“But that rehab time didn’t do it for Gio?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “No. That’s the hard part. Just like a drug addict or alcoholic, it can take several attempts to achieve a level of health that is sustainable. Gio went through treatment five times, and it looked like she was going to make it the last time. She gained weight and went back to work.”
“But?” He turned onto her driveway, nodding at the MVPD officer in the cruiser on the street.
“It didn’t hold. Less than two years later she was gone.”
He turned off the engine and faced her. “You don’t still blame yourself, do you?”
“How can I not? Sure, I’ve read the literature, spoken to my own therapist about it.” She bit her lower lip as if regretting her admission. “I go to a counselor regularly, about once every other month. I used to go weekly after my parents died, and then again when my aunt died and my brothers and I were on our own. Despite our last name, none of the larger-than-life Coltons so much as invited us to dinner.”
“That’s rough. Let’s go inside.” He didn’t want her to get warm again and the AC’s effect was dissipating quickly.
“Sure, but Holden?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for listening. You have a lot on your mind with this case, and I’m sure the last thing you expected was to listen to a sad story.”
“No problem.”
No problem? He got out of the car before he said something equally ridiculous.
Bella was ahead of him and waited while he opened her door, following him only after he’d cleared the house.
As the front door closed she headed for the kitchen. Without preamble she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of water and filled a large tumbler with an Arizona State logo. Bella gulped until it was empty, and immediately refilled it. Only after she’d finished half of the second did she stop and look at him.
“Do you want some?” Her face was flushed and large splotches of wet dotted her white tank top, dirtied from the explosion. Her breasts pressed against the light material and her skin glistened with perspiration. He rued the presence of her sports bra, which prevented him from seeing the outline of what he imagined to be perfectly round, rosy nipples.
He wished her sweat was from a long round of lovemaking, of bringing her to climax, and not from her being dehydrated.
“Yeah.” He wanted “something” all right. But it wasn’t anything he had a right to ask for.
She put the plastic insulated cup down. “Holden.”
“Pour me a glass, Bella.”
“Here you go.” Bella handed him a glass and he carefully accepted it from the bottom, avoiding any physical contact. He was using every skill he possessed to keep an erection from becoming obvious.
But nothing was enough to dowse the fire Bella lit. If he did something stupid, like kiss her, how much would he regret it?
“I’ve got to get a shower.” With no further preamble, Bella turned and fled toward her room.
Chapter 13
Bella was always mindful of water usage and made her showers short and functional whenever possible. But today had been a zinger and s
he needed to cool off. It wasn’t from the hot sun, dance practice or running to escape the locker explosion, though.
Her body was on fire for Holden.
“Stay on course.” After shutting off the shower she grabbed a towel and scrubbed herself dry. Nothing was enough of a distraction from her treacherous libido, though. Why hadn’t she taken up with that pro baseball player who’d asked her out twice this past spring?
Because his brains didn’t match his wallet, he didn’t ignite the flame she wanted lit. Instead of regret at the road not taken, she was relieved that she wasn’t attached to anyone. She was free to pursue any man she chose.
And for tonight, she chose Holden. May as well own up to it. Without further thought, she donned her silk robe that barely hit her upper thighs and belted it snugly around her waist, liking how the material provided just the right amount of support for her small breasts. Grabbing a condom from her nightstand, she slipped it into her pocket and went out into the kitchen and great room.
Holden lay on the sofa, stretched out to his full length. She placed him at six-three or six-four, as Spencer was six feet tall and Holden was taller than him. Padding across the wide-planked flooring in bare feet, she stopped no more than a foot from him. His arms were crossed and his head lay to the side, facing the back of the couch. She could make out the curve of his ear and the shadow of his short-cropped hair on the side of his head.