Conception Cover-Up. Karen Lawton Barrett
it carefully on the side table. “I really don’t want to talk about this, Caleb, so—”
“You might not want to,” he interrupted, “but you need to.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “So now you’re a psychologist?”
The sarcasm didn’t bother him. It meant he’d gotten to her. He didn’t know why this was so important, but it was. “You can be as rude as you like. It doesn’t change the fact that you could use a sympathetic ear. And I need something to keep my mind off my friend.”
Shannon searched his expression, looking for signs of manipulation. What she found was genuine concern. “Tony Garrett,” she supplied, still a little reluctant. “He was my husband.”
“Was?”
His expression was interested, not avidly curious. He wasn’t looking for a sensational story. He was offering an ear.
Needing to move, she got to her feet and walked over to put her mug in the sink.
For days after Tony’s death his fellow officers had dropped by. They’d offered her a shoulder to cry on, too. But she’d gotten the feeling that they needed to talk about Tony, to reassure themselves that the same thing wouldn’t happen to them. When she’d tried to express her own frustration, they’d turned off. They didn’t want to hear what their wives and girlfriends felt when their loved ones put their lives on the line time and time again.
She walked back into the living area. Caleb had set his empty mug on the coffee table. “Can I get you anything else?”
He shook his head. “Come sit down.”
She sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. Two seat cushions separated them. It wasn’t enough. She could feel the warmth radiating from him. His arms were tanned and muscular, their strength undiminished by the cuts and bruises that marred the flesh. Her fingers tingled as if remembering the texture of his skin.
She wrapped her arms around her waist to keep from reaching out. What the heck had gotten into her? Had she lived within her self-imposed seclusion so long that she was ready to throw herself at any man who came along?
“Shannon? Are you all right? I’m sorry I pressed you. If it’s still too painful to talk about your husband…”
She looked at Caleb, saw the concern on his handsome face and knew that he was not just “any man.”
“I’m fine.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “I was just thinking.” About him, not about Tony, as Caleb must have thought.
The twinge of guilt that followed loosened her tongue. “Tony was a police officer in San José. He was killed three years ago in the line of duty.”
“I’m sorry.”
The simple words eased the lump in her throat. Her friend Zoe had often told her she’d feel better if she talked about it, but she’d never been able to discuss Tony with anyone, even her best friend. Was that why she’d suddenly decided to talk? Or was it just a cover-up for her inappropriate feelings?
“Don’t stop now.” Caleb touched her hand.
The resulting tremor rocked her to her toes.
She pulled her hand back, looked away. Oh, no, she could not have this. He was a lost soul, just passing through. And she? She was even more lost than he was. No matter how her senses reacted to him, physical attraction did not equal a relationship. And even if it did, a relationship was the last thing she wanted.
“Shannon?” he said softly. “Tell me what happened.”
And because telling Tony’s story suddenly seemed easier than dealing with her own feelings, she did.
“It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot. Tony was very brave and capable. But his sense of responsibility for his fellow officers…” She gazed into the fire, remembering. “He was always first—the first to arrive, the first to volunteer.”
“The first to be wounded?”
She nodded. “I can’t count the times I had to go to the emergency room to pick him up.” Gashes, knife wounds, bullets. “Time after time, I’d tend Tony’s wounds. Time after time, he’d go back to the job.” Eagerly, happily, as soon as he could, she remembered bitterly. “Being a police officer was his life.”
“And in the end it was his death,” Caleb said quietly.
Shannon nodded.
“I don’t mean to be judgmental, but it sounds like he was reckless.”
She half laughed, feeling no humor. “Men are. Haven’t you noticed?”
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