I adore fettuccini," Tawney said, "but I never let myself eat it. Too fattening."
"Women," Rick said. "Always worried about your weight."
"I made my living based on how my body looked," she reminded him. "I had to weigh in weekly. I've seen a lot of girls get fired for going up in weight."
He chewed, his eyes on her. "That's a lot of pressure."
"I guess. It's part of the business. A business I’m no longer in." She forked up more pasta.
Tawney sipped her wine. When they had finished eating, they took their wine to the living room, sitting on the sofa in front of the woodstove. The storm raged outside, but inside the cabin it was cozy warm. Tawney curled her legs up under her, enjoying the buzz from the wine.
Something had shifted between them since clearing the air about their almost wedding. For her a dark cloud had lifted. She'd blamed Rick for so many bad things in her life; now she had to admit that the bad choices had been hers alone.
"Penny for your thoughts," Rick said.
"Just thinking about how our lives might have been had we married." She sipped her wine. "I guess I'm glad that things worked out the way they did."
"Everything happens for a reason, right?" he said, but he didn't sound convinced.
"Tell me about your job in Seattle," she said, wondering if he'd ever confide in her. "Do you miss it?"
"No."
"No?"
His mouth tightened. "That part of my life is over."
He went to the woodstove and opened it, poking at the fire.
The ridged way he held his body told Tawney more than words could. "What happened in Seattle? Why did you leave?"
His brows drew together. She could see the upset on his face. He didn't want to tell her.
"I failed someone," he finally said.
"Who?"
"A woman. She was my informant in a big drug case. When her betrayal was discovered, I believe she was forced into setting me up." Rick glanced away from her. "We both got caught."
"What happened to her?"
"She was executed."
"Oh, Rick, how awful. I'm sorry." She couldn't begin to imagine what he'd been through. She felt like ten times a whiner for bothering him about Fox Lassiter.
"I can't stop thinking about her, about how I failed her. I can still picture her lying on the floor, the stain of blood on her blouse. She trusted me."
"But it wasn't your fault," Tawney reasoned.
"Wasn't it?" His eyes bored into hers. "I should have protected her. Instead I got her killed. She was a person. She had a son."
Tawney didn't know what to say.
"I don't deserve to be a cop."
"Rick—"
"No, you don't get it. The guy who shot Angie, Tony Malone, took something from me that day. Not only did he damn near kill me, he stripped away my confidence. I was so damn cocky, so sure I could handle things. That arrogance got Angie killed. If not for my partner, Phil, I'd be dead, too."
"So your partner rescued you?"
"Yeah. To save me, Phil put a bullet in Tony's head. He killed Angie's killer and
"All this talk about restaurants is making me hungry," Tawney said. "I hope you have food."
"An Alaskan is always prepared."
Rick stood and stretched. His sweatshirt rode up, giving Tawney the tiniest peek of the light coating of hair on his stomach. A flat stomach. Her long dead libido roared to life, startling her. It had been a long time since a man had sent her pulse rocketing.
"How about some fettuccini?" Rick asked.
"Really?" Her stomach rumbled. "That sounds fantastic."
He stood. "Come on, you can be my sous-chef."
"I'd love to."
Tawney chopped the garlic and grated the cheese, while Rick worked on the sauce. In a matter of minutes the dish was prepared, and they sat down at the table, a bottle of wine in the center.
"Dig in," Rick said.
Tawney did. The creamy noodles tasted like heaven against her tongue. Her eyes slid shut.
"I can see you hate it," Rick said.
"I adore fettuccini," Tawney said, "but I never let myself eat it. Too fattening."
"Women," Rick said. "Always worried about your weight."
"I made my living based on how my body looked," she reminded him. "I had to weigh in weekly. I've seen a lot of girls get fired for going up in weight."
He chewed, his eyes on her. "That's a lot of pressure."
"I guess. It's part of the business. A business I’m no longer in." She forked up more pasta.
Tawney sipped her wine. When they had finished eating, they took their wine to the living room, sitting on the sofa in front of the woodstove. The storm raged outside, but inside the cabin it was cozy warm. Tawney curled her legs up under her, enjoying the buzz from the wine.
Something had shifted between them since clearing the air about their almost wedding. For her a dark cloud had lifted. She'd blamed Rick for so many bad things in her life; now she had to admit that the bad choices had been hers alone.
"Penny for your thoughts," Rick said.
"Just thinking about how our lives might have been had we married." She sipped her wine. "I guess I'm glad that things worked out the way they did."
"Everything happens for a reason, right?" he said, but he didn't sound convinced.
"Tell me about your job in Seattle," she said, wondering if he'd ever confide in her. "Do you miss it?"
"No."
"No?"
His mouth tightened. "That part of my life is over."
He went to the woodstove and opened it, poking at the fire.
The ridged way he held his body told Tawney more than words could. "What happened in Seattle? Why did you leave?"
His brows drew together. She could see the upset on his face. He didn't want to tell her.
"I failed someone," he finally said.
"Who?"
"A woman. She was my informant in a big drug case. When her betrayal was discovered, I believe she was forced into setting me up." Rick glanced away from her. "We both got caught."
"What happened to her?"
"She was executed."
"Oh, Rick, how awful. I'm sorry." She couldn't begin to imagine what he'd been through. She felt like ten times a whiner for bothering him about Fox Lassiter.
"I can't stop thinking about her, about how I failed her. I can still picture her lying on the floor, the stain of blood on her blouse. She trusted me."
"But it wasn't your fault," Tawney reasoned.
"Wasn't it?" His eyes bored into hers. "I should have protected her. Instead I got her killed. She was a person. She had a son."
Tawney didn't know what to say.
"I don't deserve to be a cop."
"Rick—"
"No, you don't get it. The guy who shot Angie, Tony Malone, took something from me that day. Not only did he damn near kill me, he stripped away my confidence. I was so damn cocky, so sure I could handle things. That arrogance got Angie killed. If not for my partner, Phil, I'd be dead, too."
"So your partner rescued you?"
"Yeah. To save me, Phil put a bullet in Tony's head. He killed Angie's killer and
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