Tempting The Sheriff. Kathy Altman
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have a knife. I didn’t think letting you hear it snap open would be the smartest thing to do.”
He had a point. She braced a foot against the wall and wrapped the silk tighter around her hands.
The giant grunted. “That thing rips free and you’re going to land on your ass.”
She relaxed her grip and rested her forehead on top of the drawer. “I guess you’re getting quite the eyeful back there.”
“Well, yeah.”
She sighed, and lifted her hands. “I give. Your turn.”
He reached in and grabbed her scarf below the knot, and with a flick of his wrist she was free. The drawer clanged shut and Clarissa stumbled backward. A hand on her elbow steadied her then fell away.
She straightened her spine with a groan, palms pressed to the small of her back, chin lifted moonward. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He sounded preoccupied. She dropped her chin and caught him staring at her chest. When she sputtered, he lifted his gaze to hers, looking more confused than embarrassed.
“These outdoor lights aren’t as strong as they should be. Are those eyeballs painted on your scarf?”
“Nope.” She glanced down and patted what was left of her favorite accessory. “They’re boobs.”
“I see.” He cleared his throat. “Bet you really liven up the sheriff’s office.”
Her head jerked up. “You know where I work?”
“I am the librarian.”
“You say that like it’s synonymous with mind reader.” She blinked. “Wait. You are?”
“Cozy mysteries.”
“What?”
“Your favorite type of book.” He held out an arm, indicating she should head for the parking lot.
“Second favorite.” She stepped off the curb and started toward her car, then pivoted back toward the books she’d left stacked on the pavers. “I didn’t get them all in.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
They didn’t speak again until Clarissa stopped at the driver’s-side door of her Camry. She tipped her head. “We haven’t met before. I’d remember the crick in my neck.”
Even in the scant light cast by the streetlamps, she could see the red staining his cheeks. “I saw you at the diner once and asked about you.”
“So you know my name.”
“I do.” He thrust out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Clarissa Dodd.”
Clarissa disliked wimpy handshakes, and she liked to give as good as she got. She doubted, though, that her firm squeeze even registered to this guy whose hand was as big as his face.
“Nice to meet you, too...” She raised an eyebrow.
“Noble. Johnson.”
“How appropriate. Thank you again, Noble Johnson, for—” she pulled her hand free and flapped it over her shoulder at the scarf-eating death trap behind her “—that.”
He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Romance?”
“No, thank you.”
“I mean, is that your favorite genre?”
Oh. “It wouldn’t matter anyway, because after tonight, it’ll be books on escapism.”
“Escapology, you mean.” He jabbed a thumb at the building behind them. “We have a decent biography on Norman Murray Walters, if you’re interested.” When her cluelessness registered, his mouth drooped. “He was Australian. A contemporary of Houdini.”
“Oh,” she said, then added, “Damn it.”
“Don’t sweat it. You’d be surprised how many people don’t recognize that name.”
“No.” She jerked open the knot in what was left of her scarf and yanked the fabric free of her neck. “My keys fell in the drop box.”
He dug his own keys out of his pocket and held them up. “Good thing I can get into the building.”
“My hero.”
“No swooning necessary, but I wouldn’t say no if you invited me out for a drink.”
“If I say ‘thank you, but no,’ will you still get my keys?”
He made a pensive, humming sound. “If we’d been dating, you wouldn’t need to ask that.”
“Like one of those signs you see when you’re driving? ‘If you lived here, you’d already be home?’”
He beamed. “Exactly.”
“Noble?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m too busy to date, and I need to get home.” He hesitated then turned away with a shrug. “Wait,” she said.
He swung back around, too quickly to hide the eagerness on his face, and she fought a wince.
“I just wanted to...” She twirled her index finger.
He frowned. “What?”
“You walk away and you’re walking out of the light. You got a good, long look at my backside. It’s only fair you return the favor.”
A startled grin flashed. He turned and bent at the waist. Clarissa tipped her head and took her good, long look at a just-snug-enough pair of jeans.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
“Very nice,” she said.
He straightened. “That mean you’ll go out with me?”
“No.” Clarissa poked her tongue against her cheek. “But I will be renewing my library card.”
* * *
TUESDAY MORNING, AND JD was still out of commission. Lily had dropped in on him the afternoon before. He had no family in the area, but she’d done it more for herself than for him. One more minute spent behind her desk waiting for Fulton to return from his rendezvous with the mayor and she’d have started researching untraceable poisons.
And after Clarissa had spent most of the day hunting for the sunglasses Lily had tucked into JD’s mail slot, Lily figured the least she could do was hand-deliver them. Her deputy had been grateful to see her. Even more so the ginger ale she’d brought, and the broth and crackers she’d fixed while there. It was plain the poor guy wouldn’t be back to work for another day or two. He’d barely managed to sit up long enough to drink his broth.
Lily took the last bite of her banana just as the “gate” out front lifted and banged shut. When there was no subsequent click of high heels in the direction of Clarissa’s desk, she hastily chewed and swallowed and swung back to her computer. The last thing she needed was Fulton walking in to find her staring at her own doorway, as if she couldn’t wait for him to arrive.
Instead, it was Clarissa who appeared. Lily dipped her head and peered over her glasses at the lime-green canvas sneakers her dispatcher wore.
“A little early for those, isn’t it?”
With a groan, Clarissa sank into the guest chair. “My feet are killing me. I couldn’t even look at a pair of heels this morning without wanting to stab myself in the eye.”
Lily dropped her banana peel in the trash. “Want to talk about it?”
“I met our librarian last night.” Clarissa traced the yellow vertical stripes on her pencil skirt, which she’d paired with a short-sleeved sweater the color of a tangerine. With her lime-green