Conor

7

SHE’D BEEN CAUGHT in the middle of a wonderful dream. Everything was so warm and comfortable, the sun, the water, like a little Jamaican vacation in her sleep. Olivia smiled and snuggled down beneath the quilt she’d pulled from the bed. The television glowed in the darkened living room, a travel show softly playing in the background.

For a long time, she drifted in and out of the dream, spinning images in her brain of her and Conor, lying on the sand, swimming naked in the ocean, making love in a hammock. After this was all over and she was safe again, maybe she’d ask him to take a little vacation. She had some money saved and she probably wouldn’t have to worry about her business since there wouldn’t be much left to worry about.

It would be fun, a chance to really get to know each other. She turned the notion around and around in her mind. But before she’d imagined the most perfect vacation with the perfect man, she heard the sound of the door opening. Olivia opened her eyes, then pushed up on her elbow and watched Conor slip into the condo. He’d been gone for most of the day and into the evening and, though she really hadn’t worried about him, she was curious about what had occupied his time.

In truth, she was also a bit jealous that he could go out and walk around without worrying about his safety and she was stuck inside for the entire day playing the responsible witness. So she’d made the best of the situation and spent a lazy hour in the bathtub. After that, she lounged around the condo, watching soap operas and painting her toenails.

“You’re home,” she murmured, running her fingers through her tangled hair.

Startled, Conor turned and peered into the dim living room. Then he shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it on a chair and slowly walked over to her. “Were you sleeping?” he asked.

Olivia smiled and stretched her arms over her head. “I’ve been a lazybones all day long. It felt good to finally relax. We’ve been kind of busy lately.”

He sank down on the end of the sofa, far enough away from her that she couldn’t give him the hug she wanted to. In truth, he didn’t seem in a very huggable mood. He tipped his head back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Yeah, we have. It takes a lot of energy to dodge those bullets.”

Olivia scrambled to her knees, reminded again of his injury. She settled beside him. “How are you feeling? Does your side hurt?”

Conor winced as he shifted his weight. “It’s not bad. Most times I don’t notice it.”

“Why don’t you let me get you some dinner?” she said, crawling off the couch. She picked up his feet from the floor and swung them around. “You stretch out and rest. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

He groaned, then rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t get any groceries. I’m sorry. I had to take care of some police business and then I met Danny and I talked with him. Then I stopped over at Dylan’s place. I just lost track of time.”

He made to get up, but she gently pushed him back down. “We don’t need groceries,” she said. “We have neighbors. Sadie from across the stairs brought us a tuna noodle casserole and an apple pie. Louise from downstairs, who is married to a retired Navy man, brought us a taco casserole and a fruit salad. And Geraldine, who used to be a Rockette, brought us a little honeymoon basket with candles and champagne and some chocolate. There are cookies from Doris-she’s so funny-and some fresh lemonade from Ruth Ann who looks a little like my landlady. And we’re invited to join the canasta club on Tuesday, the bocci ball couples’ tournament on Saturday, and the potluck supper on Sunday night.”

“I see you’ve been as busy as I was,” Conor murmured.

Olivia sighed. “We’ve lived here one day and I already know five of my neighbors. I’ve lived in my flat on St. Botolph Street for six years and I know two people-the woman who rents the downstairs apartment and my landlady who lives down the street.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Conor muttered. “We won’t be staying forever.”

His tone had an edge to it that she’d never heard, not even when he was ordering her around. She tried to read his mood. So often over the past few days, he’d let his guard down. It just surprised her when those barriers suddenly appeared again, in the tone of his voice or in an impatient sigh. She didn’t need to be reminded that they’d only be together a finite time. She reminded herself of that same thing every day-every time she looked into his eyes or touched him, every time she remembered their time together on the boat.

But Olivia had already decided that she wouldn’t think about the future, even if that future was only a week away. She wanted to live for the moment, to enjoy Conor while she had him, for she knew once his responsibility to her was through, he’d rebuild all those walls so he could walk out of her life.

“Why don’t you put your feet back up,” she said. “I’ll get us some dinner and then we can have a quiet evening. No bullets flying, no car chases.”

That brought a tiny smile to his lips. He stretched out on the sofa, not even bothering with his shoes and, in a few minutes, he’d fallen asleep. Olivia gently covered him with the quilt then wandered into the kitchen. She grabbed the tuna casserole from the refrigerator, then popped it into the oven.

As she searched a drawer for serving utensils, her mind wandered to Conor. She found herself pretending that he’d just come home from a long day at work, that she’d met him at the door with a kiss, that they were married and living a happy life together. She’d never imagined an ordinary life for herself. When she’d imagined marriage, it was always so much more exciting and urbane.

But then the excitement didn’t really come from a fancy apartment or a glittering social life. It came from moments like these, moments when she could make Conor’s life more comfortable, moments when she could walk in the other room and just touch him when she wanted to. Olivia smiled, then pushed up on her toes and retrieved two wineglasses from the top shelf in the kitchen cabinet. But halfway there, she froze.

A soft sigh slipped from her lips. What was she doing? All these silly fantasies, tropical vacations, quiet evenings after work? “He’s a cop, you’re a witness,” she murmured. She’d have to remind herself of that more often. This wasn’t a fairy tale romance with a happy ending, this was a few stolen days with a handsome cop who’d been assigned to protect her.

A half hour later, the tuna casserole was bubbling in the oven and she’d set the coffee table in the living room for an impromptu meal. She retrieved the champagne from the fridge, then lit the candles that Geraldine had tucked in the basket. It all looked perfect…romantic.

Olivia frowned. Was she being too presumptuous thinking that Conor might want to share a romantic evening with her? Whether she acknowledged it or not, this whole meal was a prelude to seduction. She’d secretly hoped that the candlelight and the champagne would lead to a few fleeting kisses. That those kisses would lead to a few more. That they’d end up passing the night in a passionate interlude in her bed.

She moaned softly, doubts assailing her. This was way too obvious. She had to play harder to get! Reaching out, she grabbed one of the candles. But the sharp movement caused the wax to drip onto the back of her hand and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She dropped the burning candle and it tipped over on the table, landing on the pile of paper napkins that she’d set out.

In an instant, the napkins ignited. Olivia grabbed the champagne bottle and with fumbling fingers, tried to remove the cork. But before she could, the smoke alarm on the ceiling went off, a shriek loud enough to pierce her eardrums.

Conor bolted upright and reached for the gun in his shoulder holster, dazed and confused. He glanced around the room, then scrambled off the sofa when he saw the small fire on the coffee table. “What the-” He snatched the champagne bottle from her hand and popped the cork, then dumped half the bottle on the burning napkins. The flames sizzled and then went out.

Finally, Conor’s eyes cleared and he gaped at the mess on the table. “What the hell were you doing?”

Olivia opened her mouth to explain, then snapped it shut. With a soft cry, she spun on her heel and ran into the bedroom, then slammed the door behind her. She sat down on the bed and clutched her trembling hands in her lap. What was she thinking? Did she really believe that she could seduce him with a candlelit meal and a bottle of champagne?

“Olivia?” A soft rap sounded on the door.

“Go away,” she muttered, too embarrassed to even look at him. True, she’d never been good at seduction, but even a dope could turn a frozen tuna casserole into a nice meal without setting the apartment on fire.

“Come on,” he said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. The smoke detector just startled me, that’s all. Come on out and eat with me. The tuna casserole is getting cold.”

Olivia drew her knees up under her chin. “I’m not hungry!”

The door opened and Conor peeked inside. He slowly approached the bed, then reached down and grabbed her hand. “If you ignore the smouldering napkins, the table looks very nice. And the food looks great.” He gave her arm a tug and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.”

He dragged her along to the living room, then settled her beside him on the floor. The smell of scorched paper mixed with the aroma of tuna casserole and spilled champagne. Conor picked up the candle and relit it with a soggy book of matches. “See, it looks good,” he said as he scooped a spoonful of casserole onto her plate.

She ignored the food. “What are we doing here?”

Conor chuckled. “Well, a few minutes ago, you were torching our hideout. Now we’re eating dinner.”

“No,” she murmured. “I mean, what are we doing? You’re a cop and I’m a witness and all I can think about is plying you with tuna casserole and champagne so you’ll kiss me again.” She turned to him, meeting his eyes directly. “What’s going to happen to us when this is all over?”

Conor’s gaze dropped to the table and he picked up his fork and pushed the casserole around on his plate. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. We have this attraction to each other. We slept together last night. Are we supposed to just stop when this is over and go on with our lives?”

Conor closed his eyes and released a tightly held breath. “I don’t know, Olivia. I didn’t expect this to happen. It just happened.”

“And as far as you’re concerned, this is all wrong,” Olivia said.

“It’s not right,” he muttered. “And I could probably lose my job because of it. But there’s no going back, so I guess we shouldn’t worry about it.”

“There is a way to go back,” Olivia said.

“And how is that?”

“We just have to stop this right now. Pretend it never happened.” She stood up and smoothed her hands over her thighs, hating what she’d been forced to say, yet knowing in her heart it was the best thing for both of them. They couldn’t go on without one of them getting hurt. “We can do that. Before it gets out of control.”

“I think that ship has already sailed,” he said.

“No, it hasn’t,” she replied firmly. “From now on, we go back to the way it was supposed to be. I’m the witness and you’re the cop.” She clutched her hands in front of her to stop the trembling, then forced a smile. “I-I think I should probably get some sleep-in my room, alone.”

She’d slept away most of the afternoon and wasn’t at all tired. But Olivia knew if she didn’t walk away from Conor, didn’t lock herself in her bedroom, then there would be no way to keep herself from wanting him. “I-I’ll just be going,” she said, taking a step back.

Olivia waited, hoping that he’d try to stop her, try to explain all the reasons why her plan would never work. But he just stared up at her, a look of resignation set on his handsome face. She felt as if her heart had been torn in two. How could she want him so much, yet know how serious the consequences were for him? And how could he want her so little that he could let her walk away?

“Good night,” she murmured. Drawing a deep breath and gathering her resolve, she turned and walked to the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, waited for him to call her name, waited for an invitation back into his arms. But Conor remained silent and his silence told her all she needed to know.

He didn’t want her. Or if he did, he was strong enough to resist. Olivia sat on the edge of the bed and drew a long, shaky breath. Now, if only she could find the same strength, then maybe she could get through this without losing her mind.

OLIVIA STOOD in the darkened living room for a long time, watching him sleep by the moonlight that filtered through the windows. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning and she hadn’t slept a wink. But Conor wasn’t having the same trouble. He was draped across the sofa, his arm thrown over his head and one foot resting on the floor. His naked chest rose and fell in an even rhythm and the quilt was twisted around his long legs.

She wanted to touch him one last time, to run her hands over his broad chest and trace a finger along the soft line of hair that ran from his collarbone to his belly. She wanted to take his face in her hands and kiss him, just to lose herself in the taste of his mouth for a moment or two.

But they’d made a decision and she had to stick to it. To give in to her impulses now would be pure weakness. Besides, the prospect of being turned away by Conor was too humiliating to even consider. She’d see that look in his eyes, that vague indifference, and he’d draw away, as if her touch meant nothing, or worse, as if he found it repulsive. No, she wouldn’t subject herself to that.

Olivia turned to walk away, but she didn’t see the coffee table in the dark. Her shin banged up against the heavy wood and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Tears of pain pressed at the corners of her eyes and she muttered a silent string of curse words. The pain gradually subsided and she tested her leg. Though it hurt, she managed to take a few mincing steps.

“Olivia?”

She froze, holding her breath and hoping that Conor couldn’t see her in the dark. He moved, the blankets rustling, and Olivia winced, knowing that she wouldn’t get away without speaking to him. She slowly turned and forced a smile.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, brushing the sleep from his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“No,” Olivia said.

He sat up. “What is it?”

“I-I was thirsty. I needed some water.” It sounded like a good excuse, though the water was in the kitchen and not the living room.

His pushed to his feet, casting aside the quilt, and Olivia noticed that he wore only his boxers. She groaned inwardly. Why couldn’t they have sent her a cop with a big belly and bowlegs, she wondered. Why had she been cursed with a man who had an impossibly muscular chest and a perfect narrow waist and legs that were almost nicer than hers?

“There’s water in the kitchen,” he murmured. “Would you like me to get you a glass?”

She drew a ragged breath and shook her head. “I don’t want water,” Olivia said, her voice trembling. “I-I want you.” The words barely registered. What if he refused? What if she had to walk back to her bedroom all alone? “I-I can’t sleep and I want you to come to bed with me.”

Conor rubbed his forehead. “Olivia, I-”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she said, taking a step toward him. “And I understand. But I know this would just be a stolen week. And that when we went back to the real world things would change. But we’re not in the real world now.” She took another step, putting herself just an arm’s length away. “Make love to me, Conor, just once more, and I promise I won’t ask again.”

Conor moaned softly as he reached out his hand and skimmed his knuckles along her cheek. His touch sent her heart racing and, for a moment, she was certain he’d turn her away. But then he caught her in his embrace and drew her near. With trembling hands, she reached up and cupped his face in her palms. His beard was rough to her touch, but she smoothed her fingers over the planes and angles, determined to memorize every inch of the man she’d come to love.

He was capable of loving her, Olivia knew this. But with Conor it would take time. And time was in short supply for the two of them. All she could hope for was that once they were apart he’d realize the depth of his feelings for her and he’d come back. And tonight, she’d do what she could to make that happen.

Olivia stepped back, then reached for the hem of the T-shirt she wore and pulled it over her head. She stood before him, naked and unashamed. “Tell me what you want,” she said.

“Why can’t I stop this?” he whispered, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

“Because you want me,” she said. She grabbed his face and held him until he opened his eyes. “And I want you.”

His eyes met hers and she saw the truth there. He didn’t just want her, he needed her, as much as she needed him. Olivia reached up and brushed her hair from her shoulders. His gaze fell to her breasts, then raked along the length of her body. She felt wicked, wanton, her usual restraint gone.

She held out her hand. “Come to bed with me,” she said.

He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her against him. They kissed, clumsy at first, then more desperately. Her tongue grazed his bottom lip, probing, daring him to respond. And he did, his control shattering the moment their tongues touched.

But Olivia was in control and she pulled away, tracing a line of kisses across his jawline and down his neck. “Tell me you want me,” she murmured, teasing at his nipple with her tongue.

He groaned softly. “I don’t want you,” he said. “I can’t want you.”

“But you do,” she insisted. “And I can prove it.”

Her fingers dropped to the waistband of his boxers and she slowly pushed them down, the fabric catching on the evidence of his desire. He was hard and beautiful, and as she bent to slide his boxers down to his ankles, she kissed him there. The sharp intake of his breath broke the silence and Olivia stayed where she was.

Slowly, deliberately, she tasted his sex, running her tongue along the hard ridge and taking him into her mouth. It was so intimate, this pleasure she gave him, that she was certain he’d stop her. But Conor wove his fingers through her hair and held her, watching as she made love to him with her mouth, stilling her movement when it became too much for him to bear, gently urging her forward when he wanted more.

A moan rumbled in his chest and he grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. Frantic with need, he kissed her, his mouth taking possession of hers, demanding and intense. His erection pressed against her stomach, hot and wet from her mouth and she knew she’d brought him so close that just one more touch would take him over the edge.

“Tell me what you want,” she whispered. “Tell me you want me.”

He grabbed her waist and lifted her up, then wrapped her legs around his hips. “I want you,” he said as he buried his face in the curve of her neck. The tip of his erection teased at her entrance. “So help me, I want you so bad I can’t stand it.”

Olivia tipped her head back and smiled, running her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t been wrong. And when all was said and done, when their days together were over and they’d both gone back to their lives, he’d remember this passion between them. And he’d come looking for it again.

Conor carried her to the dining room table, where he’d tossed his shirt and jeans. He set her down on the edge of the table, then fumbled to find his wallet. Olivia grabbed the condom from his fingers and tore the foil package open. But he was impatient and he grabbed it from her and quickly sheathed himself, as if her touch was more than he could take.

Then Conor stepped between her legs and gently pushed her back onto the table, his mouth coming down on one of her nipples. Olivia sighed softly as he took control, delighting in the feel of his body pressed into her. Wave after wave of delicious sensation washed over her as he made love to her in the same way she had to him.

He found every spot that made her shiver with need and when he finally tasted her damp core, ran his tongue over her swollen nub, she was already near the edge of conscious thought. This was all she ever needed in her life, he was the only lover she’d ever wanted. And these feelings coursing through her body were as close as she’d ever come to paradise. “Please,” Olivia murmured, reaching out for him, bringing his mouth back to hers. “Please.”

He drew her closer to the edge of the table, his hands skimming over her breasts, then clasping her hips. Gently, with exquisite tenderness, he entered her. Olivia murmured his name and arched against him, needing him to fill her with his heat, wanting him to take her the rest of the way.

Conor drove deep, burying himself completely, then slowly withdrew, as if to tease her, to make her shiver and ache for him. With each thrust, his rhythm increased, but he still wouldn’t give in to his own desire. He was in control now, and though Olivia felt she was near her own climax, it was Conor who would determine when it came.

Suddenly, he stopped, his body tense, his expression restrained. Olivia moaned softly. “Don’t,” she murmured, wriggling against him, trying desperately to reach him with her hands.

With a low growl, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head, still buried deep inside her. For a moment, Olivia thought it was over, that he’d brought her this far only to leave her wanting more.

But then he dropped a kiss on her lips, lingering a long moment before drawing away. “Tell me that you want me,” he said, staring down into her eyes, his gaze intense.

“I want you,” she murmured, tipping her head back and moaning as he slowly withdrew.

“Tell me again,” he demanded, plunging into her.

“I do,” Olivia breathed. “I need you, Conor. Please.” She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. This time, his gaze was like a caress, his expression soft. He let go of her wrists and touched her cheek with his fingers. Then he drew a ragged breath. “Tell me that you love me,” he said, his words hesitant. “Just for tonight, tell me.”

Olivia felt the emotion surge inside of her at his simple request. And though he just wanted to hear the words, she knew there was much more there, in her heart and in her soul. And that there was a reason he needed to hear the words. “I love you,” she murmured, holding his handsome face in her hands and staring into his eyes. “Just for tonight, I love you.”

He smiled down at her, then kissed her ever so softly. “And I love you,” he replied. “Just for tonight.”

And when they finally both cried out their release, Olivia came to a startling realization. This man was part of her and she was part of him. They’d touched each other in a way that made them one. And no matter what happened to pull them apart, they would always have each other and this perfect time they had spent together.

THE NOISE woke him up. Conor was continually amazed how he could tell the difference between a threatening sound and background noise, even when he was sound asleep. His instincts immediately sharpened. Olivia was asleep beside him in her bed, her naked body curled against his, oblivious to the danger. He thought about waking her, then decided to investigate first.

Conor carefully crawled out of bed, then searched the floor for his gun. He found it on the bedside table, still tucked in his holster. He thought about getting dressed, just in case the intruder was one of Lila Wright’s nosy friends. He compromised by pulling on a pair of boxer shorts.

He took slow steps to the bedroom door, then peered around the corner before starting down the hall. Sunshine illuminated the living room and dining room and the noises grew louder. If this was one of Keenan’s men, he wasn’t trying very hard to conceal his presence.

The sounds came from the kitchen, clanking utensils and running water. Conor pressed back against the wall as he made his way down the hallway. Then he drew a steadying breath and rushed the kitchen, his gun aimed chest high.

He smelled the freshly brewed coffee at about the same time that he shouted “Freeze!” at a pale-haired man in a leather jacket. The man’s hands shot up and he ducked his head. It was only then that Conor recognized Danny Wright. He strung a few vivid curses together, then lowered his gun. “Damn it, I could have shot you!”

Danny slowly turned around, his hands still raised over his head. His gaze slowly took in Conor’s disheveled appearance and his eyebrows shot up. But he didn’t offer a comment. His only reaction was a slight blush of embarrassment.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Conor demanded.

“I had to talk to you,” Danny said. “I knocked, but there was no answer. So I used my extra key. I figured after what you two have been up to, you were probably sleeping in.” He paused. “I-I mean, all the excitement you’ve had. That is, the danger, not the excitement. I meant that-”

Conor raised his hand to stop the babbling that inevitably sprang from his partner’s mouth right after he stuck his foot into it. He walked over to the counter and poured himself a mug of coffee, then turned around. “Why are you here?” he repeated.

“I-I just came to tell you that the D.A. cut a deal last night with Kevin Ford. He’ll testify against Keenan in return for a plea bargain on his own charges. He was also interviewed by Internal Affairs and he gave them the name of the cop that tried to coerce him. Ford has papers and tapes and enough evidence to put Keenan away for a long time. Olivia won’t have to testify.”

“You’re sure?” Conor asked.

“She was the only one to connect Ford to Keenan. With the evidence that Ford turned over, there’ll be a lot of Keenan’s associates who will be offering up testimony in exchange for deals. She should be safe.”

“We’re not sure of that,” Conor said, suddenly faced with the fact that this might be their last day together. “Not until the trial.”

“Word on the street is that Keenan has already cancelled the contract on her life.”

Conor took a long sip of his coffee. This was it, then. He could take Olivia home this morning and they could both go on with their lives. What they shared together last night would fade into a distant memory. And he wouldn’t have a chance to make her feel what he’d forced her to say last night-that she loved him.

Danny swallowed convulsively. “How’s your side?”

Conor shrugged. He’d almost forgotten. Olivia had a way of making all his pain just disappear. “I’m all right.”

“There is one other thing,” Danny murmured. “The lieutenant wants to see you this morning.”

“I suppose he wants to reprimand me for not checking in on a regular basis. Or maybe I’m going to have to pay for all those broken windows at the Happy Patriot?”

“I think it might be more serious than that.” Danny paused. “Can I speak freely, sir?”

“Only if you stop calling me ‘sir.’ We’re both detectives, Danny. We’re partners. Although I may be a few years older than you, I don’t outrank you.”

Danny nodded, then continued. “You know the captain’s not a big fan of yours. He’s been looking for anything to bust you back down to a beat cop. He thinks you have no respect for authority. And after the incident with that con man, he’s been gunning for you. There’s talk that he’s going to have you investigated, maybe brought up on charges.”

“And why would he do that?”

“They found out about your visit to Kevin Ford and his lawyers claim that you might have threatened him.”

“Did Ford tell them that?”

Danny shook his head, then gave Conor’s appearance the once-over. “The captain also suspects that you and-” He cleared his throat. “You and the witness might have developed a…personal relationship. Is that true?”

“What do you think?” Conor muttered. Sure, it was true and it was very personal. It was more personal than he’d ever been with any other woman. And if that was a crime, then let him be guilty. “You don’t have to answer that,” he added.

“You’re sleeping with her,” Danny said. “And that’s against just about every written and unwritten rule the Boston P.D. has. I want you to know that I like working with you and I’d be disappointed if something happened to put our partnership at risk.”

Conor clapped Danny on the shoulder and smiled tightly. “You can talk to the lieutenant and tell him I’ll be in later this morning. I’ll answer whatever questions he has. And if the captain wants to investigate, he’s welcome to do that. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Danny!”

They both turned to find Olivia standing in the doorway to the galley kitchen. She was dressed only in Conor’s flannel shirt, the tails barely reaching her thighs. Her hair was mussed and her lips slightly puffy. Conor wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, a perfect start to the day. But he held back. Last night was supposed to be the last time, he told himself.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Have you come to protect me?”

“Actually,” Conor said, “Danny just stopped by to give me a message from my boss. He was just leaving, weren’t you, Danny.”

“But you can stay for coffee, can’t you?” Olivia asked. “We haven’t had much company.” She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a mug of coffee. “I wanted to thank you for bringing over my things from the cottage on Cape Cod.”

Danny grinned, instantly besotted with her. What was this power she had over men? Conor wondered. All she had to do was smile at them and they went soft in the head. “No problem. I took home that seafood stuff myself.”

“The paella?”

Danny nodded. “It was really good. You’re a good cook, Ms. Farrell.”

She smiled. “Has the district attorney contacted you, Danny?”

“The district attorney?” Danny asked.

Conor shook his head, warning him off. “Danny really has to leave, Olivia. He’s late for work.”

She held the coffee in her hands and breathed in the steam. “But shouldn’t I talk to the D.A. before I testify? I mean, that’s what they do on television, isn’t it? I can’t just walk in there and answer his questions, can I? Doesn’t he have to prepare me?”

Danny glanced back and forth between them, then smiled wanly. “Yes. I-I mean, I don’t know. I guess that would depend.”

Conor turned Danny around and pushed him out of the kitchen toward the door. “Aren’t you going to tell her the good news?” Danny asked.

“Go back to the station,” Conor murmured. “I’ll see you later today.” He pulled open the door, gently shoved Danny out, closing it behind him. Then he turned and leaned back against the door. Conor’s mind turned over all the possibilities, all the ways he could tell her that their time together was over. But he couldn’t. He needed more time, just another day or two, time enough to see if what they shared would last in the real world, time to see if there was any truth to the words he’d made her say the night before.

He wanted to believe Olivia could love him, but the real truth was staring him right in the eyes. They were from two different worlds. He was a cop, making a cop’s salary and living a cop’s life. She deserved more than that. She deserved a man who could stand beside her at her society parties, who could meet her rich friends and make intelligent conversation, not some guy who’d taken night courses to finish college and who preferred police reports to good literature.

“I probably shouldn’t have come out when Danny was here,” Olivia murmured.

Conor turned. Olivia stood in the dining room, looking delicate and vulnerable and completely kissable. But he held his ground. “No problem.”

“What if he says something?”

“Danny knows when to keep his mouth shut,” Conor said. He pushed off the door and walked into the dining room, then picked up his clothes. He was afraid to look at her again, afraid that he’d want to take her into his arms and make love to her for the rest of the day.

“I can make you some breakfast,” Olivia said.

Conor smiled tightly. “That’s all right. I wouldn’t want you to set the kitchen on fire.” He glanced up at her and saw disappointment suffuse her pretty face. He’d insulted her. “I’m sorry. I have to go. My boss wants to see me this morning and I can’t keep him waiting.”

Olivia nodded and she watched as he got dressed. By the time he pulled on his socks and shoes, her brow was furrowed and she was worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. Conor grabbed his jacket and his holster, then stepped over to her to drop a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Don’t go out,” he warned. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

When he reached the safety of the hallway, he leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. “You should just walk away now,” he murmured to himself. “Just let her go while you still can.”

It would be so easy. All he’d have to do was send an officer over to the condo to tell her the good news. She’d pack up and leave and he’d never have to see her again. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He knew how much it would hurt Olivia.

No, he’d wait. Another day or two together was all he needed to find out for sure. And then they could leave this place and go on with their lives. And whether it was together or apart, Conor knew that he’d have given it a chance. That was all he could ask for-just a chance.