"I don't need you," he replied, sounding as indifferent as he could. "For anything."

Allie's chest lifted, as though she had to gasp for breath, as if he'd just stabbed her or something. But the way his heart pounded and his stomach tensed, Clay knew he was probably feeling worse. He hated himself for saying what he'd said. It was the biggest lie he'd ever told, but he saw no alternative. As soon as he got out of jail, he'd left Allie a message telling her to find another job. She'd left him a message saying she wasn't walking away from his case whether she had a job or not.

The only way to get her to give up on trying to save him was to convince her he wasn't worth saving.

She glared at him for several seconds, during which he forced himself to act as careless as possible. He even saluted her before taking another drink of his beer. But it was Helaina, laughing behind her hand, that seemed to be the final straw.

Tears filled Allie's eyes, but she raised her chin and spoke clearly. "Whatever you want,"

she said and stalked off.

As Allie hurried through the crowd, the crushing pain made it difficult to breathe. Several people tried to stop her. She paused to respond to a few, mechanically going through the usual greetings, but it was mostly a blur. Grace had told her that Clay believed whoever had shot him had done it to avoid being identified. So she'd gone back to the cabin and interviewed every gas station attendant and store clerk along the route. Ralph Ling, an attendant at the gas station just before the turnoff to the lake, had some very interesting things to say. But what could she do if Clay refused to listen?

I don't need you...for anything. Those words hurt so much, she could hardly bear to think of them. And the angry glares she received from many of the people who used to smile didn't help.

Finally reaching the gravel parking lot behind the pool hall, she headed for her car. She just wanted to know that Clay wouldn't go to prison for a crime he didn't commit. And she wanted...

God, she wanted more than that. She wanted him. There was no use denying it. Beth Ann had been right. Allie had assumed she'd be fine because she'd known what to expect. But she'd been overconfident.

There's no one else, at least no one like him....

No kidding, she thought bitterly. She tried to wrench open her car door, but a male hand closed over hers before she could.

Clay had tried to let Allie go. He'd stood perfectly still while she disappeared into the crowd. Hadn't moved when someone called to Helaina, drawing her away. Hadn't so much as flinched when someone behind him said, "He cast Allie aside already? Me, I would've given her a few more days, taken her back to my house and--"

Because he couldn't tolerate hearing the end of that statement, Clay had bolted to the bar to order another drink. But he hadn't stopped there, the way he'd intended. He'd kept on walking, past the pool tables, the dartboards and the restrooms. Before he knew it, he was in the parking lot and jogging to catch up with her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, turning her to face him. "I'm so sorry."

Her eyes were full of confusion and pain when they lifted to his, which shredded the last of his restraint. He told himself to explain, to somehow convince her to leave. But he couldn't get the words out.

Bending his head, he kissed her instead--instantly drowning in the wet warmth of her mouth.

"I'm no good for you, Allie," he murmured. Some distant voice in his head told him it wasn't too late to put her in the car and send her off. But he was desperate to feel her against him.

And she was kissing him back as if she felt the same driving urgency. They couldn't touch each other intimately enough, couldn't get close enough.

Dimly, he could hear the music in the pool hall and realized he needed to find them some privacy. So he led her inside a small shed, where the owner of Good Times kept some lawn-and-garden equipment.

He barely managed to shut the door and wedge a narrow saw blade in the latch so it couldn't be opened from the outside, before he sat her on a crudely made shelf and greedily slid his hands up her skirt.

Allie gasped and spread her legs, and he felt his body's instant response. "I lie awake at night craving the taste and feel of you," he whispered. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone."

He felt her move, sensed that she was reaching above them. Then he heard a snap and light flooded the small, crowded room. She'd found the pull-chain to the bulb on the ceiling. "I want to watch you make love to me," she said. "I want to see it this time, your face, your body, everything."

Clay guided her hand to his pants, then held his breath as she undid the buttons. Her eyes never wavered from his until she was finished. Then she looked down--and he thought he'd never seen a sexier smile.

"Can you come home with me?" Clay whispered, easing her back onto the shelf.

Allie was covered in a light sheen of sweat and feeling weak from the bone-melting pleasure. Her clothes were halfway on and halfway off, and she still had her legs wrapped around his waist.

"I need to check on Whitney. If she and my mom are asleep, and everything's okay, I'll drive over. For a little while."

He pulled up his pants and started helping her dress. "This is crazy," he said. "This is setting us both up for a terrible disappointment. You know that."

She stopped fussing with her clothes and reached up to smooth the hair off his forehead. "I only know that I'm in love with you."

He winced as if it hurt him to hear her say it. "I don't want you to be in love with me. I don't want to feel the pain of missing you. And I don't want you to feel it, either. I have nothing to offer you. Don't you understand that?"

"All I'm asking is that you love me in return."

"And what good is that?" he asked bitterly. "Will it keep you safe and warm? No. Will it mean we can be together? No. I'm going to prison!"

"You're not there yet," she said stubbornly.

He shoved an impatient hand through the hair she'd just smoothed. "Let's be honest. You're a police officer. What are my chances?"

"I don't know," she said, refusing to go where he was trying to lead her. "A lot could happen before and during the trial."

He buttoned his pants in quick impatient movements. "You're avoiding reality."

"I'm being optimistic." She finished righting her bra and sweater, then hopped off the shelf and pulled down her skirt.

He caught her chin to make her look up at him. "Allie, if you don't stay away from me and make things right with your parents, where will you be if I go to prison? Do you think I want to imagine people around here thumbing their noses at you? Treating you like shit for loving me? Do you think I want to be responsible for the rift between you and everyone you care about?"




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