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Crap. What the heck did she want?

After more mutters and cursing, Calen went to the door. Emmy was right behind him. In fact, when he opened the door, she stood side by side with him, forming a human barrier just in case Sasha thought she was going to be invited in. She wouldn’t be. It wasn’t possible for Emmy to totally avoid her former friend, not when they lived in the same town, but she saw the woman seldom enough to feel a jolt at the sight of Sasha on the porch.

“Oh,” Sasha said, her blue eyes widening a bit, maybe because Emmy was giving her a world class glare. “Oh,” she repeated, shifting her attention to Calen. “I need to talk to you.”

“So you said. Talk,” he snarled. Apparently, he was doing some glaring, too. “If this is about the disco ball, then Mick is handling that.”

Sasha shook her head, her long auburn hair swishing with the movement. “No. Uh, it’s about the letters you found. The ones your father didn’t deliver.” She paused again, nibbled on her bottom lip, which today was coated in Christmas red. Probably to coordinate with her body-hugging sweater and pants. “One of those letters might be mine. It was sent to me, but I never got it.”

Well, that got Emmy’s attention, and she played a quick connect the dots. Some of those letters obviously contained secrets. Emmy should know because her own love letter to Calen had been in the mix. But what kind of letter was causing Sasha’s lip nibbling?

“The letters will be turned over to the US Postal Service,” Calen informed her.

“No!” Sasha gasped and then glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure no one was listening. No one was. “You have to let me go through those letters, Calen. For old time’s sake.”

Emmy figured the look Calen gave Sasha went past the mere glare stage. This was more like one of the deeper-levels-of-hell looks. “For old time’s sake?” he repeated.

“Yes.” Sasha squared her shoulders and was probably trying to appear as if she had the power here. She didn’t. “Please,” she added. “It’ll cost you nothing to give me my letter.”

“And what’s in this letter?” Emmy asked.

Sasha flicked her an annoyed glance then returned her pleading eyes to Calen. “Please,” the woman repeated. “You don’t have anything to lose if what’s in any of those letters comes to light, but I do.”

Interesting, and Emmy couldn’t wait to go through the piles to see what she could find. For now though, she stayed put because Sasha was moving in on Calen. As brazen as brazen could get, she reached out and took Calen’s hand. Not for long though. Calen pulled back, and when he brushed against Emmy, he caught her hand instead.

Sasha noticed.

She looked at the hand lock before her narrowed gaze met Emmy’s. “You can’t possibly be involved with each other. Is this so you can get back at Owen and me?”

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say, and Emmy was in no mood to explain a little friendly hand-holding between, well, friends. Nope. She wasn’t bothering with that explanation at all.

Emmy looked Sasha right in her narrowed eyes. “I think you’re interrupting my afternoon with Calen, that’s what. And it’s time for you to leave.”

A wiser woman probably would have just shut the door in her face, but Emmy’s anger wouldn’t let things stay that wise or simple. She turned to Calen and did what she’d thought about doing earlier.

Emmy pulled Calen to her and kissed him.

She wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the lip-lock, but Emmy thought maybe Calen won that particular award. He made a sound of surprise, the kind a person made if they stepped barefooted onto something sharp. He also went stiff.

But that didn’t last.

The next sound he made was a husky groan, and as if they’d been doing this for years, he took hold of the back of her head and brought her even closer to him. And with that maneuver, he fulfilled a whole lot of fantasies. Confirmed some things, too.

For instance, he tasted as good as he looked.

Another for instance, he was really good at this.

His mouth moved over hers, taking, taking, and taking until reality must have set in and given him a knock upside the head because he stopped and eased back. Emmy saw the heat in his eyes. Felt it. But she also saw and felt something else.

The instantwhat the heck did we just do?regret.

Chapter Three

“Well, hell,” Calen grumbled as he sat in his home office and debated if he should call the number he’d jotted down.

He repeated his grumble even as he was very much aware he’d been saying that phrase a lot in the past twenty or so hours. However, he figured there’d be at least a few morewell, hells before this situation finally ended.

Or rather thesesituations.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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