Leaning against a flagpole in the heart of Riverbend, Indiana, Tony Viera understood what it meant to be in the middle of nowhere.
He was somewhere, of course. He was standing in the shadow of the courthouse in Riverbend’s main square, his gaze fixed on the drugstore across the street. In a little while, he’d pay a courtesy call to the local police station to make sure the cops didn’t have any problems with his taking care of the business that had brought him here. But first he wanted to get a sense of where he was.
The middle of nowhere.
The clean, spring-fresh scent of the air, the sporadic traffic, the wide-open blue of the sky — it was like an alien landscape. Tony was a New Yorker, used to pollution, rumbling buses, bustling pedestrians, the vitality that electrified the city’s streets. Here, the tranquility seemed otherworldly.
Peter Linnett was in Riverbend — quite possibly in the drugstore. Tony’s boss had told him to find the kid and, if necessary, bring him back to New York. The whole thing shouldn’t take more than a day — which was good, because Tony didn’t think he could stand spending any more time than he had to in this one-horse town.
The drugstore door swung open. He started forward, energy coiling inside him. Not that he expected Peter to stroll outside and straight into his waiting arms, but as a police detective, he was perpetually ready for anything and everything.
The person who emerged wasn’t Peter — unless Peter had undergone a sex-change operation in the past couple of months. It was a young woman in a crisp blouse and slacks. Maybe five-five, taffy-colored hair framing a heart-shaped face, a cute pink mouth and a faraway look in her wide-set hazel eyes. She held a small canvas bag with a zipper-lock, the kind of bag shopkeepers used for carrying cash to the bank. Propping the door open, she turned and shouted something over her shoulder.
A clerk, he figured. If she worked for Peter Linnett’s father, she might know the kid.
It was so quiet he could actually hear the lilt of her laughter as she backed away from the door. Half-turning, she was still laughing, shaking her head as she stepped off the curb between two parked cars.
She obviously hadn’t noticed the white van cruising down the road, with Sterling Hardware & Building Supply painted across its side. It wasn’t going too fast, and neither was she, but someone was going to have to stop moving to avoid a disaster. The driver of the van probably couldn’t see the woman slipping out into the street between the parked cars, and she was still chuckling at whatever someone inside the store had said to her, and —
"No!" Tony roared, sprinting toward the street.
Too late. With a muted thud, the woman bounced off the edge of the van’s bumper and fell to the asphalt. She lay there, perfectly still.
By the time Tony reached the woman who’d been struck by the van, she was sitting up, dusting the palms of her hands and examining one of them, which was bleeding from a long scrape. "I’m fine," she insisted to the driver of the van. "Really, Mitch. I’m okay."
"I’m sorry," he said, sounding far from reassured. "The sun was glaring, and you just bolted from behind that car —"
"I mean it, Mitch. I’m fine."
Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why was she absolving the driver? In New York City, she’d be warning that her lawyer would be in touch. She’d be moaning that her neck hurt, her back, her leg, and asking him how much insurance he carried. She certainly wouldn’t be saying she was fine.
"Don’t move," he ordered her as she bent her legs and brushed small bits of gravel from her knees. "You could be seriously hurt."
"That’s what I’m thinking," the driver of the van agreed as he and Tony hunkered down next to her. "How’s your head, Diane? How’s your vision?"
"Just don’t move," Tony repeated.
"Oh, please!" She laughed — a sweet, musical sound that seemed as unreal as everything else in this hick town. "Stop fussing over me. It’s just a scratch."
She displayed her palm, which was scraped up past her wrist. Tony pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around her hand. Back home, cops were always cautious when dealing with open wounds. But she looked healthy and wholesome, and he wasn’t back home.
"I feel terrible," the driver mumbled.
"Really, Mitch, it was my fault. Is the money pouch somewhere?"
"Right here," the driver said, holding up the canvas bag. "I think we should report this to the police."
"Report what? I walked into your van, lost my balance and got a scratch. It’s embarrassing. Why bring the police into it?"
Because that was what police were for, Tony wanted to say — although he had to admit that in New York City, no cop would waste time writing this one up. They were too busy dealing with traffic fatalities and serious crimes to worry about a woman in need of a little gauze and tape.
And he shouldn’t be wasting his time with her, either. He was here to do a job. He couldn’t get sidetracked by a pretty woman with a bleeding hand.
"I’ll take you to see Dr. Bennett," the driver insisted.
"I don’t need a doctor. I can get this cleaned up inside." She gestured toward the drugstore, then rubbed her thumb over the square of white linen wrapped around her hand. She lifted her gaze to Tony.
"You should see a doctor," he urged her, his voice unexpectedly husky.
"You really do need to have Dr. Bennett check you out," the driver agreed. "I’ll run you over." He winced. "Bad choice of words."
"Maybe you should file a police report," Tony suggested. "I can take her to the doctor." And then he’d get back to work.
"Forget the police," the woman argued. "Do me a favor, Mitch, and bring the money pouch back in to Stan. Tell him I’ll go to the bank later." Once again she turned to Tony, and a small sigh escaped her. Her hand tightened around his handkerchief. "Do you really want to take me to the doctor?"
He really wanted not to want to. He really wanted not to have any interest in her at all. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. "Yeah."
"All right. Let’s go."
He felt a combination of relief, regret, and the certainty that he was pursuing something better left alone.
A faint smile curved her lips, and he knew that whatever it was, however wrongheaded it was, he had to pursue it....
Ordinarily, Diane didn’t get into cars with strange men. She might be absent-minded enough to walk into Mitch Sterling’s truck while it coasted down Elm Street, but she wasn’t stupid.
Yet this man was...different. His manner, his accent, the way he walked, the way his long, athletic legs shaped his jeans and his battered leather jacket stretched over his broad shoulders — everything about him shouted that he wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before.
Besides, he wasn’t a complete stranger. He’d told her his name.
"Tony Viera," she murmured, letting the syllables roll over her tongue.
He shot her a glance, then eased out of the parking lot. "What?"
"It’s a nice name."
"Diane Ellis is a nice name, too," he said.
It was a pathetically boring name, but she appreciated his lie. "Turn right at the corner," she directed him, squeezing the soft linen handkerchief he’d wrapped around her hand. "Dr. Bennett’s office is just a couple of blocks down."
He said nothing for a minute, then: "You work at the drugstore?"
"I’m a pharmacist," she told him.
"Really? You run the place?"
She shook her head. "Stan Linnett owns the business. He’s planning to retire soon, though, and he wants me to take over. I guess I’m thinking about it. He had hoped his son would run the place, but Peter has no interest in pharmacy."
Tony sent her another look, this one intense. "What does Peter do?" he asked.
She wondered why he appeared all that fascinated by the mundane details of Riverbend’s pharmacy. "He just moved back to town a few months ago. He was living in New York City — your neck of the woods." Tony had told her he lived there and was in Riverbend running a professional errand, which sounded intriguing. "Right now, he’s helping out at the store. He’s a sweetheart."
"Is he?"
"He’s like a brother to me." Sometimes she wished he was like more than a brother. She adored Stan, adored the store — and adored Peter. They’d grown up together, and they’d always been close friends. She wanted to believe they might eventually fall in love; eligible men were few and far between in Riverbend, and she really did care for Peter. But she never felt around him the way she felt around...
Tony Viera. A man she didn’t even know. Yet sitting beside him in his rental car make her pulse throb. His dark, penetrating gaze, his long, graceful fingers, the raspy undertone of his voice stirred something inside her, something thrilling and risky.
"That’s the building," she said, pointing it out.
He pulled up the driveway to the lot behind the building, shut off the engine and touched her shoulder before she could reach for the door handle. "Don’t move," he said. "Let me help you out of the car."
She didn’t need his help. All she had was a scraped hand and a sore knee. Yet his touch held her in place. She felt it through her sleeve, through her skin, through her entire body. It made her eyes mist and her head feel light.
Her dizziness was undoubtedly an aftershock of the accident. That the world seemed to tilt when Tony gazed at her, that her breath grew shallow, that the light pressure of his fingers on her shoulder had a greater impact on her than her collision with Mitch’s van had, only proved that she’d been shaken up by her brush with death.
She didn’t need Tony’s help. She didn’t need him at all. She could take care of herself. She was a little dazed, a little battered, but — really, she was fine. So why did she not want him to leave?
Less than an hour later, Tony found himself inside the drugstore with Diane. Her hand and wrist were wrapped in white gauze, and she was so cheerful he couldn’t believe she’d been hit by a van that morning.
Once again, he wondered at the utter strangeness of this sleepy village. Not only did the town itself seem otherworldly, but it was clearly inhabited by aliens, creatures who could bounce back after a traffic accident and ask for no sympathy, no special treatment, no financial compensation.
Or maybe it was just Diane. Maybe there was something unusual about her.
As soon as she’d stepped into the store, the woman running the cash register, the silver-haired guy behind the prescriptions counter at the rear, and a thinner, blonder, younger version of the silver-haired guy all swooped down on her, demanding to know how she was. Her laughter rose like bubbles above their clamoring voices. "I’m fine! Dr. Bennett checked me from top to bottom. Has anyone talked to Mitch? Is he okay?"
"Why wouldn’t he be okay?" the cashier exclaimed. "He wasn’t the one hit by a truck."
"He was hit by a pedestrian. I hit him. Isn’t that right, Tony?" She turned her luminous eyes to him.
The others looked at him, as well. "You hit his truck," he confirmed. "His truck is made of steel. You’re made of flesh and blood. I’m sure you sustained more damage than the truck did."
"I hardly sustained any damage at all. This is Tony Viera," she introduced him to the others. "Tony, this is Millie." She gestured toward the woman. "This is my boss, Stan —" she pointed to the silver-haired man " — and this is Peter. Peter, Tony’s from your old haunt — New York City."
Tony had already pegged the blond kid as Peter Linnett. Mid-20s, like Diane, a bit on the skinny side, and deceptively innocent looking. Tony bet Diane and the others would have a hard time believing the trouble Peter had gotten into in his "old haunt." But Tony wasn’t surprised. After nine years in the NYPD, nothing surprised him — except, maybe, the idea of a woman getting bumped by a van and not demanding compensation.
Diane felt arms around her, holding her. She couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything but those strong, safe arms, one under her shoulders and the other under her knees, and his firm, warm chest along her side.
"Don’t," she whispered.
"Don’t what?"
Tony’s mouth was so close to hers, his breath brushed her cheek as he spoke. "Don’t take me to the pharmacy."
"I’m taking you to this bench," he said, and abruptly she felt the flat surfaces of the bench against her back and bottom. "Open your eyes."
She opened them. Tony’s rugged, rough-hewn face loomed above her.
"I’m going to push your head between your knees," he told her.
"No, I —"
He flattened his palm against her nape and pressed down. Unable to fight him, she doubled over and let him press her head down. Her vision gradually grew clearer and the strange thumping in her skull faded.
Once she could make out the loose pebbles on the pavement beneath her feet, she tried to lift her head. Reluctantly, he let her up. His hand lingered on her neck for a moment, and his fingers stroked through her hair when he finally drew away.
"Don’t take me to the pharmacy," she said again. "They’ll make me go back to Dr. Bennett."
"Maybe you should."
"No. I was just a little lightheaded for a minute. I’m okay now." She gazed at him, praying he’d recognize that she was all right. She hated being fussed over — by Stan and Millie and Peter, and by Tony Viera. She took pride in her self-sufficiency, even though her friend Nora often warned her that her insistence on taking care of herself scared men away.
As if there were so many men in Riverbend she had to worry about scaring away. Her tranquil hometown wasn’t exactly a swinging place. While Diane wasn’t a swinger, she had to admit that if there were more single men her age in the area, she might put some effort into behaving less independently — if it would make any difference.
It probably wouldn’t. And anyway, Diane wasn’t good at acting. She was who she was, and Riverbend was what it was.
She breathed deeply. Tony’s chin rose and fell with her breaths, as if he was monitoring them. "I’m okay," she assured him.
"You don’t like anyone helping you, do you?"
"Not when I don’t need help."
"You shouldn’t be alone right now," he advised.
She smiled, hoping to put his mind at ease. "Should I hire a babysitter?"
He didn’t return her smile. "That’s not a bad idea."
She had to check the impulse to hire him. He had business to attend to in town, and he was a stranger, a good Samaritan who’d already let her take up too much of his time. "I’ll get Peter to keep me company," she said, aware that Peter was her second choice.
"I’ll stay with you," Tony said resolutely. "At least until I’m sure you’re not going to keel over again."
Did he not trust Peter to take good care of her? Or did he honestly want to spend more time with her? Did he feel the same shiver of awareness she felt when their eyes met?
"You should go home and take it easy," he continued. "I’ll drive you."
"Are you kidding? I just got handed a vacation day. I don’t want to waste it sitting around at home. Maybe we can have a picnic lunch down by the river. It’s such a beautiful day."
He seemed perplexed. "Your day began with your getting knocked down by a van. What’s so beautiful about that?"
"I got knocked down, but I got back up again. That’s as beautiful as it gets."
He contemplated her for a long moment. "What if you faint again?"
"You’ll be there to catch me," she said, searching his face. "Won’t you?"
He looked undecided, reluctant...trapped. As if he couldn’t bear to gaze at her any more, he turned to stare at the courthouse across the street, his eyes squinting against the sunlight. "For now." He sighed. "I’ll be there for now."
And then he would leave. She knew he would, and the truth pained her. Men like Tony didn’t stay in Riverbend. They didn’t stay in Diane’s life. That was why she’d learned to catch herself if she was ever at risk of falling.
She remembered the sensation of Tony’s arms around her and realized she was already at risk. But he’d be gone soon.
She wasn’t going to let herself fall.
"I hope you aren’t planning to come back to work today," Stan warned Diane once everyone was done shaking hands. "You’re taking the day off."
"I’m fine."
"Give yourself the day, see if any mysterious aches and pains develop. Did Julian prescribe a painkiller?"
"I don’t have any pain. He suggested ibuprofen if I need it."
"Well, you’re not working today," Stan said firmly. "I’m giving you a paid day off. Only a fool would turn down an offer like that."
Diane considered, then glanced up at Tony. "I’m not a fool. I’ll take the day off. Let me just bring the cash over to the bank."
"Peter took care of it. Go on, get out of here. And take it easy, would you? Anything doesn’t feel right, you go straight back to Julian Bennett."
Shaking her head and grinning, Diane turned and started toward the door. Halfway there, she paused and glanced at Tony again. Her eyes seemed to ask him to join her.
He had Peter Linnett within arm’s reach. He could interview the guy and determine if he should be brought back to New York now or allowed to stay in Riverbend until his testimony was needed at trial. This was why Tony had come to Riverbend.
But for some crazy reason, following Diane Ellis out into the sunny Riverbend day seemed far more important than doing his job. He knew what would happen with Linnett, but he didn’t know what would happen with Diane. And he desperately wanted to find out.
It was a good thing he’d followed her outside, too — because as soon as the door swung shut and the bright midday sun hit her in the face, she swayed on her feet, pressed her bandaged hand to her forehead and fell in a slow, graceful swoon.
Tony drove her to the cozy cottage she told him she rented. She apologized for its size, but it had three times the floor space of his efficiency apartment in the East Village — and he'd bet her rent was a third of his. He thought about lecturing Diane on the dangers of inviting strange men into her home, but somehow her trust seemed perfectly natural in a place like Riverbend.
She was better off trusting him than trusting Peter Linnett.
He leaned against the counter while she prepared tuna fish sandwiches and packed them into a tote, along with apples, and bottles of iced tea. Pulling an old blanket from a shelf in a closet by the back door, she sent him a dazzling smile and said, "all set." Her movements seemed sure, her footing steady. If she fainted again, he'd take her to the doctor, no matter how loudly she protested.
And then he'd clear out. He'd been a fool to volunteer to stay with her — and not only because he didn't want her trusting her no-good buddy Peter. The longer he spent with her, the more he...
He wasn't going to finish that thought. She was a single woman who lived in a poky little hamlet and dreamed of running the town pharmacy. He'd eat lunch with her and then take care of business. And when he was done, he wouldn't have to worry about her trusting Peter anymore.
They drove to a place called Riverside Park, along the river's edge. The grass in the park was a new green. Leaves budded and unfurled along the tree branches. Not far from where they spread Diane's blanket, a woman played catch with two preschoolers, the colorful ball so big the children had to spread their arms wide to catch it. They chased across the grass, squealing with laughter.
The river was silver, smelling of springtime. Tony thought about the rivers surrounding Manhattan. They were a glum gray, spanned by massive steel bridges that carried millions of cars in and out of the city. He couldn't think of anywhere in New York as peaceful as this.
"How's your sandwich?" she asked.
"Good." She seemed to be waiting for him to say something more, so he added, "It's so quiet here."
"I've never been to New York, but Peter told me it's noisy day and night. At two in the morning, he would hear traffic cruising under his window, and sirens, and people shouting to each other in the street."
"You get used to the noise," Tony explained.
"Peter never did."
"I don't think I could ever get used to this silence." He popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth.
She looked wistful. "I find it soothing."
"Have you ever lived anywhere else?"
"When I was in college. I wasn't planning to come back to Riverbend after I graduated, but Stan offered me a summer job. Then, when I got here, he said he was planning to retire in a few years, and once he did, the town was going to need a pharmacist." She smiled and shrugged. "What can I say? This place is my home."
Tony couldn't understand why a young, attractive woman would want to bury herself here. "What do you do on weekends?" he asked.
She smiled, obviously able to figure out what he was getting at. "Riverbend isn't a hot spot," she allowed. "But I've got friends here. I'm sure someday I'll meet someone and settle down. It's a great place to raise children."
The discussion was getting too personal, but he couldn't stop himself. "You'd like that? To settle down here and raise a family?"
"I'd love it."
Her words held so much passion, it was almost contagious. His Manhattan neighborhood was no place for kids. They wouldn't have such clean air to breathe, such safe, peaceful parks to play in. Too bad he was a confirmed city guy. If he ever settled down the way Diane dreamed of settling down, he couldn't imagine doing it in a place like Riverbend.
He wasn't going to settle down, anyway. He was a bachelor. A cop. Not exactly planting-stakes-and-raising-kids material.
"What kind of work do you do?" she asked.
He pulled an apple from her tote and took a bite, stalling for time. If he told her, she'd ask what he was doing in town, and if he told her he'd come to investigate her dear friend Peter, she'd hate him. He was only doing his job, and it wasn't his fault that the Linnett kid had gotten caught up in something bad, but...
He wasn't ready to have Diane hate him. Not yet.
"I'm a safety consultant." It wasn't a complete lie.
"A safety consultant?" Her eyes grew round. "What does that entail?"
"Keeping people from doing unsafe things."
"Like walking in front of moving vehicles?" She laughed. "Where were you when I needed you?"
"I was right there," he murmured. "Wishing I could keep you safe." Actually, he wasn't sure he wanted to keep her safe. One part of him wanted her to be his connection to Peter, and another part wanted her to open her soul to him as willingly as she'd opened her house.
Just by being with her, he threatened her safety. He wondered if she knew it.
He wondered if she knew and didn't care.
For one brief, crazy moment, Diane was certain Tony was going to kiss her. His gaze narrowed on her mouth and she found herself unable to breathe as he leaned toward her, lifting his hand to her cheek.
But all he did was tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Then he settled back and turned to stare at the river.
Her heart fluttered against her ribs and she sighed. For heaven's sake, she was acting like a silly schoolgirl. She was 25 years old, years away from sweet-sixteen-and-never-been-kissed.
Of course, she'd never been kissed by a sexy security consultant from New York City.
Nora would have urged her to go ahead and kiss Tony if he lacked the initiative to kiss her. "The guy's being a gentleman," she'd say. "That doesn't mean you have to be a lady."
Diane had never considered herself particularly ladylike, but she wasn't overly aggressive, either. Especially when the object of her aggression was so unlike any man she'd ever known. "What sort of security work brought you to Riverbend?" she asked when it became clear he had no intention of kissing her.
He continued to gaze at the river as he munched on his apple. The motion of his mouth transfixed her, his lips thin, his jaw strong. He chewed, swallowed, and shrugged. "I can't discuss it."
"Why not?"
"Security reasons," he said, a wry smile twisting his mouth.
He's a spy. The possibility struck her like a poke to the stomach _ and then she decided it was ridiculous. Riverbend had no secrets worth stealing. But she couldn't shake the feeling Tony wasn't telling her the complete truth about himself.
"Are you going to be here a long time?"
"I hope —" Turning to her, he frowned and shook his head. "I was going to say I hope not. But..."
"But?"
"But spending a while in all this — this silence... I don't know." He seemed to struggle against a grin. "Maybe it would do me some good."
"There's more to Riverbend than silence," she pointed out.
"Like what?"
"I'll show you," she said impulsively. Then she bit her lip, wondering if her offer had been wise. If he did have ulterior motives for being in Riverbend, he might have just set her up, subtly enticing her into giving him a tour of the town. His long, simmering looks and the casually deliberate way he'd brushed her hair back from her cheek might have been ploys to gain entr‚e into the community. He was softening her up in the hope that she'd unwittingly help him.
Her imagination was obviously in overdrive. Maybe she was still in shock from her accident.
He reached toward her and brushed that errant lock of hair behind her ear again, and she realized how very much she wanted to kiss him. Just the friction of his fingertips against her cheek made her wish she was braver, brave enough to go after what she wanted.
Peter Linnett finished restocking the shelves with deodorant. He'd never understand why women needed a dozen different brands to choose from. They all served the same purpose.
That stranger from New York bothered him.
He wheeled the truck to the next shelf, folded back the flaps on the next carton, and replenished the supply of face creams, making sure each bottle and jar was tagged and facing forward on the shelf. While his hands managed the stock, his mind wandered back to Diane's friend.
He racked his memory but couldn't recall anyone from New York named Tony Viera. He'd dealt with only a couple of guys, and he didn't think either of them had mentioned Viera.
Still, Peter was worried. Why would someone from New York suddenly appear in Riverbend?
At the front of the store, he heard Millie describing Diane's accident to the Reverend Kendall. Anyone who ventured into the store to pick up a prescription or a spool of dental floss had to hear all about it _ Mitch Sterling hitting Diane with his van, Dr. Julian Bennett bandaging her, the handsome, dark-haired fellow from New York who'd stuck like glue to her throughout the ordeal.
Why had Viera glued himself to Diane? Was he trying to get to Peter through her? Or was Peter just being paranoid?
He'd done things he shouldn't have done in New York. Surely putting in drudge time at his father's drug store in this mind-numbing town was adequate punishment. He didn't need some creep from New York hunting him down and causing trouble.
"Peter!" his father hollered. "Could you run this prescription over to Kate McMann at the bookstore? One of her daughters has an ear infection, and I told her we'd get this to her so she wouldn't have to leave the store."
Sure, Peter thought, placing the last jar of vitamin-e moisturizer on the shelf and marching to the prescription counter. I just love being your errand boy, Dad.
Penance, he reminded himself as he took the bag from his father and left the pharmacy. Maybe if Peter performed enough penance, ran enough errands, kept his head down and his nose clean, he'd get lucky and that guy from New York would disappear.
If he didn't...Peter had to warn Diane somehow. He had to protect her. On the slim chance that Viera was using her to get to Peter.... He wouldn't let her be used like that.
He'd seen the way she'd looked at Viera, the way her eyes had glowed, and her smile. She didn't date much _ who was she going to date in Riverbend? — and the sudden attention of a tall, dark guy in a leather jacket and jeans could turn her head. She was na‹ve. She didn't understand the way men used women.
At best, Viera would amuse himself with her for a while and then take off. At worst, he'd exploit Diane's trusting nature to get to Peter. Peter didn't even want to think about that possibility.
All he knew was what he sensed in his gut: Tony Viera was bad news. He was in Riverbend and someone was going to end up hurt. Diane or Peter, or maybe both of them.
Tony had never seen a grain elevator before. In fact, he'd never seen grain, except in bags in the organic-foods section of his neighborhood grocery store. As he navigated his rental car through Riverbend, Diane pointed out the acreage to him, the fields breaking with the new crop, tiny dots of green poking out of the tilled soil.
The air carried a tangy scent, and when he asked her what he was smelling she laughed and said, "dirt."
He'd grown up in Queens, and now he lived in Manhattan. What did he know about the smell of dirt and the endlessness of a Midwestern sky?
"They irrigate mostly in the evenings," she was saying. "If you irrigate in the morning, the water evaporates too fast. In the evening, it has a chance to soak into the ground. They won't be doing too much irrigating this year, though. We've had a pretty wet spring. It's been wonderful."
"Wonderful?" He snorted. "People become cranky when it rains in New York." Cranky enough to get into fistfights over the scarcity of cabs. Cranky enough to curse at and shove each other, to elbow one another as they hurried down the puddle-filled sidewalks. A nastiness settled over the city when it rained. The homicide rate dropped, but the domestic assault rate soared when people were trapped indoors.
"I don't think I'd like New York very much," Diane said.
"It's a great city," Tony argued. "The capital of the world."
"I know it's got good restaurants, and the theater. I'd love to see one of those big Broadway musicals. Other than that, though — it just sounds awfully crowded. And noisy."
"There's an energy in the city," he tried to explain, turning the car away from the grain elevator and steering in the direction of Diane's outstretched hand. Somewhere at the back of his mind lurked the thought that he had a job to do. But as long as Diane kept gazing at him, he couldn't seem to focus on his work.
"Riverbend has an energy, too," she said.
He grinned. "Enough energy to put an insomniac into a coma. This place is dead, Diane."
"It is not! It's full of energy! There's the energy of the rotating seasons, the cycles of life. And the energy of friendships. Everyone knows everyone here. We look out for each other. We help each other. Even on the coldest day of the winter, Riverbend is warm, because the people care about each other."
He was aware of another kind of warmth right in this car. It was the warmth of Diane's passion, her convictions. She believed in her quiet rural town, believed in it so deeply he could only imagine how deeply she felt other things, how passionate she might be.
Her warmth heated him. It made him want to taste that passion. He imagined it would be a flavor as exotic as everything else in Riverbend.
They'd reached a stand of trees by the river, and he pulled off the road and killed the engine.
"This is a really pretty part of the river," she said. "Let's get out and explore."
He got out of the car, but the river wasn't what he wanted to explore. When Diane met him near the water's edge, he gathered her hand in his and pulled her to him. Just one taste, he thought — one small taste of Diane's warmth, and then he'd take care of business.
This isn't love, Diane whispered to herself an instant before Tony's lips touched hers. I hardly even know him. It can't be love.
But it was something. Something deep and dangerous and exciting. Something that had never happened to her before, and wasn't likely to happen to her again if she stayed in Riverbend.
It was something wicked and wild, and she wanted it.
His mouth covered hers, possessive and persuasive. His hands were large and hard, one still clutching her uninjured hand and the other cupping her shoulder, sliding under her hair, stroking the skin at her nape.
Heat rippled in waves down her back. Her breath escaped her on a sigh and she leaned into him, letting him coax her mouth open with his tongue.
No one had ever kissed her so seductively before, so thoroughly. The heat built inside her, melting her, making her want much, much more.
I hardly even know him, she thought, but it didn't seem to matter. She'd been hit by a van that morning, and miraculously she'd survived with just a scratch and a few bruises. She wanted to celebrate. She wanted to revel in her aliveness.
Kissing Tony Viera was a revel, and a revelation. When she thought about it later, she'd probably realize what a foolish thing it was to do...but nothing that felt so good could be that foolish.
He was the one to break the kiss. As he pulled back, she averted her face and struggled to breathe normally. It almost escaped her that he was out of breath, too, his hand trembling slightly as he let it slide out from under her hair.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She lifted her head to gaze at him. "I'm not."
He brought his hand forward to trace the point of her chin, the edge of her lower lip. It took all her willpower not to nip his finger between her teeth. "I've got business to take care of," he said, though his light, sensual caress was hardly businesslike.
"I know."
"And once that's done...I'm out of here."
"I know." She appreciated his honesty in pointing out that this kiss wasn't going to lead to anything lasting.
But that didn't seem to matter to her. Every cell in her body had been altered by his kiss. Her blood sang with excitement. Her skin tingled. Her mouth, her breasts, her soul wanted more.
He wasn't offering more.
"How long before you're `out of here'?" she asked.
He closed his eyes and chuckled. "Don't tempt me, Diane."
She'd never thought of herself as a temptress before. The wanton temptress of Riverbend. Sure. "I only meant _ as long as you're in town, we could...well, maybe have dinner together or something."
"I don't think so."
"Why not?" When he didn't answer, she confessed, "I like you, Tony."
"That's because you don't know me." He pushed away and stalked back to the car. He hesitated at the door and turned back to her. "Trust me, Diane — if you knew me, you wouldn't like me at all."
With that, he got in, leaving her hurt and disappointed — and wondering why it was that the security expert made her want to ignore her own security, toss caution aside, and find out what would happen if she kissed him again.
Maybe her brush with death had made her recognize how much she wanted to live.
She loved Riverbend. It was home. But she wanted the excitement Tony brought with him, the risk, the madness of not settling down, not settling.
Suddenly, the life she'd always imagined for herself seemed tame and drab. One kiss from Tony had changed her even more than her run-in with Mitch's van that morning.
She'd survived his kiss, and now she wanted to live....
After dropping off Kate McMann’s prescription at the bookstore, Peter didn’t head directly back to the pharmacy. Instead, he detoured to the courthouse to find Diane’s friend Nora.
Nora was his friend, too, sort of. He’d dated her in high school, and they’d broken up right after the senior prom, which had led to some awkwardness. But since they shared Diane as a friend, he and Nora had managed to keep things civil. Now she was married, so he supposed their past wasn’t important anymore.
She worked as an administrative assistant at the courthouse, pushing papers around and keeping the bureaucracy chugging along. She’d put on a few pounds since high school, a layer of softness. A photo of her year-old daughter stood in a frame on her desk.
She wasn’t the same Nora he’d dated eight years ago, but she was someone who might know why a stranger had come all the way from New York City to spend time in Riverbend. Working at the courthouse, she had her fingers on the pulse of the town.
"Hello, Peter," she greeted him, glancing up from her computer as he entered her office.
"Hey, Nora." He hoped he looked confident; he didn’t want to tip her off to his concern about Viera. "Did you hear about Diane’s accident this morning?"
Nora’s cheeks lost some color. "What accident?"
He told her about Diane’s collision with Mitch Sterling’s van.
Even after he assured Nora several times that Diane was fine, she looked horrified. "Where is she now? Are they holding her at the hospital for observation? Even if she seems fine —"
"I don’t know where she is," Peter answered, keeping his tone casual. "She went off with some guy from New York."
"Who? A friend of yours?"
"I never saw him before today. He witnessed the accident, accompanied her to Dr. Bennett’s office, and then took off with her."
"Took off with her?" Nora frowned.
"I thought maybe you’d know who he was. His name is Tony Viera."
"Tony Viera? I’ve never heard Diane mention him."
"I thought his name might have come up in the courthouse rumor mill," Peter explained.
"I haven’t heard anything about him," Nora said so resolutely he had to believe her. "If you want rumors, you ought to go to the Sunnyside Café."
True enough. The Sunnyside was the best place in town to pick up gossip. If Evie Mazerik, the cashier, didn’t know what was going on, she knew who would know.
But he hadn’t thought of Tony Viera as someone people at the Sunnyside might be talking about. He figured Tony had come to town to settle scores with Peter, who had left New York rather than continue to do business with Leo and his partners. If Viera had anything to do with Leo, the town’s legal authorities might be up on him.
"Well, maybe I’ll mosey over to the Sunnyside," he said casually. "Would you do me a favor and let me know if you hear anything about this guy?"
"Tony Viera?" She jotted his name on a notepad.
"Because I’m worried about Diane, you know?"
What little color was left in Nora’s cheeks faded. "You don’t suppose he had anything to do with the accident, do you?"
"I don’t know. All I know is, Diane left the drugstore with him and hasn’t come back."
Thoroughly shaken, Nora bit her lip. "I’ll let you know if I hear anything," she promised. "And you let me know if you hear anything."
"I will. Take it easy, Nora." As he stepped out of the office he saw her reaching for her phone — probably to call Diane at home and make sure she was safe.
Peter hoped she was. He hoped he was, too. He didn’t know why he’d thought Nora might be any help, but she hadn’t been, and he remained as uneasy as ever.
His gut was still telling him Tony Viera was trouble. Peter trusted his gut.
Tony offered to drive Diane home, but her car was parked near the pharmacy, and she asked to be let off there. She could still taste him on her lips, still feel the erotic friction of his fingers caressing her neck, and the thought of walking away from him depressed her far more than it should have.
She’d survived what could have been a tragedy. She’d eaten a picnic beneath the mild May sun and cruised around town with a handsome man. Why should she be depressed?
She’d never wasted time yearning for things beyond her reach. But for the first time in her life, she wanted more than what she had. She wanted a tall, dark, handsome man to sweep her off her feet the way Tony had when she’d fainted. Even more, she wanted a tall, dark, handsome man to be swept off his feet by her.
Maybe she was being greedy, wishing Tony would cover her hand with his before she left his car and say, "Yes, I want to have dinner with you. And afterwards, we can go back to Riverside Park and dance under the stars. And I’ll tell you all my dreams, and you’ll tell me yours."
An idiotic fantasy. Maybe she was still a little lightheaded, her brain not functioning at full strength.
She watched him drive away, his parting words echoing inside her: "What happened to you today was a miracle, Diane. Don’t ever forget it."
He’d been talking about her coming through the accident with trivial injuries. And he was right; that was a miracle. But having experienced one miracle, she wanted another.
She watched as that other miracle drove down the road and out of sight.
Riverbend’s police station was around the block from the pharmacy. Tony could have walked there. But he’d had to get away from Diane before he lost his resolve and hauled her back into his arms.
He couldn’t do that. He’d be gone from her life by tomorrow, and before he left, he’d be inflicting some unpleasantness on her close friend. He couldn’t risk having the sparks flying between him and Diane catch fire. If they did, she’d wind up burned.
He entered the police station. Several officers stood behind the front desk, laughing at something one of them said. Tony approached the oldest of the group, a gray-haired man with a paunch. His uniform was neatly pressed, his badge polished.
"Hi," Tony said, pulling out his detective shield and displaying it for the man. "I’m Tony Viera from the New York City Police Department."
The man shook his hand in the way police officers greeted their brothers and sisters — a warm, solid clasp. "Frank Garvey. What can I do for you?"
Tony pocketed his shield. "I need to talk to a Riverbend local named Peter Linnett. His name came up in an investigation I’m conducting back home."
"Peter?" Frank Garvey exchanged a surprised glance with the other officers standing near him. "What investigation?"
"His father is a pharmacist," Tony continued. "We believe Peter may have put some people in touch with certain wholesale drug suppliers."
"Drugs? Peter?" Garvey looked stunned.
"Ritalin. It’s a hot new drug on college campuses. There’s a big business in illegal prescriptions, and I’ve got reason to believe Peter was in on some action during his time in New York. I need to talk to him. If I’m not satisfied with what he has to say, I’ll bring him back to New York with me. I’d prefer to avoid a formal extradition —"
Garvey shook his head. "Peter’s a good kid."
"Lots of good kids make stupid mistakes. I’m hoping that’s all this is, but we’ve got people under indictment and they’ve named him. I’d like to do this quietly if I can. Can I count on your department for help if I need it?"
"Sure," Garvey said, then added, "It’s going to break his father’s heart."
"I’d rather not break anyone’s heart," Tony said, the words echoing inside his soul as he recalled Diane’s sad smile when she’d climbed out of his car. Something told him that by the time he left Riverbend, someone’s heart would be broken.
Diane crossed the street and entered the courthouse. If anyone could pull her out of her funk, it was Nora.
In fact, the instant she entered Nora’s office, her friend’s face transformed from pinched and pale to ecstatic. "You’re all right!" she yelled, leaping out of her chair and racing around her desk to hug Diane. "Oh, my God, Diane — I’ve been trying to track you down! Are you okay? What happened to your hand?"
"It’s just a scratch. Dr. Bennett got a little carried away," she said, laughing at the elaborate bandage.
Nora stepped back, holding Diane at arm’s length and scrutinizing her carefully. "Are you sure you’re okay?"
"I’m sure."
"Good." Releasing her, Nora propped her hips against her desk and crossed her arms. "So who’s this guy from New York you’ve been running around with?"
Diane felt her cheeks grow warm. "How did you know about him?"
"Peter stopped by a few minutes ago. He wanted to know if I knew anything about Tony Viera. He implied that people in court might be talking about him. He isn’t a criminal, is he?"
"Of course not!" Diane had no way of knowing that, actually. She knew so little about him. That Peter could imply such a thing unsettled her. He was more worldly than she was. Perhaps he’d sensed something about Tony, something she’d missed because she was so smitten with him.
"I sent Peter over to the Sunnyside to see what they’re saying about him there. That place is gossip central," Nora said.
"I don’t think they’ll be talking about him." Diane dropped into a chair as if her heart was weighing her down. "He only just arrived in town. He’s here on business."
"What kind of business?"
Security consulting? "I don’t know."
"You were gallivanting around town with a complete stranger? Diane, that’s not like you. No wonder Peter was worried."
"He has nothing to worry about. I’m perfectly fine." Bluer than the cloudless sky outside, but otherwise she was swell.
"You know what?" Nora angled her head as she studied Diane. "I think Peter’s sweet on you."
"Really?"
"He was awfully worried about your spending time with this Viera fellow. I think he’s jealous."
Diane shook her head. Someday she’d be willing to entertain the possibility, but not now. "I’ve known Peter forever. I’d know if he had those kinds of feelings for me."
"Would you?"
Diane’s head ached from thinking too hard. She acknowledged that ever since Peter had returned to Riverbend, he’d seemed different to her, altered by his time in the big city. His eyes didn’t sparkle the way they used to; his laughter didn’t come so easily. When she asked him about New York, all he said was that he was happy to be home. But he didn’t seem happy.
He wasn’t the person he used to be. How would she know if his feelings for her had changed, taking a romantic turn?
"If he’s carrying a torch for me, he and I ought to talk about it," she said. Any other time, she might have found the idea interesting. But not today, not after she’d kissed Tony. "I should go find him." She pushed herself to her feet.
"Wait! Aren’t you going to tell me more about Tony?"
"There’s nothing to tell," Diane insisted, unable to keep her sorrow out of her voice. "He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met. But he’s — well, a New Yorker. He’d never even seen a grain elevator before today."
"So that’s what you were doing with him? Showing him the grain elevator?" Nora chuckled.
"I gave him an education," Diane said, thinking that with one kiss he’d given her an education, too. "I should let you get back to work."
"I’m glad you stopped by." Nora pushed away from the desk and gave Diane another hug. "Please be careful. Cross at the corner."
"I will."
She left the courthouse, exiting through the side door near Nora’s office. Sunlight slanted against the shops lining the eastern edge of Courthouse Square. She headed toward the Sunnyside Café, thinking to find Peter there.
Spotting him and Tony outside the café, she halted. Peter was frowning, shaking his head, backing a step away. He turned as if to run, and Tony grabbed his arm and pulled him toward his rental car. He nudged him down onto the passenger seat, slammed the door, got in behind the wheel and tore away, driving much faster than anyone ever drove around the square.
Security consultant? Or something more sinister?
Peter had been worried about her. Now she was worried about him.
Tony could have taken Peter to the police station for questioning, but he decided not to. In a small town like Riverbend, where everyone knew everyone else, the cops might interfere with him, protecting their local boy.
Sure, police officers were family; they watched each other’s backs. But something told him Riverbend was an even closer family, where loyalty to a hometown kid might be stronger than loyalty to a fellow officer — especially one from New York.
He headed for the grain elevator. It had been quiet there — he supposed there wasn’t much action at the site until the farmers had grain to put into the place — and remote enough that no one would see Peter talking to him. If he could make this whole thing easier on Peter, he would.
Funny, back in New York, he’d never cared much about making things easier for the people he brought in for questioning. Here he did. Was it the calming influence of Riverbend? The peaceful atmosphere? The genuine decency that seemed to radiate from everyone he’d met?
Or was it Diane?
Peter was her friend. If Tony made life hard for the kid, Diane would be upset.
He couldn’t imagine why that possibility gnawed at him. He was going to finish his business with Peter, one way or the other, and leave town. He’d never see Diane again.
That understanding caused an ache in the pit of his stomach.
He pulled into the parking area beside the towering storage elevator, yanked on the brake and turned off the engine. Silence wrapped around the car. Tony shifted in his seat, feeling his gun press against his hip where he’d tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. He’d taken it from the glove compartment before going after Peter, just in case.
Peter slouched beside him in the seat Diane had occupied not long ago. He tried hard to look indifferent, but Tony could tell he was scared. Scared people sometimes resorted to desperate acts. He was glad he had his gun handy.
"I need to talk to you about a former associate of yours in New York City. Leo Crowley. Does the name ring a bell?"
Peter scowled. "No."
"Let’s not play games, Peter. Leo’s fingered you. You can help yourself by helping me."
"Never heard of him." Peter eyed Tony out the corner of his eye. "What’s a big-city cop doing bugging people in Riverbend, anyway? You don’t belong here any more than I belonged in New York."
"Maybe you didn’t belong in New York. But while you were there you crossed a few lines. Let’s work it out, okay? I know Leo was the brains behind this racket. He told me you put him in touch with suppliers you knew about through you father. That makes you a part of Leo’s operation."
"I’m not saying another word," Peter snapped. "I know my rights. I want a lawyer."
"You haven’t been charged with anything," Tony pointed out, keeping his tone low and level, as unthreatening as he could. "What do you need a lawyer for?"
Peter eyed him suspiciously. "What did Diane tell you?"
Tony held onto an impassive expression. "What do you think she told me?" he asked.
"You were out with her half the day. Were you pumping her for information about me?"
Again, Tony gave nothing away. "What do you think?"
"She doesn’t know anything about my time in New York. She’s just — you know, she’s my friend. If you dragged her into anything —"
"What might I have dragged her into? Tell me, Peter."
Peter seemed to struggle. He raked a hand through his wheat-colored hair and glanced away. In the distance, Tony heard the faint rumble of an approaching car.
Damn. Peter seemed on the verge of cracking open — but someone was coming. Some Riverbend farmer who wanted to check on the grain elevator? One of Frank Garvey’s men who wanted to complain about Tony’s unorthodox way of conducting an interview?
He glanced in his rearview mirror. As the car drew nearer, its driver grew more visible.
Diane had found them...
"What are you doing?" Diane yelled, bursting from her car and storming over Tony. Her bandage flashed white as she waved her hand at him. "Tony, why did you drag Peter off like — like you were kidnapping him?"
Tony sighed. He should have kept his window shut, but he’d been afraid the car would get too stuffy, and besides, he sort of liked that dirt fragrance.
And anyway, even if his window were closed, he wouldn’t have been able to ignore Diane. How could anyone ignore a woman with so much spirit burning in her eyes, so much passion fueling her? He shouldn’t have kissed her — because kissing her only reminded him of how deep her passion ran.
"Go away, Diane," Peter muttered, gazing straight ahead.
"I want to know what’s going on." She planted her hands on her hips and glowered at Tony.
He twisted in his seat so he wouldn’t get a stiff neck trying to look at her. "Really, Diane, it would be better if you —"
She gasped and her cheeks paled. "You have a gun," she whispered.
When he’d shifted in his seat, his jacket had pulled open and she could see the butt of his service revolver curving over the edge of his jeans. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I have a gun."
She swallowed and inched back a step. "Did — did you have that all day, when you were — when we —"
"I didn’t have it on me then, no," he assured her, wishing he didn’t feel waves of fear and hatred emanating from her.
"What —" she swallowed again " — what are you planning to do with it?"
"Nothing."
"Diane, please." At last Peter glanced at her. His eyes looked hollow to Tony, his mouth set in a scowl of resignation. "Go away. He’s right — it would be better if you just left us alone."
"He’s from New York City. Did you know each other there?" Diane’s eyes flickered between the two of them. "Did you do something there, Peter? Are you in some kind of trouble with Tony?"
"Not the way you think," Tony said.
"You don’t know what I think." Diane pressed her fingertips to her mouth, as if she was remembering their kiss and regretting it, regretting it for reasons quite different from Tony’s.
"He’s a police detective," Peter snapped, obviously impatient with the long silence between them. "He’s come here to arrest me. Okay?"
"Not necessarily," Tony muttered, but his words didn’t register on Diane.
"Arrest you? Why?"
Peter snorted. "Why do you think? I screwed up in New York. Now I’m in big trouble. And you’re only making it worse."
Once again her eyes flickered between the two men. She fell back another step, and another, her hand once again pressed to her mouth. "How could you?" she breathed.
She might have been addressing Peter. But as Tony watched her spin away and run back to her car, climb in, U-turn and tear down the road, back to town, he felt her words resonating inside him, cruel and angry. If Peter had betrayed her trust, Tony had betrayed it worse — even though he wasn’t sure how he had. All he knew was that she hated him.
That realization hurt more than a bullet to the heart.
By the time Diane reached town, she felt dampness on her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. But the shock of seeing that gun tucked into Tony’s jeans...and hearing Peter all but confess that he’d broken the law in New York...and worst of all, understanding that she’d spent hours with Tony, sensing a true connection between them, kissing him and wishing they could do more than kiss...
The whole time, he’d been scheming to arrest Peter.
He’d told her he was a security consultant. What a lie!
The only reason he’d taken any interest in her was to get to Peter. He’d probably been waiting to nab Peter outside the pharmacy when she’d collided with Mitch Sterling’s van.
Maybe he’d suffered a twinge of genuine concern for her after the accident — but once Dr. Bennett had taken care of her, he’d probably stayed with her only because she was Peter’s friend, a means to an end.
Some of her tears came from the appalling knowledge that Peter might have been involved in something illegal in New York. He’d never broken any laws in Riverbend, other than the usual — sneaking a beer at a high school party, driving too fast on the county roads. Nothing bad enough to cause a policeman with a gun to travel halfway across the country to find him.
What could he have done in New York? Why?
She pulled into a parking space near the pharmacy and dried her eyes. Should she tell Stan what was going on? It might kill him.
On the other hand, he might be worried about where Peter was. True, Peter was less than reliable at the store. He clearly didn’t want to be working there, but was helping out only on a temporary basis.
Diane wasn’t sure she had the nerve to tell Stan his son was right that minute in the custody of a New York City detective — one who’d duped Diane into believing he cared about her.
Sighing, she opened her door just as Charlie Callahan emerged from the real estate office next door to the pharmacy. He saw her and jogged over. "Hey, Diane! I heard about your accident!"
One thing about living in a town like Riverbend: everyone knew everyone’s business.
"I’m fine," she said for the zillionth time that day.
"I heard about it over at the Sunnyside. Evie Mazerik was telling everybody."
Diane managed a limp smile. "As you can see, I survived."
"I think you should sue the pants off Mitch." Charlie grinned when he said that. He and Mitch were good friends. A few years older than Diane, they’d been buddies for as long as she and Peter had been buddies.
"I’m not going to sue anyone," she insisted. "Are you buying a new house?"
He glanced over his shoulder at the real estate office and shook his head. "They’ve got a listing for the Dixon place, up on Madison. It needs some fixing up, so I put in a bid." A carpenter, Charlie did a lot of renovation work. "I’ve got to run, but listen — stay out of Mitch’s way, okay? You know he’s a maniac behind the wheel."
One thing Mitch Sterling wasn’t was a maniac, which was why she laughed at Charlie’s warning and waved him off. Once he was gone, she lost her grin. She’d never sue Mitch for an accident that was completely her fault...but mentioning the suit made her think about lawyers.
Peter was going to need one. He needed to fight Tony. Because she adored Peter — and because Tony had deceived her — Diane had little difficulty choosing sides in this war.
Peter was scared. Not of Tony so much, but of Leo and his associates back in New York. It seemed pretty clear that Peter could let himself off the hook if he testified against Leo and those guys, but...hell. They were dangerous.
"What we’ll do is set up a conference call with the assistant D.A. back in New York," Tony was saying as he drove back to town. "She’ll take your statement, and we’ll work out a deal."
He made it sound so simple. But it wasn’t. When Peter had first heard about some university students looking to buy Ritalin, he’d thought it was a joke. Ritalin was for schoolchildren with attention deficit disorder. It was a prescription drug, but so common he couldn’t believe the students were actually willing to pay big bucks for it.
When he’d gone home to Riverbend for Christmas one year, he’d picked up some forms and internet codes his father used to place orders with his suppliers and brought them back to New York with him.
One of the students was Leo — only it had turned out he wasn’t really a student. What Peter had intended only as a favor — an extremely stupid one — for a couple of college kids, had gotten him tangled up with some professionals. They’d paid him well, but they’d also frightened him. He hadn’t meant to get involved in criminal activity.
He’d thought that by leaving the city he could escape the whole thing. He’d live in boring Riverbend and behave himself, and no one would ever have to know about the idiotic thing he’d done. He’d never expected a police detective to come after him.
"What kind of deal?" he asked warily.
"Probation, probably," Tony said. "You’re a small fish, Peter. It’s the big guys we want to put away."
Peter wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. "If I get probation, do I have to go back to New York?"
"I doubt it. We can set you up with a probation officer here in Riverbend. Maybe Frank Garvey could monitor you. He doesn’t seem like such a bad guy."
Peter snorted. Frank Garvey was the old guard, gruff and set in his ways. Still, it would be better to have Garvey breathing down his neck than to return to New York, where Leo had lots of friends.
Tony parked outside the police station, and Peter stopped him before he could leave the car. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"What’s going on with you and Diane?"
Tony eyed him carefully. "What makes you think there’s something going on?"
"I know Diane." He sighed. "Look, I may be a screw-up, but if you did anything to her —"
Tony waited, and when the threat hung unfinished, he said, "I didn’t do anything to her."
"You were with her all day, and she sure looked upset when she found us by the grain elevator. If you did anything to her, I swear I’ll make you pay."
The way Tony looked at him, his eyes hardening, his mouth clenching, Peter knew he’d hit a nerve. Something had happened between this New York cop and a woman who’d never done a bad thing in her life.
Diane had a soft heart. She could survive getting hit by a car better than getting conned by a good-looking guy.
If Tony had hurt her...yes, Peter would make him pay.
Tony found Diane at the place by the river where he’d kissed her.
He’d known she would be there, and he’d found his way to the spot as if radar had guided him. Riverbend was actually a pretty easy town to get around. The streets were laid out in a logical order, just like in Manhattan, but there were fewer cars, and the drivers didn’t seem quite so homicidal. People were friendly.
If he hadn’t been able to find the place, he suspected he could have described it to someone —"there are a few big trees, I don’t know what kind they are, and some wild grass with flowering weeds, all colorful, and some large rocks, and it’s maybe a mile from the grain elevator" — and the person could have directed him to this exact spot.
But he hadn’t needed directions. He’d known instinctively, as if he were a Riverbend native.
Stupid thought. He’d never feel at home in such a peaceful place, where dirt smelled clean and the sunset painted the sky with streaks of pink and red and lavender.
She was perched on one of the rocks by the water’s edge, staring at the river. If she heard his car she didn’t indicate it. He got out, tramped through the high grass and settled onto a larger rock beside hers. He tried not to remember how good it had felt to kiss her. He’d come to apologize, not to make things worse.
" Peter’s going to be okay," he said.
She didn’t look at him. "Peter needs a lawyer. I called Nick Harrison — he’s an attorney here in town — but I can’t afford him. Do you know what lawyers cost?"
"Less here than in New York, I’ll bet."
"It’s not fair. You took advantage of Peter. If he’d had a lawyer —"
"Peter made a big mistake. His punishment isn’t so bad, considering." He was surprised that Peter’s future was all Diane cared about. If Tony had hurt her feelings, it didn’t seem to matter to her. She was worried only about her friend.
"Are you going to throw him in jail?"
Tony allowed himself a wry laugh. "It’s not my job to throw people in jail. Only judges and juries can do that."
"Thanks for the civics lesson." Her tone was bitter. "I’ll rephrase the question: is he going to jail?"
"Not if I can help it. I think the assistant D.A. is with me on this."
"Great. Am I supposed to thank you?"
Her sarcasm implied that Tony had hurt her, and that it did matter. A heaviness settled in his chest, an ache the beautiful scenery couldn’t overcome. He listened to the chirping of crickets, the whisper of the river flowing slowly past them, the haunting sigh of a breeze through the grass. This place was so beautiful...
And Diane was even more beautiful. The wind played through her hair, and he longed to weave his fingers through it, to ease the tangles, to tip her face to his and kiss her. "Diane, look, I —"
"You used me," she muttered.
"No."
"You knew I was close to Peter, so you befriended me."
"I befriended you because..."
"Why?" She turned to him, her eyes luminous in the fading light.
"Because I couldn’t help myself," he said. "Because I can’t." Then he did what he longed to do, what he had to do. He slid his hands deep into her hair and kissed her...
Diane didn't want Tony's kiss.
She wanted it too much.
She knew that the instant his lips covered hers she'd be lost. Despite his having tricked her, lied to her, used her-she couldn't resist him. She wished she could, but she wasn't that strong.
As he dug his fingers into her hair, she reached up and cupped his cheek. His jaw was scratchy with a day's growth of beard, and his skin was warm. Her touch caused him to sigh, which caused her to sigh, and when she did he took her mouth with his tongue.
She tried to cling to her memory of what he'd done to Peter, what Peter had done to himself. She tried to stay focused on all the bad things that had happened that day, from her accident through this moment, but her resolve melted as easily as butter on a hot stove.
She tried to remember that Tony Viera wasn't from Riverbend, would never remain in Riverbend, didn't belong in Riverbend-but his kiss, his hand sliding down her shoulder to her back, pulling her from her rock into his lap, his breath merging with hers and his body growing hard beneath her made it impossible to think about anything but how much she desired him.
He tore his mouth from hers and kissed the tip of her nose, each closed eye, her forehead. Tucking her head against his shoulder, he brushed his lips against the soft waves of hair at the crown of her head. "I want you," he whispered.
"You're leaving town."
"Not yet." His voice was a hoarse rasp of sound, edged with hunger and need. It turned her on as much his kiss, his touch, the solid wall of his chest against her, the sheer masculinity of him.
"But you are leaving." She said it firmly, a stern reminder to herself that what he was asking for could only lead to sorrow.
"I can't even think about leaving," he swore. "I didn't use you, Diane. I'd never use you. I protected your friend as best I could. And now…no. I could never use you. You're too sweet. Too good. Too decent."
"If I'm so decent, why am I kissing you?" she asked with a wry laugh.
"Because you know I'm a decent man," he answered. "I'm not sweet, and it's not up to me to say I'm good. But I'm decent. I don't use people." He cupped his hand under her chin, urging her to look at him. "I could have left this evening. My work is done here. But I can't leave, because I want to be with you." He brushed his lips lightly over hers. "I want to be with you, Diane. Let me."
If she said yes, she would regret it tomorrow and the next day, and the rest of her life. Tony was going to leave. And she'd remain in Riverbend without him.
But her heart overruled her mind. "Yes," she said.
"Your house is like you," Tony said.
He lay across her bed, long and lean and naked. He had made love to Diane slowly, tenderly, with such exquisite sensitivity that she couldn’t bear to think of what her life was going to be like once he was gone.
At least she had tonight. She would hold her memory of it forever. That would have to be enough.
"How is my house like me?" she asked, cuddling against him, her head cushioned by his upper arm and her hand resting against his chest, tracing dark hair that grew there.
He sighed and held her hand steady, as if her light caresses were too powerfully distracting. Through the diaphanous curtains, the sky had turned from dusk to dark. She ought to have been hungry — and she was, but not for food. Only for Tony.
"It’s like you because it’s...honest," he said after mulling over his thoughts. "I was going to say it’s simple, but you’re not simple. You’re unpretentious and wholesome and honest. Like this house." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. "I feel peaceful here. I’ve never felt this peaceful before."
She leaned back so she could see him. In the dim evening light, his face was a sculpture of hard lines and angles — but his eyes were smiling. And his mouth. Even his body felt peaceful beneath hers, his heartbeat strong and steady. "Don’t you feel peaceful in New York?"
He let out a laugh. "New York is about adrenaline," he said. "It’s not about being able to lie so still you lose all sense of yourself." He shifted her hand in his so he could kiss her fingertips. "All I feel is you, Diane. All I hear and see and know is you. It’s as if nothing else exists."
She could tell he was struggling to describe the sensation, but she understood what he meant. The world outside her tiny house was tranquil. Her bedroom was filled with solid, basic furniture, and a big bouquet of wildflowers sat in a vase on her dresser. Photos of her family were wedged into the mirror frame, and she had made the braided rugs herself. Her house was like her, filled with peace and love.
He moved out from under her and shifted onto his side facing her, his eyes darker than the night sky beyond her window. "I know you’re worried about Peter, but I did the best I could for him," he said.
The sudden change of subject, and his solemn tone, took her aback. "I’m sure you did."
"He could have gone to jail for what he did." Tony stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Even if I hadn’t met you, Diane, I would have done what I could to keep him out of jail. He made a mistake, but everyone deserves a second chance."
"I agree," she said cautiously, not sure where he was going with this.
"I don’t want you to hate me for coming to Riverbend."
"Hate you?" She might hate him after he left, but not now.
"Because — God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... I like it here, Diane. I like the smell of the dirt."
He sounded so earnest she had to laugh.
"I like the calmness. I like the way the river looks so clean and fresh, and everyone seems to know each other."
"That’s Riverbend."
"I want to stay."
His words were so unexpected, she was sure she’d misheard him. "What?"
"I want to stay in Riverbend."
"Why?"
"Not just because it smells good and the crickets sound pretty, and because everyone I meet treats me with respect." He leaned toward her and touched his lips to her forehead. "The police force is small, but maybe they could use another detective. I’m experienced, I’m skilled, and I’d accept a cut in pay."
"You’d want to work here?"
"I want to be here." He leaned forward and pressed her mouth with a kiss. "You’re here."
"It’s not New York."
He grinned. "Don’t I know it." His smile faded as he studied her face. "Say something."
It was her turn to lean toward him, to take his mouth with hers and kiss away all his doubts. "Stay," she said.
His face broke into a smile. "You want to settle down and raise some kids in this quiet little town?"
She caught his smile and returned it. "That was my general plan."
"Do you think those kids would make fun of their old man if he had a New York accent?"
"I think —" her smile softened and her heart swelled " — that if you were their old man, those kids would be the luckiest kids in the world."
"In that case," he whispered, kissing her once more, kissing her deeply, wrapping his arms and legs around her and holding her tight, "I’ll stay."