The One Safe Place by Kathleen O`Brien Page B

theimpression Mike Frome had been waiting for you a lot longer than that already.”
    Justine shrugged, but she dimpled coyly and planted a pleased kiss on the poodle’s head. The tiny, tense dog shivered with excitement. “Oh, Mike’s a fool,” Justine said. “But I can’t stop him, can I? I guess there’s no law against wishful thinking.”
    Reed gave the poodle’s head a friendly fluff and turned to Faith. “Ready?”
    She nodded. “Sure.”
    â€œHey, boss,” Justine called as they went through the clinic door. “One thing. If I put Fifi to bed, that means I’m working, right? It means I’m still on the clock.”
    Reed smiled pleasantly over his shoulder. “I guess there’s no law against wishful thinking.”
    The October moon was full and yellow, a circle so perfect it looked as if it had been hole-punched out of a black construction paper sky. A light breeze carried the sweet hint of someone’s wood fire and sent little curved birch leaves skittering ahead of them on the path.
    The temperature was dropping quickly, and Faith realized the night was already colder than when she’d first walked out to the clinic. She should have brought her coat. She wondered how Reed managed to look so comfortable in only his jeans and soft plaid flannel shirt.
    They covered the few yards to the house quickly—it wasn’t long enough to do more than make a coupleof comments on the beautiful moon, and then they were there.
    As they climbed the steps to the back porch, she looked at him, unsure how to broach the subject. Maybe she should just let well enough alone. He didn’t seem uncomfortable—and he certainly didn’t seem flirtatious, as if he believed the kiss had been the beginning of anything. Probably he felt the same way she did—that the kiss had been surprisingly nice, but completely inappropriate.
    She put her hand on the doorknob, but at the same moment Reed put his hand on the chain of the porch swing.
    â€œWant to sit out here for a minute?” His eyes gleamed in the cold moonlight. “We really should talk.”
    She hesitated. The night was so full of subtle sensuality—restless little leaf whispers, haunting calls from throaty owls, the cold kisses of a blind night wind, goose bumps rising and falling on your skin.
    On a night like this, it was more intimate to be out here, in the open, than to be inside by the fire. And considering the fact that avoiding real intimacy was what she had wanted to discuss…
    He touched her shoulder. “Sit,” he said. “It’s comfortable, and it’s private. We can be sure no one will hear us.”
    â€œAll right.”
    She arranged herself on the large wooden swing, which, though it had no cushions or pillows, reallywas astonishingly comfortable. When he joined her, she was relieved to see that it was big enough to let them both sit without actually touching.
    â€œSo.” He set the swing into a small, rocking rhythm that he controlled easily with the heel of his foot. “I know this is a little awkward. Considering it’s my fault, maybe I should go first.”
    She looked over at him. His dark, wavy hair was rimmed in silver. Moonlight sculpted his rugged face with dramatic angles and shadows.
    â€œYour fault?”
    He nodded. “Absolutely. I stepped over the line in the kitchen earlier. I owe you an apology, and I want you to know that it won’t ever happen again. Frankly, I can’t imagine what made me act like such a fool.”
    He chuckled suddenly. “Wait, that didn’t come out right, did it? I know perfectly well why I kissed you, of course. What I don’t know is why I ignored the obvious fact that I had no right to do it.”
    â€œIt’s not a matter of ‘right,’” she said, braiding her fingers in her lap. “It’s just… It’s Spencer. He’s been through