Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) by Kristine Mason Page B

being inside, remembering where the baby swing and Pack’n Play had once been in the living room, or the high chair in the kitchen—
    She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t going to slink . I told you it was late. I didn’t want to interrupt whatever you were doing.”
    “I asked you to come over, so you’re not interrupting. You do what you need to do, though. If that means going or slinking, I’m good either way. But, you did drive out here. So…” he finished with a shrug.
    Totally baiting her . But she’d look at going into the house as a personal challenge. She was a homicide detective, damn it. She’d been in situations that would put the fear of God into most people, or give them nightmares to last a lifetime. She could walk through her home, go out the back door and check the damned, stupid vegetable garden, then be on her way. “It’s been a long day,” she said, and stepped onto the small porch. “Let’s make this quick.”
    Dante gave her space to enter, but between his size and the small foyer, a confusing mixture of claustrophobia and longing had her rushing into the living room. Keeping her focus on the original hardwood floors she and Dante had personally sanded and refinished, she moved past the couch, the fireplace and beautiful mantel Dante had built and headed into the dining room. When she reached the kitchen, her heart rate slowed and her mouth instantly watered.
    Lasagna .
    Dante made a killer lasagna. For whatever reason, just the scent of it was like an aphrodisiac for her.
    “Hungry?” he asked.
    She glanced over her shoulder. The urge to eat up the distance and shove his t-shirt over his head and—
    No. Don’t go there. The last time they’d had sex was a little less than a year ago. She’d stopped by their house on a Sunday afternoon to pick up a few things stored in the basement. Dante had been shirtless and had just finished washing his car. When it came to his body, she had little control over her hormones. That afternoon, she’d given into temptation, into the need for sexual release and had wound up having sex with him on the living room couch.
    Her cheeks grew warm as desire swirled through her body. They’d also had sex against the wall and then in the shower. Afterward, she’d been tempted to stay the night or come back the next day, but when she’d walked past their daughter’s closed bedroom door, the agony over what she’d lost had had her rushing from their house. That closed door had reminded her of what could never be. And she’d do well to continue to remind herself that she and Dante could no longer make things work between them. She loved Dante, but he was like a human memento. Seeing him, being near him, hearing his voice, brought a mixture of comfort and agony. He’d been the father of her child. He’d helped bring their daughter into the world. When she saw him, she saw her.
    “I’m good, thanks,” she finally said, determined to look at the garden, then leave as quickly as possible.
    He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, a half-smile tilting his lips. “If you’re just coming over now, I’m assuming you haven’t eaten yet.”
    She hadn’t. After they’d met with Leslie and Richard Palmer’s family, then with the medical examiner, she and Alex had spent hours writing their report. There’d been no time to eat, and she’d had no appetite.
    “I had a salad earlier,” she lied, even as her stomach protested the need to taste—just one bite—Dante’s delicious lasagna.
    “You should be eating more than salad. You’ve gotten too thin.” He moved his gaze over her body. “Or maybe the guys you’re dating like you skinny.”
    She swiveled and fully faced him. “I’m not dating anyone.” Was he? Did he want to?
    Dante was a very sexual man. Like her, had he been celibate except for that hot Sunday afternoon when they’d rechristened several rooms in their house? Jealousy came at her in a rush, which was selfish