Naughty Stranger (Dangerous Love 1)

They all tended to work long hours when investigating a case, not sticking to shift work. Right after Boone moved back from New York City, they realized as a team they were stronger. Complex cases were worked together, always, with one detective taking lead for the paperwork.

Asher grabbed his coffee off the table and headed for the door. “Call me if you need me.”

With Asher gone, Boone took a long sip of his coffee, feeling the jump of energy he needed, examining the victim’s photograph again. “I’ll see where the crime techs are at, and if we’ve got any prints to run.” There wasn’t much they could do without evidence. Once they had that, the case would hopefully take off.

Rhett sidled up next to him. “I’ll find that ex-boyfriend the father mentioned and see if anything comes from that.”

“That’s a good start,” Boone agreed. He stared at the victim. She was so young and hadn’t even started her life yet. We’ll find who did this to you, he promised Lauren Francis. They’d never had a case go unsolved in the two years he’d been back.

This case wouldn’t go unsolved either.

Chapter 3

When it rains, it goddamn pours. Literally. The skies opened minutes after Peyton arrived home from Kinsley’s. She’d just thrown on her favorite yoga pants and a soft gray T-shirt that only got softer with age, when her two-bedroom bungalow was bathed in darkness while sheets of rain hammered the black shingled roof. Peyton assumed the only one happy about the rain was the ivy climbing along the left side of the lake house toward the stone chimney. Peyton certainly wasn’t thrilled. The power had gone out after the first crack of lightning, and the pitch black did nothing good for Peyton’s nerves. Her mind kept circling back to that poor woman on the floor of the shop. A woman who didn’t deserve to die for the few hundred dollars in Peyton’s safe. She considered calling up Kinsley and rescinding her objection to a sleepover.

First thing first, she needed more light.

She padded her way across the hardwood floors and lit the last of her jar candles. The scent of baked apples and caramel infused the air, and a warm glow cast through her small living room furnished with local antiques. At least the lake house came with appliances, though they had seen better days. The flowered wallpaper peeled off the walls and the hardwood floors were worn beneath her bare feet. Her house was a work in progress, but so was she. Though even she knew how far she’d come. Slowly but surely everything was coming together. A month ago, Stoney Creek felt brand-new. Now she felt more at home here than she had felt in Seattle. And that was a most welcome relief, especially after today. Had this murder happened a month ago, she probably would’ve packed up and moved back in with her parents. Not something on the top of her to-do list.

Today had felt long and exhausting, and that strain and stress lay heavy on her shoulders. She had left Seattle and gave up nursing to stay away from death, but death seemed to follow her. All day her mind kept tugging her back to the darkness that death brings. And all day she’d been fighting against the heavy blanket of sadness that had nearly suffocated her. Finally, free of that lonely pain, she couldn’t return to that place. Her throat tickled with an emotion she immediately swallowed back…again, when there was a knock at her front door. She froze, her heart dropping into her stomach. The knock came again.

“Peyton?” a low voice called on the other side.

Boone. She breathed again.

On the third knock, she opened the door. Intense eyes met hers. Rain dripped off his strong nose and then made its way along his five-o’clock shadow.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

Boone’s mouth twitched. “Beyond my getting soaking wet, everything is perfectly fine.”

“Right. Sorry. Please come in.” She opened the door wider.

He came in, taking up the front space like he owned her house and everything in it. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking off the excess water. She tried hard not to notice how sexy he looked soaking wet, and then proceeded to fail at pretending she hadn’t. “Is something wrong?” she asked, focusing on why he was there tempting her.

“Everything is fine,” he reported, shutting the door behind him.

“So, you’re here because…?” Not to say she minded the eye candy, but being alone with Boone sent nerves racing up her spine.

He leveled her with that potent stare again, the strands of his hair hanging against his forehead. “I went to Kinsley’s to check in on you two, only to find out you came home.”

“I sleep better in my own bed,” she told him. “And what happened today was a robbery, right?” She lifted one shoulder, hating how pathetic she was about to sound. “I have nothing but what you see right here. All my mo

ney went into my shop and my house.” Okay, sure, with Adam’s company she was set for life, but those finances were all on papers, not cash on hand. “What are they going to take from me here? Besides, they targeted my shop, not me.” Boone didn’t look convinced, so she added, “Asher also said I was good to come home.”

One eyebrow lifted and the muscle in his jaw flexed. “Asher told you to come home alone?”

“Well, not in so many words,” she said quickly, moving to the armrest of the white linen couch and taking a seat. Boone’s gaze followed her every move. “But after interviewing me, he said he thought I was safe. And like I said, I’m okay.”

Boone’s eyes narrowed slightly and with that intensity her skin got hot, the air all but vanishing in the room. “Yeah, and why is that?”

Her brows went up. “Why am I okay?”

He nodded. “You were calm today when faced with trauma. The calmness of a first responder. So back in Seattle, what were you—a doctor, a paramedic?”

She froze, not liking how easily he seemed to get a read on her. She liked being anonymous here. Everyone in Seattle looked at her like, Oh, that poor widow. Friends had suddenly crossed the street to avoid her. She liked being a mystery in Stoney Creek. But it also occurred to her now that Boone needed the truth. She could tell these questions weren’t personal. He was a detective on a case, and she hadn’t exactly been barfing in a bucket like Kinsley. “I was neither of those things, actually,” she told him.

“A nurse, then?” he asked.