“What I meant,” I continued, my cheeks warming as I floundered under his gunslinger glare, “is that I was able to sneak away from Aunt Zoe’s for a bit to come see you.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why?”

  “Why me?”

  I was getting tired of this twenty-questions game. I set my bottle on the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s with all of the questions, Doc? Just tell me what you want me to say.”

  “I want you to tell me why tonight you were willing to push aside all of the reasons that you normally can’t come to see me.”

  “Reasons I can’t see you? You mean Natalie?”

  “Natalie, Addy, Layne, your boss, Detective Cooper, half the town of Deadwood, and most of Lead.”

  I took a step back, winded a little by the underlying anger simmering in his voice. “You’re mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad, Violet. I’m just tired of being kept at arm’s length until you can find a ‘free moment’ to fit me in.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Hell, Wymonds gets to spend more time alone with you than I do.”

  I could strangle Jeff for opening his big, stupid mouth. “If this is about Jeff and that comment of his in the paper—”

  Doc waved that off. “I don’t think you’re screwing around with Wymonds, no matter how much he wants to play ‘house’ with you.”

  “What then? You want to go on dates? I told you that as soon as Natalie stops staying with me, I can—”

  “You can what?” he scoffed. “Sneak over here more often for a romp or two and then slink home again?”

  Yes. “No.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Violet.”

  “I’m not. Jesus, Doc, what do you want from me? I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve been dealt.”

  “No, you’re not.” His tone challenged.

  I lifted my chin. “What do you want from me?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, frowning, and then shook his head and gulped more beer.

  “What, Doc?” My stomach clenched with the fear that he was going to tell me he wanted me to walk out his door and leave him alone for good. “Say it.”

  “I want you to make a choice.”

  Or that he’d ask me to make a choice.

  “Between you and Natalie,” I finished for him.

  I’d dreaded this moment for weeks, but never fully believed he’d actually make me choose between him and my best friend.

  “No, not that.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “God, this is so—never mind. Forget it. Tell me who you think the murderer is.” He swallowed more beer.

  I almost let him sidetrack me, but he’d lowered his shield there for a moment, and I wasn’t going to let him put it back up quite yet.

  “How many women have you been with, Doc?”

  His frown deepened, adding vertical creases between his eyebrows. “I’d rather talk about a decapitated corpse.”

  “How many?”

  He shrugged. “Enough.”

  I nodded, absorbing that tidbit of his history. “How many have you been serious about?”

  “What do you mean by serious?”

  “How many of these women have been about more than just sex for you?”

  “I don’t know. A couple.”

  Tiffany? I didn’t let my jealousy distract me. “Only two?”

  “No. Just one.”

  “What happened to her?” I tried to prepare mentally for a tragic story about a long-lost love and the man who turned me inside out.

  “Nothing.”

  Well, that wasn’t very romantic. “You mean you just split up for no reason?”

  “We haven’t split up, but she did break my window.”

  I blinked as the meaning behind his words sank into my sleep-deprived brain. A wave of heat rippled outward from my core, melting my uncertainties about Doc, me, and our immediate future. “Oh.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “What was your point, Violet?”

  “I can’t remember.” His answer had left me spinning. I leaned against the counter, needing something stable to support me for a moment.

  Grabbing my hand, he tugged me toward him. “The choice I want you to make is to trust me.”

  Why did my jealousy have to flash loud and bright like a Las Vegas billboard? “I’m trying, Doc, I really am. But did you have to pick such a good-looking ex-girlfriend? How am I supposed to compete with her red hair?” Not to mention her complete lack of sag. It was abnormal, really. I suspected an alien invasion.

  “Boots, there’s no competition. Only you.” He settled me between his legs. “But I’m not talking about other women.”

  “You’re not?” I said, everything tingling in anticipation.

  He reached down and untied my robe. “No. I want you to trust me with your secrets. Stop shutting me out.”

  “Okay.” Right about then, I’d have agreed to shave my head and hand out flowers at the airport if it meant him following through with what his eyes were promising.

  His focus drifted down to my open robe. “Is that Elvis?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you wearing under him?”

  “What’s it look like?”

  “It’s hard to see through his black leather jacket. I’m hoping for a velvet belly dancer top covered with sequins. Maybe you should show me so I can be certain.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  He pulled me closer, his mouth hovering over mine, but holding back. “I want you, Boots.”

  “Yeah.” I nestled against him, almost touching his lips. “I noticed.”

  He groaned, holding me still.

  “Doc?” I ran my nails over his bare shoulders, down his chest.

  “What?”

  “I was at the Mudder brothers tonight with Harvey, looking in their garage and basement windows.”

  He toyed with the hem of my T-shirt, the back of his fingers brushing my stomach. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “I’m telling you my secrets.”

  “Oh, right.”

  His breath caught a little as I leaned forward and nuzzled his throat, licking the hollow at the base of it. He tasted like a mix of salt and sin—a sure-fire, high blood pressure cocktail.

  His hands drifted lower, spanning then cupping. “You said something about figuring out the killer’s weapon of choice.”

  My fingers scrubbed down his ribs, one at a time, nails scratching. “Scissors.”

  “I thought you said the neck was sliced, not stabbed.”

  “I did. Big scissors.”

  “Like loppers?”

  “Yeah,” I trailed my lips along the ridge of his shoulder toward his neck. “But with shiny slightly curved blades.”

  “Did you tell Detective Cooper about them?”

  “No. I can’t.” I sucked softly on the skin where his shoulder met his neck. “He’ll have me arrested for just breathing in the vicinity of Mudder Brothers.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “Mostly.” I breathed in his ear. “The man scares me.”

  Doc chuckled. “He’s not that bad.”

  “You should try being on the receiving end of one of his glares.”

  I nipped his earlobe, then sucked on it.

  Doc’s grip on me tightened, his own hips starting a slow grind. “So, you think one of the Mudder brothers had something to do with the murder?”

  “Or Ray. I’m pretty sure he’s mixed up in it, too—if not directly responsible for the decapitation.”

  “Why are you so obsessed with Ray?” he asked, his chest rising and falling faster under my fingertips.

  I really didn’t want to talk about that jerk right at this moment, so I kept it short and sweet. “He’s a dickhead.”

  “Besides the obvious.”

  Pulling back, I met his gaze head on, wanting him to understand. “I’m tired of him threatening me.”

  His jaw tensed. “He threatens you?”

  Sometimes. “Mostly my job, which endangers my kids and pisses me off. I want to take him down a notch.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Accusing him of murder is a little more than just a ‘notch.’”

  “He’s the one who got himself mixed up in this mess. I just keep stumbling into clues.”

  “Stumbling?” He laughed outright. “You’ve hidden inside a crate at Mudder Brothers. Seems more like you’re looking with a magnifying glass to me.”

  Maybe so, but it was time to change tactics. I let my fingers drift to the waistline of his shorts. “I need your help.”

  He glanced down at my hands, then met my attempt at a flirty gaze with a crooked grin. “So you said earlier.”

  “Will you help me?”

  “I don’t know.” He took my hand and moved it lower. “I think I’m going to need to be seduced into agreeing.”

  It was my turn to grin. I squeezed, then rubbed, spurring a deep guttural sound from his chest.

  “I’ll tell you everything I know about Ray and the Mudder brothers later,” I whispered.

  His brow wrinkled. Grabbing my hand and holding it still, he asked, “How much is ‘everything’? How long have you been working on this?”

  That was enough sharing about Ray and the Mudder boys for the time being. I pulled free of his hold and unbuttoned his shorts. “A little less conversation, Doc,” I said with a purr.

  In one fluid move that I probably wouldn’t be able to repeat even if I practiced, I swept my T-shirt over my head and tossed it aside. “A little more action, please.”

  Doc’s eyes darkened as he ogled my bare chest. “Damn, Boots.” He licked his bottom lip. “I can’t believe you used an Elvis line on me.”

  “Did it work?”

  He lifted me and spun me onto the counter. His lips and tongue answered my question.

  “Want to know what I have on under my boxers?”

  “Later,” he said against my bared skin. “I’m busy right now.”

  I leaned my head back against the cupboard doors, my fingernails digging into his shoulder muscles. Two little kicks and my slippers dropped to the floor. I wrapped my legs around his back, his skin burned hot against my cool calves.

  His mouth climbed to mine, his lips soft, teasing. His tongue tasted, then sought mine, the kiss deepening, growing more forceful. When he came up for air, he leaned his forehead against mine. “Stay with me.”

  My heart did an awkward flip-pitter-patter-flop, like it had fallen off the back of a speed boat and tumbled across the water. “You mean like long-term?”

  His eyes crinkled in the corners. “How about we start with just tonight and see how things go?”

  I closed my eyelids, feeling like a big dope. “I didn’t mean to sound like I’m hinting for commitment. I just wanted to make sure I understood—”

  “Shut up and kiss me, Boots.”

  If I did, I wouldn’t be stopping at just his lips, and we both knew it. He wanted me to stay. The kiss meant I would, risking Natalie waking and finding me gone.

  My libido won the tug-o-war with my guilt.

  “Okay,” I nudged him out of the way and hopped off the counter. “But not here.”

  “Where?”

  Grabbing his hand, I tugged him to the narrow back stairwell that led from his kitchen up to his bedroom. His broad shoulders practically rubbed the walls in the cramped space.

  “Shut the door,” I told him.

  He did, shrouding us in darkness. He moved forward to climb the stairs, but I blocked his path. We stumbled, his hands catching me before I fell onto the steps.

  “Doc,” I whispered in the black silence, drawing him against me.

  “What?” his quiet tone matched mine.

  “Here. Where you first kissed me. I want to finish what we started.”

  “It’s a little cramped.”

  “We’ll manage.”

  “I have a new bed, you know,” his breath fanned my forehead.

  “I know.”

  “Horizontal sex would be a nice change.”

  I climbed one step to be more level with him. “Humor me.”

  He pressed me up against the wall, just like he had a month ago. “You’re missing your boots.”

  “I’m missing my shirt, too.”

  His hands double-checked, his thumbs circling, flicking, lighting me up.

  “Violet.” His lips brushed mine.

  “What?” I writhed under his touch, lifting my knee to rub my inner thigh up and down his leg.

  “What do you have on under your boxers?”

  “See for yourself.”

  “It’s too dark.”

  I led his hand. “Feel your way.”

  He did, his fingers skimming, strumming, exploring. I swayed against him, the tightness inside of me swirling faster and faster. The heel of his palm rubbed against the front of my pelvic bone, adding a dizzying pressure.

  I gasped.

  He cradled the back of my head with his free hand, kissing me hard and deep. The taste of beer and Doc made me push my hips into his touch, wanting more, needing more.

  “Is this what you wanted, Boots?” he asked between breaths.

  I didn’t have it in me to speak, only moan. The tightness spread up through my abdomen.

  He increased the pace and friction.

  “I want to feel you let loose, Violet.” He whispered in my ear, his deep voice deliciously seductive, making me shiver.

  I panted, writhed, and pressed his hand harder against me. “Don’t stop.”

  He didn’t.

  “And when you’re done,” he said. “I want to taste you.”

  Yesssssssssss!

  “Oh, my—Doc!” I cried out. The tremors started deep inside and rippled outward, sapping me. I clung to his shoulders to keep from sliding to a heap on the steps.

  He held me up, leaning into me, pushing me against the wall. “You’re so damned sexy, Boots,” he said and found my mouth, this time with a gentler touch.

  I moaned, missing him when he pulled his hand away from me.

  His mouth hovered over mine. “I need to be inside of you now.”

  I shimmied out of my boxers and reached for his shorts. He caught my hand. “I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll be gentle,” I said.

  He let go. “You need to be fast.”

  His shorts hit the floor, then his briefs. I snuck in one touch before he hauled my leg up again and eased in.

  “God, I missed you,” he said in a growly voice.

  “Show me.”

  He did, slamming me against the wall.

  “Is that all you got?” I taunted, shifting my hips to take more of him.

  “Vixen!” Then his lips shut me up as his body wooed mine with a captivating rhythm that raced faster and faster.

  This time, he beat me to the finish line, stilling for a couple of heartbeats as his groans echoed in the narrow stairwell.

  I rocked my hips against him, luring more from him.

  “Holy shit, Violet,” he shuddered against me. “What are you doing to me?” He growled low in his throat and shoved deeper into me.

  “I’m so close,” I whispered, hovering on the edge of pleasure.

  He lifted me fully off the step. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  I obeyed and he shifted, lighting my fuse in a few strokes. I gasped his name again, clinging to his damp skin. He kept going until I stopped pulsing around him and lowered my feet to the floor. Then he buried his fingers in my hair, tipping my head back.

  Butterfly kisses brushed over my face in the dark, melting my heart even more.

  “Doc,” I breathed in the delicious scent of him and sex, hungry for more.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Take me to bed.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He led me up the steps and into his bedroom, leaving the overhead light off.

  His room smelled fresh, the cool air coming in through the broken window filled the room with a clean, pine scent.

  “Wait,” he said, and picked me up, carrying me around the field of broken glass.

  “Wasn’t there a screen on that window when you moved in?” All of his other windows had screens; I knew that for a fact as his Realtor.

  “It was slain by a rail during the bed delivery.” He set me down on the bed.

  I bounced a little, testing its softness, and smiled at him in the shadows as he slid onto the bed next to me and leaned on his elbow.

  “You have magic hands and fingers,” I said.

  The objects of discussion trailed over my breasts and down around my bellybutton. “You have unbelievably soft skin.”

  “It’s the peanut butter fudge ice cream I lather in every night.”

  “That reminds me of something I can’t stop fantasizing about. How long can you stay?”

  “Until dawn.”

  “Then you turn into a pumpkin?”

  “Or a mouse, take your pick.”

  He rolled onto his back and pulled me with him. I straddled him, sitting upright. He tucked his hands behind his head. “I like this view.”

  I rocked against him and he stopped me. “Not yet. Tell me what happened the other night when I left you at Cornelius’s hotel room.”

  I hesitated, unsure how much to admit. Now that I’d had a full twenty-four hours to think about the whole Wolfgang thing, my anxieties seemed silly. It was just another nightmare, probably made more intense due to not being home and in my own bed.

  “Violet, tell me.”

  Diving in, I said, “Well, Cornelius gave each of us a task. Mine was to run the recorder to pick up any random ghost chatter. He turned the lights down, started doing this weird chanting, and then …” I hesitated.

  “Then what?”

  “Then I fell asleep.”

  Doc chuckled. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

  When I didn’t smile in return, his face sobered. “What? Did something happen?”

  I shrugged. “Sort of.”

  He waited, his eyebrows raised.

  “I had another nightmare.”

  “During the séance?”

  “Yeah. Only it was different.” I hesitated again, anxious about how he’d react to my dream.

  He nudged me with a slight thrust of his hips. “Keep going.”

  “Wolfgang was there, which isn’t really anything new. He’s often in my nightmares. But this time he caught on fire and melted right in front of me.”