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“Yes. Well,” she responded primly. “I can’t make any promises on that score.”

He snorted, then reached out to ghost his knuckles along the curve of her jaw. Her lips parted at the first brush of contact, and her breath hitched. His amusement evaporated, revealing something achingly tender.

Uh-oh. They were having a moment, weren’t they?

Lingering, he searched her gaze with his own. The rest of the world vanished, and she gulped.I do not love him. I don’t. I won’t.Getting her heart broken when things fell apart was one thing. Letting someone break her darling Rolex’s heart was quite another. What if her perfect little feline came to depend on Conrad, then boom, the special agent was gone?

“I want to take you on a date tomorrow night,” he intoned.

The moisture in her mouth dried. “Adatedate? As in, just the two of us?” Instead of sharing a meal at her place with the rest of the gang? AKA Fiona, Beau, his pals, and the sheriff. Team Truth, Jane liked to call them.

“Yes. Adatedate. Just the two of us. Think about it. Then say yes out loud.” Eyes twinkling again, he tapped his ear, reminding her that he would be listening. “I’ll come by and check on you in about an hour. We can discuss restaurants.” With that, he walked off, leaving her alone with her thoughts. And a bout of panic.

Not that she planned to indulge either one. Or think about dating. The people who’d stood off to the side, waiting for his departure, swarmed her. She answered question after question with few pauses. Time evaporated. She knew this for a fact because anytime she glanced at the clock, at least ten minutes had passed in a matter of seconds.

Exactly one hour later, Conrad returned as promised. The crowd parted like the Red Sea.

“I haven’t used the word yes even once,” she rushed out.

“Not true. You just did.” His eyes were twinkling again. “So, where would you like to eat?”

“I—” A blood-curdling scream suddenly pierced the night, and every cell in Jane’s body vibrated with alarm.

She groaned. Trouble had just found her, it seemed.

CHAPTERTWO

“If you’re not lying, you’re not trying.”

Anthony “Tony” Miller, attorney at law

In a thundering flap of wings, birds took flight from multiple trees. Around Jane, conversations ceased, and people went still. The only movement came from flashing lightning bugs.

Acid pooled in her stomach. That hadn’t been a startled, playful, or victorious sound. No, terror had filled every nuance. “What in the world?” She jumped to her feet, the fringe on her dress tapping against her knees.

Guests started laughing. A few even clapped and cheered.

They thought the scream was part of the event?

A line formed between Conrad’s eyes. He strode around the table to stand beside her. “I read your script, but I don’t recall an impromptu shriek.”

“I know.” Jane tightened her grip on the pen she held. “I think something’s wrong.” There hadn’t been a second scream, at least. That was a good sign, right?

The corners of his mouth turned down. “I’m sure Beau and his guys are on it. But, considering the murderous nature of the townsfolk, I better go check it out.”

Her breath released in a rush, and she kissed his cheek. “Yes, please, and thank you.”

“For you, anything. Stay here. Please.” Expression intent, he lightly pinched her chin, angled her face the way he wanted it, and kissed her mouth. An action she hadn’t known she’d needed until just then.

As he pivoted and stalked off, her hand fluttered to her throat. Returning to the seat, she muttered, “No reason to panic.” For all she knew, someone had solved the case super early, discovered Beau’s body, and witnessed Fiona absconding with a stolen bag of fake gold. Yes, yes, that must be what happened.

A crackling sound rose from Jane’s purse. Confused, she dug inside–duh! The walkie-talkie. Beau had insisted all cast members carry a two-way radio in case of an emergency.

Heart thumping, she lifted the device to her mouth. “Yes. Hello?”

“Jane!” Fiona whisper-yelled, the words drenched in horror. “Jane, there’s been a murder. A real one! There’s blood. And a needle!”

Blood? Needle? “What?!” This couldnotbe happening. Not again. Not on this special night of celebration and fun. She’d taken every precaution.


Tags: Gena Showalter A Jane Ladling Mystery Suspense