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Josie was to me in seconds. “Are you all right?”
The answer was no. No, I wasn’t.Chapter ThreeEric
Eric walked out into the bright sunshine and threw his shades on, pleased that yet again he’d found another juicy story where others would never think to look. Maybe being forced to take this assignment wasn’t going to be the joke he thought it would be. Though he still resented being told what to do. He’d been working on an important piece about illegal sweatshops in downtown Atlanta. Hopefully he would be able to get back to that soon. After all, it shouldn’t take long to shake down the gorgeous Sorrel Black, he thought.
An image of her filled all his senses. She was more than beautiful. Something about her, he had to admit, threw him off. He was usually a pro at getting people to talk. He normally pressed until he got the answers he wanted, yet he’d kept imagining taking the raven-haired beauty in his arms and getting lost in her deep-blue eyes. He’d imagined some other things, too, that would have gotten him in trouble with the paper for crossing professional lines. He kept trying to shake those very unprofessional images, but she’d gotten under his skin in a way no woman had in a long time, maybe ever.
He had a feeling he wasn’t the only man to find himself overcome by her. He’d noticed the longing looks of the other men in the bakery. For some unknown reason he seethed on the inside about it. This primitive, territorial desire had almost overtaken him in there. Why he’d felt this need to have her and protect her, he had no idea. But he’d fought it off. Besides, he had a feeling Sorrel Black didn’t need anyone’s protection, and he had given up on women a long time ago.
Those thoughts propelled him to the next phase of his plan—get to know everything he could about Sorrel Black. Who knew? Maybe this piece would catapult him to the next level. Maybe he would finally get some national recognition. Perhaps that was why he was forced to take the assignment. Unfortunately, the powers that be would control the piece’s fate. But he would do everything he could to make sure his article got the glory it deserved. Because the instincts that made him so perfect for this job were telling him that Sorrel Black had a secret worth finding.
Eric walked down the gray cobbled streets in search of a place to eat a late lunch and hopefully interview some of the locals about Sorrel. Riverhaven was reminiscent of his younger days in Prague, he thought. He found himself almost getting sentimental as he walked past the tightly knit brick buildings that housed everything from frozen yogurt shops to clothing boutiques. His days in Europe were some of the best and worst of his life. He had seen things and knew things he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Things he didn’t wish to be part of. He supposed they had made him cynical, like Sorrel had accused him of being. He’d been accused of worse, so he let it slide off his back. Almost. He didn’t like that Sorrel thought poorly of him, though he knew she had every right to. It wasn’t going to stop him from getting his story.
Eric decided to eat at the Riverview restaurant, not far from Love Bites. He would give Sorrel this: it was a clever name for her bakery. The Riverview restaurant boasted a healthy fare, which was hard to find in the south. Most places in these parts, even in Atlanta where he lived two hours away, fried everything. Portions were insane too. Another reason to miss Europe.
The hostess seated him outside, as he’d requested, at a table on the terrace that overlooked the river. Eric wasn’t looking forward to the sweltering summer days that would be upon them soon. He wanted to take advantage of the mild May weather while he could. And it wasn’t often he got to eat in such a picturesque place. He usually ate at his desk or in his car, depending on his assignment. The lone wolf, they called him at the office.
While he waited for his food, he observed the kayakers and several people taking a stroll across the stone bridge—reminiscent of Europe with its medieval flare—that spanned the lazy river. Riverhaven was just the kind of town to hide in, he thought. So quaint that no one would suspect a criminal lurking among them. Not to say Sorrel was a criminal, though he wasn’t ruling it out as a possibility. Which was why when his attractive server, who had flirted with him when she’d taken his order, returned with his quinoa Caesar salad, he used it to his advantage.
“Carly, is it?” he purred her name. “Do you have a minute to chat?”
