“About what?”
“I’ll tell you when I get inside.” Alex didn’t move. “Are you going to open the door, or what?”
“I can talk to you from here.”
“Open the friggin’ door,” he shouted. “I’m freezing my balls off.”
Alex slid the chain out of its mooring, then pulled the door open and stood aside. Reede stamped his feet and brushed off the ice pellets that were clinging to the fur collar of his coat.
He looked her up and down. “Expecting someone?”
Alex crossed her arms over her middle, a gesture meant to convey her annoyance. “If this is a social call—”
“It isn’t.” He caught his finger between his teeth and pulled off one leather glove, then the other. He slapped the felt cowboy hat against his thigh to shake off the sleet, then ran a hand through his hair.
He tossed the gloves into the crown of his hat, set the hat down on the table, and lowered himself into a chair. He eyed the remains of her supper, then took a bite out of an untouched drumstick. Munching, he asked, “You don’t like our fried chicken?”
He was slouched in the chair, looking like he had settled in for the night. Alex remained standing. She felt absurdly exposed in the robe, even though it covered her from jaw to ankles. Having a motel towel wrapped around her head didn’t help boost her self-confidence.
She tried to appear indifferent to him and her own dishabille. “No, I didn’t like the fried chicken, but it was convenient. I didn’t want to go out to eat.”
“Smart decision on a night like this. The roads are getting treacherous.”
“You could have told me that over the phone.”
Ignoring that, he leaned far to one side and looked past her at the television screen, where an unclothed couple were carnally involved. The camera moved in for a close-up of the man’s lips against the woman’s breast.
“No wonder you’re mad that I interrupted.”
She smacked the power button with her palm. The screen went blank. “I wasn’t watching.”
When she turned around, he was looking up at her, smiling. “Do you always open your door to any man who knocks on it?”
“I didn’t open my door until you swore at me.”
“Is that all a man has to do, talk dirty?”
“You’re the highest-ranking law enforcement officer in this county. If I can’t trust you, who can I trust?” She was thinking she would trust a used car salesman in a green polyester suit before she would trust Reede Lambert. “And was it really necessary to strap that on when you came calling?”
He followed the direction of her gaze down to the holster riding just below his belt. He stretched his booted feet far out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. Templing his fingers, he peered at her over their tips. “I never know when I might have to use it.”
“Is it always loaded?”
He hesitated, his eyes lowering to the vicinity of her breasts. “Always.”
They were no longer talking about the pistol in his holster. But more than what was actually being said, the tone of the conversation made her distinctly uncomfortable. She shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other and dampened her lips, only then realizing that she had already removed her makeup. Somehow, that made her feel even more vulnerable. That, and his motionless, broody stare.
“Why did you come here tonight? What couldn’t wait until morning?”
“An urge.”
“An urge?” she repeated huskily.
He languidly got up out of the chair and moved forward until he stood only inches in front of her. He slipped his rough hand into the parting of her robe and encircled her neck with it. “Yeah, an urge,” he whispered. “An urge to throttle you.”
Uttering a frustrated grunt Alex removed his hand and stepped aside. By choice, he let her go. “Judge Wallace called me tonight and told me about the court order you asked him for.”
Her heart, which had been beating furiously, slowed down, but she muttered a curse of aggravation. “Isn’t anything private in this town?”