Kiss Them Goodbye. Stella Cameron

with his right. She was cool, almost too cool. Their eyes met and she smiled at him, a conspiratorial smile. Spike turned up the corners of his mouth and made himself keep on looking at her, but something had changed in him and he couldn’t afford that change. He wasn’t going to be able to put Vivian Patin out of his mind easily. At this moment he doubted he would ever forget the way she looked at him now.

      He could not have a woman in his life—other than casually. He already knew it didn’t work. Vivian wasn’t the kind of woman a man tried to get close to—with no strings attached.

      She turned her hand over beneath his so that their palms touched and their fingertips rested together. He played back and forth, softly, and saw her shiver again but not, he thought, out of fear or because she was cold—not this time.

      “This may not be the best timing,” he said, “but what happened with the fire your father died in?”

      She nodded and bent low enough over their joined hands to ensure her face wasn’t visible. “Chez Charlotte—that was my parents’ restaurant. Burned to the ground. The fire started in the kitchens and that’s where my father was found.”

      Spike knew he must listen quietly and not try to prompt her with his own questions.

      She kept her face down but curled her fingers into his palm and made light rubbing motions that tickled vaguely. “My dad was a calm man—unless he lost his temper, and he did do that regularly. But he was alone there. Something I don’t get, and neither does Mama. All alone and cooking. They say he must have been and that he probably set the stove on fire.”

      Spike picked up her hand and held it between both of his. Her fingers were long but disappeared inside his own. “What did the local experts decide?”

      “Accident,” she said.

      “You don’t sound as if you believe that.”

      “No. And less now with Louis’s death. Poor man. We have to find what was taken from his briefcase. He became marked by it, whatever it is, I’m sure of that.”

      ”We,” Spike felt mean but it had to be said. “This is a job for the professionals, Vivian. I won’t be one of them, you already know that. And Errol Bonine and his squad won’t allow you to interfere. They’ll do the askin’ and tell you no more than they have to.”

      “He—Bonine asked me questions for two hours.”

      “I know. I was in the house, remember? What kind of questions did he ask?” He shouldn’t interfere but didn’t feel any remorse.

      “Dumb questions. And the same ones over and over—when he wasn’t resting his eyes. Where was I from? Why would I want to live at Rosebank? Was I in some sort of trouble in New Orleans? Why aren’t I married? Was I ever married? Don’t I like men?”

      “Ass,” Spike said with feeling. How Errol had risen as far as he had would always be a mystery—maybe. “Don’t you worry about him. He’s doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do, only he’s forgotten most of what that is. You just keep calm and don’t let him rile you.”

      Vivian decided that Deputy Sheriff Spike Devol didn’t know exactly what, or who, he was dealing with yet. He’d learn in time. If Vivian had her way, he’d learn everything there was to learn about her. She took a forgotten breath and felt a wash of hopelessness. Spike might be interested in an affair, a short, hot affair, but nothing more unless she was mistaken. That wouldn’t be enough for her—tantalizing as it seemed.

      “What kind of record does Detective Bonine have?” she asked. “For solving crimes, I mean?”

      “Lousy, but that doesn’t seem to cramp his style. I’m talking out of school but I’d say the detective lives very well for what I know he earns and the possibility is that not solving some cases pays well. I don’t know if your case falls into that category, but don’t expect any speedy answers. It’s likely to drag on, then fade away.”

      “I’ve got to find the connection between my father’s death and what happened yesterday. Uncle Guy only changed his will almost literally on his deathbed. Dad died a few weeks after Uncle Guy. The insurance wasn’t nearly enough and my mother took a terrible financial hit. And that was on top of being brokenhearted over Dad’s death.”

      “Stinking luck,” Spike said.

      “As things stand we don’t have any choice but to make Rosebank work. There’s enough money to creep along for a while and nothing more. We can’t really continue with the renovations until we’re more solvent again. We have to move so slowly when we need to go fast.”

      She drummed her fingers and he wondered if she was deciding whether to go on.

      “In Uncle Guy’s will there was a strange reference to having faith, that he had taken care of all eventualities and all the Patins would have to do was use their minds if their eyes were to see the truth.”

      She had all of Spike’s attention.

      “Louis said he was bringing good news. What would you make out of that?”

      Careful. “I’d probably make some of the same guesses you’re making. But I wouldn’t get in the way of the law.”

      Her determined concentration on the table didn’t fool him. The lady could become hard to handle because she wouldn’t take directions easily unless they made a lot of sense to her.

      “The connection has to be found.” She sounded stubborn.

      “If there is one.” He slid his rump forward in his chair and carried her fingertips to his mouth. “Heed what I say and don’t meddle. Your life is too important to risk. I won’t let you lose it over money.”

      Her startled eyes rose to his face.

      Absently, Spike kissed the very tips of her fingers, ran his tongue across them. Vivian said, “I like you doing that. It makes me dizzy.”

      “Actually this is a bad idea,” he said, speaking deliberately as if he were discussing the boudin rouge, only with less enthusiasm.

      “Is it?”

      She was an enigma, and irresistible. His voice might sound cool but what he felt was anything but cool. He’d better back off.

      “How about you?” she asked. “Tell me something about you and what you want.”

      “I want a better life for Wendy,” he said and Vivian wouldn’t allow herself to remark that he was holding her hand too tightly. “She’s fine now, but she’ll need more and I’ll give it to her. She’s always going to feel loved and it’ll never mean anything to her that her mother…left. Wendy will go to college. She’ll get whatever opportunities it takes to get her to her full potential.”

      “I know you’ll make sure of that.”

      The flashlight on the floor cast uplights over his face. His gleaming eyes held a faraway expression.

      “And you?” she asked. “What do you want for yourself?”

      He looked at her and there was nothing faraway about him now. Spike studied only her face and for so long Vivian could scarcely bear the wait. Finally the corners of his mouth tipped up and he said, “I want you. It’s wrong for me to say it, but it’s true. Already I feel I’ve known you forever and I want to know you better. But it couldn’t work out. Even if you’d have me, we’d have to sneak around to be together.”

      “Because you’re afraid I’d hurt you, or Wendy. It’s Wendy you worry about most and I like you for that. But are you really thinking about the whole picture, or just about sex?”

      His eyes never left her face and he didn’t flinch. “I need that, too. I want that, too. But I’d settle for kissing you—for now. Just to see how we like it. You probably wouldn’t want that when I have nothing else to offer you.”

      Vivian looked at their joined