Page 36 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

Even in that horrible purple dress she was striking. Her long fiery hair framed a delicate face lightly brushed with freckles. She was a rare combination of seductive innocence and compassionate toughness. She would do anything for a loved one, giving of herself so freely that he was moved to worry about her.

Without thinking about it, he knelt and placed her shoe on her foot. Then he stood and pulled her into his arms and they began to sway to the music.

He could feel her heat against him, her softness pressing into him. He felt as if he were being pulled over and under by a tide. She was bewitching him. With her easy smile and enchanting laughter, her quick wit and sympathetic soul, she had him completely under her spell.

She couldn’t be a criminal. He couldn’t be that wrong about her. His hand tightened around her waist and his fingers brushed the abrupt flare of her hip. Oh hell! The woman was built like an hourglass. He moved his hand back up.

He wasn’t going to touch her. But she leaned her head against his shoulder and the scent of her hair taunted him. Fisher inhaled, feeling both soothed and stirred by her. How was that possible?

He’d worked for the Bureau for ten years. Never had he gotten personally involved with a suspect and he’d been much deeper undercover than this. He had to be more careful or Annie Talbot would have the power to destroy him and everything he’d worked for.

The song ended. Fisher stepped away from her, avoiding her seductive blue gaze. He had to keep her at a distance. Stepping back, he asked, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Water would be great,” she said, her voice was low and sexy. He put more distance between them.

“I’ll be back,” he said and felt himself all but run from her. The big, bad FBI guy was afraid of a little, red-haired baker. If he wasn’t so appalled he would have laughed.

“How was the wedding?” Brian asked as soon as Fisher stepped into the office Monday morning.

“Fine,” Fisher said, feeling unaccountably defensive.

“Fine?” Brian repeated, pushing his round spectacles up on his nose. His tie was askew and he looked rumpled, as if he’d slept in his clothes.

“Yeah, fine,” he repeated. “What’s wrong? Baby keep you up?”

“Yeah. Bri Jr.’s got colic.” Brian shook his head. “Who knew that could rip your heart out?”

“How’s Susan?”

“Managing,” Brian said with a smile. “She’s a wonder with the little guy.”

“You picked a good one.”

“Sure did,” Brian sighed. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Fine is a good description for the weather, but it tells me diddly-squat about the wedding. So, what happened? Any suspects?”

“There are a couple of background checks I want to run,” Fisher said. “Her ex-boyfriend, Stewart Anderson, her rival in business, Martin Delgado and one of her employees, Denise Barrows. We can start with Stew.”

“The ex?” Brian asked with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, if he’s had so much as a parking ticket, I want to know.”

“Why him?”

“He’s too intent on Annie. He won’t let go of her, and I don’t think it’s because he’s in love with her,” Fisher said.

“Why do you suppose then?”

“I don’t know, but it has something to do with the business.”

“He’s an entrepreneur, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, maybe we need to check out some of his business dealings a bit more closely.”

“Good idea.”

“McCoy, Phillips, how’s Operation Coffee Break going?” Paul Van Buren strode into the office, clutching a can of soda. He looked surly this morning, more surly than usual.

“Good,” Fisher lied. “We’ve got a lead on her ex.”

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