Raspberry Crush (30 page)

"Really? Everyone?"

Joe nodded. "Yeah, it's Academy 101. You can't believe anyone. The suspects, the perps, the victims on the scene, no one. That's the only way not to be surprised or taken in. Assuming people are lying is the only way to keep a cool head—kind of like that old riddle about the two guards."

"Oh, wait. One always lies, one always tells the truth?"

"Right. Even in that, the only way to figure the answer is by focusing on the guard who's a liar. Only using logic with the assumption that being lied to is the only way to deduce the truth." So far Joe was refreshingly easy to talk to, and it threw Corryn's wisecracking defenses out of whack.

Relaxing more, she said, "Well my boss's 101 is ABC."

"Always be closing?"

"No. Apartments before condos." Joe tilted his head. "It's true for the most part," Corryn said, "at least in this town." Annette Beefe's theory was based on Boston's constant inundation of college kids, who were always looking for short-term leases. Corryn's boss, Annette, was always looking for a quick score.

"By the way, are you still up for a movie?" Joe asked. "We could see what's on TV. Or I'm sure I have some videos around here...."

"Okay," Corryn said, sinking into the couch cushion, feeling more at ease. Joe flicked on the TV and sat next to her. Glancing over, she noticed the curve of his biceps, which were powerful beneath his shirt.

As they sat in silence, Corryn could feel the heat rising between them, the cloying feeling between her legs, and suddenly Joe leaned over. She turned her face, and just like that, he kissed her. It was very gentle, just a brushing of his lips across hers, and afterward she ducked her head, then refocused on the screen.

She just wasn't ready for anything more, and Joe seemed to understand, because he draped his arm along the back of the couch and seemed perfectly content to watch TV by her side.

* * *

The next morning Billy heard the crinkling of the shower curtain, and Seth climbed in behind her. Just as she turned to face him, he pulled her into his arms. "Wait," she said.

"For what?" he mumbled into her neck.

"Just wait." She'd woken up that morning limp and sore and very much in need of a reality check. She and Seth were turning into a fling, and she hated that. It was a cheapened version of an actual relationship, and that left her feeling... sad. "It's just that everything's happened too fast with us, and... well, it's not like you have any plans to move back to the East Coast, right?"

He hesitated, pulling back a few inches. "No," he said finally. Of course, he fantasized about it sometimes—about selling the company to Lucas, about living in Churchill, about starting over with a new company that wouldn't take as much of his time—but ultimately he wasn't ready to do it. It was too big a change—too risky, too unstructured. He hadn't even laid the groundwork for a new company. No, it just wasn't realistic.

Even though Billy was expecting Seth to say no, her heart plummeted. A tiny part of her had imagined him saying yes, or at the very least, saying maybe.

"So then where is this going?" she asked, feeling inexplicably defensive, yet trying to sound casual, as if she weren't on the verge of tears.

"I don't know... I mean... I just like being with you. Obviously I'm extremely attracted to you. And it's not like you're gonna leave Boston anytime soon, right?"

"No," Billy said, even though she might if he asked. Or she might be willing to try a long-distance relationship for a while—but she already felt too vulnerable and exposed to propose all this when she didn't even know where Seth stood on their future. She was waiting for
him
to say something.

Meanwhile, Seth paused as though he was about to speak, but then stopped himself.

"So this is, what... a harmless fling?" Billy said finally, trying not to show her anger, her embarrassment, her irrational frustration with Seth and his whole sick need to live in Seattle.

Irritably, he replied, "I'm not sure what you want me to say. Aren't you dating someone else, anyway?"

Suddenly Billy felt like a complete fool. So a fling was
exactly
what Seth thought this was. He thought that she was dating someone else, and he was perfectly fine with that! He didn't want a relationship with her again—even a long-distance one—but was perfectly content to fool around while he was here, and then blow out of town.

No, she couldn't do it. Not again. As it was, she was already developing strong feelings for him, and knew how deeply she would miss him when he left. Pain cut through her heart, slashing that soft, vulnerable place inside that she'd begun to open up to him, whether he realized it or not.

Abruptly she turned and gave him her back.

"Billy—tell me. What is it you want me to say?"

"Nothing. But I'm just trying to tell you that I don't think it's a good idea for us to keep... getting involved. I care about you, and I like spending time with you," she continued, fighting back tears that stung her eyes. "But I just want us to be friends from this point on."

There. She'd said it. Too bad it was all a load of crap.

She'd hoped he'd protest, but it didn't happen. "Fine," he said curtly, and climbed out of the shower.

* * *

Seth drove down Beacon Street wondering what the hell had just happened. After one of the best nights in his entire life, he'd sleepily climbed into the shower to relive some of it. And out of nowhere, Billy decided she wanted to be friends.

Friends!

Damn it all—if that wasn't the classic kiss-off. He'd asked her what was going on with the other guy because he'd thought—wrongly, he supposed—that she'd been fishing around about a future. But obviously if they were going to think about starting a relationship again, he'd need to know what the deal was with this mysterious other man in Billy's life.

But as soon as he'd put
her
on the spot, she'd clammed up, wanting to drop the subject and just be friends. Fuck, he didn't want to be friends. True, after he'd dropped Billy off at work the day before, he'd done some thinking about what had happened between them. But what he'd realized was that he couldn't ask Billy to up and move across the country just for him, and he wasn't going to move back. It wasn't that the idea wasn't tempting—of course it was. He loved the East Coast; he loved that big old beautiful house he was going to sell.

But his life and work were in Seattle. Still, he'd decided to remain open to the possibility of a long-distance relationship. He'd thought Billy might feel different about that option this time around. But it was pretty obvious she was still involved with that guy, Mark; otherwise she'd be able to answer a goddamn straightforward question about him.

Oh, hell, why was he letting her get to him like this? He wouldn't deny he was having fun with her, but he was also getting way too sappy and sentimental. Thinking he was already in love with her... it had to be loneliness. Not that Billy wasn't lovable, but he was getting in too deep. And even when he tried to keep things light, she didn't seem to like
that,
either.

It felt like he couldn't win with her. But he did still care about her. And he knew he couldn't bear it if anything happened to her. So that settled it then. They'd be friends.

It was really the best thing for both of them.

Chapter 23

After spending most of the day in Churchill, working on the streetscape, Billy remembered to return Kip Belding's call. His phone rang half a time before he picked it up. "Hi, Kip, this is Billy Cabot."

"Oh, I'm so excited you called! I have the peach pie of all positions for you."

"Really?" she said, interested but skeptical.

"How would you like to grow in a versatile, consumer-driven facility, with an ample benefits package to boot?"

"Sounds interesting. Where is it?"

"It's in Dorchester."

A red flag went up. "What company?"

"Well, it's a health-oriented conglomeration—"

"Please tell me it's not Tuck Hospital again," she said, holding back a sigh.

"Um..."

"Look, Kip, I've told you that I don't want to work in a hospital. I'm looking for a more corporate environment." She couldn't believe she was actually saying that, especially after her blissful time away from the eight-to-five madness, but it was true. Corporate America was less scary than a hospital; she feared diseases, doctors, bugs, and private jets—end of story. What did Kip not understand about this?

"Well, it's really not
in
the hospital," he snapped defensively. "You'd be adjacent to the main building, in a large, basementlike enclosure."

Huh?

Then it hit her. No, that couldn't be it.

"Kip, you don't mean... the
morgue,
do you?"

He heaved a deep, martyred sigh, but didn't deny the charge.
Jesus!
Zombies might not be one of Billy's fears, but that didn't make the morgue prospect any less creepy. "Kip, I'm sorry; I'm going to pass on that one. In fact, I'm going to pass on every single position that opens up at Tuck Hospital. You have my résumé; you know my skills. If something opens up that actually involves those skills, please give me a call."

Seth's Acura pulled up outside the gallery just as Billy hung up her cell phone. "Hey," he said as she climbed into the car.

"Hi," she said brightly, trying to start this new platonic thing off on the right foot. "How's your day going?"

"Fine."

"Anything new around the house?"

"No."

"Sounds good."

They drove quietly to the Churchill Public Library. It was obvious that Seth was still peeved at her, and Billy could only assume it was because she'd put an end to the no-strings sex. But she knew he would get over it; the fact was, if Seth didn't want to be her friend, he wouldn't be here right now.

Earlier Billy had made plans with Mark for the upcoming weekend. He'd thanked her profusely, showering her with praise, and told her she wouldn't regret giving him a second chance. She'd told him that she wanted to just take it slowly, and deep in the recesses of her mind, she prayed that she wouldn't regret it, either.

When they entered the Churchill Public Library, Seth was hit with a sensation of déjà vu from when he was young. His father would take him there to listen to his mom, who used to run a story hour for the kids. Smiling nostalgically at that, Seth felt yet another pull back toward his old home.

"Now do you have it all down?" Billy asked softly as they crossed the peach-colored carpet toward the circulation desk.

"Yeah, of course," Seth said, referring to the plan they'd come up with last night, in bed, after some slow, steamy sex.

"So I'm a writer, and you're my assistant—"

"Wait, I thought I was the writer," he said, confused, as they approached the desk.

"No, I'm supposed to be... right?"

"Well, let's just both be writers."

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, yes, hi," Billy replied to the bored-looking teenager sitting behind the desk. "We're looking for Claudia Dibbs, the head librarian?"

He nodded and called loudly over his shoulder, "Miss Dibbs! People here for you!" God forbid the kid actually got up to get her. Seconds later, a full-figured woman in her sixties emerged, with smooth caramel-colored hair pulled into a loose bun. She wore a conservative navy dress with a timid floral print, and a string of faux-pearls around her neck.

"Can I help you?" she asked, looking first at Seth, then at Billy.

Folding her hands on top of the desk, Billy reminded herself that bluffing was all attitude. "Yes, hello, my name is Billy Cabot. I'm a writer, and this is my assistant, Seth."

Seth shot her a look out of the corner of his eye.

"We're here researching a book on the local fishing industry," she continued in her best writer voice, whatever that meant. "I wondered if we could talk to you. I promise I won't take much of your time."

"But what could I possibly tell you about the local fishing trade?" Miss Dibbs asked, confused.

"Um... well, I figured as head librarian, you'd be able to give me some important information, maybe some idea where I could begin looking, um... well, I figured with the prestigious role you have in this community, you know, your having an ear to the ground, so to speak, and just being more knowledgeable about this town than I'm sure most people are... I thought you'd be an invaluable person to talk to—that is, if you don't mind."

"Oh, well... of course, I'd be happy to help," Miss Dibbs said, pressing a hand to her chest proudly and stepping out from behind the circulation desk. (Sometimes flattery really
did
get you everywhere.) She sat down at a nearby table.

As soon as Billy joined her, Miss Dibbs said, "My throat's a little parched. Maybe your assistant could fetch us some water. There are Dixie cups by the water fountains."

"Oh, good idea," Billy said, looking to Seth, who was glaring back. "Would you mind?"

"Sure—no problem," he replied tightly, and turned to go find the nearest water fountain.

"The fountain on the fifth floor is the coldest!" Miss Dibbs called to him. Seth nodded. "Oh and by the way, the elevator's broken," she added, then turned back to Billy. "Handsome assistant." It could've been an objective comment, or a veiled insinuation that "assistant" was code for "gigolo." Or was that just how Billy's mind was working at the moment? Did it simply reflect the constant sexualization of nearly everything now wherever Seth Lannigan was concerned?

While he was fetching water, Billy eased into her questions about Ted Schneider by first asking Miss Dibbs a little about the history of the town, the tourist trade, and the popularity of seafood restaurants. Then she moved in for the 411. "Now, I know there was a fisherman who moved here recently and suffered an untimely end. Ted Schneider, I believe his name was. Did you know him?"

Miss Dibbs drew her lips together tightly. "Why would I know him?" she asked evasively. She'd started to clam up now, Billy could tell, so she had no choice but to pull out the big guns. She reached into her bag and retrieved the library book they'd found on Ted's boat, and she slid it across the table.