Free TRACE EVIDENCE by Carla Cassidy

bath, washed and brushed her hair, put on a touch of makeup, but at this rate she'd be trying to pick a dress to wear as their dinner reservations were given to somebody else.
    The problem was she wasn't sure if she wanted to dress to please herself or dress to please him. Even though she knew the dinner invitation had been spontaneous, prompted by who knew what, she still intended to have a nice evening.
    She finally decided to dress to please herself. She'd spent enough time trying to please Max that now the idea of dressing for a man, being something other than what she was, left a bad taste in her mouth.
    The tear dress she finally chose to wear was turquoise calico with an appliqué pattern of coral diamonds around the yoke and the bottom of the long skirt. Coral buttons adorned the dress from the neckline to the hem. She added coral earrings and sandals and pronounced herself ready.
    As she stood in her living room, waiting for Clay to arrive, she realized that by choosing to wear a traditional Cherokee tear dress she was instantly placing a barrier between her and Clay.
    She knew from spending time with Rita that, for some unknown reason, Clay had turned his back on the Cherokee ways and his Native American blood. He probably wouldn't be pleased to see her dressed in the traditional Cherokee clothing. But this was who she was and besides, it was only a meal they were sharing. She knew better than to expect or anticipate anything more.
    At precisely
six o'clock
he pulled in front of her cottage. Instead of driving the white van she'd seen him in before, he drove a shiny dark blue two-door sports car.
    She watched as he unfolded from the driver door, surprised to feel her heart race just a little bit faster. He was dressed in a pair of navy dress slacks and a short-sleeved pale blue shirt.
    Even though she was peeking through the curtain at the window and watching him approach, she could tell that despite the civility of the dress clothing, there was a barely suppressed energy, a simmering sensuality that she recognized as both evocative and dangerous.
    She moved away from the window as he knocked, a rapid staccato that resounded in the pit of her stomach. She had a feeling this was a bad idea … a very bad idea. She grabbed her purse, then opened the door to greet him.
    His dark brows rose in surprise. "I don't think I've ever had a woman be ready when I've arrived on time to pick them up."
    "You said six. I assumed you meant six," she replied as she stepped out on the porch and pulled her door closed behind her.
    "I made reservations for six-thirty at Vitello's. I hope you like Italian," he said.
    "Love it," she replied. He opened the passenger door and she slid into the luxurious leather interior. As he walked around the front of the car to the driver door, she tried not to watch him.
    The inside of the car smelled good, an aromatic blend of rich leather and Clay's clean scent. As he opened the car door and slid in behind the wheel she steeled herself against any physical reaction she might have to his nearness.
    He seemed disinclined to speak as he started the engine and pulled away from her cottage. Instead he punched a button on the console and the air filled with the sounds of a light rock radio station.
    He was pulled tight into himself. It was obvious in the way his hands clenched the steering wheel, in the rigid set of his shoulders and the way his gaze remained focused on the road ahead.
    "You know, we didn't have to do this," she said softly.
    "Do what?"
    "Do this. Do dinner together."
    He turned and eyed her curiously. "Why, you don't want to?"
    She smiled. "It just looks like you'd rather be anywhere than here at the moment."
    His shoulders relaxed, as did his grip on the steering wheel. He reached out and lowered the volume on the radio. "Sorry, I didn't mean to give you that impression. I guess I've been working so hard for so long, I've forgotten about the civil pleasantries of socializing."
    "Now,