Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) Read Free

your business where I lived.”
    His eyebrows rose, thick and luscious over those hazel eyes that melt into me. “You always make it a habit of lying to the police?”
    “It was a deserted road, and I wouldn’t be the first woman to not place her trust fully in the police department.”
    He relaxed against the booth, a smile curving the corners of his full lips. Perfect lips. “Usually when someone doesn’t trust the police, they have a reason not to. Do you have a reason not to, Emily Murdoch?”
    I white-knuckle my coffee mug. “Isn’t there somewhere you need to be? Some patrol you need to be on?” There’s enough snap in my voice to warn him I wasn’t answering any more questions. I’d be rude if it meant getting him off my scent.
    “Actually, I just went off duty.” He jerks his chin toward my half-finished plate of eggs. “And that’s beginning to look good. I’ll join you if you don’t mind.”
    “You already have.” My jaw hurts because I’m gritting my teeth so tightly. The last thing I want, need, is to get close to someone working for Mark. And I don’t doubt for a moment this sheriff is on Mark’s father’s payroll.
    Ike Metzger thinks his son can do no wrong, even if he spends most of his paycheck on booze. And the man is rolling in the dough left over from his own father’s estate. Ike had suggested Mark move back home, but Mark isn’t about to show his father what kind of ass the alcohol turns him into.
    “Refill on your coffee, hon?” Francine appears out of nowhere, holding a carafe aloft. I didn’t even see her take it with her when she left. Guess she wanted a reason to return to the table. “Emily?” The liquid is poised over my coffee cup.
    My heart is slamming so fast against my ribcage I can barely hear her. I only know I have to get out of the diner. Fast. “No. Thank you.” I slide out of the booth and move very calmly to the checkout counter. Francine knows I can’t pay for the meal. I see it in her eyes, but she’d said it was on the house. I take her at her word and offer her the change for the coffee.
    Francine closes her hand around mine. “Don’t worry about it. You just come on back tomorrow morning for breakfast if you’d like.” She tilts her head to one side. “It looks to me like you could use a friend.” Her voice remains low so that the words reach my ears only.
    My eyes sting, and I find myself wanting to open up to her, tell her everything. Which is a very dangerous idea with the sheriff right behind me. Instead, I nod and head toward the door. . A hand reaches out in front of me to push it open. I don’t need to look to know who the gentleman is.
    “I’ll walk you out.” Not a suggestion. A statement I can’t say no to.
    I’d parked my car close to the door. Knowing how very little gas I have left in the tank, I head to the driver’s door anyway as though I have every intention of driving away.
    “So where are you actually from, Emily?”
    I sigh as the deep voice washes over me like a warm hand down my spine. I shouldn’t be thinking anything except how very far I can get away from him. Instead, my mind is conjuring images of those sinful lips hovering close to mine. That tells me how very far I need to run.
    “Does it matter?” I open the car door, but the sheriff closes it. I look up, and his face is close to mine again.
    “Yeah. It does.” He’s near enough for me to smell him now. It’s a warm, vibrant scent and jolts my system like a shot of whiskey I haven’t had in a long time.
    “Why?” My breath whispers out, fogging in the cold night air. He’s too close, and I start to fidget, needing to keep my hands busy so they won’t grab hold of his shirt. Because that’s what they want to do. Draw him closer. So I can inhale his scent. Taste his skin.
    My mouth goes dry, and I fumble with the door handle behind me. Desperation makes my hands useless. I can’t be feeling this way, thinking these things.
    “I’m not sure