Free Mending Fences by Lucy Francis Page A

involved. The D.A. suggested she try not to worry about it, and think about getting a concealed carry permit to protect herself.
    She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. She’d told Mara about the notes, and her cousin simply clucked her tongue and said, “Don’t read them, silly, just toss them in the garbage.” Victoria shivered. She did need to see them, needed to keep them for evidence in case it somehow got worse.
    Icy fingers of fear clutched at her insides as she wondered how it could get worse, but her anger flared, burning away the chill. How dare he still try to frighten her, intimidate her, hurt her!
    She basked in the heat of her anger for a moment as she strode to her room, tossing the letter in the desk drawer. Anger made her sharp, kept her in control. Fear made her useless to herself. Yeah, she’d keep the notes. If it ever escalated into something more, she’d have a paper trail to work with.
    The doorbell rang. Curran.
    Anticipation flooded through her, leaving her tingling from head to toe, washing away both fear and anger. She hurried into the entry, not even feeling the cold when she opened the door.
    Curran, wearing a long black leather coat over an electric blue sweater and black pants, moved into the house when she retreated a step. “Evening, Beautiful.” He brushed his lips across her cheek, much to her disappointment. She wanted his mouth on hers.
    He looked her over, in that quick, sweeping way of his that made her feel appreciated rather than ogled. “Nice outfit. Coat?”
    She opened the coat closet and pointed to the street-length red wool coat hanging inside. He helped her into it, waited while she locked the door, then twined his fingers with hers on the way out to his truck.
    Instead of opening the passenger door, he backed her against it, leaning into her, his chest and legs flush against hers. Her heart skipped and pounded, a rhythm she felt between her thighs.
    “So,” she whispered. “Does this mean I get a proper kiss hello?”
    “I can’t help it. I know women hate having their lipstick mussed, but I very much want to kiss you.” His low voice made her heart trip again.
    “I use the good stuff, it’s not going anywhere. Go for it.” The blood rushed from her head when he pressed his lips to hers. He nipped at her lower lip, and she met his tongue with her own, tasting him. Minty.
    He rarely tasted of cigarettes anymore. He’d worked hard to quit over the last few weeks, but she knew he could do it. Curran had the strength to do anything.
    Pride welled in her heart and she stroked his face and smiled at him when he ended the kiss. He grinned back, crinkling the slight lines beside his eyes, then settled her in the truck.
    “Have you eaten at Fusion Cafe before?” he asked as he drove out of their canyon and headed southwest toward Park City.
    “Once for my cousin’s birthday. It’s great.”
    He nodded. “I went there several times during the film festival, before I moved here. The owner, Dakota Grant, is a real fireball. She dated my friend, Jamie, for a while.”
    “Ahhh, that explains being able to secure reservations at the last minute.”
    Fusion Cafe took up a ground-floor wing addition to the Silver Lode hotel, just off historic Main Street in Park City. The interior was spartan, with tables divided by etched chrome and glass half-walls. Sound deadening panels on the ceiling provided a decent atmosphere for conversation even on a busy night. Being a Thursday didn’t diminish the crowds much. Several groups and couples waited in the hotel lobby for their tables.
    Curran placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the restaurant door. A pretty, petite, delicate blonde standing at the host desk smiled at them, then did a double-take and left her desk to throw her arms around him.
    “My gosh, Curran, I heard you were coming in tonight. I haven’t seen you in ages.”
    He laughed. “No one’s seen me in ages, so don’t feel bad about