Her question extinguished Steve’s wayward thoughts. “Like I said, only he knows why he was there. Now, I think you should try to get some sleep. It’ll be daylight soon.”
“I need to use the bathroom first.”
“I assume you know where it is?”
“Can I have my bag?”
“Sure, of course.” Steve rose to get the tote, and then walked over to give it to her. As he did, their fingers brushed and a strange sensation shot to a region of his body that hadn’t been active in some time. It surprised the hell out of him. He hadn’t expected it.
She took the bag and walked toward the hall, totally oblivious to the effect she’d had on him.
Good. All he needed was for her to think he was a letch.
Steve quickly shook the unexpected sensation and retraced his steps to the sofa.
Sleep. That’s what he needed. He had to be overtired.
He laid his head on the arm of the couch and closed his eyes. By morning everything would be back to normal — or as normal as it could get for him. As long as he kept his intent on one thing, his job, all would be well. At least that’s what he’d keep telling himself.
Chapter Five
“Momma,” Kylie said as she pulled at the shoulder of Whitney’s T-shirt. “Who is that man?”
Whitney blinked, trying to focus on her daughter’s words. Man? What man?
She bolted upright and glanced around, then sought out Kylie whose tiny finger pointed at something in front of her.
Whitney looked past her.
Detective Morgan lay with his arm draped over his face, his head jacked on the arm of the sofa. She could just imagine how stiff his neck was going to be when he woke.
She considered taking Kylie to get them breakfast. Too bad she didn’t have more than a few dollars on her until payday.
“Who is he, momma?” her daughter asked again.
“He’s a detective, sweetie. We’ll be staying with him for a while.”
Kylie’s green eyes widened. “Why?”
“Problems at the house.” No way could Whitney tell her daughter the truth. She was too little to understand and she didn’t want her to have nightmares once they returned home.
“I’m hungry.”
Whitney laughed at Kylie’s short attention span. In this case, she was glad for it. “Maybe we can find something in the refrigerator.”
Her daughter’s face lit up and she slid from the bed and raced across the room to the kitchen.
Whitney rose and followed.
At the refrigerator door, Kylie’s expression of excitement vanished.
Whitney glanced inside to find nothing but a six-pack of beer with two of the bottles missing.
Typical man. Nothing to eat, but plenty to drink.
A groan had Whitney whipping around. The detective sat on the sofa rubbing his neck, a look of pure agony on his face.
She knew it. He never should have slept with his head propped on the arm. Then again, she blamed herself for that. She and Kylie stole his bed.
“You okay?” she asked and padded over to him while Kylie held tight to the back of her lounge pants, peeking around her leg. Her daughter seemed curious yet cautious.
“My neck hurts,” he said, then tried to turn his head sideways and let out another yelp.
“I feel like this is my fault. What can I do?”
“Go to the medicine cabinet and get the pills inside.” He flinched again when he turned his head the opposite direction.
Whitney rushed to the bathroom, her daughter clinging to her the whole way.
She opened the cabinet and reached in for a prescription bottle, noting the word codeine on the label. Why would he have a prescription painkiller?
That’s none of your business.
Whitney ran a glass of water and walked back to him. “Here.” She handed him the pill bottle, then the water.
“Thanks.” He swallowed two pills and washed them down with half the water.
He looked up at her and handed back the glass, the intensity in his blue-gray eyes making her knees wobble. He definitely was the sexiest man she’d ever seen, and something about him today evoked that lost puppy dog tenderness. Whitney wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be all right. Then, she remembered the way he’d handled himself last night and all the other times she’d seem him and knew her instincts were wrong. The man on the couch didn’t need her or anyone else. He was capable of taking care of himself quite nicely. He didn’t even need anyone to clean up after him. If Whitney hadn’t sworn off men, he’d be the last male she’d go for. She had an undeniable need to feel needed and she couldn’t be with a man like him.
The detective cleared his throat and she realized she’d been staring at him the whole time.
Heat crept up her neck and face. “You don’t have anything to eat here,” she blurted out, trying to shake the strange feelings he aroused.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I can’t cook.”
His confession surprised her. She would’ve bet anything he could take a can of soup and turn it into a five-course meal. So Mister Competent couldn’t do everything.
A lot of men don’t cook.
“We can go to the café for breakfast.”
Whitney shook her head. She couldn’t afford to go and she was too embarrassed to tell him.
“Please let me buy you breakfast. It’s the least I can do since I have absolutely nothing here to eat.”
Kylie tugged at her pants.
Whitney turned to look at her daughter. “What, sweetie?”
“I’m hungry, mommy.”
Whitney returned her attention to the detective. His knowing grin unnerved her. “I guess that’s a yes. We’ll get dressed, unless you have to use the bathroom.”
“I can wait. Go ahead.”
She clasped Kylie’s hand, walked to the bed, and placed the glass on the nightstand.
Whitney lifted the bag from the floor and sifted through it, pulling some items of clothing out.
Inside the bathroom, with the door closed, she released a strangled breath. The whole time she looked through her overnight case she felt his eyes on her and it sent a flush of raging heat across her body, more concentrated in her lower belly. How was she going to get through breakfast with him when he made her so uncomfortable? “Momma, hurry. I want cakes and bacon.”
Whitney smiled down at her daughter.
Rarely did they actually go anywhere to eat. She worked most of the time and when she did get off, she didn’t feel much like going out. Besides, it was too expensive. She had a budget and she had to stick to it if she wanted to keep a roof over their heads.
• • •
Steve stared at the little girl sitting across from him in a booster seat. At least now he knew where Whitney had learned how to give him the stink eye. Kylie clearly didn’t like him. Not with the look on her face.
The waitress brought their food and the little girl’s expression changed from grim to elated. Was it good or bad to be so easily swayed? Steve wasn’t sure.
“More coffee?” the waitress asked him, drawing his attention away from Whitney’s daughter. “Yes, thank you.”
“You wouldn’t want some extra hours, would you, Whitney?” the waitress asked.
“Sure.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Steve interrupted, all eyes turning to him.
There’s the stink eye again. Did everyone from Marble know it? Was it mandatory to learn it in order to live there?
Whitney glared at him. “I could use the money.”
“I think it’s best if you stick close to me until we find out who broke into your house last night.”
Her gaze darted to her daughter, who sat gobbling her food.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “How about I pay you to be my tour guide for the day. Take me around town and introduce me to some of the shop owners.”
Her green eyes crinkled at the corners at the start of a smile. She didn’t believe he was serious.
“You’d be doing me a favor.”
She glanced at her daughter again, and then returned her attention to him. “All right. I guess I could do that.”
“Great, now eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
Whitney shrugged and shook her head at the waitress, who then turned and left.
Steve dug into his omelet, the cheesy-egg goodness melting in his mouth. Harold was quite the accomplished chef as far as Steve was concerned. Every time he’d eaten at the café, he’d left satisfied.
He snuck a peek at Whitney, who picked at her food, her gaze fixed on him.
Steve swallowed a mouthful of egg and almost choked. “You’d better eat,” he managed after he’d cleared his throat. “It’s going to be a long day and you’ll need a good breakfast in you.”
She took a bite of her pancakes and Steve was drawn to the drop of syrup left on her bottom lip.
Jesus Christ. What the hell was wrong with him? Why think about starting something he couldn’t follow through with? Even though, last night he did have some strange activity in that area when he’d touched her.
Maybe feeling was starting to come back, though his doctor wasn’t sure if it was a physical or psychological problem for him. If it was physical, maybe the swelling had finally gone done like the doctors had predicted and he’d be able to have an erection again.
Or, maybe not.
No way was he going to embarrass himself trying. He’d attempted that once and had been left with a disappointed woman and an ego deflation.
Nope. He didn’t care how hot he got for the woman across the table. He wasn’t going there.
Steve made an oath to himself not to dwell on this again. He had a murder to solve and that’s what he intended to concentrate his efforts on, not hope that he could get a hard-on for some single mother who had no interest in him anyway.
He took another bite of omelet, the food suddenly losing its taste. He pushed the plate away and reached into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet. The quicker they left, the sooner he could get back to focusing on his job.
“Go ahead and finish your breakfast. I need to make a call.”
Steve rose and walked to the register. He handed the waitress twenty-five dollars and told her to keep the change, and then he walked outside and unclipped the cell phone from his belt. He punched Doc Leland’s number in and waited.
“Hello,” the older man said, sounding out of breath.
“Doc, it’s Steve Morgan. I have a question.”
“What’s that, detective?”
“Could you tell what color the victim’s eyes were?”
“Somewhat. Death alone, not to mention being submerged in water, has a tendency to lighten them. But there was a hint of green to hers.”
Steve’s stomach rebelled. Green eyes and dark hair. Could there be a connection? Or was it all just a coincidence that someone broke into Whitney’s house last night? Until he knew for sure, he planned to stick to her and her daughter like paparazzi to an A-lister.
“Thanks, Doc. That’s what I needed to know. Thanks again for all your help.”
“Hey, it gives this old man something to do besides puttering around here.”
“I’m glad. Thanks again.”
Steve closed his phone and headed back into the café. He hoped Whitney and her daughter had finished eating because he wanted to get to town and start talking with people. He needed to find out the woman’s identity. That in itself could uncover who might have wanted her dead.
Chapter Six
Whitney allowed the detective to open the door to Fry’s Antiques and led her daughter inside where they were bombarded with the smell of cedar and rose sachets. It had been a while since she’d been in the small store, but nothing much had changed. Most of the furniture that had been there the last time was still in the same place. Business must not have been too good. Then again, this was Marble’s slow season. Summer was just around the corner and would bring tourists to town by the busloads. Those months alone could supply enough income for a store to survive the slow months.
Whitney padded toward the back of the shop, spotting Patsy Fry heading toward them, a big smile on her round face. “Whitney McAllister, what brings you into the store?” Patsy’s gaze dropped to her daughter. “Looking for something for this little darling?”
“Actually, I came in to introduce you to someone. He’s staying out at the lodge.”
Patsy glanced past her to the man standing mere inches behind Whitney. If she backed up even an inch, she’d bump against his hip. She could almost feel his breath on her neck. The warmth of his body.
Instinctively, Whitney took a step toward Patsy, but her daughter refused to budge. She studied Kylie, who stared at the man next to them in wide-eyed wonder.
What was that all about?
“Steve Morgan,” he said, and then took the hand Patsy offered him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan. Are you in town for business or pleasure?”
“I’m doing a little fishing.”
“Beaver Lake’s the perfect place for that.”
He laughed. “I’m afraid I haven’t had much luck. I’m a novice at it.”
“Who do we have here?” Bill Fry came to greet them. The man was tall and wiry, the polar opposite of his wife. He wore a green flannel shirt, and a pair of khaki pants that seemed to be a size too big for him.
“Whitney brought in a friend, Bill,” Patsy said, winking at Whitney.
Heat coursed over Whitney’s face. Did Mrs. Fry think she and Detective Morgan were more than acquaintances? She’d need to set her straight about that right away before rumors spread. But how did she do that with the man in question standing right behind her.
Bill shook his hand and smiled. “It’s nice meeting you. Where you from?”
“Denver.”
“The big city. I guess our little town is a bit of a culture shock for you, then.”
He shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
“I’m sure the choice of restaurants alone has its limitations. I have an idea. Why don’t you, Whitney, and Kylie come over for supper tonight? I was planning to barbecue and we’d love to have you.”
“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” Whitney said in a rush before the detective accepted. She didn’t want Patsy and Bill thinking she and Mr. Morgan were dating and she definitely didn’t want it to accidentally slip out that she was staying with him in his cabin. She’d never live down the speculation.
“We’d love to have you,” Patsy reiterated, smiling at her.
How could she say no without appearing rude?
“We’d love to come.” Steve smiled at Patsy, and then grinned at her.
Whitney’s heart leapt in her chest. The man’s smile could charm a venomous snake into submission. How was she going to keep her hormones at bay?
“We’ll expect you around seven,” Bill said. “And bring your appetites.”
“Okay.” Whitney tugged at her daughter’s hand. “We’d better go.”
She didn’t care if Detective Morgan wanted to leave or not. Anger bubbled inside her and she didn’t want it to erupt in front of the Frys.
Outside the store, Whitney whirled on him. “Why did you accept for us? It wasn’t your place to do so.”
His blue-gray eyes widened. “I’m sorry. Don’t you like them? I thought they were friends of yours.”
“I like them f
ine. I just think we should’ve discussed it first.”
“You’re right. I’ll go back inside and tell them we can’t come.” He started for the door.
Whitney grasped his arm before he could reach the door handle. “No. You can’t do that now. You’d hurt their feelings.”
“So you don’t want me to cancel?”
Whitney sighed. He clearly didn’t understand small town living. “Let’s move on to the next business,” she said, leading Kylie toward the shop twenty feet away. “Just remember that I might be staying with you until they catch the intruder, but that doesn’t mean you can speak for me or make my decisions.”
Whitney didn’t bother to look back at him or expect him to answer. She got her point across, sure he’d adhere to her request from now on. If he didn’t, he’d find himself at the center of a firestorm.
• • •
Steve felt like a scolded child. Whitney definitely had the riot act down pat. She wouldn’t even allow him to open the door for her, and practically slammed it in his face on their way into the small grocery store.
So he’d accepted an invitation to supper. You’d have thought he’d sentenced her to twenty years in prison. Going to the barbecue would be the perfect opportunity to find out if the Frys had any knowledge of a missing woman or knew of any strange behavior exhibited by a local since her death.
Of course, Whitney didn’t know that so he’d have to cut her some slack, at least for now.
Inside the shop, Steve glanced around, thinking while they were here, he’d give the grocer a list of things they’d need that he could come back and pick up before heading to the lodge. Kylie had to eat and that meant he’d need to stock the refrigerator.
Steve glanced down the row of canned goods, boxed cereals, and loaves of bread and saw Whitney’s little girl staring at him.
He swallowed hard. She unnerved him almost as much as her mother. What was with these McAllister women? Did they have a special way of looking through you to make you squirm? It sure as hell seemed like it.
Steve turned his attention to Kylie’s mother. Whitney truly had an exceptional looking face. Too bad she made him feel an inch tall. Frankly, his ego had enough trouble without her help. “Are you coming?” Whitney asked, her gaze intent on his.
Watching Whitney Page 4