Liz Talley - Waters Run Deep

Ouch. The woman thought she’d caught them in flagrante.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Carter said from where he’d sunk on the old-fashioned banquette in the breakfast nook, but Annie didn’t miss the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He liked her jealousy. “Annie passed through to let me know Spencer was safe in bed so no one would worry. That’s all.”

Annie stood stock-still, knowing she made for an easy target. She looked at Tawny, refusing to duck her chin or make any excuse. “Mrs. Keene, I’ll check on Spencer again before I go, but I’d like to go for a quick run before starting his day.”

Carter nodded. “Of course, that’s fine. I’ll tell Brick to keep an eye on him.”

Tawny echoed with “Fine.”

Carter refocused on his wife. “Be on location at eight o’clock sharp. Oh, and call Linda so she can work some makeup magic. The camera picks up every line and wrinkle, and we’ve got night scenes, long day coming up.”

Annie pushed through the kitchen door but not before she caught the pain in the actress’s eyes. Tawny was a prima donna extraordinaire, but Annie didn’t like seeing the hurtful words the couple threw at one another, not when she’d seen the photographs scattered around the Hollywood Hills mansion of two people truly in love. Happy, laughing, loving couples were hard to find amid celebrity. Tawny and Carter Keene seemed to have had it.

At one time.

Annie decided to peek in on Spencer again. He still slept, and Brick already skulked in the hall, so she slipped out the side door and set off down the drive, the gravel crunching beneath her running shoes, the air already heavy with moisture. Sweat sluiced down her body before she hit the highway. By the time she’d gone a mile, her breathing was ragged and her legs heavy. Louisiana in September might kill her.

She rounded a curve, intending to do another mile even if she ended up with a toe tag, and nearly crashed into Tawny’s former roommate and current best friend, Jane McEvoy.

“Annie,” Jane breathed, leaning over and grasping her knees while gulping in deep breaths.

Annie stopped and mopped sweat out of her eyes, surprised the woman had remembered her name. They’d only met once. “Morning, Ms. McEvoy.”

“Jane, please. And it’s killer out here, isn’t it? I’ve been here for almost a month and I still can’t get accustomed to the humidity.”

Annie glanced down the highway in the direction from which Jane had come. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Marathon,” the woman panted, pulling the breathable tank from her torso. “I’ve been training for months around the shooting schedule. Beau Soleil’s ten miles from the motel where the rest of us are staying, so it’s a perfect training run here and back.”

Annie nodded. Jane was okay. Much better than Tawny, but then again, Jane was a serious character actress appearing as an extra on police procedurals and the occasional big-screen film. With a wholesome look and a trust-inspiring demeanor, Jane was also frequently cast in commercials. As a close friend to the Keenes she’d snagged a part as the killer’s girlfriend. Something about being whacked in the first scene only to reemerge at the end of the film as the mastermind who faked her own death.

Annie checked her watch. No time for another mile. “I can’t handle that much running. Gotta get back to Spencer. Good luck with getting your miles in.”

“Glad he was found yesterday. Scary, huh? He’s such a rascal. I’m not surprised he slipped off. Tell him I’ll bring him a lollipop when I get a break. I promised him one when he beat me at Candy Land last month.” Jane straightened and glanced in the direction of Beau Soleil.

Annie nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“We should catch up. Maybe drinks in town? Tawny might come if Carter or that crazy lady will watch Spencer.”

“Sure,” Annie said, knowing Tawny would rather hang out with a leper than with the nanny.

“I’m so bored out here,” Jane said with a shrug, as if that explained why she was so hard up for company. “All the other girls on the film are twentysomethings who spend their time banging the crew. Although there is this one gaffer who’s to die for, but he’s such a baby. Okay, TMI. I’m heading back. I’ll call the house later.”

Jane set off back toward the motel, which sat right outside the city limits of Bayou Bridge. Annie had studied the map of the area, noting the bayous, tributaries and low marshland surrounding the small town. She needed to do some snooping around the production site, and Jane had given her a perfect reason for dropping by the motel if she could get some time off. Several members of the film crew worked directly for Carter’s production company and she’d told Ace she’d try to get a feel for how they regarded the Keene family. This tentative friendship with Jane would be her ticket into that world. So drinks would work.

She headed back to Beau Soleil, sucking wind and praying she wouldn’t crumple on the highway. The occasional car passed her, along with plenty of huge pickup trucks with dual exhausts and mud-splattered flaps. One passerby gave her a wolf whistle. She refrained from flipping him off.

By the time she made the gate to the mansion, she was done. She gulped air as she crunched down the long, winding drive at a slow walk. The cemetery appeared as she rounded the corner and she shivered despite herself. Her grandmother had claimed to have second sight and the ability to commune with the dead. The sudden prickly feeling had to be a leftover freakazoid gene rearing its ugly head.

The sound of a car behind her had her scooting off the road and checking over her shoulder. Gray government car.

Nate Dufrene.

Her heart took a gallop that had nothing to do with the run she’d just completed.

He slowed beside her.

She stopped.

“Wanna ride?”

“I’m almost there. And I’m pretty sweaty. Wouldn’t want to get your seats wet.”

His gaze traveled down her body and up again before meeting her eyes. The look was leisurely, not perfunctory, and his checking-out of her sweaty body made her throat tighten and awareness ignite in her blood. “I don’t mind.”

Her mind screamed get your butt back to the house and leave sexy Nate Dufrene the hell alone. Her libido, however, told her to take the candy the man offered and climb into his car like a naughty little girl. Damn, it was hard to ignore candy like Nate.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, walking around the car and pulling open the passenger door. She sank inside and angled one of the vents onto her face. Nate turned the AC on high and shifted into gear, rolling slowly toward the historic home where he’d been raised.

The car smelled like plastic, mingled with the slight scent of citrus cologne that suited the man sitting next to her. She inhaled, sucking in cool air and Nate Dufrene. Both were good.

“You run often?” he asked, casting an inquisitive look her way.

“Three or four times a week,” she said.

“You look like you could run circles around me.” He drove really slowly. On purpose? Or did he hide pawpaw tendencies behind his gorgeous brown eyes and lumberjack body? Maybe he wanted more time with her?

“You look fit enough,” she said, glancing out the window. No sense in trying to sound flirty. That had never been her game. Besides, she shouldn’t have climbed in the car with him, shouldn’t have gotten close enough to drink in his clean smell and seductive voice.

“Oh, yeah? Maybe we can go for a run together,” he said, as the house came into view.

Her body tightened unwillingly as thoughts of other things they could do together flitted through her mind. She glanced at him, unable to help herself and shrugged as though his presence wasn’t affecting her at all. Which it so was. Lord, what was wrong with her? Goal: prove to Ace she could do a phenomenal job as an investigator so she could make more money and get better assignments. Barrier: hunky detective.