Free Dead Ringers 1: Illusion by Darlene Gardner Page B

the trick. Too many things about Max Harper aren’t adding up. The more time I spend around him, the more chance I have of deciphering the mystery. He takes the remote from the pocket of his khakis and unlocks the white pickup I’d seen in front of Adair’s cabin.
    I head for the passenger door, pull it open and hop in. The rifle I spotted through the window the other night is gone.
    His key is in his hand but not in the ignition. “I thought you were walking home.”
    I lift one of my feet and point to a flip-flop. “Wrong shoes. Besides, I’ve got a craving for good pizza.”

CHAPTE R ELEVEN
     
    Mario’s Pizzeria has a prime location directly on the boardwalk. The interior, though, isn’t worth raving about. Only one table has an ocean view. The others are arranged in a single row that stretches about eight deep to the back of the store. Opposite the tables is the counter, behind which Shep Arnett, a rising senior at Midway Beach High who looks bored enough to fall asleep, flips pizza dough.
    “This pizza is awesome.” Max holds up a slice of half-eaten pie. He ordered it New York style, the correct way. “Asking you out to lunch, definitely the right move.”
    His blue eyes are sparkling, a vivid contrast to his black hair. I might have a good view after all, not that I’d admit that out loud.
    “You could have just asked where to go for good pizza.’
    “And miss out on your company? Where’s the fun in that?” He holds my gaze, the smile on his lips matching the one in his eyes. He always gives me his complete attention, like nobody else in the vicinity matters.
    “Are you trying to distract me?”
    “Now why would I do that?” Before I can answer, he indicates the uneaten slice of pizza on my plate. “Aren’t you gonna eat that?”
    He takes another bite of pizza and chews enthusiastically. The tangy scent of tomato sauce drifts up from my plate. My stomach growls.
    “You’re doing it again,” I accuse.
    He finishes chewing and swallows. “Doing what again?”
    “Distracting me.”
    “Because I like the way you look when you wear your hair down?” He reaches across the table with his left hand and slides a piece of my hair between his thumb and index finger. “It’s very pretty.”
    My hair isn’t even close to pretty. In some lights it looks red, and it’s so hard to keep out of my face that I usually wear it back. I lean back so his hand drops away. “You know I’m only here because I want to find out why you’re so interested in the Black Widow.”
    He frowns. “I thought it was because you were hot for me.”
    “In your dreams.”
    “Oh, you have a starring role.” He does this quivering thing with his eyebrows.
    I’m rolling my eyes when the door swings open and Hunter Prescott walks into the restaurant. “Oh, damn.”
    The teasing light goes out of Max’s eyes. “Something wrong?”
    “No, nothing.”
    The concern’s still there. “It must be something.”
    “Hunter Prescott just walked in.”
    Max is sitting with his back to the door. Ninety-nine people out of a hundred would turn around and take a look for themselves. Max keeps his attention riveted on me. “So?”
    So now that Hunter’s without a girlfriend, I don’t want him to think I have a boyfriend.
    “Oh, I get it,” Max says, although I don’t know how he could possibly get anything at all from my silence. “This Hunter guy’s my competition.”
    He finally turns to take a look at Hunter, and I hear his breath catch. For once, it’s not me claiming his rapt attention. “What did you say Hunter’s last name is?”
    “Prescott. Why? Do you know him?”
    He turns back to me, his expression blank. “Never seen him before.”
    Over Max’s shoulder, Hunter spots me and lifts a hand. He looks perfect, as usual. Lean and muscular with dark sunglasses tucked into the neckline of a sleeveless T-shirt that calls attention to the muscular definition in his arms. I wave back and think that’ll be the end