Free Storm Surge by Celia Ashley

phone to spread the cardstock flat. Her heart skipped a solid beat.
    She hadn’t dropped this. Not here. The last time she had seen this particular item had been three nights ago, where it had marked her place in her book on the nightstand.
     
     

Chapter 8
     
    Dan observed Paige’s entry into the diner with a clinical eye. She walked with an irate stride. He supposed that was good. When he’d spoken to her on the phone, she hadn’t been angry. She’d been afraid.
    She stomped over to where he sat and dropped down into the booth on the opposite side of the table, plunking her purse onto the bench seat beside her. “Are you eating?”
    “Waiting for you.”
    “I just want a coffee.”
    The waitress was already writing down the order. “And you, sir?” the girl asked.
    “Same. And a piece of that blueberry pie.”
    Dan waited until the girl left before speaking again. “Were they any help? The uniforms up there?”
    “Not really,” said Paige. “I gave them a description. They took the damned bookmark.”
    Dan grunted. “What’s the problem with that? Does it have some kind of sentimental value?”
    “No. But I thought perhaps you could get fingerprints from it.”
    “So can they, Paige. That’s probably why they kept it.”
    She exhaled loudly and began tapping the fingers of her right hand in a rolling rhythm across the laminate before glancing in an agitated fashion over her shoulder. “Where’s that coffee?”
    “Is it possible you’ve already had enough?”
    She threw herself forward with a hiss like a steam locomotive. “Are you freaking kidding?” she demanded in a loud whisper. “How long was I back in Alcina Cove before some psycho broke into my place and stole a goddamned bookmark? Then he trails me two days later for an hour and a half without my ever noticing the same car in my rearview, only to give it back to me. Who the hell is this guy? What does he want?”
    Dan shook his head. “And you didn’t recognize him?”
    “No!”
    “All right. Calm down.” Dan leaned back against the seat while the waitress deposited the coffee and his pie on the table. He was grateful for the interruption as Paige got a reign on her hysteria in the interim. He shoved a forkful of pastry into his mouth and took his time chewing while he mulled the situation over a little longer. “Did you piss somebody off?”
    “In three and a half days?”
    “Right. Although, I’ve seen you in action…” He rubbed the bruise on his forehead with a knuckle.
    Paige choked on a mouthful of coffee. “Not funny.”
    “Understood.”
    “And I’m sorry.” She jerked her chin in the direction of his head. “About that.”
    Dan released a discreet sigh, digging into his pie again. He’d looked her up in the high school yearbook and realized why he’d had difficulty remembering her. They hadn’t run in the same circles, and she’d been rather non-descript in both looks and mode of dress. It was a pity she’d turned out so damned good-looking all these years later. She wasn’t his type at all. He liked his women… well, he liked his women. But in particular, he liked them a wee bit more relaxed than Paige. He was fairly certain she could be a handful. For any man.
    “You married?”
    She straightened, lowering her coffee mug to the table. “Why? Do you think this is some estranged husband sending me a nasty-gram?”
    Yeah. A handful. “Something like that,” he said.
    Lifting her mug again, she tipped back her head and swallowed the remainder of her coffee. As if on cue the waitress appeared behind her shoulder, brandishing the pot. Dan shook his head. The girl retreated.
    Paige shifted, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a tin of mints and offered him one. He declined. “The guy I saw today and the guy I saw on the beach the other night are not the same.”
    “All right,” he said. “That’s…something, I guess.”
    “I just thought I would mention that. Liam suggested the fellow on the