“No longer scared to get caught kissing your best friend’s sister?”
“My worries are more centered around a young, beautiful woman living all by herself.”
“In the big bad city.”
I leaned forward and crossed my arms on the breakfast table. “Especially in the big bad city.”
She stared into my eyes as if trying to see through me. She slowly nodded. “He knows, doesn’t he?”
“Your brother knows a lot. You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”
“That’s why he sent you here to check on me. He knows I filed a police report.”
Among other things, but I wasn’t about to tip my hand.
“He knows, but he didn’t send me. I offered.” I reached across the table and rested my hand on top of hers. “I thought maybe we could catch up and I could escort you to your gallery showing. You know I’ve always loved your paintings.”
“And let me guess, you’re going to try to solve the mystery of who broke into my house?”
“That too.” I winked.
“So, how were you going to convince me to let you stay?” She raised a brow. “That’s why you came here first, right? The closest hotel up the road is your backup plan.”
Smart and beautiful. “I might have planned to spend the day with you and then taken you out to dinner, and then it would have been too late for me to go to the hotel. You would have insisted I stay because that’s the way your momma raised you.”
“She may have raised me that way, but my daddy would have insisted I send you out the door.”
Laughter burst from my lips. She was right. Her daddy would have sent his henchmen to rough me up if he knew the thoughts running rampant in my mind when Stella and I were young and naïve. She’d tested my controlled restraint until she broke it.
“Grant and I once did the math about his birthday and the date they got married. Your parents were saints. I could have pleaded our case.”
I shouldn’t have ever kissed her to begin with. Once I did, I couldn’t bring myself to stop. Wanting more than I should drove me out of town, trying to get her out of my head.
My phone rang, interrupting my mental trip down memory lane, and I glanced at the Caller ID. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
“I’ll be upstairs when you’re done. Come find me.”
“That’s awfully bold of you to assume you can get me upstairs in the first fifteen minutes I’m here.”
She rolled her eyes with a smile. “I’m sure I could have done it in less time than that, had I taken off my shirt, but sadly, no, I’ll be up there finishing my painting. Take your call.”
She left the room when I answered and walked to the kitchen window. “Special Agent Bennett.”
“Agent Bennett, this is Detective Tom Morrison with the Clayton Police Department. I understand that you’d like to discuss the Stella Michaels case.”
“Yes. Is now a good time?”
“Sure. If you don’t mind me asking, how did Ms. Michaels’ case get on your radar? The FBI usually doesn’t work house break-ins.”
“I’ll explain when I get there. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
“No problem.”
I hung up and jogged up the stairs.
“Stella,” I called out, passing the open doors.
She didn’t answer, but I found her in the room at the end of the hall that faced the street.
