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“Let me freshen up a bit,” she said.
He almost suggested putting on one of the new sweaters, but decided that might be pushing it, although he wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to have to give her the occasional nudge to remind her how beautiful and sexy she was. She wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes, but when she came back out, he re-thought his position about showing her off. She hadn’t changed into the moss green sweater he bought her, but she had changed into the cinnamon colored one with the deep scoop neck, belted in at the waist so that the belt dipped down in the front. She’d added a chunky necklace made of different stones, and gold hoop earrings. She’d also applied some eyeshadow and more mascara. Most men might not have noticed anything other than the sweater change, but Slade had been trained to notice even the smallest details.
“Wow, you look gorgeous. Not that you didn’t look great before, but this sweater and the way you have it belted in really shows off those dangerous curves, and I like the necklace.”
The smile she gave him could have lit up the coast of Maine for a month.
“Thanks. I really liked it, and Lori gave me the belt. She’s been telling me I dress too much like a bookstore owner and not enough like a successful author.”
“Remind me to buy your friend Lori a drink. Ready?” he said, offering her his hand.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“It’ll be all right, Fiona. We’ve got this.”
“I like how you always use the plural possessive.”
“We’re a team, aren’t we?”
“I suppose we are,” she said, taking his hand and following him as he led her out the door and down the stairs.
At the bottom of the staircase a couple of guys in their late teens or early twenties started to move aggressively towards Fiona until he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.
“I’m only going to tell you this once, boys: if you bother Ms. Fowler, or I find out you had anything to do with those bricks that got hurled at her yesterday, you and your parents will rue the day you were born.Capisce?”
“But you arrested her yesterday…”
“I did so in error, but shame on you for not giving her the presumption of innocence which she was due. I’m taking Fiona to lunch to apologize. Maybe you two should take a moment to do the same before you disappear, never to bother her again.”
Both boys—they couldn’t truly be considered men—ducked their heads, apologized, and then turned and ran.
“You can be an intimidating sonofabitch when you want to be,” she quipped.
“SEAL training 101: if at all possible, intimidate your way out of the situation. I really didn’t think I needed to break out my SIG.”
“You have a SIG?”
“Yep; it has a weight-compensator, target sights, and a custom-molded, palm-printed grip. It also has a larger than normal ammunition clip.”
“Palm-printed means no one but you can fire it, right?”
“You know your guns.”
“Mystery writer.”
Slade chuckled. She really was kind of a nerd, and he thought it was sexy as hell. “That’s my primary weapon. It’s in a waist holster in the small of my back. I have a smaller, non-customized SIG in an ankle holster. So, if you ever need to grab one of my guns, go for the smaller one. Can you shoot?”
“Yeah, and I’m a pretty good shot. I learned for one of my books and then Christie gave all of us shooting lessons. Lori still squeaks every time she pulls the trigger, but she never misses. Christie said if we were cops, we’d qualify.”
He put his hand over the hand he tucked into his elbow and headed down the street. “It’s this way, right?”
“Actually, no.” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “But I was enjoying just walking with you.”
He looked down at her to see a pale blush and sparkling eyes. “Ms. Fowler, are you flirting with me?”
“Why, yes, I am, Detective Rafferty. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. It’s on the other side of the street, though, isn’t it?”
