Free Power by Debra Webb Page B

he’d given up on
them
and walked away. Before a couple weeks ago she hadn’t even seen him in ten years. Another annoying flash fire roared through her at the memory of them running into each other in a Publix supermarket that Christmas over a decade ago. They’d ended up in bed together that time too.
    What did it say about her that she kept repeating that particular mistake?
    “Don’t start again with where I live.” This motel was only temporary. She had to sell her house in Stafford before she could consider buying one here. Unlike the Dentons and the Burnetts of the world, she couldn’t afford to own two houses at the same time and drive luxury vehicles to boot. Besides, she might not even opt to buy another house. She was rarely home. Why not just get an apartment or condo? Who needed all the lawn maintenance responsibility? She kind of liked knowing that stuff was taken care of. This secret would go to her grave with her, but she had grown somewhat attached to having a maid as well. Not that the one here was that great, but not having to worry about vacuuming or making the bed was a serious perk.
    All those years she had castigated Katherine Burnett for being too lazy to clean her own house. Well, now she knew.
    He held up the coffee. “You’re right. No more low-rent-district jabs.” He offered her one of the cups. “I know it’s late. I brought coffee. Thought we could catch up on what happened this evening.”
    That he still wore the charcoal suit he’d been wearing at work today told her he hadn’t been home yet. He worked too hard. But the fine lines all that responsibility had etched into his handsome face just made him look distinguished. Unlike her, he pulled off the rumpled look as if he’d taken lessons from George Clooney.
    “I don’t want any coffee. Are you just leaving the office?”
    The instantaneous and complete lockdown that closed his expression gave her the answer before he opened his mouth to offer whatever excuse he was clearly scrambling to dredge up.
    It was too late to take back the question. Mortified, she suppressed a groan. That they had shared the bed only a few feet behind her for most of Saturday and Sunday didn’t give either of them controlling stock in the other’s business. They had rules about that. Sort of.
    “I had dinner with Annette at Bottega’s. We needed to talk about Andrea.” He shrugged, the gesture too quick and blatantly stilted. “She’s having a tough time and after today it’s only going to get worse. I didn’t realize my cell was on silent until I was headed home.”
    Wow. He had dinner with his most recent ex-wife and had his cell on silent? He didn’t even do that when they had sex. Far more suspicious was the idea that it was almost midnight and he was just leaving Annette.
    Jess stiffened her spine. She absolutely refused to show the nasty green jealousy currently coursing through her veins. “What does Brandon have to say about all this?” Brandon was Andrea’s father and Annette’s current husband who used to be her ex. Jess did a mental shake of her head. These people were the ones who needed a psych eval.
    “Brandon’s out of town on business.”
    Do tell
. “With her husband out of town,” Jess offered, “she had nowhere else to turn, I’m sure. It’s a good thing you could be there for her.”
Gag
.
    Avoiding eye contact now, Burnett crossed the dinky room and placed the cups of coffee on the counter next to her Glock. Turning back to her he did a double take and studied the open bathroom door an extra second or two. Oops. He’d spotted the bottle of wine on the bathroom floor. Damn. She should have closed that door.
    He gave her one of those looks that came from the chief of police, not the man. “Wine and a hot bath? That’s a dangerous combination for a woman alone in a motel room. Don’t you watch the news?”
    Way to change the subject from his ex-wife and her out-of-town husband. “That tub is hardly deep