Free A Killer Stitch by Maggie Sefton

her retirement dream home. Apparently she’s coming out this week to talk with builders and stuff.” She eyed him over the top of her glass. “You want to audition for the job? Jennifer heard she’s got money to burn.”
    â€œNaw, not interested,” Steve said, leaning closer. “The only canyon house I’d be willing to build would be yours.”
    Kelly looked into Steve’s warm gaze. “Really? You’d build a mountain house for me?”
    â€œSure I would. In fact, I wouldn’t want anyone else building it,” he said, laughing softly.
    â€œSteve, you can’t take time from all your building sites to drive up into the canyon every day. You’re about to begin a new project in Old Town, for heaven’s sake,” Kelly reminded him.
    â€œLet me worry about that. Besides, I may be getting some help. I’m seriously thinking about hiring a supervisor for the housing sites, someone with experience I could trust, so I could free up the time to get this loft project developed.”
    Kelly gave him a sly smile. “You? Are you sure you could hand over control to someone else? I’ll believe that when I see it.”
    â€œSpoken by the Queen of Control Freaks, right?”
    â€œIt takes one to know one.” She laughed softly, relaxing into the moment.
    â€œI’ll make you a promise, Kelly,” he said, so close to her face she could feel his warm breath. “You find the land, and I’ll build your dream house.”
    Jazz rhythms swirled in the air around them, like the snowflakes flurrying outside. She smiled into Steve’s eyes. “Promise?”
    â€œPromise,” he whispered, then leaned forward and kissed her, lingering just long enough before he drew back.
    Nice. Very, very nice. And warm. Kelly wondered if Jennifer had any spies in the lounge tonight. Lifting her martini glass, she glanced around the crowded room and noticed the jazz pianist, Mark, grinning at her. She could swear he gave her a wink.
    â€œI saw Mark grinning at us. Maybe he’s one of Jennifer’s spies,” she teased.
    â€œNot a chance. Mark’s a jazzman. He simply appreciates good timing,” Steve said, giving her a wink of his own.
    Together they lifted their glasses toward the piano as very, very good jazz wrapped around them.

Six
    â€œThey’ve got a head start, Carl. You’ll never catch them,” Kelly said as she slid the patio door open.
    Carl bounded outside into the snow, barking furiously as he raced toward the parade of squirrels trooping along the fence. The squirrels, of course, were as fleet-footed as usual, so even Carl’s enthusiastic shaking of the chain-link as he jumped against it couldn’t thwart their escape. One by one, they reached the corner post, where they skittered and hopped through the snow and up the adjacent cottonwood tree. Kelly could have sworn the last squirrel deliberately shook his rear end at Carl, tail up, taunting.
    â€œI think that last squirrel mooned you, Carl,” Kelly called to her barking dog. Undaunted and oblivious to insult, Carl stood, paws up on the fence, barking doggie threats into the snow-laden branches above. Each bark created little clouds of frozen dog breath in the icy air.
    Leaving Carl to his wintry patrol of the backyard, Kelly escaped the cold and refilled her coffee mug before she returned to her desk and accounts. She clicked on the computer screen and entered additional figures, moving quickly through the spreadsheet. A snowy, cold day was perfect for holing up and digging into her accounts. If she kept at it, she’d have these clients finished by midafternoon.
    The sound of her cell phone interrupted. “Kelly here,” she answered automatically, continuing to cruise the spreadsheet.
    â€œHey, Kelly, have you got a minute?” Jennifer’s voice came through.
    Kelly stopped her calculations and focused her attention.