“We talked about this, remember?” Removing her hands, he bent forward to kiss her again. “You said yourself that he might blame Butch for inciting him.”

When Jonah cupped her br**sts, she wanted to experience everything he could make her feel, but her doubts made her resist. Why did Butch drive to the Schultzes’ cabin? Knowing what she did of him, Francesca couldn’t believe he’d done it to help Dean, or even to assist the police in capturing him. What Jonah’s security guard had seen was a loose thread….

She opened her mouth to say this, but Jonah held a finger to her lips. “They have a confession, Fran.”

Her arousal made her feel tipsy. “Maybe Dean’s confused and Butch is taking advantage of that.”

“Stop,” he whispered, and his lips moved across her cheek to her ear and then her neck. “We have better things to do than poke holes in Finch’s case. Let’s go home.”

The way Jonah touched her was the perfect balance between familiarity and exploration, and she loved how he kissed. Why not let go, as he suggested, and simply enjoy the physical expression of what they felt? Perhaps the investigators would reveal more damning evidence in the morning, evidence that would support Dean’s confession and eliminate their doubts.

With that hope in mind, she allowed Jonah to lead her out to their cars. But as she got behind the wheel and he followed her home, she considered what Dean had said when he was standing in her bedroom last night. He’d talked about his mother. Elaine’s connection to anything that had happened still wasn’t clear. And he’d pointed a finger at his brother-in-law. I’m not going to kill you. Whether you die is up to Butch. He’s the murderer.

Had he been passing the buck—or telling the truth?

31

The second time they made love was far less reverent and far more passionate than the first. It was almost as if they were trying to make up for every fear, every hurt, every longing. The past faded, and so did the details of the case. Only Jonah existed in this new universe, yet Francesca felt that everything was finally as it should be.

“I missed you,” he murmured, pulling her close as they were about to fall asleep. “God, how I missed you.”

She touched his face, traced his lips with her finger. “Then I take it you’re the one who put every picture I have of Roland Perenski facedown?”

He chuckled. “You saw that?”

“We weren’t home ten minutes before those pictures disappeared.”

“I can’t stand the guy.”

“You don’t even know him,” she said, laughing.

“I hate that I let him take my place, that I wasn’t the one to travel with you to Washington, D.C., and everywhere else you went.”

She played with his hair, letting the locks fall through her fingers. “I never loved him,” she admitted. “As hard as I tried, I couldn’t love him. That’s why we broke up.”

He rolled over and rested his head on her chest. “Why do you think you couldn’t love him?”

She stopped touching him and simply stared at what she could see of his face in the dark. “Because I never stopped loving you.” That was a frightening confession, one she’d been loath to make, even to herself, but it was true.

Slumping onto the pillows, he grew silent and Francesca sensed that his mood had become slightly morose.

“That makes you unhappy?” she said.

“No.” He took her hand, kissed her fingers. “It makes me want to explain what life was like for me when we first met, but…I’m hesitant to bring it up.”

She noticed that the storm outside had quieted. “Tell me.”

“You asked, at the motel, about the secret I keep for my ex-wife.”

“Lori.”

“Yes.”

She sat up. “And now you’re going to tell me?”

He leaned against the headboard. “I’m thinking about it.”

Francesca wanted him to trust her enough, to be able to say anything, but she also feared how she might react, considering the problems they’d had in the past. Had he been in love with Lori when he claimed to be in love with her? Was he still carrying a torch for his ex? He’d never even hinted at such a thing—the exact opposite, in fact—but her fears suggested the worst. And he was obviously uncomfortable about what he had to reveal. “She broke your heart?”

“It was more that she shattered my confidence.”

“By…”

“She left me for someone else, someone she’d been seeing all along.”

Francesca could understand why he might be reluctant to delve into this, given his own indiscretion with Adriana, and became even uneasier about hearing it. She’d just forgiven him. They were trying to start over. Why dredge up all the negative feelings?

On the other hand, maybe it was time for him to talk—and for her to listen, with her heart open instead of closed, as it had been for the past ten years. “So…you decided to pass along the hurt by doing the same thing?”

“No. I panicked.”

“You told me you loved me.”

“I did. That was the problem.”

“I don’t understand.”

Judging by the pause that followed, he was collecting his thoughts.

“Lori left me for a woman, Fran,” he said at length. “She’s a lesbian, was then, too, and somehow that made the end of our marriage so much more…complicated.”

Francesca blinked in surprise. This was the last thing she’d expected, probably because she was so attracted to Jonah she couldn’t imagine a woman choosing another man over him, let alone another woman. But she kept her mouth shut.

“I told myself it shouldn’t matter whether it was a man or a woman. Someone else was someone else,” he continued. “But…I was young and immature, and not only was I hurt, I was humiliated and embarrassed. I couldn’t even tell my closest friends. She’d asked me not to for fear word would get back to her family. They still don’t know the woman she’s living with is anything more than a roommate from college.”

At this point, Francesca had to interrupt. “How could they miss it?”

“I’m sure denial plays a role. And they have her marriage to me to prove otherwise.”

“Why would you be duty-bound to keep her secret? After what she did to you, you certainly didn’t owe her that.”

“I told myself to take the high road. Or maybe I was just protecting my ego. Who knows? It was hard enough that my marriage had failed, especially after such a short time. What guy wants to admit losing his wife to another woman?” The muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he adjusted his position. “Anyway, I preferred to forget her, my marriage, the whole thing, as quickly as possible. And I thought I’d done that. I’d moved from Mesa to Phoenix, had met you, was no longer remotely in love with her. But…I couldn’t seem to get over the rejection I’d experienced. I think now that I sabotaged our relationship so I wouldn’t have to face how much I cared.”




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