More than liked him.
He, of course, had been in love with Leslie, who in turn, had been in love with the fiancé, Joe’s cousin, who had died before her. But if she had lived, would she have fallen for Joe in time? Or would she have fallen only for a shadow of her first love? Matt, like Joe, had been tall, with light hair, though Joe’s was slightly darker, just as his eyes were greener. But Matt had been built with the same broad-shouldered strength. Maybe Joe would have wondered all his life if she had been truly in love with him, or only dreaming that he was someone else every time they made love.
Some questions could never be answered. Leslie and Matt were both dead now.
She found herself thinking of Shakespeare then, rather than Poe. Of Hamlet.
He is dead and gone, lady, he is dead and gone. At his heels a grass green turf and at his head a stone…
Yes, Leslie MacIntyre was dead, but did Joe still dream about her?
Perhaps Joe could never be serious about anyone—especially Gen herself, because she had been the cause of Leslie’s death.
But not intentionally. Never intentionally. She would never have allowed someone else to die in her place.
Joe knew that. She knew he did. And dwelling on the events of that fatal night would only serve to drive her insane. What had happened, had happened. And no one but the murderer himself had been at fault. She hadn’t needed therapy to recognize the truth of that. And she knew that Joe knew it, too.
So why was he so strange and distant these days?
And why did she insist on caring? Was she only hung up on him because he had been there in her darkest hour? According to Dr. Mowbry, women often fell in love with men they considered to be their saviors.
And he had saved her life. No doubt about it. But that wasn’t why she had fallen for him. She was sure of that.
And now, here he was, and she didn’t want him to be so gentle. She wanted him to crush her in his arms. She wanted to make wild, hot love with him. She didn’t want him to see her as delicate or in need of protection. She was tempted to simply slip off her dress, fling her arms around him and do something so sensual and sexy that he couldn’t resist her.
“So,” she said, with just the right amount of curiosity and professional courtesy, “what did you think?”
She loved his rueful smile, she thought. Loved it when she had his full attention and could see on his face that certain dry amusement he felt for life, himself and everything around him.
“I felt like I walked into a play filled with outsize characters who had to prove themselves and their innocence within the confines of two hours and one intermission,” he told her.
“Oh, come on, we’re not that bad,” she said.
“I didn’t say anyone was bad.”
He was hovering in the doorway. They’d already argued about the fact she had refused to stay with Eileen at the mansion, even though she was worried about her mother, and even though everyone was worried about her, despite the fact that, as she kept pointing out, she wasn’t a Raven. This time around, she wasn’t the one who had something to worry about.
But her mother had live-in help and an excellent security system, and she still needed her own place, her own independence.
So that, if she ever got up the nerve, she could just strip off her little black dress, and do something so exotic and sensual and sexual that he couldn’t stand it and…
“I know Larry,” Joe said. “He’s not a bad guy. And your mother is a wonderful woman.”
“See? Rich people aren’t all bad,” she heard herself say defensively.
He laughed easily and shook his head. “Gen, I never said they were. It was just tonight…that group. Let’s face it, I think everyone there was afraid someone else in that room did it. Lila was all bravado. Barbara was all denial. Brook Avery was pure pretense. And then…Jared showing up so dramatically…It was…interesting.”
“Did you learn anything?”
He
He, of course, had been in love with Leslie, who in turn, had been in love with the fiancé, Joe’s cousin, who had died before her. But if she had lived, would she have fallen for Joe in time? Or would she have fallen only for a shadow of her first love? Matt, like Joe, had been tall, with light hair, though Joe’s was slightly darker, just as his eyes were greener. But Matt had been built with the same broad-shouldered strength. Maybe Joe would have wondered all his life if she had been truly in love with him, or only dreaming that he was someone else every time they made love.
Some questions could never be answered. Leslie and Matt were both dead now.
She found herself thinking of Shakespeare then, rather than Poe. Of Hamlet.
He is dead and gone, lady, he is dead and gone. At his heels a grass green turf and at his head a stone…
Yes, Leslie MacIntyre was dead, but did Joe still dream about her?
Perhaps Joe could never be serious about anyone—especially Gen herself, because she had been the cause of Leslie’s death.
But not intentionally. Never intentionally. She would never have allowed someone else to die in her place.
Joe knew that. She knew he did. And dwelling on the events of that fatal night would only serve to drive her insane. What had happened, had happened. And no one but the murderer himself had been at fault. She hadn’t needed therapy to recognize the truth of that. And she knew that Joe knew it, too.
So why was he so strange and distant these days?
And why did she insist on caring? Was she only hung up on him because he had been there in her darkest hour? According to Dr. Mowbry, women often fell in love with men they considered to be their saviors.
And he had saved her life. No doubt about it. But that wasn’t why she had fallen for him. She was sure of that.
And now, here he was, and she didn’t want him to be so gentle. She wanted him to crush her in his arms. She wanted to make wild, hot love with him. She didn’t want him to see her as delicate or in need of protection. She was tempted to simply slip off her dress, fling her arms around him and do something so sensual and sexy that he couldn’t resist her.
“So,” she said, with just the right amount of curiosity and professional courtesy, “what did you think?”
She loved his rueful smile, she thought. Loved it when she had his full attention and could see on his face that certain dry amusement he felt for life, himself and everything around him.
“I felt like I walked into a play filled with outsize characters who had to prove themselves and their innocence within the confines of two hours and one intermission,” he told her.
“Oh, come on, we’re not that bad,” she said.
“I didn’t say anyone was bad.”
He was hovering in the doorway. They’d already argued about the fact she had refused to stay with Eileen at the mansion, even though she was worried about her mother, and even though everyone was worried about her, despite the fact that, as she kept pointing out, she wasn’t a Raven. This time around, she wasn’t the one who had something to worry about.
But her mother had live-in help and an excellent security system, and she still needed her own place, her own independence.
So that, if she ever got up the nerve, she could just strip off her little black dress, and do something so exotic and sensual and sexual that he couldn’t stand it and…
“I know Larry,” Joe said. “He’s not a bad guy. And your mother is a wonderful woman.”
“See? Rich people aren’t all bad,” she heard herself say defensively.
He laughed easily and shook his head. “Gen, I never said they were. It was just tonight…that group. Let’s face it, I think everyone there was afraid someone else in that room did it. Lila was all bravado. Barbara was all denial. Brook Avery was pure pretense. And then…Jared showing up so dramatically…It was…interesting.”
“Did you learn anything?”
He
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