No Regrets

The thought kept him awake long after she was sleeping soundly, her head still on his shoulder, her body shaped to his. The scent of her surrounded him—floral perfume and female musk, so sweet and intoxicating. Only his growing uneasiness drove him to slip from beneath her, out of the bed.

He dressed as quickly as he could, watching her as he did so. He thought about leaving a note, but what would he say? He hoped she understood he wasn’t running away from her. Actually, he was, but he needed time to think, time to gain perspective and put the night in its proper place.

He left, shutting the door behind him, hearing the tumblers of the lock fall into place. If only it were as easy to lock away emotions and feelings and all the messy things that got in the way of a sane, uncomplicated life.

WHEN LEXIE AWOKE she sensed she was alone even before she opened her eyes. The room was too quiet, the only sounds were her own breathing and the muted hum of the air-conditioning unit. She rolled over in bed and stared at the empty space beside her. The pillow still bore the indentation from Nick’s head but when she reached out to touch it the space was cold. He’d been gone for a while.

She couldn’t say she was surprised. Though he’d been an intense, passionate lover she’d had a sense that he was holding something back. While his body had been fully engaged in their lovemaking, some part of his personality had remained aloof.

She could dismiss some of that as typical male behavior, and perhaps a portion was due to the cautious nature of a former policeman. But intuition told her there was more to Nick than a former cop wanting to keep things superficial. She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on with him, but she looked forward to the chance to find out.

She sat up and stretched, relishing the slight soreness that reminded her she had been well and truly sated the night before. Her boldness with Nick had paid big dividends. She smoothed her palms along her ribs, smiling at the memory of his hands on her.

He’d been right about one thing; last night had changed the situation between them. She had no doubt she could continue to be a professional assistant to him, but now there would be an increased awareness between them. Every interaction would have an extra edge, and even as she went about the mundane tasks of her job, she’d be anticipating when they would be together again.

And they would be together again. No way was she going to pass up a chance to enjoy another night like the last one.

Still smiling, she reached for her clothes and began to dress. She’d promised Nick six months before she left for Spain and other adventures. In the meantime, he was just the man to help her complete some of the more adventurous items on her list.

She laughed. Oh yes, she and Nick were going to have a very good time together.

NICK SPENT A GOOD PART of the weekend parked near Ellen Wittier’s condo, waiting for her mystery lover to appear. But from his vantage point he saw only Ellen by herself: talking on the phone, watching television or eating a solitary meal. Stan Wittier returned Sunday evening from his convention and all appeared well.

Maybe Lexie was right. Maybe the woman wasn’t cheating on her husband. He supposed it happened, that there were still married people who were faithful to each other. He just hadn’t had the opportunity to meet many of them in his two careers.

He’d told himself he wasn’t going to think about Lexie, but he might as well try to stop breathing. How could he not think about the woman when he could still feel her imprint on his body, still smell her scent on his hands? Every time he closed his eyes his brain insisted on throwing up the image of her naked, an erotic movie playing out against his eyelids.

Which meant he’d spent half the weekend with a hard-on and the other half annoyed with himself for getting so caught up with a woman that he let her distract him from his work. He was almost grateful when Monday morning arrived with its promise of mundane routine.

Except, of course, that Monday also meant facing Lexie again. He braced himself for her wrath. In his experience, women didn’t appreciate it when you walked out on them without so much as a note the way he had. They didn’t seem to understand that sometimes it was better not to say anything than to risk putting the wrong thing in writing. At least then you had less chance of your words being used against you.

“Good morning, Nick.” She looked up from her desk when he arrived, her voice cheerful, her ruby-tinted lips curved up in a smile. The sight of her, dressed in a clingy red top that dipped low in the front to show off an enticing glimpse of cleavage, sent a jolt through him. Apparently Lexie clothed could arouse him as much as the memory of her naked.

“Good morning.” He nodded to her, trying to act casual, trying to avoid staring.

“Did you have a good weekend?” she asked.

Was this a trick question? Was she waiting for him to bring up the events that had started off the weekend? Did she expect him to admit she’d shaken him up, and not in a good way?

“It was fine.” He threw the conversational ball back to her. “How was yours?”

She assumed a coy expression, her eyes sparkling with teasing mirth. “Oh, I had a very nice weekend. There’s nothing like fantastic sex to get things off to a good start.”

That she’d thought the sex they’d enjoyed was fantastic pleased him. Apparently he hadn’t lost his touch.

But then something black and ugly wrapped itself around him. She had been talking about the two of them, hadn’t she? “So what did you do this weekend?” he asked casually. “I mean, after Friday?”

“Oh, I went shopping. To the movies. Fun stuff.”

Alone, he hoped, then pushed back the thought. He didn’t have any right to tell her who to see or what to do with her time. One night didn’t give him any claim to her.

On this depressing note, he went into his office and shut the door. He focused on catching up on paperwork, and tried to forget all about the woman on the other side of the door.

But the woman apparently wasn’t going to let herself be forgotten. He’d scarcely pulled the first file from the stack on the corner of his desk when she came breezing into his office without even knocking. He looked up, annoyed. “Yes?”

“How did you spend your weekend?” she asked.

Here it was then. She wasn’t going to let it go until she’d wrung some kind of apology from him for running out on her. He frowned. “I really don’t have time to discuss this right now,” he began.

She sat in the chair across from his desk and crossed her legs, a good bit of knee and shapely thigh, clad in sheer black stockings, showing beneath the hiked-up hem of her black skirt. Did she do that deliberately, knowing the move commanded his attention?

“I know what you were doing,” she said. “You were watching Ellen Wittier. Did you find anything? Did her lover ever show?”

He shook his head. “No sign of the guy.”

“I’ve been thinking about this and I think you should let me talk to her.”

He shook his head. “No way. I don’t want her to get suspicious.”

“She won’t be suspicious.” She leaned toward him. “You said yourself she spends a lot of time alone. So she’s probably lonely. And lonely women like to talk. I’ll simply arrange to run into her somewhere and strike up a conversation.”

“Right. And she’s going to tell you—a stranger—all about her boyfriend?”

“I won’t be a stranger by the time we’ve talked a few minutes.” Her smile would have looked smug on anyone else. On her it was flat-out sexy. Confident. The smile of a woman who’d seen you naked and knew exactly what to do to make you beg.

Not that she’d made him beg, but it was a tempting fantasy….

He pulled his mind out of that trap and focused on business. The truth was, he wasn’t getting anywhere with this case on his own. And Lexie’s idea made a certain amount of sense. “All right. You can give it a try. But be careful. Don’t give anything away.”

“I won’t. Now didn’t you say you had her schedule?”

He opened a drawer and took out the case file. In it were the copies of Ellen’s date book that Wittier had given Nick. He handed the sheets to Lexie.

She scanned the pages, then tapped a pink-painted nail against one. “This is great. She has an appointment for a manicure at a nail salon in LoDo. I’ll make an appointment for the same time and it’ll be easy to strike up a conversation.”

He nodded and replaced the sheets in the file. “Let’s hope you find something.”

“Or maybe I’ll find out she really isn’t cheating. Our client ought to be happy with that.”

So it was “our” client now? He really couldn’t object to that. If she wanted to help out with a few investigations, he’d let her. But he’d make the rules about when and where. As long as he remained in charge, everything would be okay.

She stood and smoothed her skirt. “I’ll call and make an appointment at the nail salon right away.”

She turned to leave but he cleared his throat, stopping her. “Was there something else?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah.” His chest was tight. He hated this kind of thing but he wasn’t going to be a jerk about this. “About Friday night…”

He’d half hoped she’d jump in with another comment about how “fantastic” it had been, saving him from having to grovel, but no such luck. She fixed him with a level gaze and waited.

“Sorry I ran out like that,” he said. “Without a note. I—” He shrugged. “I’m not much for notes.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “About the note. Not that you left.”

Right. So she did think he was a jerk. He waited for her to let him have it, but she surprised him by sitting down again and pulling her chair closer. “It would have been okay if you had stayed,” she said. “I mean, I wouldn’t have read more into it than you wanted.” She smiled. “I just want us to have a good time. To enjoy each other for the next few months.”

Something like relief rushed over him, coupled with innate caution. “I did have a good time.” A great time.

“Me, too.” She stood again, still smiling. “Now that we understand each other, I’ll go make that appointment.”

He watched her go, then collapsed back against his chair, stunned. If he were one of those hard-boiled types popular in forties’ movies, he’d have a bottle of whiskey stashed in his desk for moments like this one.

Unfortunately, the only pain relievers in his desk drawer were half a bottle of aspirin and a roll of antacid. Not enough to sharpen his thinking where Lexie was concerned. She might think they understood each other but as far as he was concerned, there was no understanding women. Especially one like Lexie who was in turns tough and tender, who made love as if she’d never have the chance again and who hid secrets behind silk scarves.

But then, they all had secrets to hide, didn’t they? Private wounds they kept hidden from the world. Maybe that was what had unnerved him most about those intimate hours at the hotel: some part of him had recognized that Lexie might be the one to uncover those wounds, the one to learn his secrets. And maybe that scared him more than anything.

5

LEXIE WAITED IN HER CAR until she saw Ellen Wittier go into the nail salon. A few moments later, she followed. A string of bells attached to the door announced her entrance. The young Vietnamese woman who was working on Ellen’s nails looked up. “May I help you?” she asked.

“I have an appointment for a manicure.”

The woman looked toward the back of the shop and said something in Vietnamese. Another young woman emerged from behind a beaded curtain. “You pick color,” she instructed, gesturing toward a turntable filled with bottles of polish.

Lexie took her time perusing the polish, studying Ellen’s reflection in the mirror behind the manicure table. She was an attractive woman, perhaps in her mid-to late-thirties, dressed in an expensive-looking silk tank dress and Jimmy Choo sandals Lexie immediately coveted. Her hair and makeup were done just so. Either Ellen was very particular about her appearance or she had nothing better to occupy her time.

“I ready for you now.” The manicurist waved Lexie over to her table, next to the one where Ellen sat.

“Great.” She reached for her usual pink polish, then hesitated and impulsively grabbed a bottle of bright red dubbed Hot Tomato. The new, bolder version of Lexie was definitely a hot tomato kind of gal.

“How are you today?” the manicurist asked, her words a pleasant singsong.

“Bored.” She gave an exaggerated sigh and glanced toward Ellen. “I’m new in town and my husband’s away so much with his business. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Her attempt to draw Ellen into conversation worked. “What does your husband do?” she asked.

“He works for a software developer.” A safe enough choice, since Denver was riddled with high-tech firms, despite the tech bust a few years ago. “We haven’t been married all that long,” she continued. “We met at a fund-raiser in Houston a few years back and were immediately attracted to each other.” She shook her head. “I used to laugh at women my age who dated men old enough to be their fathers, and then it happened to me.”

“I know just what you mean.” Ellen managed a small smile. “My husband is fifteen years older than I am.”

“Mine is almost twenty years older, but you’d never know it to look at him. I think that’s what attracted me to him. He was so dynamic and sure of himself.” Amazing how glibly the lies rolled off Lexie’s tongue. Within a matter of seconds she’d created an elaborate fantasy for herself and her mythical spouse.

“Other hand, please.”

“Oh, sure.” She gave her other hand into the manicurist’s care. “Of course my family thought I was crazy to marry him and move to Colorado. Some days I wonder if they weren’t right. I mean, not that I don’t love him—I really do. But he’s gone so much and here I am.” She shrugged.

“Yes, that can be difficult.” Ellen turned her attention back to her manicurist. “A little rounder shape, please.”

Lexie’s smile faltered. So much for becoming best buddies with Ellen Wittier. She’d been polite, but no more. Lexie would have to think of another approach.

“How short you want?” The nail tech’s question distracted her.

“Oh, that’s fine right there. Thank you.”

“You say your husband is older than you?” the tech asked.

“Yes.”

“Mine is older, too.” The tech nodded, then rubbed the third finger of Lexie’s left hand. “You no wear ring?”

Lexie felt heat rise to her face. Damn! She’d forgotten all about a ring. “Uh, I never wear it when I have a manicure,” she said. “I’m too afraid I’ll take it off and then leave it behind.” She chuckled, and didn’t have to fake nervousness. “I’m still so new at this marriage thing.” She glanced toward Ellen, who was gazing out the front window of the shop, her expression blank. “I just wish my husband could be home more.”

“It is difficult when the two of you have to be apart so much.” Ellen turned toward her again. “It gets a little easier after a while.”

Does it? Lexie remembered the lonely woman who’d wandered the empty loft and then lain across the bed, crying on Friday night. “You sound like you might have a little experience,” she said. “Does your husband travel in his work, too?”

Ellen nodded. “Yes. It gets lonely sometimes, but it’s made me really appreciate the time we have together.”

“I wish my husband stay away more.” Lexie’s nail tech rubbed the buffing block vigorously over Lexie’s nails. “He under foot all the time.”

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