Free Scene of the Crime: Deadman's Bluff by Carla Cassidy Page A

maintenance.
    Seth had paid for everything and she’d insisted that when she had access to her bank account again she would make it right with him.
    He didn’t care if she ever paid him back. She hadn’t spent that much money and the pleasure that had ridden her features as she picked out things for herself had been worth every penny.
    He stepped out of the shower and grabbed the awaiting towel. As he dried off he thanked the stars that he’d packed a pair of dress slacks and a short-sleeved dress shirt. Today he wasn’t going into the sheriff’s office as Seth Hawkins on vacation in jeans and a T-shirt, but rather as Special Agent Seth Hawkins, dressed for business. He’d already let Sheriff Atkins know that he meant business when he’d called him the night before to set up a meeting with Atkins’s team.
    Dried and dressed, he clipped his badge onto his belt, added his shoulder holster and gun and then pulled on a lightweight jacket. He not only wanted the local law enforcement to know that he was ready to roll, but also everyone he interviewed that day that they were facing a professional.
    He nearly yelped in surprise as he opened the bathroom door and almost ran over Tamara. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and then together they headed for the kitchen where they wouldn’t disturb the others who were still sleeping.
    “You’re up early,” he said, noticing that the blue-and-white blouse she wore emphasized not only the bright blue of her eyes, but also her small waist. A pair of white shorts showcased the length of her slender legs and Seth felt a slow burn begin in the pit of his stomach.
    “I should be up early,” she replied as she headed for the coffeepot. “I went to bed at the crack of dusk last night.”
    “Did you sleep well?”
    She finished pouring herself a cup of the coffee and then turned to face him. “I’d love to tell you I tossed and turned with memories whirling all through my brain, but the truth is I slept hard and deep and without any dreams, at least none that I remember.”
    She took a sip of her coffee and above the cup her gaze slid over him. “You look quite official this morning,” she observed as she lowered the cup from her mouth.
    “I’m heading into Atkins’s office for the day. I’m meeting with his entire team and going to do some interviewing.”
    “Do I need to be there?”
    He shook his head. “Not today. Are you comfortable just hanging around here with Samantha and Linda? It’s Linda’s day off, so you won’t be alone.”
    “I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
    “Linda has my cell number. You’ll call me if you think of anything new?”
    “You mean like the name and address of the killer?” she asked wryly. “I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
    He grinned at her. “Good, and I’d like to officially invite you to dinner tonight at the Golden Daffodil.”
    “Is this someplace I might have been?” she asked.
    “Or where someone you might have encountered is,” he replied. He watched the apprehension that raced across her features. “But it’s not all business,” he hurriedly added. “The food is supposed to be excellent there and I’d like to have you as my dinner date.”
    The apprehension on her face transformed to something pretty, something half-yearning. “I’d love to be your dinner date,” she said, her cheeks with slightly more color than normal. “What time should I be ready to go?”
    “Why don’t we plan on around six-thirty.” He backed toward the kitchen door. “And now, I’ve got to get out of here and down to the sheriff’s office. I’ll check in later.”
    He escaped out of the house and into the fresh early-morning air, wondering what in the world he had just done pretending he and Tamara were going out on a date tonight, wondering why the idea of being out on a date with her filled him with the same kind of wistful longing he’d momentarily seen in her eyes.
    He started his truck and clenched the