Free Athena Force 8: Contact by Evelyn Vaughn Page B

hundred percent. The left slant could indicate low self-esteem, maybe a personality that’s trying to hide the truth about himself. The lower the t-bar, the lower the goals this guy sets for him—what are you doing?”
    Faith had used his distraction to unseal the bag the slightest bit and take a whiff of the note. It was him. She was almost sure of it. She suspected that if she touched the note, she could be positive, but that would be far too suspicious.
    Evidence, around here, was sacred.
    “I was wondering if he used one of those smelly inks,” she lied.
    Greg took the bag back from her and resealed it, but he smiled with bemused patience as he did. “The labs will also give us that, don’t worry.”
    Faith returned his smile, glad he was so easy about things, and turned back to the computer—but Greg didn’t stand up. “Faith,” he said.
    She turned back to him, surprised at this break from their usual patterns of conversation. “Yes?”
    “I was wondering…would you let me take you out to dinner? We could discuss everything you’ve been through lately, make sure you’re in a good place….”
    She stared at him. Her mother sometimes said that when it rained, it poured, and she’d just run into the perfect illustration. Two invitations for dates in less than twenty-four hours.
    And one from Greg?
    He was even older than Roy Chopin—by almost another decade!
    “Never mind,” he said quickly, standing. “It was a bad idea.”
    But was it? She’d liked how it felt when he touched her face the other day, the edge taken off his energy by his latex gloves. She liked how his hands always smelled of balloons.
    On the other hand, it wasn’t like she could ask him to wear latex gloves on a date. And he really was old enough to be her dad. She may have desperately missed having a father figure growing up, but that didn’t mean she should date one.
    “I’m sorry,” she started, past the uncertain ache in her throat.
    “Forget I asked. Really.”
    “It’s just that—we work together. It would be awkward.”
    He nodded. “And I’ve kept you from work long enough. Will you come find me if the detectives working the Tanner case call? I want to give them an update on the prints we lifted.”
    “Will do.” She wanted to say more—mostly, she wanted to apologize again. But she suspected that would only make it worse, so she went back to work, as if nothing was wrong. This was by no means the first date she’d ever turned down.
    Just the first date she’d ever turned down with someone she genuinely cared about.
    And instead she’d agreed to a date with Roy Chopin?
    The minute she thought about it, butterflies started again. Was she an idiot? She might say something that told him she was less than normal. She might say something that told him she was Cassandra! Even if neither of those minor disasters took place, she had to worry about what would happen if he tried to touch her and she shrank from him like a beaten dog. Or what if he didn’t try to touch her? This was a date, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t there be at least minimal touching?
    Faith had tried to date, in high school. It had been a disaster. Teenage boys were all about sex, and unlike most teenage girls, she’d been able to tell that from their scent, their temperature. She was intrigued by the idea of sex, but she’d barely managed the few kisses she’d tried without recoiling from heavy doses of Too Much Information. How could she ever manage more? By the time she’d started college, she’d pretty much given up.
    Last year, her junior year at Tulane, she’d met a nice guy named Jesse. Jesse seemed to really like her, not just the idea of sex with her. He’d said they would go as slowly as she needed. They started just by holding hands. Once she got used to his presence, the contact didn’t open up a new screen in her head every time they touched. Then they moved onto a few careful kisses. She’d thought she was falling in love. For a