Free The Bogus Biker by Judy Nickles Page A

anything he shouldn’t have been—besides other women?”
    “Absolutely not. He’s a good businessman and an honest one. Pembroke Point is the largest cotton producer in the area.”
    “Did you know his friends?”
    “Better than I wanted to.”
    “Including Roger Sitton?”
    “Roger’s a pussycat. Well, maybe a tomcat- wanna-be, but he’s harmless.”
    At the word ‘cat , Abijah materialized from wherever he’d been lurking and curled himself around Penelope’s ankles. She lifted him into her lap. “And so are you, aren’t you baby doll? Just a big old lover boy, that’s all.” She nuzzled his head, and he cranked up his rumbling purr.
    “A tomcat, huh?”
    “Who, Roger? He’s divorced, has a son in Kentucky, or maybe it’s Tennessee. Where is this going? Do you think Roger is mixed up in the drug business?”
    “I didn’t mention any drug business.”
    “But that’s what you’re talking about. Why you’re here.”
    “Just getting the lay of the land, that’ s all.”             
“You darn well blessed aren’t!”
    He laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners in a way that made Penelope want to smooth them out and… She looked away.
    “If you’ll give me the key to the shed, I’ll move my bike.”
    “On the rack by the door. Purple tag. Put it back when you’re done.”
    She scratched Abijah’s ears as she watched Sam amble down the flagstone walk winding through her mother’s flower garden and beyond. He had shoulders like a weightlifter and the hips of a jockey. She shivered. I shouldn’t be thinking about his anatomy, especially his hips!
    Planting a silent kiss on Abijah’s head, she set him down, grabbed her purse from the end of the cabinet, and marched out to her car where she’d left it under the porte-cochere.

 
    CHAPTER SIXTEEN
     
    Penelope maneuvered her SUV into the last parking spot in front of Collier Memorial Library, between a white two-door that had seen better days and an idling gas company truck whose driver was nowhere in sight. Half-way up the cracked sidewalk, she ran into Shana Bayliss, once the librarian and now Travis Pembroke’s latest live-in. Penelope had liked Shana when she was dating Bradley, even though she wasn’t a Catholic, and felt a real sympathy for the attractive young woman who probably didn’t realize she was living on borrowed time at Pembroke Point.
    “Hello, Shana, how’s everything?” She tried not to focus on Shana’s dark-circled eyes.
    “Okay, Mrs. Pembroke. How are things with you?”
    “Getting ready for the crowd this weekend.”
    “Right—the Black Walnut Cake Festival. I’d almost forgotten.” She shifted the zebra-print cloth bag to her other shoulder. Penelope refrained from remarking that it was identical to Mary Lynn’s.
    “You better stop by for a taste.”
    “Maybe I will. I just came in to pick up some books Abigail got me through interlibrary loan.”
    “Anything special?”
    “Those Southern Sisters mysteries by Anne George. Have you read them?”
    “Never heard of them.”
    “There are seven in the series. I just turned in the two we have at this library.”
    “Well, thanks, Shana. I’ll see if they’re on the shelf yet.”
    “How’s Brad?”
    Penelope had to wonder why his ex-girlfriend would even ask, but she said, “Busy, I think. He said he called his father last week and left two messages.” She watched Shana’s expression for any hint of guilt.
    Shana’s ivy-green eyes flashed. “He did, and I told Travis, too. I guess he didn’t return the calls.”
    “I guess he didn’t.”
    Shana shook her head. “I’m really sorry, but I did tell him. Honestly.”
    “I believe you.”
    The younger woman’s auburn wedge shimmered and swayed in the morning sun filtering through the ancient oaks on the lawn. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
    “Not your fault, Shana. You take care now.”
    “Thanks, Mrs. Pembroke. Nice seeing you.”
    And she meant that, too, Penelope