Page 24 of Dark ’N’ Deadly

Hearing his name, Tiger raised his head from where he’d been resting it on Eric’s thigh. Pointed ears twitched hopefully.

“Yeah, sure.” He’d gotten so involved in their little “spat” he’d forgotten his dog needed to do his morning stuff.

Tiger’s tail wagged as he trotted out the door behind Jesse, leaving him and Tess alone.

Her face brightened. “I have an idea.”

Uh-oh. He crossed his arms. “We are not going to the paint store.”

Rolling her eyes, she uttered an exasperated sound. “We’re going into Flemington, right?”

“Yeah?” He narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious.

“Have you ever heard of Stangl?” she asked.

“You mean, Casey Stengl, the baseball player?”

“Who?” She gave him a blank look then waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “No. The dishware, silly.”

“Silly?” He grunted. “No one’s called me ‘silly’ since I was eight.”

She ignored his question and kept right on going. “Stangl is a line of beautiful, colorful antique dishware that was only produced in two cities in the entire country. Trenton and—wait for it—Flemington.” The smile that lit her face washed over him like the hot summer sun. “I’m looking for a new piece, and I’m sure we can find some in town. Don’t worry, I’ll take it home with me, so the color won’t scramble your brain. Speaking of which, can I get you some eggs? I made plenty.” She went to the cooktop and scraped a mountain of cheesy eggs on a plate, piling a load of bacon next to it.

“Thanks,” he said as she set the plate in front of him. “It looks great.” And it did. She wasn’t kidding about her culinary skills.

The phone next to his plate—her phone—rang. He’d been about to shove a forkful of eggs into his mouth when she picked it up, and her delicate jaw clenched. Her hand trembled then the phone slipped from her grasp and hit the tile with a clunk.

Lunging for it, she pressed the side button, silencing the ring. She hastily covered the screen with her hand, but not before he’d gotten a quick partial glimpse at the number.

An Alabama number.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“No.” She smiled overly brightly. “Probably a telemarketer. They call all the time.”

Liar. He set down the fork. Didn’t have to be Elliot Ness to see how much that call had spooked her.

“Tess?” Hairs on the back of his neck prickled the way they always did when something was royally off. “What’s wrong? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“Everything’s fine.” She gave him another tight smile, but there was no missing the fear in her eyes. “I’ll tell Jesse we’re going into town soon.”

With every bead on her body clacking, she yanked open the sliding glass door to the backyard, closed it behind her, then ran to where Jesse played with Tiger. Eric couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their body language spoke volumes.

Whatever she said had Jesse yanking his phone from his back pocket. He punched in what Eric assumed was his passcode then handed the phone to his sister. Tess tapped several times on the screen then returned the phone to her brother. Her chest heaved, as if she’d just made a sigh of relief.

Any appetite he might have had vanished. His original intentions behind letting Tess and Jesse stay with him truly had been altruistic, to keep the kid out of jail as long as possible. Now, it served another purpose: allowing him to keep an eye on the boy.

And, dammit, Tess.

Chapter Eight

Tess glanced at Eric’s handsome profile, feeling silly at the twinge of disappointment she’d experienced the night before at his adamant resolve never to get married or have kids. It wasn’t as if she had designs on him or anything.

With every twist and turn of the winding road, thick muscles in his forearms flexed and rippled, calling attention to the smattering of light scars she’d barely noticed when they knew each other in Springfield. Until today, she’d never seen him without a shirt on.

When he’d walked into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice all that golden-tanned skin covering his broad chest and muscled shoulders. Then she’d gotten an eyeful of his scars, horrified by the pain he must have endured from whatever terrible thing had done that to his body.

Focus on something else.