Page 4 of Shiver

“Don’t believe in too many possessions, do you, Miss Morgan?”

“May I have my locket?”

“I’m afraid not.” He propped himself against the wall and crossed his arms against his chest.

“And why’s that?”

Was that a quiver in her voice? “Evidence.”

Her gaze shifted downwards and her small white fingers fluttered like a butterfly as she played with the top button on her dress. “When, then, may I have it?”

“Don’t you want to know why it’s being held?”

A shadow passed in front of her eyes. She mouthed something, then dropped her hands to the counter between them.

He stepped closer to her, determined to discover what had her so fidgety. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

“No. I don’t,” she blurted.

“Now I find that mighty strange.” He took another step forward placed both hands on either side of hers, and leaned in close. Close enough to see the creamy white skin of her throat flutter as she swallowed.“Why wouldn’t you want to know what happened to a cherished possession?”

She took a step back, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Most people would,” he continued. “Why not you?”

She didn’t respond. Just stared at the floor between her toes and wrung those small white fingers. Fingers that could have slit Michelle’s throat? He was finding that difficult to believe, but she was afraid of something.

“Is there some point to all this, Detective MacIntyre?”

Her lower lip quivered, and he felt an urge to reach out his thumb and still it. “What do you do, Miss Morgan?”

“Excuse me?”

“For work?”

“I write.”

“A writer, huh? What do you write?”

“Would you like some coffee? Iced tea?” she asked.

“Tea would be great.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, kicking one boot over the other, and watched as she passed, sorely tempted to blow on the fine hairs that had slipped their bondage to feather against the back of her neck. He forced back the thought and considered how hard he should push for the answers to the questions she was so obviously evading.

She opened the fridge, removed a large pitcher of tea, and filled two glasses. She placed a glass in front of him, along with a bowl of sugarcoated pecans.

“Thank you, ma’am. That’s mighty hospitable of you.”

Without looking at him, she picked up a pecan and bit into it. A dab of sugar creased the corner of her sweet little mouth. The tip of her tongue peeked out and licked the sugar away. The movement warmed the chill in his blood. He ignored it and gulped down his tea. Her large luminous eyes watched him, looking vulnerable one moment and calculating the next. This was a woman with a secret. No matter what it took, he would discover what that secret was.

Chapter 3

Devra tooka deep breath to steady herself and turned her back to the rude detective. She placed the pitcher or tea in the fridge. She needed to stay calm, give nothing away. Her hair tickled her neck, sending an uncomfortable heat racing through her. He was staring at her again, with a look so intense, she was sure he could see right through her.

She closed her eyes.Breathe—in and out, in and out. She turned back to face him, ignoring the intense gleam in his eyes and the hard lines sculpturing his jaw that made him look as if he could become unhinged at any moment.

“So what type of stuff do you write?” He pinned her with another of his dark, primitive stares.

“All types.” She let her gaze wander to wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. Tight jeans molded thick strong thighs. With dark blond hair and eyes as brown and rich as a cup of espresso at Emeril’s, the combined effect was heart-stopping. She’d need to be extra careful around this one. He could do too much to her senses without even trying.

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