forehead, the nose that was, perhaps, a touch too wide, the prominent jaw. Every feature was intensely masculine, except his eyes. Fringed with the longest lashes sheâd ever seen, they held a world of secrets. And, possibly, pain.
âI have a woman in the car who claims you assaulted her,â she said.
His gaze slid to the cruiser but he said nothing.
âYou donât have a response to that?â
The forbidding expression on his face made Allie realizewhy most people chose to leave him alone. Beyond his impressive height and massive shoulders, he could shrivel a person with one glance. âDoes she look like I assaulted her?â
âTough to tell in the dark.â
âThen let me help you outâsheâs lying.â
âSo what are you saying? You didnât touch her?â
Although she knew he wasnât doing it on purpose, his muscles bulged conspicuously as he folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. âIs that a trick question, Officer?â
âExcuse me?â
He lifted one shoulder in a careless motion. âSure, I touched herâin all the places she wanted me to touch her. We werenât playing checkers. But I didnât hurt her.â
Normally when a suspect made that kind of statement, it registered only in the cognitive part of Allieâs brain. She was good at gathering facts, reconstructing the circumstances surrounding a crime, solving puzzles. But working in her hometown where she knew almost everyone made police work so much more personal. Clayâs comment evoked images sheâd rather not see.
Wetting her lips, she quickly steered her focus back where she needed it to be. Because of who Clay was, and the number of people in Stillwater whoâd love to see him behind bars, this was a more sensitive situation than it wouldâve been otherwise. She didnât want to screw upâfor his sake, more than anyone elseâs, although she doubted heâd believe she had his best interests at heart.
âIs it true that you and Beth Ann argued about the baby?â she asked.
âWhat baby?â
Confederate jasimine scaled the lattice on both ends ofhis porch. Allie could smell its sweet scent despite the rain. âShe didnât tell you sheâs pregnant?â
The word made him rock back as if sheâd just landed a solid right hook. Even Clay had his limits, because he wasnât able to prevent the abject terror that flooded his face. âWhat?â
âShe said you demanded she get an abortion.â
âThatâs bullshit!â he shouted, and if Allie hadnât stepped in front of him, he probably wouldâve charged out to the cruiser. âBring her back here. She canât be pregnant.â
Allie arched her eyebrows. âYou werenât playing checkersâ¦.â
âWe mightâve hadâ¦but we neverââ He raked his fingers through his hair. âHell, what we did or didnât do is none of your damn business. Iâll handle this.â
âIâm afraid it is my business,â she said, refusing to back down. âBeth Ann saidââ
âSheâs making it up!â
âPerhaps. But I have to investigate her story all the same.â
His nostrils flared, but he seemed to rethink his belligerent attitude. âOkay, how specific do you want me to get?â he asked. âShe was on the Pill, and Iâm religious about using a condom. But we didnât always do it the conventional way. She liked it best when I used my mouth. Or sometimes Iâd get her off byââ
âThatâs enough,â Allie said, hating the blush she could feel creeping up her neck. She knew heâd been trying to singe her ears, to punish her for treading where she didnât belong, and hated giving him visual proof that heâd succeeded. But she was human and not completely at ease discussing the sex habits of such a privateâand