CHAPTER 32

Fortunately, Alice took over the conversation when they got to the house, and Charlotte was back to her bubbly self.

But John couldn't leave it at that.

His mom was engrossed in an Elvis movie. Charlotte and Alice were getting ready for bed. He knocked at the door and went in.

He kissed his daughter. "Night, sunshine."

"Night, Daddy" Alice mimicked, wiggling in the bed. "I drew a good Jeremiah. Yes, I did. Yeah. Oh, yeah."

Alice had never been a singer before, but suddenly she was overflowing with tunes.

All thanks to Charlotte.

He took in a deep breath and his eyes met Charlotte's. "May I please speak with you?"

Why?" Alarmed, Alice sat up."She didn't do anything wrong." Now she had Alice as her champion. "It's business, sunshine. Go to sleep."

"Okay," she replied, but there was hesitation in her voice as if she didn't quite believe him.

He walked out of the room to the backyard. He wanted privacy for what he had to say.

The door opened and she slipped out, sitting on the step. "Make this short. I prefer the air-conditioning."

He paced in front of her. "I'm sorry for what happened?"

"Now there's a shocker."

"I'm trying to discuss this with you."

Charlotte jammed her T-shirt over her knees. "Well, maybe I don't want to discuss it with you."

"I'm the sheriff and you're in my care and--"

Oh, please. Don't even go there or I might be forced to smack you."

"I love my wife."

"I think you've mentioned that a time or two. This would be a really interesting conversation if the woman was alive." The words were cruel, but Charlotte couldn't stop herself. "She's dead, John, and you're a living, breathing man with needs. And I can tell you those needs are screaming for expression."

"Don't---"

She immediately stood up. ""Don't tell me one more time not to say her name."

She became conscious of how angry she was as the evening wind touched the heat in her cheeks. And she didn't take a single word back. She actually felt like adding more.

"I thought I was in denial about my father's death, but you actually make me look sane. Every Sunday, you take your eight-year-old daughter to her mother's grave. How depressing is that for a child? For heaven's sake, do you think your wife would want you to live like this? You're not living, you're just existing, marking time until someone can etch the date of your death on a stone."

"Shut up!"

She whirled for the door and he grabbed her, jerking her into his arms. Tension and anger throbbed through him, but she didn't feel his anger as his lips captured hers. They were gentle, soft and seductive. The passionate touch made her melt, and she was glad he was holding her or she would have melted to the ground in a puddle. The emotions were that strong, that hot.

She could actually feel the heat simmering between them, heat he'd kept buried deep inside him. But she felt it now and it scorched both of them.

Her response was immediate. Her hands tangled in his hair as he pulled her closer, their tongues mingling in a hot, bothered and ready dance.

His hands slid beneath her T-shirt and caressed her back, her breasts. She moaned as his thumb tantalized one nipple with provocative strokes.

The world began to slowly but delightfully spin away to a place where only lovers were permitted as she felt every muscle in his strong body.

Lovers!

The word gave Charlotte pause. She wanted his love. She wanted it all. She did not want to be just a stand-in for Sarah. Or just for some need he had to fill.

She pulled back with more force than she realized she possessed, licked her lips, and took a deep breath. To think. His musky, manly scent coated every awakened nerve and she didn't want to move away, to lose that feeling, that special con-nection. But she did.

The past served as a thin, flimsy curtain separating them. And uncrackable. On the highway, automobiles hummed as a door banged. But all she could hear was his labored breathing. Or was that her own?

She drew a hard breath and said what she had to. "That's living and feeling. Think about it." Then she bolted for the door.

John sank onto the step and dragged in each precious breath. He attempted to bring up Sarah's face but was unsuccessful. That scared him. His peaceful world, his shrine to Sarah, was slipping away and he was powerless to stop it. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

That frightened him even more.

'You're just existing, marking time.'

Charlotte was right. That was what he was doing and it wasn't healthy for him. Or for Alice.

So what did he do about it?

Right now, he wasn't sure about anything, except all the raw emotions Charlotte had awakened in him. Her taste was still on his tongue and his nostrils were filled with her scent.

He tugged his hands through his hair, cursing that he had no control where she was concerned. And he should have control.

Charlotte Lily wasn't the woman for him.