Read Online Dangerous Refuge by Elizabeth Lowell - Free Book Online Page B

makeup, hair pulled back. Nothing fancy. Certainly nothing worth a second look.
    He met her eyes. “Dressing down today?”
    “Cocktail dress for breakfast means the ‘Walk of Shame.’ It’s like wearing an I-did-it sign.”
    He laughed and looked at her lips. “I’m hungry.”
    Oh my God, she thought as her pulse kicked. “I’m feeling like Little Red meeting the wolf.”
    “If you get me fed, I’ll be no more dangerous than a border collie pup.”
    “In that case, I won’t take time for makeup.”
    “You don’t need any.”
    “And you need glasses. Come in while I get my jacket. The wind off Lake Tahoe can have a bite to it even in late summer.”
    As Shaye disappeared into a bedroom, Tanner walked in and shut the door. A few glances around the condo told him that she was well organized without being militant about it, liked bold colors more than pastels, and preferred comfort over style. That was more personal information than the Google results he’d read about a white female, thirty-three, five foot eight inches tall, one thirty-two, blond and brown, divorced, reclaimed her family name, no tickets, no warrants, no arrests, no children, no unpaid bills.
    Which was more than could be said for her ex, a handsome low-level Major League ballplayer named Marc Nugent who liked wild parties and wilder women. Good thing he had a Dodgers paycheck to cover that.
    From the envelope Tanner could see on the entryway table, they were still actively corresponding.
    Is that why she isn’t seeing anyone? Still too involved with the ex?
    Or did she get burned but good?
    The thing about growing up was that there were so many potholes in the road. Some of them were deep enough to swallow you whole.
    “I thought you were hungry,” Shaye said, waving a hand in front of his face.
    “I am. Who’s Marc Nugent?”
    Shaye looked at the envelope. “You mean you haven’t heard of the famous deep bench player for the Dodgers? My ex. He has a high opinion of himself.”
    “You could kill scorpions with that tone.”
    “If only. What about you? Any ex-wives?”
    He smiled slightly, liking her directness. He had never been drawn to coy women. “I stopped collecting at one. I got married too young, before I knew how hard a cop’s life is on a relationship. Way before I’d grown up enough to make it work anyway.”
    “Still paying alimony and child support?” she asked sympathetically, picking up her purse. “I was. Alimony, not child support. The court finally decided that my ex could get along without an allowance from me. He wrote me a nasty gram about it.”
    Okay. She’s not really corresponding with the ex.
    “No kids or alimony for me,” Tanner said. “My ex remarried the day our divorce was final.”
    “It’s better that way. No children to grind up between adult realities.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “Takes a while to stop feeling stupid, though.”
    He put his fingers beneath her chin, tilted her head up. “It stops?”
    She half smiled and half frowned as she gently stepped away. “Anything else from the deep past that we need to exorcise before breakfast?”
    “Not on my side.”
    “Then let’s eat.”
    “I’ll drive, you navigate. Deal?”
    Automatically she hesitated. Then she reminded herself that nothing in her Google-stalk of him before she went to sleep last night had raised any flags.
    “Deal,” she said.
    Tanner followed Shaye’s directions to a nearby breakfast place. On Sunday morning, the hungry clients should have been lined up out the door, but no one was waiting for a table.
    “You sure this is a good place?” he asked before he turned off the car.
    “Yes.”
    “Couldn’t tell it by the parking lot.”
    “Wait until it snows, or until high summer. Place is buried in people then. It’s only quiet in the shoulder seasons.”
    The coffee shop was done in extreme skiing decor. The front-door handles were miniature skis. Signed posters of Olympic ski luminaries lined the