Instead of talking, she brought his mouth down to hers and her hand slid to the front of his pants. What had started as a one-night stand had turned into more nights. He wanted to see more of her. She wanted to see more of him, but it wasn’t love. She did not love Mick, but she liked him a whole lot. Especially when he laid her on his bar and, between the bottles of alcohol, she caught glimpses in the mirror of his long hard body moving, driving, pushing her toward a release that curled her toes inside her pumps.

It was sex. Just sex. Ironically, the kind of relationship she’d waited four years to find. Nothing more, and if she were to ever forget that fact, she had only to remind herself that while she knew his body intimately, she didn’t even know his home phone number or where he lived. Mick might say that there was something about her, but whatever that something was, it wasn’t enough to want her in his life.


The morning of Snowball’s vet appointment, Maddie packed up her kitten and drove into town. August was the hottest month of summer, and the weatherman predicted that the valley would heat up to a scorching ninety-three degrees.

Maddie sat in an examination room and watched as veterinarian John Tannasee checked out her kitten. John was a tall man with hard muscles beneath his lab coat and a Tom Selleck moustache. His voice was so deep it sounded as if it came from his feet. He gently looked in Snowball’s ears and then checked her bottom, determining that Snowball was indeed a girl. He took her temperature and gave her a clean bill of health.

“Her heterochromia doesn’t appear to affect her vision.” He scratched her between the ears and pointed out her other genetic defect. “And her malocculusion isn’t so bad that it will affect her eating.”

Maddie understood what he’d meant by heterochromia, but, “Malocculusion?”

“Your cat has an overbite.”

Maddie had never heard of such a thing in a cat and didn’t quite believe it until he tipped the kitten’s head back and showed her Snowball’s upper jaw was a bit longer than the bottom. For some strange reason, the kitten’s oral affliction made Maddie kind of like Snowball.

“She’s bucktoothed,” Maddie said in astonishment. “She’s a hillbilly.” She made a follow-up appointment to get Snowball spayed so that she couldn’t produce any more big-headed hillbilly cats, then she and Snowball drove to the grocery store.

“Behave,” she warned her kitten as she pulled into the D-Lite Grocery Store’s parking lot.

“Meow.”

“Behave and maybe I’ll get some Whisker Lickin’s.” She groaned as she got out of the car and locked the door. Had she just said Whisker Lickin’s? She was embarrassed for herself. As she moved across the parking lot, she wondered if she was destined to become one of those women who doted on their cats and told boring cat stories to people who didn’t give a flying crap.

Once inside the grocery store, she loaded up on chicken breasts, salad, and Diet Coke. She couldn’t find Whisker Lickin’s, so she tossed in Pounce Caribbean Catch. She wheeled her cart to the front of the store and register five. A clerk by the name of Francine scanned the Pounce while Maddie dug around in her purse.

“How old’s your cat?”

Maddie looked up and into Francine’s long face surrounded by eighties Flashdance hair.

“I’m not sure. She just showed up on my deck and wouldn’t go away. I think she’s inbred.”

“Yep. That happens around here a lot.”

Francine’s eyes were slightly googly and Maddie wondered if she was talking about the cat or herself.

“I heard there’s a second suspect in your book,” Francine said as she scanned the chicken breasts.

“Pardon?”

“I heard you found a second suspect. That maybe Rose didn’t shoot Loch and the waitress and then herself. That maybe someone else came in and killed all three of them.”

“I don’t know where you heard that, but let me assure you it isn’t true. There is no other suspect. Rose shot Loch and Alice Jones, then turned the gun on herself.”

“Oh.” Francine looked a bit disappointed, but that could have been her uneven eyes. “Then I guess the sheriff isn’t going to reopen the investigation and call that Cold Case show.”

“No. There isn’t a second suspect. No Cold Case show, no movie deal, and Colin Farrell isn’t coming to town.”

“I heard it was Brad Pitt.” She scanned the last item and hit total.

“Good Lord.” Maddie handed over the exact cash and grabbed her groceries. “Brad Pitt,” she scoffed as she put the bags in the backseat.

When she got home, she fed Snowball brightly colored shaped fish and cooked herself lunch. She worked on the timeline for the book, writing down events as they unfolded minute by minute, moving them around, and tacking them to the wall behind her computer screen.

At ten that evening, Mick called and asked her to meet him at Mort’s. Her first instinct was to say she would. It was Friday night and she wouldn’t mind getting out, but something held her back. And that something had everything to do with the way her stomach got light at the sound of his voice.

“I’m not feeling well,” she lied. She needed to put some time and distance between them. A little breathing room. A break from what she feared was becoming more than casual sex. At least for her.

In the background she could hear the muffled sound of the jukebox competing with several dozen raised voices. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just going to bed.”

“I could come by later and check up on you. We don’t have to do anything. I could just bring you soup or some aspirin.”

She’d like that. “No, but thank you.”

“I’ll call you around noon tomorrow to check up on you,” he said, but he didn’t. Instead he showed up at her boat dock, wearing a white Cerveza Pacifico T-shirt, a pair of navy blue swim trunks that hung low on his hips, and driving a twenty-one-foot Regal.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked as he stepped into her house through the French doors.

He removed his sunglasses and she gazed up into his handsome face. “About what?”

“You were sick last night.”

“Oh.” She’d forgotten. “It was nothing. I’m over it now.”

“Good.” He gathered her up against his chest and kissed her hairline. “Change into your swimsuit and come with me.”

She didn’t ask where they were going or how long she’d be gone. As long as she was with Mick, she didn’t care. She pulled on her one-piece swimsuit and tied a blue wrap with red sea horses around her hips.

“Aren’t you getting tired of me yet?” she asked him as they walked toward his yellow and white boat.

His brows lowered and he looked at her as if the thought hadn’t entered his head. “No. Not yet.”

Mick gave her a tour of the lake and some of the truly spectacular cabins that could not be seen from the road. He handed Maddie a Diet Coke from the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water for himself.

Set in the cloudless August sky, the relentless sun warmed Maddie’s skin. At first it felt nice, but after an hour, trickles of sweat slid between her breasts and down the back of her neck. Maddie hated to sweat. It was one of the reasons she didn’t exercise. That and she didn’t believe in “no pain, no gain.” She was a believer in “no pain is a good thing.”

Mick dropped anchor in Angel Cove and shucked his white T-shirt. “Before the Allegrezza boys developed this area, we used to come here to swim every summer. My mom would bring us here and later Meg or I would drive.” He stood in the middle of the boat and looked out at the sandy shoreline, now dotted with big homes and docks filled with boats and Jet Skis. “I remember lots of bikinis and baby oil. Sand in my shorts and my nose peeling like crazy.” He kicked off his flip-flops and moved to the back. “Those were some good times.”

Maddie dropped the wrap from her hips and followed him. They stood side by side on the swimming platform. “Sand in your shorts doesn’t sound like a good time.”

He laughed. “No, but Vicky Baley used to come up out of the water in a string bikini that kind of slid around, and she had this amazing rack that—”

Maddie shoved him and as he teetered, he grabbed her wrist and they both went into the lake. He surfaced with a loud, “Whaaaa, that’s cold,” while Maddie surfaced, trying to catch her breath. The icy water stole the air from her lungs and Maddie grabbed on to the ladder at the back of the boat.

Mick’s quiet laughter skimmed along the rippled surface as he swam toward her.

She pushed her wet hair from her eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“You, getting all jealous over Vicky Baley.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Uh-huh.” He grabbed the edge of the swimming platform and said, “Her rack isn’t as good as yours.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Droplets of water fell from a strand of hair touching his forehead and ran down his cheek. “You have no reason to be jealous of anyone. Your body is beautiful.”

“You don’t have to say that. My breasts aren’t—”

He placed a finger on her lips. “Don’t do that. Don’t dismiss what I feel as if I’m just saying something to get into your pants. I’m not. I’ve already been in your pants and you’re amazing.” He placed his free hand behind her head and gave her a kiss that was all hot mouths and cool lips, drips of water and smooth gliding tongues.

When he kissed her like that, she felt amazing.

“I missed you last night,” he said as he pulled back. “I wish I didn’t have to work late tonight, but I do.”

She licked the taste of him from her lips and swallowed. “I understand.”