Should she ask him to slow down? No. She’d come out with Myles tonight to convince him that she was tough enough to take care of herself. Learning that she was frightened of riding on a motorcycle would hardly boost his confidence, especially when he seemed so comfortable on the bike, as if it was merely an extension of his muscular body.
“Fine!” she assured him.
Apparently taking her at her word, he opened the throttle, and she squeezed her eyes shut as they flew around the next turn and the next.
After that, Myles didn’t attempt to communicate with her. It was too difficult to hear above the engine. Vivian didn’t want to talk, anyway. The noise created a buffer that distanced her from everything, even her cares and worries. For tonight, her children were safe and so was she. Not only that, she had the whole evening, and the longer they traveled, the easier it became to relax. Soon nothing mattered except the speed and roar of the bike and the man driving it.
After an hour or so, Myles turned off the highway and down a dirt path that led into the woods. She got the impression that he was taking her to a cabin—and he was—but there was also a small clearing that became a beach. It sloped down to a lake about the same size as the one they lived by.
“This is beautiful,” she said when he cut the engine.
He barely grunted. He didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood. But she didn’t care that he wasn’t Mr. Congeniality tonight. With the sun beginning to set and the weather so mild, she was content to revel in the moment.
After lowering the kickstand, he waited for her to get off before swinging his own leg over the seat. She hesitated a few steps away, tempted to ask how he’d found this place. But she didn’t. They’d reached a tentative peace, and she didn’t want that to change. Besides, she liked being here without feeling any pressure to entertain him.
He set his helmet on the seat and she handed him hers, which he put beside it. Then he got a sack out of his saddlebags and strode to the cabin as if he assumed she’d follow. He didn’t beckon her or even turn around to see if she was coming.
Something had changed since he’d been at her house earlier. He’d made a decision. She could sense it. He’d been matter-of-fact, purposeful. For her part, she’d been so grateful he wasn’t pressing her for information about her ex-husband or why she had a gun in the house that she’d been willing to discount his aloofness as preoccupation with the murder.
Maybe he wasn’t pleased with the results of the autopsy or he was concerned about some aspect of the case, but so far he hadn’t even checked to be sure she’d brought her gun.
When they got to the door, he pulled out a key with a tag that indicated this was a rental. That was when Vivian realized he’d come here with a very specific agenda, one that had nothing to do with the murder—or the target practice she’d been expecting.
“What’s…” She swallowed hard. “What’s this all about?”
His eyes riveted on hers, but he didn’t answer. He just waved her into the cabin ahead of him.
With walls of half-sawn logs, antler light fixtures and animal-skin rugs, the inside looked like a clean but rustic hunting lodge. They passed through a small mudroom with pegs for coats and a metal trough for snowy boots, which sat empty. After that, they encountered a small kitchen and dining area with a view of the lake. A family room—furnished with a gas stove, U-shaped leather couch and bookshelves crammed with books, magazines and games—took up most of the ground floor, along with a master suite at the back, a half bath and a ladder leading to a loft where, Vivian guessed, she’d find more beds, probably bunk beds for renters who had children.
So…why were they here?
Her palms began to sweat as she became more and more certain of his intentions.
Folding her arms, she backed up against the closest wall. “I don’t understand.” That was a lie; she understood very well. Too well. She just didn’t know why he’d changed his mind.
He threw the keys on the kitchen table and tossed her the bag he’d carried in.
Vivian was almost afraid to open it. When she did, she barely resisted the urge to drop it and run outside. “You brought…condoms?” Her voice went up on the last syllable; she couldn’t help it. There was other stuff in there, too. Lubricant. Lotion. A G-string. She could hardly breathe as she took the G-string out and held it up. “Really?”
A boyish grin curved his lips. “Put that on for me.”
He couldn’t be serious. When she merely gaped at him, he stood in front of her with one hand on the wall above her head. “This is what you wanted, right?” He ran a finger down the side of her face. “What you asked me to give you?”
Yes! But that was last night. She’d been drunk last night. Today she wasn’t so sure. “I—”
“Don’t worry.” His thumb caught on her bottom lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. “I accept your terms. You can have it your way.”
“My terms?” There was an air of mischief about him. This wasn’t what it seemed. And yet…
His eyes met hers again. “No repeats. No strings attached. Tomorrow, we’ll go our separate ways as if it never happened. But for now, you can have it as down and dirty as you want.”
Down and dirty. He was trying to intimidate her, make her nervous. And it was working. “What about my, um…what about the gun? I thought—”
“You have it with you?”
“You said to bring it.” She removed it from her waistband and he took it but only so he could put it on the table.
“We’ll deal with that another day.”
“Why not now?”
He grinned again. “You’re stalling.”
Breathing became as difficult as swallowing. “It’s important, don’t you think?”
“It can wait.”
She twisted to be able to see her Sig. “How long?”
Cocking his head to the side, he blocked her view of anything else and gave her a look that taunted her sudden terror. “What’s the matter, Vivian? You were sure talking tough last night. Been making promises you can’t keep?”
Frantically trying to gain control of the situation, or at least to stop panicking, she licked her lips. “You—you turned me down, remember?”
“You’d had too much to drink. I couldn’t take advantage of my beautiful neighbor.”
“That’s the only reason you refused?”