They’d sit together in secluded spots like this and make all kinds of plans about their future together.
Until that one night changed everything.
And then Dante had up and left without a word.
So much for their pledge to spend forever together, no matter what.
“You thinking about work, or about me?” he asked, forcing her gaze from her cup of coffee and her thoughts away from the past.
“Work.” She wouldn’t tell him her thoughts had been centered on him. He didn’t need to know that him showing up had dredged up memories she’d long ago buried.
“Any leads on George?”
“I can’t tell you that. It’s an ongoing investigation, one in which you might be a suspect.”
He laughed, and the sound rippled through her nerve endings.
“You aren’t serious about that. It was George who was killed. My foster father.”
She shrugged. “So?”
“And I just got here.”
“I hear better excuses than that from people who pulled the trigger with witnesses standing right in front of them.”
“And probably lousy excuses from those who didn’t. Isn’t it your job to weed out those who did from those who didn’t?”
Wasn’t he a smart-ass? “Yes.”
“Then I guess it won’t take you long to figure out I had nothing to do with George’s murder.”
She drained the cup and refilled, not taking her eyes off Dante while she poured.
“You’re wondering about my motivation for showing up all of a sudden after twelve years, and ending up right in the middle of a murder.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
“Some things come back pretty easily.” He shrugged. “I used to know a lot about your thoughts.”
“I was sixteen at the time, Dante. I didn’t have too many thoughts back then that didn’t center on you. Pretty easy to figure me out.”
He leaned forward, clasped his hands together. “And now you’re all complex?”
She frowned. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s easy enough to tell.” He leaned back. “You’d have to be with the job you do. Solving crime requires a lot of thought.”
She cracked a smile. “Any particular reason you’re trying to flatter me?”
“Just stating the obvious. No flattery intended. You can’t be a fumbling dumbass and make detective.”
Settling in and talking to him was easy. She hated that he’d made it so easy.
Her food arrived and just in time, since her stomach grumbled. Vending-machine food for the past ten hours just hadn’t cut it. She was starving. She dived in as if she hadn’t eaten in… God, she couldn’t remember when she’d had her last decent meal. Ignoring Dante, she put all her concentration into shoveling food in her mouth, not coming up for air until she’d scooped the last of her eggs onto her last bite of toast. She avoided licking her fingers because she had company at the table, instead used her napkin to wipe her hands.
When she looked up, Dante was studying her again.
“What?”
“You used to pick at your food. I was always afraid you were anorexic.”
She snorted. “I wasn’t. I was a picky eater. Clearly, I’m not one now.”
“Obviously. You crammed every bite of food from that plate into your mouth. I was waiting for you to lick the plate clean.”
“I pondered it, then decided against it. You might have been appalled.”
He laughed. “Hey, if you’re hungry, go for it. Or you could just order another meal.”
She drained her orange juice and set the glass and plate to the side. “Not necessary. I’m sufficiently full now.”
“It’s nice to see you eating.”
“I’ve gained an appetite over the years.”
He shifted and looked under the table.
“What are you doing?”
He straightened, his gaze roaming from her face to the rest of her. “Checking to see if you have a hollow leg, because judging from your body there’s no way you can eat that much and not gain weight.”
She laughed. “I burn it all off working. And it’s not like I get three squares a day of food like this. Most of the time I’m lucky to grab a granola bar or crap from the vending machine at the precinct. A full plate like this is a rarity.”
“You have someone at home to cook for you?”
Clever. “You mean like a housekeeper?”
“No, like a husband.”
“Nice fishing expedition. No husband.”
He leaned back. “Just figured by now you’d be married with kids.”
“I am married. To my job.”
“You’re too beautiful to be married to your job.”
“That’s a sexist remark.”
He didn’t appear concerned, just took another sip of coffee, then said, “Okay, then. You’re too beautiful to be without a man.”
“I didn’t say I was without a man.”
“So you do have someone in your life.”
“I didn’t say that, either.”
His lips curled. “Cagey.”
Despite her intent to keep her conversation with him cool, she couldn’t help but enjoy this cat-and-mouse game of Twenty Questions. “What about you? You certainly look like too much man to be without a woman.”
He leveled one seriously hot look on her that made her toes curl.
“How do you know I’m without a woman?”
She laughed, letting out some of the stress that had been tightening her shoulders. “I think if you had a woman somewhere you wouldn’t be sitting here with me.”
“You are a good detective.”
She lifted her cup to her lips and smiled. “That’s what my dad says.”
“See, this is what surprises me. You never wanted to be a cop like your dad.”
Her smile died. “Things changed.”
“You mean what happened twelve years ago?”
“I don’t want to talk about twelve years ago.”
“What if I do?”
“Is that why you’re back? To bring up the past?”
“No. I came to see you, to see everyone.”
She hated asking it, didn’t want him to think she craved the answer. But the question needed to be answered. “Where’ve you been?”
He shrugged. “Here and there.”
“That’s a lousy answer to give a cop.”
His lips lifted. “Yeah. But, really, not much to tell. I drifted, wandered, picked up work in one spot, then moved to another. I didn’t stay in one place too long.”
“I could find out where you’ve been.”