Why is that?”
“My family life hasn’t been as happy as yours,” she countered bitterly.
Brady’s expression suddenly became austere. “My family life hasn’t always been happy, Mandy. I was twenty-three when we learned that my father had lung cancer. He’d been a heavy smoker, but the ironic thing is that he’d finally quit smoking a couple months earlier.”
“I’m sorry.” The words seemed inadequate somehow. “I didn’t know.”
“There a lot of things about me you don’t know, Mandy. Things you don’t bother to find out. The reason I don’t smoke is just one of them.”
“It’s not in my nature to delve into other people’s personal lives.” She defended her attitude.
“Why not? Afraid they might return the favor?”
Amanda wearily shoved her hair away from her face. “Brady, I don’t find it easy to talk about my past.”
“I realize that,” he said in a softer tone. “And I’m not pressing for your life story. I’d just like you to open up a little, Mandy. I want to be your friend.”
“Just my friend?”
“And your lover.”
“No one could accuse you of beating around the bush,” she wryly observed.
“You did ask,” he reminded her.
“So? Since when have you started doing what I ask?”
“I like to indulge you occasionally. And I’d love to indulge in you frequently,” he murmured with that intimate inflection that never failed to get to her. “But you’re right, it is getting late.”
Amanda accompanied him to the front door where she said, “Thanks.”
“For the directional lesson?” he questioned, referring to their dalliance on the couch.
“For the offer to be my friend,” she answered sincerely. “For leaving without a hassle.”
Brady reached out to brush the back of his hand across her cheek and drop a swift kiss onto her upturned lips. “Good night.”
Four days later Amanda was walking down the college’s front steps, heading for the faculty parking lot, when a voice hailed her from behind. Recognizing it as belonging to Guy Lox, she increased her pace but to no avail.
“Amanda, didn’t you hear me calling you?” he demanded peevishly, his breath coming in rapid little bursts because of his scramble down the stairs.
“I was on my way home, Professor.”
Guy’s eyes narrowed ominously at her cool dismissal. “Come have a drink with me,” he said.
“She can’t,” another voice interceded on her behalf. “Amanda is going to give me a ride back to headquarters. Police business.”
“Sounds like funny business to me,” Guy muttered.
“Then it’s just as well we’re not asking you,” Brady smoothly returned, grasping Amanda’s arm and leading her toward the parking lot.
Looking over her shoulder, Amanda saw Guy stood fuming on the cement steps, clearly furious at the turn of events. His ferret face wore a look that promised revenge as he pivoted and returned to the building.
Once they reached the parking lot, Brady asked, “Where’s your car?”
“It’s over there.” She pointed to the next aisle.
Brady headed toward a sedate sedan while Amanda walked up to the car beside it. “This one’s mine,” she pointed out, remembering for the first time that he’d never seen her car before because the red Porsche had always been safely tucked away in the garage.
Brady’s low whistle of admiration was accompanied by a look of exaggerated disbelief. “This can’t be Amanda’s car,” he said.
“No? Then whose car is it?”
“Mandy’s.”
Amanda had to laugh at the lazy smugness of his voice, “You make it sound as though I have a split personality.”
“Not split,” he
answered seriously. “I’d say more like divided—against yourself.”
“I had no idea they taught clinical psychology at the police academy,” she shot back, shaken by his accurate analysis.
“Clinical is not a term that applies in relation to you,” Brady dryly returned.
Amanda made no reply as she unlocked the passenger door
“My family life hasn’t been as happy as yours,” she countered bitterly.
Brady’s expression suddenly became austere. “My family life hasn’t always been happy, Mandy. I was twenty-three when we learned that my father had lung cancer. He’d been a heavy smoker, but the ironic thing is that he’d finally quit smoking a couple months earlier.”
“I’m sorry.” The words seemed inadequate somehow. “I didn’t know.”
“There a lot of things about me you don’t know, Mandy. Things you don’t bother to find out. The reason I don’t smoke is just one of them.”
“It’s not in my nature to delve into other people’s personal lives.” She defended her attitude.
“Why not? Afraid they might return the favor?”
Amanda wearily shoved her hair away from her face. “Brady, I don’t find it easy to talk about my past.”
“I realize that,” he said in a softer tone. “And I’m not pressing for your life story. I’d just like you to open up a little, Mandy. I want to be your friend.”
“Just my friend?”
“And your lover.”
“No one could accuse you of beating around the bush,” she wryly observed.
“You did ask,” he reminded her.
“So? Since when have you started doing what I ask?”
“I like to indulge you occasionally. And I’d love to indulge in you frequently,” he murmured with that intimate inflection that never failed to get to her. “But you’re right, it is getting late.”
Amanda accompanied him to the front door where she said, “Thanks.”
“For the directional lesson?” he questioned, referring to their dalliance on the couch.
“For the offer to be my friend,” she answered sincerely. “For leaving without a hassle.”
Brady reached out to brush the back of his hand across her cheek and drop a swift kiss onto her upturned lips. “Good night.”
Four days later Amanda was walking down the college’s front steps, heading for the faculty parking lot, when a voice hailed her from behind. Recognizing it as belonging to Guy Lox, she increased her pace but to no avail.
“Amanda, didn’t you hear me calling you?” he demanded peevishly, his breath coming in rapid little bursts because of his scramble down the stairs.
“I was on my way home, Professor.”
Guy’s eyes narrowed ominously at her cool dismissal. “Come have a drink with me,” he said.
“She can’t,” another voice interceded on her behalf. “Amanda is going to give me a ride back to headquarters. Police business.”
“Sounds like funny business to me,” Guy muttered.
“Then it’s just as well we’re not asking you,” Brady smoothly returned, grasping Amanda’s arm and leading her toward the parking lot.
Looking over her shoulder, Amanda saw Guy stood fuming on the cement steps, clearly furious at the turn of events. His ferret face wore a look that promised revenge as he pivoted and returned to the building.
Once they reached the parking lot, Brady asked, “Where’s your car?”
“It’s over there.” She pointed to the next aisle.
Brady headed toward a sedate sedan while Amanda walked up to the car beside it. “This one’s mine,” she pointed out, remembering for the first time that he’d never seen her car before because the red Porsche had always been safely tucked away in the garage.
Brady’s low whistle of admiration was accompanied by a look of exaggerated disbelief. “This can’t be Amanda’s car,” he said.
“No? Then whose car is it?”
“Mandy’s.”
Amanda had to laugh at the lazy smugness of his voice, “You make it sound as though I have a split personality.”
“Not split,” he
answered seriously. “I’d say more like divided—against yourself.”
“I had no idea they taught clinical psychology at the police academy,” she shot back, shaken by his accurate analysis.
“Clinical is not a term that applies in relation to you,” Brady dryly returned.
Amanda made no reply as she unlocked the passenger door
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