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“Yes, I would.” She inhaled a deep breath.
“Please,” he said. “Sit for a few minutes. I wasn’t even going to approach you, but you looked so forlorn when you came out of the courthouse.” He released her arm and offered her the coffee once more.
“You…you noticed?” Stormy felt conflicting emotions leap and whirl, and her perception of Tyler shifted, but only an inch. He was a danger to her on more than one front, and yet here he was, offering her empathy as if he somehow cared. Of course, she could be reading him wrong. Probably was. The show of empathy was doubtless just another tactic to break down her defenses, to render her trusting and careless.
“Let’s put it this way—I identify with pain. Of course, that means I’m easily suckered by a sob story.”
“You don’t look the type to be suckered by anything,” she countered. She accepted the proffered coffee and sat on the bench an arm’s length from him. “I don’t know if I’m being incredibly stupid or not.”
“Oh, you’re not stupid.” He leaned back on the bench, gazing at her profile. “If I had to put a label on you, it’d be stubborn. Maybe even mind-boggling.”
“I am so not taking your bait,” Stormy told him. “It’s past its sell date, and it stinks.”
A group of college students, probably from nearby Flagler College, strolled past. The girls smiled with approval at Tyler. He smiled back. Stormy caught the exchange. “You get a lot of mileage out of your looks, don’t you?”
Tyler started upright, surprising her. No way the arrogant man didn’t know he was attractive. “Do my ears deceive me, or was that a compliment?”
“An observation. Don’t mistake it for anything else. Besides, I’m not about to be swayed by someone’s looks ever again.”
His brow lifted in question, but he said only, “Yeah, I say that, too. But I’m just lying to myself.”
His admission resonated in Stormy’s mind. When Hadley Wilson, her co-defendant, had been introduced to her, she had taken him at his very attractive face value. She had not searched far beneath his looks or charm, and that oversight had landed her in jail.
“Let’s just say I look beyond the surface for motive now, Mr. Mangus.”
“Tyler, please.”
“I know your motive,” she added conversationally. “It’s money. Money I don’t have and never did have.” She turned to face him and was met by the scent of his cologne. It was woodsy and masculine, and Stormy found herself leaning into his space. Oh, no. Was she so in need of affection that she’d consider consorting with the enemy? She straightened, stiffening her back. “Why don’t you hound Hadley Wilson?”
Tyler frowned.Her slight shift in posture had tightened her blouse and sweater against the swell of her breasts. He forced his eyes up, taking in the ivory column of her throat, the shape of her mouth. It was a very nice mouth.
Deep inside, he felt a sensation in his spine that spiraled into his chest. Nope. No. Ignoring that. He aspired for harmony in his life. He had that once and missed it. No way was he ready to pitch headlong into woman trouble. And even if he were, Stormy Maxwell was not on his spectrum.
Recovering his composure, he answered her question. “Wilson is in federal custody. He refuses to talk to me. So, if you want me off your back, maybe you could convince—”
“No and no.” Stormy clutched her purse. “You know I’m on parole. I’m not allowed to associate with felons, much less visit one in prison—especially my so-called partner in crime.” She handed Tyler the half-empty paper cup. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Before he could stop her, Stormy was off and running. He stared after her, contemplative.
As if she sensed his eyes on her back, she stopped at the curb and pivoted. “Are you from St. Augustine?”
“No, I’m—”
“I have a job interview in fifteen minutes at A1A Ale Works. You can see it from here. If you twist your head three-hundred and sixty degrees and break your neck, that is. After that, I’m seeing our family attorney. His office is in the three-story pink house on the corner of Spanish and Treasury streets.” Her smile was deadly. “Do keep your distance.”
She moved away with long determined strides and no looking back.
Tyler hauled himself off the bench, watched tourists for a few moments, then followed her. The woman was proud and valiant and gutsy. She hadn’t even tried to barter with him for a cut of the money as many before her had. Not that that meant she was innocent. Of course, she wasn’t innocent. They never were.
He laughed without warning. Break his neck, indeed.
3
Stormy looked out the law office’s windows to see if she could spot Tyler Mangus among the flow of tourists.
No sign of him.
Oddly let down, she turned away from the view. Paradoxically, she had been looking forward to his popping up, even though his presence at every turn was keeping her on edge.
