Low Pressure - Page 113

He had his hands full when she opened the door to him twenty minutes later, fully clothed, but her hair still damp and smelling of shampoo. “What’s all this?”

“Vending machine toothbrushes. And paste,” he added with emphasis. “Two cheeseburgers, two fries, two beers for me, one split of white wine for you. We’ll toss for the peach cobbler. That was the last of it.”

While she spread their dinner on the round table, he took a quick shower, returning to the main room dressed but without his damp boots.

Bellamy seemed to be as hungry as he was, and they ate quickly, deciding to save the cobbler for later. He carried his second beer over to the bed, rolled the pillow into a ball, and supported his head on it as he stretched out on his back.

“This is cozy.” He patted the space beside him. “It could get cozier.”

“Cut it out, Dent. I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Sleeping was last night’s agenda. Not what I had in mind for tonight.”

With a decisive punch, she muted the TV. Then, curling up in the easy chair, she put her hands palm to palm and slid them between her knees as though to warm them. But it was also a slightly protective gesture, which should have alerted him to what was coming.

“What Moody said—”

He interrupted her with a long, drawn-out groan. “Talk about a mood kill.”

“What he said about you living with what nearly happened.”

“But didn’t.”

“Still, it can’t be easy to know how close you came to—”

“Taking out a hundred and thirty-seven people?” Watching her down the length of the bottle, he took another drink of beer, then set it on the nightstand and came off the bed, all in one motion. “Thanks a lot. I’ve now officially lost my buzz.” He moved to the dresser and leaned into the mirror above it to inspect the cuts on his face.

“Why did you voluntarily leave the airline after the incident?”

“Too bad it’s not Halloween. I could trick-or-treat.”

“Why won’t you talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t even need a mask.”

“It might help if you opened up about it.”

“Bad as these bruises look, I may still have them come Halloween.”

“Dent?”

“What?” He came around so quickly she actually recoiled.

But she didn’t give up and go away. “Why won’t you talk about it?”

“Why are you so damn curious? Morbid fascination? Are you one of those people who goes online to watch videos of plane crashes, people jumping off buildings, multi-car pile-ups?”

“Don’t do that.”

“What am I doing?”

“Slamming the door. Getting defensive. Is that how you were with the investigators?”

“No, we all became chums. Christmas cards. Birthday greetings. They name their babies after me.”

She frowned. “You told me that the only way you can relate to a woman is sexually.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

Tags: Sandra Brown Mystery
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