Free Cold Comfort by Ellis Vidler Page B

carafe.
    When she came back, she indicated the cash register. "I need to close out and take the money to the bank. I didn't have time this afternoon. Want to go with me?" The corners of her eyes tilted with amusement.
    Riley surrendered. He watched her bustle around the shop, tidying and rearranging. It all looked fine to him. "Okay, then let's go out for dinner. How about Shields Tavern? Unless you have other plans." Like the guy next door. Or the nerdy lawyer .
    She stopped, a glass ball in her hand, and stared at him. "No, no plans. I'd never have guessed you're a Colonial Williamsburg fan. Shields Tavern? They're always busy at Christmas, and last weekend they celebrated Grand Illumination. At least a hundred thousand people came to town for the lighting ceremony." She hung the ball on a limb, then reached under a table to switch off a little HO gauge train. "We'll never get in."
    "I made reservations." A little fun would be good for her. Maybe he'd been a bit rough today. She'd enjoy the colonial atmosphere; he could stand it for a while. She could have stepped out of the past herself—except for the dress.
    "Then I'd love to. I'll be finished in a minute." She began counting the money and receipts and stuffing it into a bag.
    "We've got time."
    "What exactly do you do, Ben Riley?" She paused for a moment and raised her head.
    "Not much." He cleared his throat. "Officially I analyze material, mostly on computers — sometimes research it."
    "What kind of research?"
    "Technical information, sometimes the people behind it, like hostile Web sites, fringe groups, sellers of questionable items. I analyze it and write reports. Which reminds me — I found this on Elton Burley." He took a paper from his pocket and held it for her—the columnist's speculations about the upcoming presidential election.
    "Sounds interesting." She glanced at the article, then lifted her gaze to him, eyes wide. "Elton Burley for vice president! Surely not — how could they, after all he's done?"
    "You might not like him, but a lot of people consider him an astute businessman, and he spent three terms in the House of Representatives. Not to mention being married to a Mafia princess. He's clean, so she adds to the interest."
    "What? Who?" She laid the moneybag on the counter and reread the article.
    The light shone on her hair. He resisted the urge to tuck a stray length behind her ear. "Read it later." He took it from her hand and put it back in his pocket. "Let's eat."
    "Okay, okay." Her gaze followed the paper to his pocket. "Let me change shoes and get my purse. I'd like to hear more about Elton Burley."
    He watched her walk away. High heels today, sexy. He wondered if she'd dressed for the lawyer, if she'd expected him. So what if she did? Riley turned away and studied a selection of greeting cards. Interesting designs. The sign read Kerr Kards.
    Within seconds, he heard the sound of her boots on the wooden floor. He couldn't remember a single card. She carried a black coat over her arm and the moneybag in her hand. She looked too damn good. He'd noticed last night, too, when she came downstairs in that blue robe. And tonight he'd planned dinner at Shields Tavern. Jesus H. Christ. By the time he finished this job, he might have to hurt Ray.
    They turned out the lights and left by the front door. Riley checked the street before Claire stepped out of the sheltering doorway. "We'll take your car," he said, "and come back later for the Bronco. I don't want to leave the Fiat exposed after the traffic is gone. Chances are they don't know the truck yet."
    Riley matched his stride to hers and kept her on the inside near the buildings as they hurried along in the crisp evening air. When they reached her car, he said, "See, the corner next to this building is dark and protected. Anyone could hide there, and it makes the car easy to tamper with."
    He circled the car, then dropped to his knees and shined a light under it.
    She stopped dead in her tracks.