Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1

by Denise Grover Swank

  I broke eye contact, and when I glanced to the side, an open coffee shop caught my attention. If I were smart, I’d go back to the catering shop and wait for Momma. So why wasn’t I doing that? My feelings were not to be trusted, but even though I knew that, I found myself cocking my head and looking up at him. “Didn’t you say something about coffee?”

  Relief washed over his face. “Yes, I did. Coffee sounds great.”

  I led the way across the street and into the shop, reveling in the rich aroma that filled my nose as soon as I walked through the doors. Brady followed me to the counter, where I ordered a caramel macchiato and he ordered his coffee black. He insisted on paying for our drinks, which was good since I belatedly realized I didn’t have any money with me. We waited in silence until my drink was ready, then he motioned to an empty table in the back.

  Moments later we were both seated, and I noticed my hands were shaking a little around my cup. This was a bad idea. You’re playing with fire, Magnolia. But hadn’t I been doing that for years?

  “Did you grow up here?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I looked down at the cup in my hands. “But I moved away for a long time.”

  “It couldn’t have been that long unless you moved away in grade school,” he said, his tone light and playful.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Normal people talked about where they’d lived, so I’d just made myself even more suspicious. Stupid move, Magnolia. Maybe if I tried playing a role with him, I could get through this. The innocent woman and the good-looking detective. Or the ingénue with a secret.

  But I didn’t want to play a role with him. Brady Bennett made me want to be me. And wasn’t that scary as hell . . .

  I opened my eyes and stared into his, which had darkened. “This was a mistake.”

  He looked down at my left hand, then back up to my eyes. “Do you have a boyfriend? A husband?”

  “No,” I said softly, thrown off guard by his question. “Do you?”

  A grin lit up his face, even though there was still a hint of worry there. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend or a husband.” He tipped his head to the side. “But if you’re asking if I have a wife or a girlfriend, the answer is still no. And I confess it makes me happy that you asked.” He reached up and tugged on his collar. “Although I can understand your confusion, given this shirt I’m wearing. My sister will be pleased to know her attempt to expand my wardrobe actually worked.”

  I laughed as he put his hands on the table. I couldn’t help it. “You do realize there is nothing special about that shirt, right? It’s a standard blue oxford, and you don’t even have the collar buttoned.”

  He tried to look down, then lifted his hand to reach for the collar, but I laughed and grabbed his hand. “No, leave it. Buttoning it wouldn’t look right on you.” I paused before deciding to throw caution to the wind. “While you might be wearing a standard blue oxford shirt, there is nothing standard about you in it, Detective Brady Bennett.” Then I gave him a saucy grin. “And I never suspected you were gay.”

  His eyes darkened again, and I suddenly realized my hand still covered his. I tried to pull it away, but he held on and lowered our clasped hands to the table.

  My stomach tingled like I was racing downhill on a roller coaster. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had made me feel this way. I licked my bottom lip and his gaze followed, sending a jolt much lower than my stomach. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to flirt with the citizens who walk into your police station, Detective Bennett.”

  His eyes held mine. “While that’s true, I’m not here as Detective Bennett, remember? We’re here as Brady and Maggie, two people who were out for a stroll and are now having coffee.” He gave me a conspiratorial grin. “One could even call this a first date.” His shoulder lifted in a lazy shrug, and his thumb followed suit, sending chills down my spine as it meandered over the back of my hand. “And this is what people do on first dates. They get to know each other.”

  “This is a date?” I asked, trying to ignore the thrill that word sent through me.

  He ignored the question, giving me one of his own instead. “You said you went away. Where did you go?”

  I tensed. We were back in minefield territory. “New York.”

  “What did you do there? If you’re a country singer, wouldn’t you want to stick around here?”

  I gave him a helpless look. If I answered that truthfully, it would change our dynamic, and there’d be no getting this easy feeling back.

  “Okay,” he said, shifting his weight. “You don’t want to answer that. That’s okay. How about this—do you have a record deal? Have you made money as a singer?”

  “I don’t have a record deal, but I have done commercials.”

  “Oh, yeah?” His eyes lit up with excitement. “Any I’d know?”

  “Probably not. One was a toothpaste commercial. I brushed my teeth in front of a mirror and then walked into a classroom and smiled at a boy. Pretty generic stuff.” Which was why I felt safe telling him.

  “And the others?”

  “Shampoo. And a fast food commercial, but I was in the background.” I may have been in the background, but it was a major chain and I still got residuals.

  “So you’re an actress too.” His eyes filled with a dawning understanding, and I started to panic a little when he said, “You were in New York. That’s like the capital of the world for theatre, right? Were you in any plays?”

  Realizing that Brady was still holding my hand, I slowly pulled it away. “A few.”

  He sat back, the patient look returning. “That’s okay. Touchy subject. We’ll talk about something else.”

  But my defenses had started to rebuild themselves. “You say we’re here just as Brady and Maggie, but aren’t you on duty?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I was about to leave when one of the guys told me there was a woman with some information and I needed to talk to her. So I did.” He smiled. “But as soon as we left the station, I was off the clock. I’m really just here as me, Maggie.”

  “They didn’t tell you what it was about?”

  “No. Should they have? All they said was that there was a woman who’d insisted on talking to someone right away. When I realized you didn’t feel safe talking, I decided you needed a friend more. So I suggested we leave.”

  “So why would you use your personal time to talk to me unofficially?”

  He shook his head, his grin returning. “Isn’t it obvious? I like you. I called this a first date.”

  I looked down. “I thought maybe it was just a line to get me to talk.”

  He was silent for several seconds, long enough for me to look up into his eyes. He seemed angry, but he swallowed and some of his irritation faded. “Maggie, listen to me, and this is important, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “I will never lie to you or try to trick you. Ever.”

  “It’s your job,” I said, wrapping my arms across my chest. “It’s your job to trick people into confessing and telling you things.”

  A hood fell over his eyes, and for the first time since I’d met him, he looked guarded. “Do you have something to confess?”

  “No!” I nearly shouted, scrunching my shoulders up to my ears when I realized I’d gotten the attention of the people around us. “I don’t have anything to confess.” But that was a lie that ate at my soul. I forced myself to look up at him. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  But was that really true? I should be telling him about the house I’d found tonight, about the memories that had returned to me. Instead I was sitting here drinking coffee like it had never happened. But I had no idea if he would even believe me. Was it worth the risk? Those blocked texts could be from that man . . . which meant he might be watching me.

  I shook my head and looked away, suddenly feeling hot. I scrambled to take my sweater off and then let it fall on the seat behind me.

  Why was I still here? Why didn’t I just leave? How
could this man who was practically a stranger have such a hold on me?

  Brady leaned forward and took both of my hands in his own again, his gaze lingering on my forearm. Horror filled my head when I noticed there was a bold purple bruise on my wrist from where Roy had smacked it away.

  Had that really happened tonight? It felt like years ago.

  Brady’s eyes lifted to mine. “I need to make sure you know you can trust me. It’s important.”

  “Why?” I asked with a hint of defiance.

  “Because I meant it when I said we could call this a first date.” When I started to protest, he squeezed my hands. “If you came in to report a crime, you didn’t tell me anything. So I was never officially the detective on your case. Which means we can see each other again.” He paused. “But if we want to explore this thing between us—and there’s something between us, Maggie, I know you feel it too—then you have to be able to trust me. I can’t let you go on thinking I would try to deceive you.”

  But I’m deceiving you. A lump filled my throat.

  “Were you there to report a crime?”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t even look at him. My heart was breaking and I wasn’t sure why. I barely knew this guy.

  “Maggie.” I looked up into his warm gaze. “If you want to tell me as a friend, then I’ll go with you to the station as a friend and sit with you while you report it.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “You would do that?” I asked. “Why? So you can sleep with me?”

  His eyes filled with sadness. “Someone must have hurt you pretty bad, huh? You think that’s why I’m here? So I can sleep with you?”

  “You’re saying you don’t want to?” I lifted my chin, my defiance returning.

  “I most definitely want to sleep with you.”

  A flush washed over me at the thought of getting Brady Bennett naked, but it was followed fast by disappointment. He was just like every other guy after all.

  Without shifting his gaze from me, he leaned over the table toward me. “Because I want more than a one-night stand, Maggie. I want the chance to see where this might lead.”

  “How do I know that’s not some line you tell all the girls?”

  “Because it’s the truth.” His mouth tipped up a little at the corner. “That’s a fault of mine. Sometimes I’m honest when I should keep my mouth shut. Now your turn.”

  “My turn to what?”

  “Tell me one of your faults.”

  I laughed, a derisive sound, and broke his gaze. “Where do I begin?”

  “I can’t believe there are that many.”

  I lifted my face with a jerk. “I’m a selfish, inconsiderate, self-centered bitch. Ask anyone who used to know me here. They’ll tell you the ugly truths about Magnol—” I stopped, but I wasn’t sure if I’d stopped in time. If one of Brady’s faults was a predilection for honesty, another was being observant. Which meant he hadn’t missed my slip. He just wasn’t acknowledging it.

  He smiled. “I don’t believe you. Try again.”

  Should I just tell him the truth? He was going to find out anyway. But it would be better to guide him to it than to just blurt it out. It would help him see things from my perspective. “When you’re investigating a crime, do you look at all the evidence?”

  He studied me for a few seconds, probably trying to decide where I was going with this. “Yeah, of course. That’s my job.”

  “A job you do out of love, right? You told me you love investigating.”

  “Maggie . . . I’m not sure what you’re reading into this, but I swear I’m just trying to get to know you.”

  “Would you say you’re thorough?”

  Surprisingly, he didn’t seem offended. “I’d like to think so, but I’m human, so that makes me fallible. Still, I try my best to be objective and get all the facts.”

  “But there are other detectives who are sloppy and don’t do their jobs, right?”

  “There are people like that in every job.” Then he added, “And yes, some are more bullheaded and stubborn than others.”

  I hesitated. “I’m terrible about returning things,” I said quietly, lifting a shoulder. “Library books. Netflix discs before they had streaming. Casserole dishes. My friends’ clothes.”

  “So you’re saying if I’m ever at your place and leave a shirt or something behind, you probably won’t return it?” His eyes changed, a sexy look that twisted something deep inside me, making parts of me throb.

  “Leave your shirt at your own risk,” I said with a saucy grin, my pulse picking up.

  “Good.” His voice lowered into a seductive tone that brought my body to life. “Then I’ll have a good reason to come back to see you. And I’m really looking forward to coming back for my shirt.”

  My face flushed. Actually flushed. Magnolia Steele was blushing. Jody would never believe it. I laughed.

  “You have a pretty laugh, Maggie. I want to hear it more often.”

  No one had ever told me that. Ever.

  His phone rang—a utilitarian ringtone—and his smile fell as he dug it out of his pocket.

  “Bennett.” It was his commanding voice, the one that had captured my attention the first time we met. His expression switched from turned-on to drop-dead serious in an instant, and he mumbled “shit” under his breath. Giving me an apologetic glance, he said, “I’ll be right there.”

  “You have to go. To work,” I said as he hung up the call and set his phone on the table. He’d just gotten an official call. Which meant he really was on the clock. Did that mean he’d been using me for information after all? Had it all been some elaborate trick?

  “I’m sorry, Maggie. I wish I didn’t have to go.”

  “You lied to me,” I said, my defenses returning. I got out of my seat and grabbed my sweater, my hands shaking so much it took me three attempts to swipe it. “You’re still on duty.” My voice shook with tears, and I was pissed at myself for letting him upset me.

  He got to his feet, but his eyes never left mine. “I’m on call, Maggie. I didn’t lie.”

  Before I knew it, he was on my side of the table, grabbing my upper arms. When I winced, he looked down at my arm and gasped.

  “Who did this to you?” His voice was low and ominous.

  I looked over my shoulder, gasping myself when I saw the giant dark purple three-inch welt on my arm. No wonder it hurt so much.

  “Maggie. That’s two bruises. I want to know who did this.”

  What was I going to do? Tell him my brother had done it? It was the truth, but I couldn’t have him arrested for pinching me, regardless of how I felt about him right now. My mother and Belinda would never forgive me. “I ran into a door.”

  “That is the oldest fucking line in the book. Try again.” He was speaking in his commanding voice, the one that made me want to get naked and spill my guts as pillow talk.

  His phone rang again, and he groaned in frustration as he pulled it from his pocket. “I said I’m coming,” he barked into the phone.

  This was a side of him I hadn’t seen yet, the angry Brady Bennett, and although his carefully controlled rage should have scared me, in truth it only turned me on more. Brady was a nice guy who was all alpha. The rarest of the breed.

  “Get the damn crime scene tape up and keep the reporters out.” He paused. “And call Holden if he’s not on duty. Two murders in one house within days of each other? That can’t be a coincidence.”

  My breath stuck in my chest. Two murders in one house? How many murders happened in Franklin? And how many murders had Detective Holden handled in the last few days? I suspected it was a very small number.

  Brady shoved the phone into his pocket, and his rage faded as if it had never been. “You’re as pale as a ghost.” He took my hand and lowered his voice. “You can trust me, Maggie. I swear I don’t want to hurt you. I only want to help.”

  “No one can help me,” I whispered before my mind could catch up to my mouth. He had single-handedly trampled my prot
ective coating of steel. I was so tired of running. So tired of hiding. I wanted to be freed of this burden, especially now that I understood it, and Brady was the first person who made me think it might be possible. If I saw him again, if I let him get close to me, I had no doubt I’d eventually tell him everything. Every nitty-gritty detail of what had happened ten years ago. And if I did, what if he couldn’t save me? Or Momma or Roy? I barely knew him, but I suspected he couldn’t handle the guilt.

  But Brady was waging a war of his own. He didn’t want to leave me without getting the answers he wanted and needed, and yet he knew he had to go.

  Do not cry, Magnolia Steele. Do. Not. Cry.

  Deciding to make it easier for him, I grabbed my sweater and walked out the side door onto the sidewalk. Brady followed me and pulled me to a halt.

  “Maggie. Wait a minute.”

  “Go, Brady. You have more important things to deal with.”

  He held my gaze. “This is important to me, Maggie. I don’t want you to think it’s not.”

  I smiled up at him, trying not sound so sad. “I don’t.”

  “I want to see you again.”

  I laughed. “You’ve made that very clear.”

  “I don’t play games, Maggie. I don’t beat around the bush. I know what I want, and I’m very upfront about it.” The corners of his mouth tipped up. “Some people would call that another fault.”

  If those were his faults, he definitely didn’t want to be with me. “Sometimes I leave empty cereal boxes in the cabinet. Definitely a fault.” I grinned even though I felt close to tears. There was no way I could see him again. I was surprised how much that hurt.

  I took a step toward him and rested my hands on his chest. Just touching him made my heart race. “So we’re officially calling this a date?”

  “The shittiest date in all of history, but yeah.”

  I gave him a coy smile. “So do we get a first date kiss?”

  “As skittish as you are, slow and steady seems to be the right course. I can wait for the second.”

  I lifted my hand to his cheek, fully aware that we were standing on the sidewalk, even if it was dark. I wasn’t usually someone who instigated public displays of affection, but I didn’t care. This was probably going to be my only chance to kiss him. I’d deal with any embarrassment later. My thumb brushed his lower lip, and then I lifted up on my tiptoes, slowly closing the distance to cover his lips, pulling his bottom lip between mine, and then brushing it with my tongue.