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to laugh. If she didn’tlaugh, she’d cry. And what good was crying? There was no one to hear her, no one to help…?.
    As usual.

3
    I have a better idea… What if we made an arrangement?… What kind of arrangement?… An arrangement that would last for one night… ?.
    Holy hell. Myles had so many hormones coursing through him he couldn’t even bring himself to sit down. Leaving the lights off—the darkness gave him a sense of privacy he desperately needed right now—he prowled around his living room, fighting the urge to return to Vivian’s. If he couldn’t convince her to go out with him, why not take what he could get? Tonight might be his only chance.
    But that was a pretty creepy way to look at it. He really didn’t want to be that big an asshole. For one thing, she’d had too much to drink. That meant he couldn’t.
    There were other issues, too. He still felt some loyalty to Amber Rose, hadn’t been with anyone since. Then there was Marley and how irresponsible it would be for him, as a father and a police officer, to be intimate with someone he wasn’t even dating. And what about Pat? The murder of a Pineview citizen should’ve been enough to keep him occupied and well beyond temptation. He’d assigned his two best investigators to the case, but he’d have his work cut out for him in the morning, when the pressbegan to call and everyone started demanding answers. He should be getting some sleep. The whole community was depending on him…?.
    But he wanted her. There was no question about that. As guilty and disloyal as it made him feel, he’d wanted her almost from the first day he saw her, watering her lawn wearing that pretty summer dress and no shoes. Would one night of hot, sweaty sex be that reprehensible?
    If he indulged himself, maybe he’d be able to start living again. He felt as if his life had been on pause since Amber Rose died. He’d convinced himself to go out on a couple of blind dates set up by well-meaning friends, and he’d joined a softball team in an attempt to socialize, but he was merely going through the motions, pretending to be whole when he wasn’t. Except for the love he had for his daughter and the interest Vivian sparked whenever he saw her, he felt very little passion for anyone or anything—even, to a point, his work.
    This might be the answer, might bring him back to the man he used to be.
    He imagined taking Vivian to the lake, pictured himself peeling off her swimsuit and bringing his mouth to her breast, and nearly groaned. Allowing himself to dangle at the far edge of restraint was driving him mad—
    “Daddy?”
    His daughter’s voice acted like a splash of cold water in the face. Whipping around, he saw her charging down the steps, heading toward the kitchen. He’d left the light on in there. Her best friend, Elizabeth, trailed after her. Their movie must’ve ended.
    “Yes?”
    His answer, coming from the direction it did, startled her. She hadn’t expected to find him brooding in the dark.
    After hesitating for a moment, she came forward. “Is something wrong?”
    A lot was wrong. But he felt as though fifteen minutes with Vivian could fix at least some of it. “No, why?”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Just thinking.”
    When she leaned closer, he could tell she was trying to see him more clearly in the light spilling from the hallway. “Why is your hair messed up?”
    Better his hair than his clothes, he thought, and jammed his hands in his pockets. “I must’ve shoved my fingers through it.”
    “It looks funny.” She nudged Elizabeth and they both giggled. But then she sobered and the worry was back. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    That was a question he hoped he’d be more capable of answering in the affirmative tomorrow. “Of course. What’s up?”
    “Elizabeth and I were wondering if I could stay over at her house tonight.”
    “No!” The quickness of his reply revealed that he hadn’t even considered it. She wouldn’t