“You’ll tell Mom I called? That I’m all right, and that I’ll be in touch with her?” Tara repeated to Emily.
“I’ll tell her. And, Tara, you’ll call again if you need anything, won’t you? You’d let us know if anything is really wrong?”
“Of course.” She would have to call if she suddenly saw her face splashed across the television screen, Tara thought grimly.
It was a miracle, on the whole, that it hadn’t already happened. And wouldn’t the gossipy citizens of Honoria, Georgia love to hear that yet another McBride was suspected of murder: Emily’s brother, Lucas, had left town under a similar cloud fifteen years ago, and hadn’t been heard from since. Tara didn’t want to have to disappear the way that Lucas had. Emily still grieved for her missing, much-older half brother. Tara couldn’t bear to think of causing her own family the same heartache.
Tara heard a key in the lock of the front door and her pulse increased. Blake had returned. “I have to go, Emily. Take care of yourself for a change, you hear?”
“You do the same.”
“I’ll try,” Tara promised and hung up the phone.
She smoothed suddenly damp palms over the legs of her jeans as she turned to meet Blake, hoping she’d done the right thing by making the phone call.
It wasn’t Blake who entered the room. It was a tall, stunningly beautiful redhead in a formfitting knit dress that ended above her knees to reveal shapely, mile-long legs. Tara immediately felt plain and dowdy in comparison to this vision of feminine perfection.
Stephanie, she thought, her heart sinking.
Could this situation get any more complicated?
“WHY, HELLO.” Stephanie’s pretty face lit up with what appeared to be a genuinely friendly smile. “You must be Tara.”
“Yes. And you’re Stephanie.”
“That’s right. Where’s Blake?”
“He’s gone out. He didn’t say where.”
Stephanie shook her head and sighed. “He rarely does.”
“It was very kind of you to let us use your apartment this way,” Tara offered, feeling awkward.
Stephanie brushed off her thanks. “Blake knows he and his friends are always welcome here. Are you hungry? I missed breakfast and I’m starving.”
Tara glanced at her watch, realizing that it was nearly two in the afternoon. Just where was Blake, anyway?
Stephanie had already headed for the kitchen. “Do you like spaghetti? I have homemade sauce in the freezer. It’ll just take a few minutes to heat it up and boil some pasta to go with it. And there are probably some vegetables in the fridge for a salad.”
It looked as though she and Stephanie were going to cook lunch together, Tara thought, dutifully following. How cozy.
“Blake told me he’s gotten you involved in one of his cases,” Stephanie said as she opened her freezer and peered inside. “I have to admit I was surprised. He’s u
sually very careful not to endanger innocent bystanders.”
Tara felt compelled, for some reason, to defend Blake. “He really had no idea that this case would turn dangerous. He never would have gotten me involved if he had.”
Placing the frozen sauce in the microwave, Stephanie glanced at Tara, making Tara wonder just what the other woman had heard in her voice. “No, of course not,” she agreed, sounding thoughtful.
There were so many questions Tara would have liked to ask Stephanie, and not one of them was any of her business, she reminded herself. Stephanie’s relationship to Blake was of no concern to Tara—or so she wanted to believe.
“Is there anything I can do to help with lunch?” Tara asked quickly.
Stephanie nodded toward a cabinet door. “There’s a big pan inside there. You can fill it with water and set it on to boil for the pasta while I cut up a salad.”
As she complied, Tara wondered where Stephanie had grown up. Her accent reminded Tara of Blake’s— an intriguing mixture of the South and the Southwest. And again, she asked herself just how long Stephanie and Blake had known each other.
She turned to find Stephanie absently juggling three tomatoes on her way from the refrigerator to the island counter. The swift, skillful movements of Stephanie’s hands as she tossed and caught the colorful fruit reminded Tara forcibly of Blake again.