Heather Graham - Blood Red

“No.”

“FBI?”

“No.”

“So exactly what are you?”

“I told you. A writer and a musician.”

“Oh, well, that answers that, then. I’m sure you know all about serial killers, not to mention exactly how and why my friends and I are in danger.”

She was stunned when he replied calmly and in a tone of such level and deep authority that it was the scariest part of it all. “I do.”

She just stared at him.

The waitress brought his tea, and he thanked her, bringing Lauren back to the moment.

“I’m going to leave now,” she said. “And you are going to leave my friends and me alone,” she told him firmly.

He ignored her words when he spoke. “I know who the killer is. I’ve known about him for a very long time now. He was responsible for the death of my fiancée.”

Lauren couldn’t believe it of herself, but she didn’t move. She remembered what he had said when she crashed into him the night before. The name he had spoken.

“Katie?” she said, then hesitated before going on. “The woman you think I resemble.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not your Katie,” she told him.

A rueful smile curled his lips. “I know that,” he said.

“But you think this man…killed her?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

“She died here, in New Orleans?” Lauren asked.

“No,” he admitted.

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. Katie did see him here, on a trip. And now I’m afraid he’s after you—just as he was after her.”

She sighed, looking down.

He was just as attractive and possessed of all the raw sex appeal as she had thought from the beginning—and he was completely crazy. Maybe even a murderer himself.

He could be stalking her, for all she knew.

She was finally about to get up when he asked, “Did you all stay in your cottage last night, locked in, once you got home?”

“I saw you out on the street, watching us,” she accused him, instead of answering.

“Did you stay in?” he repeated.

“Yes, which is none of your business,” she lied.

He still seemed concerned. “I only asked because it’s important,” he told her quietly.

She felt oddly uncertain and was angry with herself, but for some reason she couldn’t seem to walk away with things hanging between them.

And Deanna had been outside, sleepwalking, something she’d never done before in her life, and Lauren had been out there with her. Not only that, she’d felt as if someone else had been out there, too, and that somehow this man knew about it.

And at the edge of her consciousness was the memory of how she had dreamed about him, and the ridiculous longing somewhere inside that, against all the evidence, he would turn out not to be crazy.

She forced a casual smile onto her face. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why is so important?”

Instead of answering, he reached into his shirt pocket. “I’d like to give you something.”

“Please, I can’t accept anything from you.”

He smiled then, a charming smile that also managed to convey amusement. “No strings attached,” he assured her.

She was almost bowled over by the unconscious sensuality of his appeal. God, how she wished he were normal. She had never met anyone like him, hadn’t even dreamed that she could meet anyone like him, since she had lost Ken. The sound of his voice was alluring, his body language subtly provocative. If she’d met him anywhere else under any other circumstances…

“This was Katie’s,” he said.

She looked down at the item he’d produced from his pocket. It was a silver cross, beautifully designed and obviously antique.

“I definitely can’t take that,” she told him, staring across the table at him.

“Please.”

“It’s valuable.”

“I would never sell it in a thousand years,” he said.

She shook her head. “I can’t take it.”

He grinned at her suddenly. “If you were to take it and wear it, I’d feel better about you being out on the streets of New Orleans. I might even quit being such a pest.”

“I think you really are crazy,” she told him frankly.

“I’m not. Honestly.”

She picked up her tea and took a long sip, suddenly aware that she had both elbows on the table now and was leaning closer to him. “Okay, look at all this from my point of view. First I run into you in a bar. Then I see you standing out on my street.”

“My street, too.”

“Coincidence, huh?”

He shrugged.

“Okay. Then I’m sitting here drinking tea, and suddenly there you are, too, with a crazy tale about trailing a killer. Don’t you think you should go to the police if you know who the killer is?”

“Probably. I’m just not sure yet how to explain what I know.”

“Because it’s crazy,” she suggested softly.

“I swear to you, I only want you to be safe,” he said.

She groaned, looking down at her hands. “I’ve heard a piece of your story, and I’m not at all sure I want to hear the rest. Please…you’re very attractive. But I…I really have to ask you to stay away from me.”

There. She had managed it; she had said the words and told him to leave her alone.

He pulled away, straightening, his expression both resigned and regretful.

Suddenly she heard Heidi’s voice. “There you are! Lauren, why haven’t you been answering your phone? Oh, hi, Mark. Okay, now I know why you haven’t been answering. Can we join you? Or should we get lost?”

And Heidi wasn’t alone.

Deanna was with her.

Heidi’s voice was, teasing, the day sunny, everything normal. And yet…

Mark Davidson was charming, and of course both Heidi and Deanna were outrageous flirts when they wanted to be.

First, though, Lauren demanded to know where her friend had been. Deanna seemed surprised that Lauren had been so worried just because she’d wandered off and told her, “Shopping. And I’m perfectly capable of going in and out of stores alone. You’re the one who left us high and dry, you know.”

Ignoring that, Lauren asked, “Did you take a carriage ride?”

“A carriage ride? Why would I have taken a carriage ride?”

So whatever had so disturbed her was really nothing, Lauren thought. Maybe she needed to start worrying about herself.

Over a couple of really po’boys, Mark entertained them with tales of his travels, his writing—and his playing.

“So are you good?” Heidi asked good-naturedly.

“I leave that to the listener to decide.”

“I’d love to hear you play sometime,” Lauren said.

He justshrugged. “So, tell me more about your business,” he said.

He had quite a knack for turning the conversation away from himself, she thought—and decided not to allow it. “Mark lost a fianceé, too,” she said. “Her name was Katie, and she looked like me. Or I look like her.”

The table went dead silent.

“I’m so sorry,” Heidi said.

“Me too,” Deanna told him. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

Lauren noted the way he studied her in return. Not lasciviously, more as if he were searching for something, expecting her to give herself away somehow.

“He’s worried about us,” Lauren added.

“Why?” Heidi asked.

“Because of that body they found in the Mississippi,” Lauren said.

To her surprise, Heidi bestowed a tremendous smile on the man. “That is so sweet of you!”

“Imagine. We go on vacation and find a handsome protector,” Deanna said. She turned to Lauren. “And he’s in the cottage right next to ours.”

They were both crazy, Lauren decided. The sun was too much for them. And the way they were flirt…She wasn’t sure whether to scream or vomit.