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Authors: Karen Cote'
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store. Then there was that stupid calculator with its spooky connotations. This last part proved her first suspicions. I’m losing it.
Her ex-husband would laugh aloud at the mere hint of Ms. Independence seeking a guardian angel.
Finding no humor in the situation herself, Lily rose but not without glancing warily out the window. She locked the doors and spent the evening curled up in the sitting room chaise lounge, pondering between the threat of someone stalking her or a certain blazer circling her home.
After an uneventful evening, hunger pangs growled in neglect. She needed food.
She went to the kitchen pantry and selected the peanut butter she’d bought earlier in the week. Grabbing the bread and a spoon, she scooped out a dollop of peanut butter and paused, brows furrowing. Crunchy Peanut Butter? She thought she’d bought Creamy. She glanced at the front of the jar and sure enough, Crunchy sprawled across the label in big block letters. She scowled in distaste. She obviously picked up the wrong jar by mistake. Placing it back in the cupboard, she decided a bologna sandwich sounded just fine and ignored the mocking vision of a Looney-Tune yellow bird in a cage.
Chapter Five
Before going home, Jet drove around the old house one last time to verify no intruders were lurking. Not that he expected to find any, but it added detail to the report he’d need when he slapped a straitjacket on the woman inside. His conscience tugged at the unfair thought, but damn it, why of all places had she ended up in his town?
He braked and opened the door. Using the flashlight, he made a perusal of the area and checked the small room again. Empty. He shone the light down the back of the house and found nothing out of the ordinary. He returned to his vehicle and headed toward the other side of town.
He dropped off the blazer at the station, picked up his newer red pick-up, before heading home. He groaned when he pulled into his driveway. Celeste was back.
Jet leaned his head against the steering wheel. Didn’t she realize every time he saw her it emasculated him all over again?
No, Celeste wouldn’t think beyond what she wanted. Her showing up like this was his doing. If he hadn’t comforted her at her father’s funeral, she’d have moved back to the city by now. Only someone with Celeste’s conceit would attribute his actions as something more than gratitude to a man who’d been a father-figure to him. Celeste had taken it as a sign that he’d forgiven her. Hell, maybe he had, but he could never forget. Her deception had been too complete for that.
When he keyed open the front door, he found Celeste making herself at home on the large sectional in the bonus room. Once upon a time, her dark exotic features waiting for him would’ve released a more primitive and animalistic response.
He calmly crossed the room to the mini bar.
Celeste turned off the big screen television and rose.
“Hi. Surprised to see me?” she asked.
“When did you get back?” he asked, unbuckling his duty-belt and laying it across one of the dark mahogany bar stools.
“This morning.” Her attention strayed to the bandage on his hand and Jet wondered how much detail Denie had given.
He poured a drink. “I gave you a key to pick up some stuff, not to show up whenever you felt like it.”
“Oh.” Her red lips pouted. “I didn’t take what you said to heart,” she said softly.
“A detrimental error on your part,” he mocked, raising the glass and draining the amber liquid.
Celeste’s femme fatale act flat-lined. “It just so happens I didn’t need a key to get in.”
Jet paused from pouring another drink to raise a brow in inquiry.
Satisfied to have gotten his attention, she said, “The side door to the kitchen was unlocked.”
Was she messing with him? She had to be. He never left home without securing the locks. He finished pouring his drink.
“Well?” Celeste prompted.
He cast a glance her way before
Her ex-husband would laugh aloud at the mere hint of Ms. Independence seeking a guardian angel.
Finding no humor in the situation herself, Lily rose but not without glancing warily out the window. She locked the doors and spent the evening curled up in the sitting room chaise lounge, pondering between the threat of someone stalking her or a certain blazer circling her home.
After an uneventful evening, hunger pangs growled in neglect. She needed food.
She went to the kitchen pantry and selected the peanut butter she’d bought earlier in the week. Grabbing the bread and a spoon, she scooped out a dollop of peanut butter and paused, brows furrowing. Crunchy Peanut Butter? She thought she’d bought Creamy. She glanced at the front of the jar and sure enough, Crunchy sprawled across the label in big block letters. She scowled in distaste. She obviously picked up the wrong jar by mistake. Placing it back in the cupboard, she decided a bologna sandwich sounded just fine and ignored the mocking vision of a Looney-Tune yellow bird in a cage.
Chapter Five
Before going home, Jet drove around the old house one last time to verify no intruders were lurking. Not that he expected to find any, but it added detail to the report he’d need when he slapped a straitjacket on the woman inside. His conscience tugged at the unfair thought, but damn it, why of all places had she ended up in his town?
He braked and opened the door. Using the flashlight, he made a perusal of the area and checked the small room again. Empty. He shone the light down the back of the house and found nothing out of the ordinary. He returned to his vehicle and headed toward the other side of town.
He dropped off the blazer at the station, picked up his newer red pick-up, before heading home. He groaned when he pulled into his driveway. Celeste was back.
Jet leaned his head against the steering wheel. Didn’t she realize every time he saw her it emasculated him all over again?
No, Celeste wouldn’t think beyond what she wanted. Her showing up like this was his doing. If he hadn’t comforted her at her father’s funeral, she’d have moved back to the city by now. Only someone with Celeste’s conceit would attribute his actions as something more than gratitude to a man who’d been a father-figure to him. Celeste had taken it as a sign that he’d forgiven her. Hell, maybe he had, but he could never forget. Her deception had been too complete for that.
When he keyed open the front door, he found Celeste making herself at home on the large sectional in the bonus room. Once upon a time, her dark exotic features waiting for him would’ve released a more primitive and animalistic response.
He calmly crossed the room to the mini bar.
Celeste turned off the big screen television and rose.
“Hi. Surprised to see me?” she asked.
“When did you get back?” he asked, unbuckling his duty-belt and laying it across one of the dark mahogany bar stools.
“This morning.” Her attention strayed to the bandage on his hand and Jet wondered how much detail Denie had given.
He poured a drink. “I gave you a key to pick up some stuff, not to show up whenever you felt like it.”
“Oh.” Her red lips pouted. “I didn’t take what you said to heart,” she said softly.
“A detrimental error on your part,” he mocked, raising the glass and draining the amber liquid.
Celeste’s femme fatale act flat-lined. “It just so happens I didn’t need a key to get in.”
Jet paused from pouring another drink to raise a brow in inquiry.
Satisfied to have gotten his attention, she said, “The side door to the kitchen was unlocked.”
Was she messing with him? She had to be. He never left home without securing the locks. He finished pouring his drink.
“Well?” Celeste prompted.
He cast a glance her way before
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