Free DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS by Mallory Kane

robe tightly around her and cinched the sash as tightly as she could. Then she hurried down the hall to the front door.
    Just as she reached to unlock the deadbolt, Ethan banged again. “Laney? Are you in there? I swear if you don’t answer the door I’m going to break it down. Are you okay in there?”
    She took a deep breath. “I’m—I’m here,” she said. “Just a minute.”
    “Laney? It’s Ethan.”
    “I know,” she cried. “Hold on.” She finally got the door open.
    Ethan was standing there, on her front stoop, his pressed white shirt unbuttoned over a white T-shirt and his hair uncombed. “Thank goodness,” he said when he saw her. “I was afraid something had happened to you. Do you know that your phone is off?”
    She nodded.
    “Well, turn it on. Don’t you know people are trying to call you? I called several times. I figured you might have turned your phone off while you were asleep, but it’s eight-thirty.”
    “Eight-thirty? Oh, my God. I slept for over twelve hours.”
    “Well, that’s good, I guess,” he said. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
    Laney glanced behind her. “I—uh, well I just got up and—” She instinctively stepped out of the way as he walked inside, closing the door behind him. He surveyed the foyer and the rooms that opened onto it—the living room to his right, the kitchen directly in front of him and a hallway to his left. There were three doors on the hall—bedrooms and a bathroom he figured.
    Laney watched him take in her little house. His expression didn’t change, but his head moved slightly in what she thought might be a nod.
    “Got coffee?”
    “I can...make some,” she said with a vague gesture toward the kitchen. But then she stopped. She had no reason to extend hospitality to him. He’d shown up at her door banging and making a scene. She turned to face him. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
    She started to put her hands on her hips, but felt the terry cloth sash give a little and decided a better idea would be to fold her arms across her middle, anchoring the robe in place.
    He headed into the kitchen. “The coffee’s not made,” he said, looking at the pot and then at her.
    “No, it’s not,” she said. “I asked you a question.”
    “I’m here because I need you to come in to sign your statement. Can you be there at ten?”
    Laney looked at her kitchen clock. “That’s barely over an hour from now.”
    “Yeah,” he said, opening the cabinet above her coffeepot, spotting a can of coffee and retrieving it. “Plenty of time.”
    He inspected her pot, emptied the reusable filter, rinsed it and refilled it with fresh coffee. He filled the carafe with water and poured it into the pot, then turned on the power.
    “No,” she said. “It’s not plenty of time. Oh, and please, make yourself at home,” she added sarcastically.
    He glanced at her, first in puzzlement, then understanding. “I figured I’d better make the coffee if I wanted some, since you’re busy holding your robe together,” he commented, a small smile curving his lips. It wasn’t wry but it wasn’t kind either. It was more...suggestive.
    His gaze drifted downward to the neckline of the robe. It took all her willpower not to look down. But she couldn’t stop her face from heating up. She knew she was blushing.
    “What’s the matter?” he asked, studying her face. “You said you got over twelve hours of sleep. You obviously showered, by the look of your hair.”
    She shot her fingers through her damp hair, smoothing it as well as she could.
    “Is that—” he inclined his head toward her hair “—going to keep you from getting dressed and down to the station by ten?” He didn’t take his eyes off her, just stood there, waiting for her to answer.
    “No,” she said through gritted teeth. “Of course I can be there by ten, if that’s what I have to do.”
    “Great,” he said. “I’d appreciate it.” He turned back to the coffeepot,