Free Conviction of the Heart by Alana Lorens Page B

ma’am?”
    “Glad you wore your play clothes,” she said with a smile. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she wore jeans that fit just right, with a green T-shirt bearing a Sierra Club logo. She gestured to the box. “Is that for me?”
    “For us. You did say you would make coffee.”
    “So I did. Come on in.”
    She stepped aside, holding the door open. He entered a shadowed hallway. The family room was off to his right, evidenced by the large-screen television that hung on the wall and video games scattered around the floor. Big windows let light into that room, although the angle of the sun wasn’t right for it to reach into the foyer. Neutral-toned furniture posed around a large burgundy Persian style rug and an oak coffee table stacked with magazines.
    “Coffee’s this way. Come into the kitchen.”
    She led the way down the short hallway to the kitchen, which was a sunburst of shades of yellow, from the walls to the curtains, to the rack of bright plates that sat above the white-faced cabinets. The closer he got, the better the coffee smelled.
    “This is a great place,” he said. “It’s old, isn’t it?”
    She smiled and took a pair of thick yellow mugs from the cabinet. “About eighty years, according to the title search.”
    Nick examined the window casements, then the design of the ceiling. “The window construction postdates the rest of the moldings. You remodeled it?”
    “About five years ago, when I bought it.” She shook her head. “You’re a construction expert, too?”
    Nick grinned. “There are a great many things you don’t know about me, Suzanne Taylor.” He snapped the string on the box and opened it. “I thought we could splurge a bit. I expect you’re going to work that many calories out of me before we’re done.” He took the opportunity to peer out the wide-silled kitchen window, set with half a dozen small terra cotta pots planted with herbs. “Oh, yes. Plenty to be done here.”
    “I warned you.” Her smile was unapologetic.
    “What about the children? My mother always volunteered me for these jobs.”
    “My parents agreed to take them to their activities today so I could get this done.” She set out small plates to match the mugs and took half a cannoli. “You really drove all the way over to Moio’s? You must have been up at the crack of dawn. On a Saturday, you can’t get out of there in less than half an hour.”
    “I’ve got pull,” he said.
    “The badge is useful for more than just catching your reflection, is it?”
    Her sarcasm burned him again. He could have explained that his uncle was married to the owner’s sister, but he didn’t want to waste the time. She obviously had some issue with the police. This wasn’t the opportunity to challenge her on it. Not if he wanted to keep seeing her.
    “I use mine to serve cheese and crackers sometimes.”
    The response provoked a laugh, and she moved on. “Would you like a tour? I’m always up for someone to admire my woodwork.”
    He gulped some coffee. “Sure.”He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and followed her back toward the foyer. She took a right past the stairs, and they entered a room full of plants and books. The central piece of furniture was a rolltop desk along the far wall, piled so high with papers they seemed seriously in danger of sliding off.
    “This is my office away from office,” she said.
    He ducked a dangling spider plant as he looked out the bay window. The flowered pillows on the seat felt very much like home. Sun shone in, lighting up the bright blossoms on the curtains and sofa. “Kind of like a jungle, isn’t it?”
    “Isn’t that great?” She reached out to brush dust off a tall potted ficus. “Especially in the winter. I can close the drapes and pretend I’m on a Florida vacation.”
    “Lucky you.”
    She picked a couple of dead leaves off the plant and tossed them at the wicker wastebasket next to the desk with a sigh, scuffing one sneakered foot on the