Chapter 4
Lisbon simply couldn't sleep that night. She lay awake in her bed, her mind swirling with thoughts.
Why on Earth had Jane called her? Was he just trying to distract her attention from the unnamed woman he was in love with? Or else…?
She couldn't bring herself to accept the other possibility. Jane wasn't in love with her. She knew this for sure.
Did she?
When he had mentioned the fact of being in love again, she had pictured the woman as a slender, golden-haired siren: sophisticated, witty and – above all – ravishingly beautiful.
Everything that she wasn't, in fact.
Now she wasn't so sure about this. Her mind was confused, and she just couldn't think straight.
Admittedly, maybe Jane was in love with her. Or, more probably, he was merely deluded about the whole business.
Anyway, she wasn't in love with him. He was a friend, that was all.
She cared for him as she cared for the rest of her team. Well, maybe a little more.
After all, she had always considered Jane as a sort of naughty younger brother, who constantly needed someone to take care of him. So she did.
Half the time he nearly drove her crazy. The other half… well, she kind of enjoyed his company. Bantering. Laughing at his jokes. Teasing him.
She had gotten used to all this.
That didn't mean she had fallen in love with him. Falling in love was such a terrible cliché, anyway.
The only time she had really felt something of the kind was about Sam Bosco. He had been her mentor, and she had admired him immensely. A pity he was a married man. Nothing much to do about that, anyway.
Then many things had happened, and… well, she'd rather avoid thinking about it. Sam was dead now. Bringing up the past was of no use.
The other brief affairs she'd had in her life had meant nothing to her. Not even her fling with Walter Mashburn. She'd been flattered that he had found her attractive – especially after a supermodel. They had had a good time, and that was that.
She suspected that Jane took love much more seriously than she did. He'd been faithful to his dead wife for almost a decade, after all. Of course that had something to do with him feeling guilty about her death, but… it was different.
Jane was different from other men.
He could be such a child sometimes. However, she knew there was much more than this behind his cheerful façade. His feelings ran deeper and stronger than anyone else's.
It would be a wonderful thing being loved just as he had loved his wife.
Dammit, she craved for this. Very, very badly.
Her thoughts lingered idly on certain fantasies. His lips brushing against hers. The touch of his fingers on her skin.
She had to stop this. Really. It was just… she didn't want to.
Suddenly she got up, put on her clothes, grabbed her car keys and left.