Free Take Me Home by Nancy Herkness Page A

know.”
    Her sister’s tone was so serious that Claire put down the belt she’d been rolling up. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
    “I looked up Anais Tremont online. There were a whole bunch of news stories, but none of them answered the most important question.”
    “Which is?”
    “Why she did it. There was a suicide note, but it was never released to the press. Dr. Tim refused to comment. Ever.”
    “Who could blame him?” Claire said. “Imagine what he was going through! His gorgeous, talented wife blew her brainsout in an empty theater. Why would he want to talk about that, especially to a bunch of reporters?”
    “Yeah, but you can’t help wondering.”
    Claire would never admit it, but Holly was right. She did wonder what could have driven Anais Tremont to such despair that her only option was death.

C LAIRE HAD FORGOTTEN the potent thrill of nerves and anticipation a first date could deliver. When the doorbell rang, she dropped the black leather clutch into which she was tucking her cell phone and lipstick.
    “Get a grip!” she said as she knelt to scrape everything back into the purse’s narrow opening. When her hasty sweep sent the lipstick rolling under the couch, she muttered a curse and then shouted, “Come in! It’s open.”
    She was half-kneeling, half-lying on the braided rug with her arm extended under the sofa when Tim’s amused voice said, “May I help?” and the heavy piece of furniture tilted onto its back legs.
    She grabbed the errant plastic tube and sat up, shoving the lipstick into the clutch lying beside her on the floor. “Got it! You’re a handy man to have around.”
    His chuckle came from behind her as the sofa was lowered gently back into its normal position. “Was it something very valuable?”
    “It’s Rarer than Ruby,” Claire said, pulling her full skirt out from under her knees and bracing her other elbow on the cushion to push herself up.
    She felt his hands come around her to grip her waist, pressing against the belt Kayleigh had picked out. Then she was weightless, soaring upward like a ballerina in her partner’s arms. Startled,she grabbed for an anchor and found his wrists, her fingers wrapping around what felt like warm girders of muscle and bone.
    “What’s rarer than a ruby? A blue diamond?”
    She wobbled as he set her down on her purple heels, and his grip tightened slightly. Her fingers were still locked on his wrists.
    “A what?” Claire was too caught up in the experience to grasp what he was talking about.
    When she was steady on her feet, he turned her to face him by reaching around to take her opposite hand in his and gently pulling it, like a continuation of their balletic pas de deux.
    “What were you so determined to retrieve from under the couch?”
    Her spin brought her around to eye level with his chest. He was wearing deep-blue woven silk, not plaid flannel. The silk was framed by the lapels of a pale-gray blazer. She raised her gaze higher, scanning up the strong column of his throat, to find his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief, while the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward.
    “My lipstick. The color is Rarer than Ruby.”
    He tilted her chin up farther with a nudge of his finger and considered her mouth. “Mmm. I like it.”
    She couldn’t help it. She licked her lips, an involuntary reflex.
    The glint and the smile disappeared, and in their place was a look she’d never seen nor expected from Tim. It was as though a huge lens were pulling all the light from the sky and focusing it on one thing—her mouth. She could almost feel the heat, and it shocked her. She had thought of him as big, slow, and safe, but right now, he seemed coiled and ready to spring.
    She waved the lipstick tube around to distract him and said, “Maybe I’ll let you borrow it for our next date.”
    Now why had she said that about another date? She let out her breath as his eyes lost their laser intensity.
    “I don’t think it would work