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assumed she'd just skidded off the road on the ice or something…Was that little bruise her only injury? Geez, she'd been lucky. He stared at her with newfound admiration.
       Nate cleared his throat, suddenly awkward, and waved away the invitation to join them for coffee.
       "How about I come back and finish this off
    tomorrow?"
       Gina smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her face. "Would you mind? That'd be great."
       "Of course not. You should have said something earlier."
       "I did."
       "Yeah, but…" He grinned in embarrassment. "I didn't realize you meant you'd had a proper accident. You're so calm."
       Laughing, she led him to the door. "I always am. See you tomorrow, Mr. Moore."
       He grasped her hand in firm handshake. "Nate. I insist."
       "And I'm Gina." She giggled, a surprisingly girlish sound. "I feel so old when I get called Ms. Longmire."
       Nate grinned back. Tomorrow. He'd ask her out tomorrow.

Chapter Two

    Gina collapsed into the sofa with a sigh, burrowing down between the cushions and curling her legs up beside her. Thank goodness he was gone. Now there was no reason for her not to fall to pieces. Megan certainly wouldn't mind.
       Megan handed her a mug of hot chocolate. She wrapped her fingers around it appreciatively. She was still cold and huddled into the throw rug as Megan looked at her thoughtfully.
       "So, what happened?"
       Gina waved a hand vaguely. "Blew a tire. Ran off the road."
       "Are you sure?" Megan wandered around the room, casually straightening a crooked picture and realigning the magazines on the coffee table. She stood back, eying them critically before making a further tiny adjustment. "Because this isn't the first accident you've had."
       She was almost offhand about it, Gina marveled. Just throwing the statement out there like it was a perfectly reasonable proposition. She would have liked to shake her friend—didn't she realize that was exactly what she didn't need to hear right now. "Why would someone want to kill me?" she asked instead.
       Megan settled into the armchair opposite before answering. "Three accidents in a week would be suspicious on its own, but they all could have been deadly. Someone 'accidentally' pushes you off the footpath and into traffic; a pot plant falling from a balcony misses you by inches. Now this. It can't be a coincidence."
       Gina stared across at her and spoke slowly. "Maybe not, but why? No one has any reason."
       "Don't they?" Megan leaned forward, "What about Cain?"
       "Oh, but he wouldn't…" She couldn't finish the sentence.
       Megan raised her eyebrows. "Wouldn't what? Wouldn't want to? Wouldn't be able to? Don't try and tell me he doesn't have a motive.
       Gina felt the color draining from her face as Megan's words sunk in. He did have a motive, one she didn't want to consider.
       "But he's family," she pointed out.
       "So? He'll also be very rich family when you're dead."
       Gina chewed her lip in agitation. It was true. Under the terms of their mother's will, her half-brother Cain would inherit her share of their trust fund if Gina died before him. Their inheritance stayed in trust until they turned thirty—for Gina that was only a few days away. After that, it was up to her where she willed her money.
       She shook her head. "No. If nothing else, he wouldn't have the guts to do something like this."
       "What about Alan?" Megan's voice was a sibilant whisper, gliding across the room.
       Gina ignored the suggestion, standing up to switch on the lamps in a flurry of movement. Alan West was the local sheriff. He was also, unfortunately, her stepfather.
       "Well?" Megan prompted.
       Gina nodded reluctantly. "I guess he could. But he's the sheriff, for God's sake! He wouldn't…"
       Megan shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Who's going to believe any different if he says your death's an accident?"
       She was right again. He'd