Truly, Madly, Dangerously Read online

  “It’s ancient history,” Sadie said, not wanting to answer him either way. Oh, it was so quiet out here! Quiet and beautiful, peaceful in a way she had forgotten. Gentle wind lapped at the water and ruffled the leaves of trees surrounding the lake. If the breeze hit the trees just right, it sounded as if a woman moaned. Soft. Happy. Miranda. Sadie took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the lake.

  Okay, so Garth wasn’t a complete loss. It had Aunt Lillian’s biscuits, Miranda Lake and Truman. Individually they weren’t much, but when you put them all together…maybe it was a nice place to be, for a while.

  Chapter 3

  She hadn’t slept this deeply in months. Years, maybe! Sadie sighed and fought the awareness that crept upon her. She didn’t want to wake up. She needed more of this dreamless sleep. The quiet. The warmth. The rest for her bone-weary body and agitated mind.

  A soft spring wind ruffled the leaves of a tree, water lapped. Truman shifted his body and dropped a hand into her hair. His thigh was her pillow, and there was a little spot of drool, right there on the denim that was stretched over that thigh.

  “Oh, crap,” Sadie muttered, immediately awake and shooting up into a semi-sitting position. Her fingers rubbed against the wet spot on Truman’s thigh, trying to erase the evidence. All her efforts managed to do was wake Truman.

  For a moment he smiled at her, then he realized where they were and his smile faded. “Damn,” he muttered.

  “Exactly.” Sadie straightened the strap of her bra. Everything she wore was twisted and misshapen at the moment. “What time is it?”

  Truman checked his watch, hitting a button on the side to light the face. He squinted, blinked twice. “Four-thirty.”

  Almost instinctively, she reached out and slapped Truman on the arm. “Why did you let me sleep in your pickup truck until four-thirty? Jennifer will have the whole town out looking for us. I was supposed to be home by ten.”

  “Ten?” Truman shook his head. “You’re thirty years old, for God’s sake. Why did you have to be home by ten?”

  “Almost thirty,” she corrected. “And I said I’d be home by ten so Jennifer could go out.” It really wasn’t a disaster. Jen would survive. Sadie ran her fingers through her hair. So much for her careful attempts at styling the mop. It was going every which a way, as it usually did in the morning. “Go, go,” she said with a wave of her hand.

  Truman started the engine and put the truck in Reverse, yawning and then working a crick out of his neck. A very fine neck, she had to admit. Sadie stared at him. So, this was what Truman McCain looked like in the morning. Rumpled. Sexy as hell. It just wasn’t fair.

  “Why did you let me sleep?” she asked, trying for anger but delivering sheer frustration.

  “You were exhausted. I figured a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.” Truman steered the truck down the narrow drive that would take them back to the main road, headlights dancing in the morning dark.

  “A few minutes?”

  He grinned, the rat. “Then I fell asleep. Long day. Sorry.”

  Sadie ran her fingers through her hair again, trying to tame the curls. Four-thirty. Almost time for Mary Beth and Aunt Lillian and Bowie to get to work. No one else would be out at this hour of the morning but for a few fishermen whose minds were on bait and boats and elusive bass. She could sneak up to her room and no one would ever be the wiser, except for Jennifer. And Jen could be persuaded to keep her mouth shut. Blackmail between cousins was a wonderful thing.

  Truman glanced over and down and grinned sleepily. “Found it.”

  “What?”

  “You said I wouldn’t.”

  Sadie realized he was staring at her mostly bare leg and her thigh holster. She yanked her skirt down to cover the leather and the pistol housed there. “Drop me off at the side door of the lobby.”

  “Where no one can see you from the street?” Truman teased.

  “Exactly.” She shot him an accusing glance. “And stop smiling! This isn’t funny.”

  “Sure it is,” he said half-heartedly.

  “I should’ve met you at the restaurant,” Sadie said beneath her breath. “I have my own car. I could have gone straight home when dinner was finished and this never would’ve happened.”

  “Now, where’s the fun in that?” Truman asked, his Southern accent deepening as he teased her.

  It wasn’t a long trip from Miranda Lake to the Yellow Rose Motel. Seven minutes, tops. Ten at what passed as rush hour in the small town. There was no traffic this early in the morning, but Truman insisted on driving the speed limit, which was ridiculously slow. Finally, Sadie saw the motel sign. Home, for the time being. The neon sign for Lillian’s Café wasn’t lit up yet. That meant Lillian wasn’t in. Good. Sadie figured she had about two minutes to make it to the safety of her room without being seen.

  Truman pulled into the parking lot, and Sadie’s heart sank. There sat a patrol car, lights flashing. A young deputy leaned against the fender, taking notes and nodding his head, while Jennifer spoke and gestured wildly with her hands. Either someone else had gotten themselves killed at the Yellow Rose or Jennifer had actually called the sheriff’s office to report her cousin missing.

  Instead of driving to the side door as Sadie as asked—which would have been a waste of time, given the circumstances—Truman pulled his truck alongside the patrol car and rolled down his window.

  “Bryce,” he said with a nod of his head. “What’s up?”

  Bryce, who even though he was at least six feet tall looked to be about twelve years old, snapped his notebook shut. “I was just telling Jennifer that I couldn’t fill out a missing persons report on her cousin just yet.” He leaned down a little bit farther, set his eyes on Sadie, and grinned. “You must be Sadie Mae.” He glanced at Jennifer. “I told you if your cousin was with Truman she’d be just fine.”

  Jennifer crossed her arms and glared at Sadie through the windshield, a picture of pouting petulance in her tight jeans and cropped shirt that showed off her belly button and the shiny silver ring that sparkled there. Sadie stared at the piercing for a moment. Didn’t it hurt?

  Truman waggled his fingers at the young deputy. “I think you can turn off your lights now. The emergency is over.”

  The kid reached into his patrol car and shut off the flashing lights, but not before accidentally giving the sirens a quick wail.

  So much for a quick, quiet return home. Sadie threw open her door and stepped into the parking lot. Immediately, Truman killed the engine and followed suit.

  She stood and looked at him over the hood of his truck. “You really don’t have to escort me to the door,” she said dryly.

  He continued to walk around the truck, limping more than usual. Sleeping in the truck couldn’t be good for his knee. Dammit, she refused, absolutely refused, to worry about his knee like she cared about him and whether or not he hurt.

  “It was fun,” he said. “We’ll have to do it again.”

  Sadie shook her head. No way. This one evening had been bad enough, and there would be no repeat performance.

  Jennifer stalked toward her. “How could you do this to me? I was worried sick. Ten. You said ten!”

  “Sorry,” Sadie said, anxious to make her getaway before anyone else saw her.

  “Sorry,” Jennifer said, once again crossing her arms across her chest. “That hardly seems sufficient.”

  Bryce and Truman both laughed.

  Sadie stared at Truman, at his sleepy blue eyes that had an unexpected crinkle at the corner. “What’s so funny?”

  “You don’t know how many nights we went out looking for your little cousin before she turned eighteen.”

  “That was different,” Jennifer said, blushing a bright red. “Sadie’s old enough to know better!”

  Jennifer’s eyes dropped slightly, and her mouth pursed in obvious disapproval. Unable to help herself, Sadie followed those eyes. Right next to the little slobber spot on Truman’s jeans was a smudge of red lipstick. “This isn’t
what it looks like,” she said softly.

  Jennifer shook her head like a wearied parent and raised her accusing eyes to Sadie. She continued to shake her head. “You’re missing an earring.”

  Both hands flew up to check earlobes. Sure enough, the left lobe was bare. “I can’t believe I lost one of those diamond studs.”

  “I’m pretty sure you had them both when we left the restaurant,” Truman said calmly. “It’s probably in the truck.”

  “You can look for it later,” Sadie said, backing up a step toward the hotel. “No rush.” The earrings had cost her a small fortune, a gift to herself when she’d gotten her last raise, but no amount of money was worth prolonging this torture.

  But Bryce was already leaning into the driver’s side of the truck, dutifully checking the seat cushions. He found the earring in a matter of seconds. “Here it is,” he said, coming up with something in his hand. “Half of it, anyway.”

  The good half, Sadie saw as the young deputy offered her the diamond on the palm of his hand.

  “It was wedged there in the cushion of the, uh, driver’s seat.”

  The earring had probably come loose while she’d slept with her head in Truman’s lap. Jennifer and Bryce obviously thought other things had been going on, in the, uh, driver’s seat.

  “Thank you.” Sadie saw no reason to offer explanations. Anything she said would just sound like a pathetic excuse at this point.

  Truman came toward her, favoring his right leg, smiling like this was all so very amusing. He looked freshly tumbled, warm and sleepy and…happy. If she looked anything like this, no wonder Bryce grinned like an idiot and Jen frowned and shook her head.

  “It was great,” Truman said softly, but plenty loud enough for the others to hear.

  “Nothing was great,” Sadie insisted. “There was no great.”

  “How about Friday?” he asked, his voice a touch lower than before.

  “Not on your life,” she whispered.

  A car door slammed. Mary Beth had arrived at the coffee shop. The waitress glanced at the commotion in the parking lot, smiled and headed for the front door with her key in hand. Bowie was right beside her. They whispered and giggled as they entered the café.

  Sadie sighed. Had she actually thought her return home might be quiet and uneventful?

  “There you are!” A familiar voice called from behind. Sadie closed her eyes as Aunt Lillian approached. “I don’t need you for breakfast today,” the woman continued. “But I will need you for lunch.”

  “Sure,” Sadie said without turning to look at her aunt.

  “Would you two like breakfast? We’ll be open in a few minutes.”

  Sadie looked her aunt in the eye, and saw that in spite of her casual voice and smile she’d been crying. Still or again? A murder taking place so close by obviously had shaken her.

  “I’m starving,” Truman said.

  “I’m not hungry,” Sadie countered. “Not at all.”

  Lillian stopped and laid a hand on Sadie’s arm and another on Truman’s. “You two make such a cute couple,” she said with a wan smile.

  “Thank you,” Truman said.

  “We do not!” Sadie insisted.

  The older woman moved on, unperturbed.

  Sadie glared at Truman. “Don’t you have to go to work or something?”

  “I’m off today.”

  “Well, I’m not.” Sadie turned and walked toward the lobby and the stairs that would take her up to her own room where she could hide for a while.

  Behind her another car door slammed, and Sadie cringed. Time for the café to open, and there was no telling who that was. Someone called a friendly greeting to Truman, and he answered as if this were all perfectly natural.

  “Sadie,” Truman called as she reached the lobby doors.

  She stopped, hesitated, and then turned to face him. He was still smiling, but not quite so brightly. “You look good in the morning. Really good.”

  Jennifer joined Sadie and slapped her cousin on the arm as Truman turned away. “Told you,” she said softly. “I never should have let you leave here wearing those shoes.”

  The ABI still had room 119 cordoned off with yellow tape, which Aunt Lillian insisted was scaring away her customers. They had promised to have it down by this afternoon, but wanted Lillian to keep the room untouched in case they needed to go back in. No problem. Who would want to rent that room, anyway? Sadie shuddered at the thought, and she was not a woman who shuddered easily or often.

  There was still no sign of Conrad. He hadn’t shown up for work last night, and there was no sign of him at home. Unfortunately that didn’t mean much. He was an unreliable employee who worked just enough to support his beer and fishing habits. His absence didn’t necessarily mean he was in danger. But Sadie didn’t like the timing of his disappearance. Not at all.

  The ABI investigator interrogated her for a second time, and she answered all his questions truthfully. Evans assumed that she worked with the family all the time, and since he didn’t ask about her profession, she didn’t feel the need to tell him. Some cops had a real hard spot for PIs, and all she wanted was to get out of this mess as quickly and cleanly as possible. If he went so far as to run a check on her, he’d find everything. Working for Benning wasn’t illegal or immoral, in spite of Lillian’s horror at her niece’s chosen profession, and Sadie hadn’t gone to great lengths to conceal anything. Evans just hadn’t asked the right questions, and that wasn’t her fault.

  Sadie could read people pretty well. Evans didn’t really suspect her of murder, but as far as she could see he wasn’t looking elsewhere. He really wanted to talk to Conrad, though as far as Sadie knew there was absolutely no connection between the banker and the part-time motel clerk who’d disappeared. When she got the chance she’d do a little investigating of her own. Finding the killer wasn’t her job, but she was curious.

  She reminded herself of what curiosity had done to the cat, but the self-warning did no good. The victim in 119 was, in a way, her body. She’d found it. Finders keepers and all that.

  No matter what had happened, she was expected to work lunch at Aunt Lillian’s. Uncomfortable or not, she decided to wear the thigh holster when she couldn’t hide the shoulder holster. And as she donned the dreaded pink uniform, she once again dropped the knife into her pocket.

  Even in Garth, apparently, a woman couldn’t be too careful.

  This was without a doubt the most foolish thing he’d done in a very long time. Truman McCain didn’t take chances. Not anymore.

  Eating lunch at Lillian’s Café on Wednesday was most definitely taking a chance. What the hell had gotten into him?

  That. That had gotten into him. He watched Sadie as she perched on a stool at the counter, her ghastly uniform hanging shapelessly on what he knew to be a great body, one very nice leg rocking gently. If she’d offered herself to him last night, the way she had when she’d been sixteen, would he be thinking about her all the time? Probably not. She tells him she won’t sleep with him, and suddenly that’s all he can think about. Sleeping with Sadie.

  “Hey,” he called.

  Sadie spun around on her stool. “Have patience, mister,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be right with you. This is the lunch rush, you know.”

  Truman scanned the empty café quickly. He was the only customer. Five days out of the week, this popular place was packed for lunch. Sundays it was closed. But on Wednesday the special was Lillian’s Gelatin Surprise. And if you came to Lillian’s Café for lunch, you ate the special. No burgers, no soup or hotdogs. It was like going to your grandmother’s for lunch. You ate what was served or you ate somewhere else.

  After making him wait another five minutes, Sadie sauntered his way. The decent night’s sleep in his truck looked good on her. She wasn’t as tired as she’d been yesterday. Her dark eyes sparkled.

  She stopped beside his booth, cocked her hip out, and held a sharp pencil poised over the order pad.

  “I’ll
have the special,” Truman said, the words low as they escaped through his clenched teeth.

  She actually wrote it down. “And to drink?”

  “Tea. Sweet.”

  Again, she wrote carefully, as if she were juggling a dozen orders.

  She was doing this to him on purpose. Torturing him. Teasing him. He really should just get up and walk out and forget her altogether.

  He didn’t. He watched Sadie walk away, letting the sway of her hips ease his frustration…and then add to it.

  It had been too long since he’d had a woman, that’s why she grated on his nerves this way. He’d avoided anything resembling a relationship since coming back to Garth, but that didn’t mean he lived like a monk. Still, it had been a while. It had been months. That’s why Sadie looked so damned good.

  She was back moments later, a huge glass of iced tea in one hand, a jiggling plate of Lillian’s Gelatin Surprise in the other. She carefully placed them both before him. But instead of walking away as he expected, she stayed put, a half smile on her face and a sexy cant to her hip as she waited.

  Truman glanced down at his plate. He’d never actually eaten here on Wednesday before. The warnings from others who had been brave enough or hungry enough to confront the Wednesday special had been enough. And he didn’t really want to know what the “surprise” was.

  He poked a fork at the jiggling green mass on his plate. Was that…broccoli? Inside the lime gelatin? And…sausage? Surely not.

  Sadie stayed put, her smile gradually growing.

  Truman put his fork aside and glanced up at her. “Have you ever suggested that your aunt serve spaghetti on Wednesday? Or meat loaf? Or…anything but this?”

  “Yeah. Me and half the town.”

  “Why doesn’t she?”

  Sadie placed her hands on her table and leaned down. “She plays bridge on Wednesday afternoon. This way she’s sure to get out of here early.”

  “She can’t just hire someone else to close up?”

  Sadie shook her head. “Doesn’t trust anyone else with the job, not even her own daughter. Said she left Jennifer here by herself once and she almost burned the place down. Mary Beth has her hands full working breakfast six days a week, and she’s got three kids that her mother keeps until eleven, but then her mother has a job at the dry cleaners…”