what?”
He scuffed his boot across the loose rock on the drive, then glanced over at her. The effect on her system was the same as if she’d stuck her finger into an electrical socket. The blue in his eyes was softer now, more open, giving her a glimpse at that hidden quality she was so sure was there inside.
“For being so tough on you the other day. You were upset when you left the diner, and I wanted you to know that I was sorry about that.”
Reminded of his callous treatment, she lifted her chin. “Yes, I was upset. And understandably so. Finding Eric was upsetting enough, but to be forced by you to relive the incident was sheer torture.”
He turned and gestured for her to walk with him. “As I said, I’m sorry. But the questions were necessary, in order for me to establish your innocence.”
She jerked to a stop and looked up at him, eyes wide. “You thought I killed Eric?”
He lifted the crime-scene tape. When she didn’t make a move to slip under it, he placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her beneath it. “Yes, you were a suspect.” He ducked beneath the tape, then dropped it and slid his hands into his pockets again. Inclining his head, he indicated for her to walk with him.
She did so, hugging Sadie against her breasts. “A suspect,” she repeated, stunned that he’d think she had killed Eric. She looked over at him. “But why me?”
“Opportunity. You had a key to his house and the perfect alibi.” He arched a brow at her questioning look. “Home alone,” he said, reminding her of the alibi she’d given to the police. “Impossible to prove or disprove.”
They reached the edge of her drive. “But it’s the truth,” she insisted, turning to face him. “I was home alone.”
He reached out and took the cat from her, his expression closed again, not offering a clue as to whether he believed her or not. “Hard to prove, either way.” He cradled the animal along his arm and chest and stroked her head. “Sure wish you could talk,” he said to the cat. “I’ll bet you could tell us who murdered Eric.”
Rebecca hugged her arms around her middle to hide a shiver. “It’s difficult to believe a murder was committed in Royal.” She shivered again and glanced uneasily down the street. “And in this neighborhood, no less.”
He glanced her way, his stroking drawing a deep, satisfied purr from the cat. “You keep your doors locked, don’t you?”
“Yes. Windows, too.” The blood slowly drained from her face as she stared at him. “You don’t think that whoever killed Eric would return and kill again, do you?”
He lifted a shoulder and passed the cat back to her. “Who knows? We still don’t know who murdered Eric or why.”
She buried her cheek against the cat’s fur. “If you’re trying to frighten me,” she said shakily, “you’re certainly doing a good job.”
“I’m not trying to frighten you. Just making sure you’re taking the necessary precautions.” He slid his hands into his pockets again. “But that’s not why I stopped by. I was wondering if you’d go out to dinner with me tomorrow night.”
The invitation caught Rebecca totally off guard. “Dinner?” she repeated. “Tomorrow night?” At his nod, she could only stare. For a moment she allowed herself to believe that he found her attractive, interesting, that he wanted to get to know her better. Maybe even develop a relationship. She even let herself go so far as to believe she could go out with him without suffering a panic attack. That she could talk and laugh and tease, just like any other woman, without her stomach knotting up or her hands growing damp.
Then she remembered him initially saying he’d dropped by to apologize, and all the air whooshed from her inflated dreams, as she realized that his dinner invitation was offered for no other reason than to make amends, just as his invitation to take her for coffee had been.
“No,” she murmured, and turned away to hide her disappointment. “I’m sorry. I already have plans.”
Three
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