Free Forever Mine by Carolann Camillo Page A

mental smack upside his head.
    He stepped into the hallway just as she came out of the bedroom dressed in an above-the-knee, tight black skirt that did everything a garment could to show off her figure. A white, short-sleeved sweater, made of some sort of fluffy yarn, didn’t cling nearly as much as the skirt but enough to give his libido another bump. A little black purse dangled from her wrist. Wedge shoes in shades of red and orange tied around her ankles, adding at least three inches to her height, so now the top of her head came up to his nose. Her hair hung in thick loose waves around her shoulders. Her skin still had the dewy glow, and she’d applied just enough shadow and liner to her lids.
    His life would be a thousand times easier if she had a horse face and acne. Coming on top of the robe discussion with Thompson and the collision with her outside the bathroom, his equilibrium rocked like a carnival ride. Babysitting a stool pigeon, who spilled his guts about the mob, would be a piece of cake compared to guarding Ms. Nash.
    He waited for her to say something, to berate him for his earlier intrusion on her privacy. When she didn’t, instead of feeling relief, he was overcome with the kind of awkwardness he hadn’t experienced since his teen years. Thoughts short-circuited inside his head, and he couldn’t pull enough words together to break the silence. He shifted his feet.
    She checked her slim gold wristwatch. “We should leave ourselves extra time. In case there’s traffic. Are you ready?” Her gaze slid to his hand clutched around the soda can.
    “Yeah, sure.” He headed back into the kitchen and dumped the remains of the cola down the sink then dropped the can into the recycling bin. He’d tossed one in the trash the day before and had received a lecture on saving the environment.
    She’d already cleared the hallway by the time he returned. He hit the stairs and followed her into the back room. What resembled a gift box wrapped in sparkly paper with a poofy bow on top sat on her work table. She fiddled with the bow for a few seconds then picked up the box.
    “I suppose you have a plan so we don’t bump into my gal pals.”
    A plan?
    “Yeah.” He shoved his brain into overdrive and pulled up a mental picture of the Beach Chalet. He and Danielle had met there every Friday night, unless he was deep into an investigation, which he’d often been. He’d steered clear of the spot since their breakup. These days, he spent what little free time he had in a place that was dark, noisy and fueled with testosterone. The kind of establishment where cops usually hung out. But memories of the place helped him ad lib now.
    “We’ll park around the corner. I’ll stay twenty, twenty-five feet behind you. You’ll be in my sight at all times.”
    “I’m not sure that will work.”
    He released an exasperated sigh. “We’ll make it work.”
    She shrugged.
    He waited until they were in the car before he broached the importance of keeping mum about Jimmy and Dave.
    “You don’t have to worry. I don’t plan to ruin everyone’s lunch talking about a man who’s a…a…serial killer.” She mouthed the last two words and shook her head. The motion set her curls bouncing, and he allowed himself a few guiltless moments of enjoyment.
    “Okay. We’re cool then.”
    “What about after we finish lunch and leave the restaurant? If some of the others can’t find a spot out front, the most logical place is around the corner. That’s where we usually head when parking’s tight. In that case, since we’ll leave at the same time, they’ll want to walk together.”
    His momentary enjoyment crashed like a misfired rocket. He shot her a quick glance and restrained from punching the steering wheel. Instead of sitting around that morning, eating fake eggs and sucking up a month’s worth of filial guilt, he should have put his brain to work on logistics. If he didn’t remain vigilant, next thing, along with her many