Truth and Consequences by Linda Winfree Page B

that.
    He’d stashed his groceries earlier and eaten a turkey sandwich, satisfying his body’s physical hunger. A deeper hunger continued to gnaw at his gut. Damn it, he could still taste her, still feel the warmth of her body aligned with his.
    She’d let him kiss her. More than that, she’d kissed him back, moaned into his mouth and swayed into him.
    She thought he deserved better. No one, except maybe Mrs. Louella Hatcher, had ever thought that of him.
    He closed his eyes, remembering the aching quality of her voice asking him to quit.
    Her voice. Just one more taste of his name on her lips. Was that asking too much?
    The phone lay on the bedside table. All he had to do was reach for it, punch in a number already memorized, and he could be awash in her voice again.
    A sorry substitute for her kisses, but a fix for his craving, the addiction he couldn’t let himself satisfy.
    Johnny’s crooning faded to nothingness and silence descended on the room, crushing in its intensity.
    Muttering curses, he rolled over and reached for the phone.
    * * *
    With her mother’s words beating in her head, Kathleen undressed for bed and removed her makeup. How dare Mama insinuate she was wasting her life? Anger trembled under her skin. She was satisfied. Work was good, her hours were filled—so what if she didn’t have the traditional lives her cousins and high school friends had? She’d tried the wife and mother bit, and the failure had almost killed her.
    Be honest, Kathleen. It did kill you, way deep down inside. Altee’s right. The girl you used to be, the real woman you were going to be, died with Everett .
    Shaking off the dismal little voice, she tossed the washcloth in the hamper and snapped off the bathroom light. Thinking about it, dwelling on it, didn’t change anything. It just made the nagging sense of hurt and loss worse.
    The polished wood cool beneath her feet, she padded across the bedroom and jerked the covers back. Low light spilled from the beaded lamp by the bed and cast colored shadows on the wall. That light would make Jason’s tanned skin even darker, highlighted against the snowy sheets.
    Stop. That kiss was as far as it was going to go. That kiss alone was too far. Stop thinking about him .
    The news. Stories about the impending IRS deadline and the local budget deficits would take her mind off everything, including Jason Harding. Settling against the pillows, she reached for the remote.
    The phone rang and she frowned at the clock. After eleven. Who on earth? A glance at the caller ID screen revealed a Haynes County number with no name.
    She didn’t need a name. Her pulse picked up, a distinct thud at her throat.
    A second ring, temptation hovering in the room.
    Her hand trembling, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
    Charged silence popped along the line. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and tried again. “Hello?”
    Silence.
    “Jason?”
    The connection stretched, the sensation one of darkness reaching for her. None of the warmth and passion she’d experienced in his arms. A chill worked its way over her skin. With slow precision, she replaced the receiver. She pulled the comforter over her shoulders and turned her back on the phone.
    She couldn’t bring herself to turn off the light.

Chapter Seven
    “It hasn’t changed since the last time you looked at it.” Altee mumbled the words around a peppermint. She didn’t glance up from her laptop.
    Kathleen’s gaze remained trained on the diagram and photographs hanging on the wall, but she sighed at her partner’s droll tone. She still felt as if she were slogging through mud, mentally and physically. Three cups of coffee hadn’t helped either. With one hand, she covered a wide yawn.
    “Stop doing that. You’re making me do it, too.” Altee shook her head. “What kept you up last night?”
    “Prank phone call.” She’d run the number from her caller ID—a pay phone at a Haynes County gas station. The little trill of nerves