Free TRACE EVIDENCE by Carla Cassidy Page B

them each a glass, then departed once again.
    "What made you decide to go into crime-scene investigation?" she asked, refusing to allow any awkward silences to develop between them.
    He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his wine, looking more relaxed than he had since the moment he'd picked her up. "When I was working homicide several years ago, my father came to me and told me he wanted a crime-scene investigator unit here in town. At that time he was chief of police and knew that particular part of police work had always intrigued me."
    "Because you like science."
    He nodded. "With science there's no guesswork. You run the tests, you get results. There's no room for emotion or trying to guess if somebody is lying to you. You don't have to deal with the human element at all."
    For her, his answer was quite telling of the kind of man he was, the kind of man who had worried his open, giving mother, the kind of man who Tamara should have no interest in whatsoever.
    "How's your father holding up?" she asked, then raised her wineglass to take a sip.
    "As well as can be expected. It's difficult on him … as it is on all of us." He leaned forward. "I assume Jeb got the deer off your porch last night?"
    It was obvious he wanted a subject change, that he wasn't about to share any of his feelings with her about the disappearance of his mother. Tamara was neither surprised nor offended. He owed her nothing of his feelings.
    "It was gone when I woke up this morning," she replied. "Thank you for talking to Jeb about it."
    "In this heat, it needed to be disposed of as soon as possible. Have you thought anymore about anyone who might be living your legend?"
    She smiled. "It isn't my legend and no, I still can't imagine anyone crazy enough to reenact the legend."
    Again their conversation was interrupted, this time with the arrival of their meals. Clay had ordered lasagna and she had ordered linguine with Alfredo sauce and fresh vegetables. Her stomach growled as the waitress set the plate in front of her.
    "It looks good," she said.
    "Mine looks better." He smiled and again she was struck by the powerful sexual appeal he possessed and seemed utterly unaware of.
    For the next few minutes they were silent as they began to eat. The music might be cheesy, but the food was beyond compare and the ambiance of the restaurant itself was comfortable.
    Even the silence between them wasn't a strained or uncomfortable one. It was only when they both reached for the breadbasket at the same time and their hands made physical contact that she felt tension spring to life inside her.
    "Sorry," she said and quickly drew back her hand. "No problem." He took a slice of the warm Italian loaf and buttered it, then handed it to her. This time when their fingers made contact she was ready for the jolt of electricity the mere touch created.
    "Thanks." The good thing about her bronze complexion was that blushes were difficult to discern, but she felt the warmth of a blush sweep through her. What was it about this man that affected her so strongly, affected her on such a visceral level?
    Once again they fell silent and focused on their meals. Tamara's linguine was delicious, but she found the man seated across from her detracting from her appetite.
    "So, why are you teaching? I understand from my sources that your paintings are quite a hot commodity," he said, breaking the silence that had begun to grow too long to he comfortable.
    "Painting is a very isolating kind of work. It's just me and my canvases. The time I spend painting is intense, all-consuming and exhausting. Teaching makes me interact with other people, keeps the balance in my life that is so important to my well-being." She hesitated a beat, then added. "You should try it some time."
    "What? Teaching?"
    It was obvious he was intentionally being obtuse. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a reply," she said dryly.
    He laughed. It was the first time she'd heard his laughter and the sound, as