Free Return to Me by Riley Sinclair Page A

Paige."
         "Is he wearing a police uniform? Why is he wearing a police uniform?" Erik murmured from the corner of his mouth, climbing to his feet and pulling a shocked Paige up with him.
         "I don’t know..."
         "Are you surprised to see me?" Guy regarded her through hooded eyes, shifting his legs. Paige's attention immediately went to the gun belt slung low on his hips. When her eyes swung back up to his face, there was no mistaking the amusement she found glittering in those blue depths.
         "That depends," Erik took the liberty of answering for her. "Are you the stripper gram?"
         "Erik!"
         "No, I'm not." G uy shook his head in disgust.
         "That’s too bad." Erik drawled, wincing when Paige brought t he heel of her shoe down on the top of his foot.
         "Ah..." Paige wet her lips. "It's nice to see you."
         "This isn’t a social call. If I could have a word with you in private?"
         "Keep dreaming."
         "Erik, please. I'm fine. Guy, let’s go around front. We can talk there." She motioned over Erik’s protest.
         Her thoughts swirled round and round in a whirling blur as she led the way around the side of the massive house, to the wide redwood front porch. It was as though she had conjured him by simply picturing his face.
         But what in God’s name was he doing in a police uniform, unless....she shook her head. No way. Guy? A cop? The image didn’t fit, and yet here he was, walking purposefully next to her, not behind her, in the cool afternoon sun. And although it was mid-October she noted it was still way too early for a     Halloween costume.
         So he was a cop ; she accepted the only logical conclusion with mild shock. And he was here, on her front porch, gun and badge prominently displayed, sunlight reflecting off the shiny Silver Star pinned to his chest. Ten years hadn’t faded his razor edge beauty, she reflected, drinking in the sight of him. If anything, he looked even better than he had as a youth. There was no question that Guy filled out his navy blue uniform nicely; his hair was also darker and his voice, lord, his voice.
         "Paige." H e brought her sharply back to the present.
         "Yes?" S he returned his measured stare with a well-practiced one of her own, one she had perfected over time spent in the faced paced heart of New York City. "Won’t you sit down? Can I get you a drink?"
         "I'll stand. As I said before, this isn’t a social call, Ms.-" he raised one dark brow.
         "It’s still Frey." She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, the first seeds of apprehension taking root. If he wasn’t here socially...she wracked her brain, trying without success to remember if she'd done anything illegal since her return to Montana.
         She didn’t think so, unless one of the neighbors had complained about the racket she had made a few nights ago, although she d idn’t think any of them were close enough to be bothered by any noise she and Erik made. Really, they were quiet for the most part anyhow. Had she been speeding this afternoon while she had run errands in town? Paige frowned, struggling to recall, giving up after a sliver of a moment.
         "Okay," S he huffed, shoving her hands into her pockets and rocking back and forth on her stacked heel sandals. "I give up," She admitted, daring to meet his eyes. "What'd I do?"
         If he was shocked by her blunt approach he didn’t show it, rather he met her level gaze head on and rested one hand high on the porch column. "We received a call from Hailey Robertson this afternoon and at her request, filed a police report."
         "Police report?" Paige squeaked. "My God has something happened to Hailey?"
         "T he report was for harassment." His frown deepened.
         "Har-harassment?" Her eyes went wide.
         "Did you visit Ms. Robertson’s residence at three o'clock this afternoon?"
         "Her