The List by Anne Calhoun Page B

do what I can to make them right.”
    And there was all the proof she needed that getting involved with him was a very bad idea. “Still, it’s an odd choice for a police officer.”
    “Not really. You wouldn’t believe how much writing goes into police work,” he said, then reached past her to set his beer bottle in a cluster of other empties. Her nerves lit up again, sparks trickling from the point of near contact between his upper arm and her shoulder. “Shame you don’t dance. I love it. Nice to see you again, not–Lady Matilda.”
    Then he walked away, his hair glinting in the lights as he said his good-byes to Dierdre, collected a sisterly kiss on the cheek, and walked out the door. Tilda told herself she knew exactly what she was doing, and why. She told herself she appreciated that he respected her wishes. She told herself that going home alone didn’t bother her at all.
    Except it did. Only meeting Colin Wilkinson salvaged the night. That was going to work. She just knew it, the way she knew when two people were meant for each other, as friends, as lovers, as life partners in all the beautiful, glorious iterations that phrase took on. She and Colin Wilkinson were going to get on extremely well, and that would make up for the hollowness left by Daniel Logan’s abrupt departure.
    She waited a few more minutes, then collected her purse and left the building. Outside the building she paused by the door and lit a cigarette.
    “If the ledges don’t get you, the cigarettes will.”
    Daniel was standing in a shadowy doorway. He stepped down to the sidewalk, into the harsh glare cast by the streetlight.
    “That’s an easy choice,” she said mildly, and flicked the butt into the trash can on the corner. “Done.”
    “Giving up a vice is that easy for you?”
    “Yes.”
    “It wasn’t for me.”
    “You were a smoker?”
    He ducked his head in a way that was almost shy, almost abashed, then nodded as he leaned against the lamppost. “Smoking was my lone act of rebellion in college. I gave it up when I started training for marathons,” he said. “Some people can run and smoke, but I’m not one of them.”
    “That was your
lone act of rebellion
?”
    “This surprises you?” he countered.
    “You’re proving rather surprising,” she said.
    He looked away, around the street, then up at the sky. The cloud cover parted to reveal a full moon, a couple of bright stars visible through the light pollution, as if he were committing the moment to memory. “It’s like you make the weather.”
    She didn’t know what to say to that. “Lost your way?”
    “Definitely.”
    “Were you waiting for me?”
    “Maybe.”
    “You don’t seem happy about it.”
    He didn’t say anything, just looked at the base of the streetlamp he was leaning against. He was like something out of an old movie, wearing a blazer even though it was still warm, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. She thought of all the things she didn’t do, like dance, or date, or tell her secrets, then thought about who he was, what she would do to him. But there was no denying that her heart beat a little faster while she looked at him. There was also no denying that no matter how badly she wanted this to work, it wouldn’t. Men like Daniel wanted things that were not in her power to give, much less feel. “I really am more trouble than I’m worth, Daniel,” she said gently. “No hard feelings.”
    “I can handle a hell of a lot of trouble,” he said. “Take me home with you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’ve been thinking about what it will be like to be inside you since I left your house the last time.”
    Heat flared along her spine, curled around her ribs to drip and pool low in her belly.
    “Because I can’t stop thinking about it.”
    Exorcising demons she understood. She knew all about that, wanting and helpless to stop the wanting, until the only solution left was to take it in great greedy dripping handfuls until you were