The Alibi Read Free Page B

exactly taking hasty glances
    over her shoulder, but Hammond sensed that she
    wanted to.
    Which left him wondering what she would do
    when this dance ended. He expected a brush-off. A
    polite one, but a brush-off just the same. Fortunately
    the band was playing a sad, syrupy ballad. The
    singer's voice was unrefined and tinny, but he knew
    the words to all the verses. As far as Hammond was
    concerned, the longer the dance lasted, the better.
    His partner fit him well. The top of her head was
    even with his chin. He hadn't breached the imaginary
    boundary she had set between them the moment he
    pulled her into his arms, although the thought of
    holding her flush against him was tantalizing.
    For the time being he was okay with this, with
    having the inside of his forearm resting on the narrow
    small of her back, her hand--absent a wedding
    ring--resting on his shoulder, their feet staggered as
    they moved in time to the slow dance.
    Occasionally their thighs made glancing contact
    and he experienced a fluttering of lust, but it was controllable.
    He had a bird's-eye view down the scooped
    neckline of her top but was gentleman enough not to
    look. His imagination, however, was running rampant,
    flitting here and there, ricocheting off the walls
    of his mind like a horsefly made crazy by the heat.
    "They're gone."
    Her voice drew Hammond from his daze. When he
    realized what she had said, he looked around and saw
    that the marines were no longer there. In fact, the
    song had ended, the musicians were laying down
    their instruments, and the bandleader was asking
    everybody to "stay right where you're at" and
    promising they would return with more music after
    taking a short break. Other couples were making their
    way back to tables or heading for the bar.
    She had lowered her arms to her sides. Hammond,
    realizing that his arm was still around her, had no
    choice but to release her. When he did, she stepped
    back, away from him. "Well.. . never let it be said
    that chivalry is dead."
    He grinned. "But if dragon-slaying ever comes
    back into vogue, forget it."
    Smiling, she stuck out her hand. "I appreciate
    what you did."
    "My pleasure. Thanks for the dance." He shook
    her hand. She turned to go. "Uh..." Hammond
    plunged through the crowd behind her.
    When they reached the perimeter of the raised
    pavilion, he stepped to the ground, then took her hand
    to assist her down, an unnecessary and courtly gesture
    since it was no more than a foot and a half below.
    He fell into step with her. "Can I buy you a beer?"
    "No, thank you."
    "The corn on the cob smells good."
    She smiled, but shook her head no.
    "A ride on the Ferris wheel?"
    She didn't slow down, but she shot him a wounded
    look. "Not the House of Fright?"
    "Don't want to press my luck," he said, grinning
    now because he sensed a thaw. But his optimism was
    short-lived.
    "Thanks, but I really need to go now."
    "You just got here."
    She stopped abruptly and turned to him. Tilting
    her head back, she looked at him sharply. The setting
    sun shot streaks of light through green irises. She
    squinted slightly, screening her eyes with lashes
    much darker than her hair. Wonderful eyes, he
    thought. Direct and candid, but sexy. And right now,
    piercingly inquisitive, wanting to know how he had
    known when she arrived.
    "I noticed you as soon as you entered the pavilion,"
    he confessed.
    She held his gaze for several beats, then self-consciously
    lowered her head. The crowd eddied
    around them. A group of young boys ran past, dodging
    them by inches and kicking up a cloud of choking
    dust that swirled around them. A toddler set up a howl
    when her helium-filled balloon escaped her tiny fist
    and floated toward the treetops. A pair of tattooed
    teenage girls making a big production of lighting their
    cigarettes sauntered past talking loudly and profanely.
    They reacted to none of it. The cacophony of the fair seemed not to penetrate a private silence."I thought you noticed me,