lowered the hand that held the scrunched envelope. She didn’t know if she moved closer or if Reed did, but suddenly they were nose to nose. A wave of dizziness forced her to blink and then refocus her vision so that she looked away, over his shoulder toward the dingy white wall behind him.
“I was wild with anger when I first got to Donaldson,” he said, his voice low, even, and unbelievably calm. “I lashed out at everyone and everything. I hated your father and I wrote those letters to you to get a rise out of him. It was a stupid mistake. One I’ve regretted for a long time.”
He sounded so sincere that she almost believed him. Dear Lord, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to reach out and stroke his beard-stubbled cheek and tell him that she truly believed he regretted his past sins. She clenched her fist tightly at her side so that she didn’t respond physically, didn’t allow her own unchecked emotions to get her into trouble. As a small child, her spontaneous, emotional actions had worried her mother terribly, so she’d learned to curb those tendencies in order to please Carolyn.
“I’d like to believe you,” Ella said, proud that her voice didn’t tremble even though she was shaking like a leaf inside. “But it seems too much of a coincidence that the day after you’re released from prison, I receive a letter very similar to the two you sent me fifteen years ago.”
“Maybe it’s not a coincidence,” Reed suggested. He released the chair arms and rose to his full, imposing height.
Ella tilted her head and stared up at him. “What are you implying?”
“I know that I sure as hell didn’t write that letter to you, but circumstantial evidence points to me. Maybe whoever sent it wants you to think I’m the person who wrote it.”
“But why?”
“To get me in trouble.”
Ella rose to her feet but quickly realized her mistake. Reed didn’t move out of her way, so only inches separated her body from his. She felt his heat, smelled his sweat, heard his indrawn breath when his leg accidentally brushed against hers. Or had it been accidental?
“Why—why would someone want to get you in trouble?”
“If I get in big enough trouble, I go back to the pen.” Did Reed sway slightly toward her or did she lean into him? Only a hairbreadth separated them now. “Whoever really killed Junior Blalock doesn’t want me to stay free, doesn’t want me snooping around trying to find out the truth.”
For a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her. She froze to the spot, unable to move, unable to breathe. You don’t want him to kiss you, do you? She realized that yes, she did want him to kiss her, and the shock of it motivated her self-preservation instincts. Maybe Reed Conway fascinated her in a way no other man ever had. Maybe the aura of danger and machismo that was such an intrinsic part of him aroused some primitive female needs within her. But she was an intelligent, cautious woman who knew better than to succumb to baser instincts.
Ella eased around Reed, unavoidably brushing against him as she passed. He made no move to restrain her. Instead, he followed her to the door, reached around her, grabbed the knob, and opened the door. His big, hairy arm looped around her waist. She was painfully aware of what their close proximity might look like to anyone who could see them. It would never do to have someone catch her practically in Reed Conway’s arms.
“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this time,” she told him. “If you say you didn’t write this letter”—she glanced at the letter she still gripped tightly in her hand—“then I’ll take your word for it. But if I receive another, I won’t be able to dismiss it so easily. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Conway?”
He grinned. Damn him! “Yes, Miss Ella, you make yourself perfectly clear. But you’re talking to the wrong man.”
A heated flush crept up her neck and colored her cheeks. “Just stay away from me…and from my family.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
Ella practically ran from him, her footsteps clicking against the concrete floor of the garage as she made her hasty escape. She didn’t slow her pace until she reached her car; then, breathless with uncertainty and heightened senses, she halted long enough to get control of herself before she slid behind the wheel. Prompted by an urgent need to run, to get far away from Reed as fast as she could, Ella inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine. As she zoomed the Jag out into the street, the tires squealed loudly. When she dared a glance in her rearview mirror, she saw a smiling Reed Conway standing in the doorway, waving good-bye.
“Now, there, my man, is one fine piece of ass,” Briley Joe said as he walked up beside Reed. “Got class written all over her.”
“Yeah, she’s a class act, all right.” Reed shook his head and laughed. “She’s scared shitless of me. And I don’t think it’s just because I’m a convicted murderer.”
“You think the judge has got the hots for you, cuz?”
“I think she’s scared of me. That’s all.”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t you like to know what it feels like to make it with one of her kind?”
“Not much chance of that.” Reed shrugged. “Women like Miss Ella are too high class for the likes of you and me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Briley Joe snickered.
Reed glanced at his cousin and noted the self-satisfied grin on his face. “Don’t compare Ella with her aunt.”
“Some high-class dames like to get their hands dirty—real dirty.” Briley Joe hooked his lean fingers over Reed’s shoulder. “Even if you don’t think she’s anything like her aunt, who knows? Judge Porter might get real turned on just thinking about jumping in the sack with an ex-con.”
Ever the dutiful daughter, Ella called and left a message with Bessie to let her mother know she’d be home a little later than usual. She’d been driving around for the past half hour asking herself what the hell had happened between her and Reed Conway. She had stopped by the garage to confront him about the letter she’d received and came away badly shaken and halfway convinced that the man hadn’t sent her the letter.
You’re an idiot, she scolded herself as she turned left on Tallulah Street. She needed someone to talk to about what had happened and about her confused emotions. She certainly couldn’t run home and confess to her mother that she’d gotten all hot and bothered over Reed Conway. Carolyn was apt to have heart failure just at the thought that Ella might have spoken to the man. And if she even mentioned Reed’s name to her father, he was liable to take gun in hand and go after him. No, this situation called for the sympathetic ear of a friend.
She parked her Jag in the driveway beside the restored Victorian house at 508 Tallulah Street. Ella’s best friend since childhood, Heather Marshall, had recently returned to Spring Creek after an absence of five years, and the two had picked up right where they’d left off. Of course, during that five years when Heather had lived in Mobile, they’d phoned each other on a regular basis and had visited twice a year. Ella had been Heather’s maid of honor when she married Lance Singleton. She’d sat by Heather’s hospital bed when she suffered a miscarriage. And she’d offered support during Heather’s ugly divorce ten months ago.
Ella stood on the flower-lined brick walkway in front
