Body Movers: 2 Bodies for the Price of 1

“Like I said, it’s probably nothing. Or just a pesky reporter.”

“Have reporters really been following you?”

He shrugged. “A couple were parked outside the subdivision when I left this morning. Guess they wanted to get a shot of the bereaved husband. And I’m sure some of them aren’t quite convinced I had nothing to do with Angela’s … dying.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? Like Detective Terry said, you’re the one who believed in me when no one else did. How can I ever thank you?”

She dipped her chin. “Your discretion in this matter with my father is thanks enough.”

“Carly,” Peter said, picking up her left hand. “It’s really none of my business but what did you do with the engagement ring I gave you?”

“I … had to sell it.”

He nodded. “As you should have. I suspect money was tight after your parents left.”

“It was. But actually, I didn’t sell it until a few weeks ago.” In the wake of Peter’s wife’s murder, the act of pawning the Cartier ring had been as necessary to her emotional security as to her financial security. Keeping it had made her feel as if she were leaving her heart ajar for him to walk back in.

“I see.” His voice was thick with disappointment.

“Peter, after running into you again … things were happening too fast between us. I had to do something to slow it down on my end. Pawning the ring helped me to sever ties to the past.”

He nodded again. “I understand. And I have no right to ask you but I hope that severing ties to our past doesn’t rule out us having a future.”

Her heart pounded furiously. How many nights had she lain awake dreaming of him returning to her like this, asking her to give their love another chance? “I don’t know about a future with you, Peter,” she said honestly. “As crazy as my life is, I can’t say anything for sure.”

He squeezed her hand. “Fair enough.” Then he nodded toward the dark windows of the town house. “Looks pretty quiet. Is Wesley working?”

“No. He’s spending the night with a friend.”

“Oh?”

The word vibrated with hope, sending a flush to Carlotta’s chest and face.

“I could stay,” he offered. “On the couch, of course. I don’t like the idea of you being alone tonight.”

It was the perfect excuse to be close to Peter, to spend time with him, for them to begin the process of getting to know each other again. He was the only person who could help her sort through this mess with her father. And truth be known, she didn’t want to be alone tonight. Plus she did have that one good bottle of red wine in the cabinet that she’d been waiting for an occasion to uncork.

She opened her mouth to say yes, but was distracted by the sudden appearance of headlights, then the revving of a diesel engine that brought Hannah Kizer’s big graffiti’d refrigerated van up next to them. The Goth-garbed and stripe-haired Hannah hung out the driver’s side window, arms waving, pierced tongue flapping.

“Do you know that … person?” Peter asked.

“Kind of,” Carlotta said with resignation. She lowered her window, half relieved, half irritated at her friend’s timing.

“What the hell happened to you?” Hannah shouted. “I called you back to tell you all about Coop making me a body mover, but your line was busy and then you didn’t answer all damn afternoon!”

“Lindy confiscated my phone.”

“The whore,” Hannah declared, then she narrowed her kohl-lined eyes at Peter. “Hope I interrupted something.”

“Peter gave me a ride home,” Carlotta said quickly, hoping Peter didn’t notice the open hostility rolling off Hannah toward the man who had broken Carlotta’s heart. “The Monte Carlo is in the shop.”

“I know,” Hannah said sourly. “I was going to swing by the mall and give you a ride, but I see Richie Rich beat me to it.”

Carlotta gave her friend a stern look. “Hannah, have you ever met Peter Ashford?”

“Only by reputation.” Hannah addressed Peter in a suspicious tone, “I attended your wife’s memorial service with Carlotta.”

“Peter, this is my friend Hannah Kizer.”

“Nice to meet you, Hannah.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

“Hannah!”

“It’s okay,” Peter broke in, putting his warm hand on Carlotta’s knee. “I’ll go. Will your friend stay with you tonight?”

Carlotta nodded.

“Call me to let me know what you decide.”

She was transfixed by the concern shining in his eyes. “I’ll call,” she murmured.

He leaned across the console and whispered, “I’m here for you, Carly,” then brushed a kiss near her ear.

The sound of Hannah clearing her throat rent the air. Carlotta gathered her purse and climbed out of the car, waving as Peter backed out of the driveway.

Hannah jumped out of the van and slammed the door. “Why the hell did you let him drive you home? His wife is barely dead.”

Carlotta frowned. “There’s no such thing as barely dead. And you’re being awfully judgmental for someone who makes it a practice not to date a man unless he’s wearing a wedding ring.”

“This is you we’re talking about. You don’t have my natural defenses.”

Or as some would say, her natural repellants. “Want to order a pizza?”

“I got an organic veggie lasagna in the back of the van. Will that do?”

“Sounds great.”

“Am I spending the night?”

“Would you mind?”

“Can I sleep with Wesley’s snake?”

“No. “