Tara Taylor Quinn - Love By Association

It was one of his theories. Right along with the one where she’d go out with him, if he kept after her, because she felt safe with him. And once she started getting out more, she’d remember how much she’d enjoyed it. He’d been working off that one for more than a year...

“Wow. She must really be something if you’re coming out of the background at a party.”

He didn’t know about that. But Julie’s reaction did add to his suspicion that she held back more because he did. Could he help it that he took after their father? A man who preferred to observe and be aware? Julie had been more like their mother—the social one.

For a while, too long probably, he’d understood her reticence. But she was only three years from thirty. And hadn’t been on a date since high school.

“Well, I think that since I’m going to be way out of my comfort zone on this one, you could join me in that state by at least attending the event.”

She was still watching him. Her gaze more curious than guarded. She hadn’t said no.

“Will you? Please?” It was still a month away. She could think about it. And say yes and then change her mind, too.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He raised an eyebrow at her, while inside he was hosting a minicelebration.

“I kind of want to watch you with your leading lady...” Her expression pointed, her tone wasn’t filled with despondency. He took that as another small victory. “But it’ll depend on the guest list.” The last was issued with a matter-of-factness that had become a way of life.

It depended whether or not the Smyths were attending. He’d wanted to keep them off the list, but they both knew that he couldn’t. Not while maintaining Julie’s front of there being nothing egregiously wrong between the two high-society families. Because she didn’t want it known how damaged she’d been. She wasn’t going to let that family run her out of the town she’d been born to, raised in and loved.

Which was why, on rare occasions, she’d go to evening functions—to maintain her own status quo. But it was usually only when the Smyths were vacationing elsewhere.

And they weren’t going to be this time. He’d heard the night before that they’d be attending the library event. It was turning out to be the event of the year. Everyone was going to be there.

Except his sweet sister, who was helping to put on the event?

Julie went back to her grapefruit and toast. Colin scrolled on his tablet and thought about the woman he’d met the night before. Thought about the fact that he was still thinking about her.

About ensuring that, aside from murder-mystery business, he’d be seeing her again. Soon.

“She really had an effect on you.” He was deep in thought about him and Chantel on a yacht on the ocean—something about a private dinner at sunset—when Julie interrupted him.

Glancing up, he saw her studying him. This time minus the grin. “Who?”

But he knew who.

“You were grinning again,” she told him. “And not scrolling.”

Did Julie spend every morning watching him scroll, for God’s sake? Making a note to read his news before or after he got to the breakfast table—to spend those few minutes every morning paying more attention to his sister—he said, “There’s something different about her, Jules. She’s not like the rest of the women I know. I’m eager for you to meet her.”

Julie did smile then. “And I’m getting more and more curious.”

He hoped so. He wanted Julie to like Chantel. Not just because he did and hoped the woman would be around awhile, but because her publishing experience, her own drive as a writer, could help Julie take enough of a step out of her shell to submit some of her work for publication.

Maybe she’d even be able to help him convince Julie to attend the murder mystery gala. It would be a miracle.

But who knew? Colin being preoccupied by a woman was a bit of a miracle, too.

CHAPTER SIX

ON DUTY AT four on Friday, Chantel finished off a pint of chocolate ice cream for breakfast and lunch at a computer at the precinct, looking up names from the party the night before. Pulling police reports for any that had them. She already had everything there was to have on the Morrisons. Today she was looking at the others on the guest list.

A break-in, never solved. Several traffic incidents. A couple of DUIs.

First and foremost, she’d gone straight to the Fairbankses. And hadn’t been surprised to find not one single reference to them in the police database. You didn’t run a law firm as successful as Fairbanks, most particularly not with the types of clients they represented, if you were prone to mischief.

Still, a girl could never be too careful. If she was going to pretend an interest in the rainmaking attorney—and she was most definitely going to if she could persuade him to pursue her—she needed to be certain that he was going to help her case, not hurt it.

After brunch, already in uniform, she stopped to give the captain her report and then headed out in her car, driving by Max and Meri’s house—completely unnecessarily, given that the man who’d tortured Meri was in prison for life in Nevada, but it was something she still did several times a week, just the same. And she took a drive by The Lemonade Stand, too, going around the block twice, just watching. She was glad to see that the shops that fronted the unique women’s shelter were conducting business as usual. There was no reason for them not to be.

But the women who were fighting for their lives inside those shops, fighting for fresh starts, striving to live without violence, deserved to be watched over.

Then she went to the beach, to sit on a bench and watch the ocean. To clear her mind, relax a bit, so that she’d be prepared and focused when she hit the streets that evening.

What she saw, as she sat there, was an empty beach with an inner vision of her and Colin Fairbanks transposed onto the sand. They were walking, hand in hand.

And there the vision stopped. Even when she’d been in a serious relationship, Chantel hadn’t been the type who held hands on the beach. Or had her doors opened for her, either.

But boy, if ever she had been, a hand like Colin’s wouldn’t have been horrible to hold...

Giving herself a mental shake, she thought about Leslie Morrison and replayed their meeting the night before over and over. Making note of the “tells” the other woman had given her. There’d been too many to ignore.

Even accounting for the fact that Chantel had been specifically looking and could have made something out of nothing a time or two, she hadn’t imagined Leslie’s completely changed manner after her husband had joined them.

Whatever Chantel thought, personally, of Colin Fairbanks, whatever strange and possibly delicious feelings he’d raised in her undercover persona were irrelevant. If, indeed, he was presenting her with the perfect alibi for spending more time in his circle than a few charity events would afford, she was going to use him for all he was worth.

Because saving a woman and her son from brutality was far more important than Chantel’s social life.

She’d just have to make certain that Colin understood, from the beginning, that their time together had nothing to do with any real caring between them. She couldn’t let things develop beyond enjoying each other’s company. Maybe she’d have to change her story a bit—maybe she was only in California until she finished her story. Maybe the family would need her back in her publishing position as soon as her book was done. She was out to save a life—not to be cruel.

* * *

COLIN FELT LIKE a schoolboy as he pulled into the recently poured parking lot of Santa Raquel’s first and impressive full-service library just before noon on Saturday.