Free Memories of Us by Linda Winfree

wouldn’t share his version of her foolish behavior with the assistant DA.
    She downed the remainder of her drink. “Let’s get out of here. Maybe get a coffee or something.”
    “Sure.” Cicely slid from her stool and finished her drink as well. “But, Cee? Running away isn’t going to solve anything.”
    Maybe not, but tonight, it might help, at least until she had to face him in that damn meeting tomorrow.
    They wove through the crowd and Celia carefully kept her gaze averted from McMillian’s booth. She had to cope with him and her own stupidity tomorrow. Tonight she could lick her wounds.
    “Hey, St. John!”
    At Cook’s voice, she spun to see him winding his way toward her. She sighed, wanting nothing more than to just get the hell out of here. She forced a smile as he reached them. “Cook. What’s up?”
    “I tried to call you earlier.”
    Sometimes a cell phone was a curse. People expected everyone to be available 24/7. “I left my cell at home.”
    His gaze darted over her shoulder. She glanced back at Cicely and shrugged. “Cicely, this is Mark Cook, with the sheriff’s department. Cook, my sister Cicely.”
    He nodded and reached for Cicely’s hand, recognition lighting his eyes. “We’ve met. Yoga instructor, right?”
    “Right.” Cicely flicked a hand between them. “Will you two be a while? If so, I’m going to get another drink.”
    “Wait a sec.” Celia turned to him. “What’s up?”
    His gray gaze glimmered and he lifted his beer to his lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
    “Cook, I’ve had the day from hell, okay? I’m not in the mood. Tell me or die.”
    “Blood tests are in.”
    Excitement trickled through her. “Really? Do tell.”
    Cicely rolled her eyes. “I’m going for that drink.”
    Celia waved a hand, her attention still focused on Cook. “So?”
    He grinned. “Doe wasn’t the father.”
    “We know that for a fact?”
    “Baby was type AB negative and Doe was type O positive. No way he fathered that baby.”
    She pushed her hair behind her ear. “So the question is—”
    “Who are the parents?”
    “And where did that baby come from?”

Chapter Four
    When Tom arrived at work, the parking lot was empty, save for one familiar SUV. Frowning, he whipped into his spot. Beginning his workday a little after seven was part of his routine because he was assured some time alone in the office. He was usually the only one there this early.
    He glanced at Celia’s Xterra as he jogged up the stairs. A fine layer of dew coated the steel blue paint. How long had she been here?
    Quiet lay over the offices. He dropped his briefcase on his desk and headed down the hall for Celia’s office. His belly tightened with each step, the blend of tension and anticipation he connected with seeing her.
    The door stood open and he paused in the doorway. Papers littered Celia’s desk, her laptop open on the blotter, her coffee mug on the corner and the aroma of stale coffee heavy in the air. Eyes closed, she curled into her chair, cheek against her shoulder. He frowned again. She was still wearing her jeans and camisole from the night before.
    Had she been here all night?
    He stepped into the room and lifted one of the papers from the desk. An Internet printout, a news report on the abduction of an infant from a Mississippi hospital three days before. Another on a woman murdered in Maryland, her unborn child cut from her womb.
    He dropped the papers on her desk, his gaze straying to her face. With her features relaxed in sleep, she looked younger, more vulnerable. He followed the line of her mouth, remembering the lush fullness moving beneath his, opening to him. Ah, damn it, how could one kiss ruin everything? How the hell was he supposed to work with her now? Every time he looked at her, memories of the feel, the smell of her, would plague him.
    She stirred with a murmuring sigh, dark lashes lifting to reveal a dreamy expression. They fluttered down again, a smile lifting the