Bone Valley Read Online Free PDF Page B

it later,” Philip said, in that sensual, silky voice that used to literally make me weak in the knees. He ran a finger down my arm. But instead of the tingle that trailing touch used to give me, I suddenly wondered how Miguel would have acted if Jimmie had interrupted his planned breakfast-and-bed routine. I bet I would have been happily bedded despite Jimmie. By the time I came out of that fantasy, I realized that Philip had moved on to new topics.
    “Why don’t you spend tonight with me? I’ll come over around six, we can go out for dinner, and then retire to my house.”
    I made a noncommittal noise.
    “We should definitely start planning the wedding tonight. I think we should consider a neutral spot to avoid any religious issues,” Philip said. “Perhaps Selby Gardens.”
    The word wedding made the muffins in my stomach pitch and swirl like I was on the downhill swing of a really high roller coaster. If that wasn’t bad enough, something like PMS times ten came over me. “You think maybe we should wait to plan the wedding until I’ve actually said yes?”
    “Lilly, we’ve talked about this.” Philip stopped using his sexy voice. He was using his Philip-in-charge voice. Which, I might add, did nothing to alleviate that PMS-times-ten feeling that was now reverberating behind my eyes in a sickening pulse.
    All the man had to do was say wedding and a baby migraine started.
    Not a good sign.
    When I didn’t speak, Philip said, “It’s time to stop being coy.”
    “I’m not being coy, I’m being indecisive.”
    “Lillian, you’ve just got bridal jitters. You’ll get over it.” With that, Philip opened my car door for me.
    But instead of getting in the car and driving away, I said, “Bud, don’t patronize me.”
    “Then, please, make up your mind and tell me tonight. And do not call me ‘bud.’ I’m not one of your good old boys. Shall I call for you at six?” This in a tone of pure patronizing. I mean, did this man even know me?
    “Don’t you dare come over here at six. I’m not going to be here, and if I am, I’m not going out with you.” With that I got into my car, slammed the door, and started the engine. Through my tinted window, I could see him standing there, looking a tad dazed and definitely befuddled, as I gunned my ancient Honda and sped away.
    If I’d known then that I would nearly get blown up later that night, I would have made nice and gone to dinner with Philip instead.

Chapter 5
    Not sure whether I had just broken off my alleged engagement or not, I jolted down Shade Avenue over the five hundred speed bumps the city had installed to keep commuters like me from using the road—I mean, okay, why put a road there in the first place if people aren’t supposed to actually use it? After that less than soothing commute to my office, I pulled into my named parking spot, right next to Jackson Smith’s car, right as Jackson, the firm’s founding partner and the living, breathing reincarnation of Stonewall Jackson, was getting out.
    Jackson slammed his car door, then opened mine for me, stepping back like a perfect gentleman, but drawing the line at offering me his hand. I eased out of my car and flashed him a grin—if I’d been in a dress, I’d have flashed him some leg too, but pants have that drawback.
    “Heard you’re a suspect in the M. David Moody murder,” Jackson thundered. He didn’t sound so loud outside.
    “I’m not a suspect,” I said. “Hello. How are you?”
    “Didn’t think you’d wait that long to kill him.”
    “I’m not a suspect and I didn’t kill him.” I noticed Jackson was wearing his golfing clothes, and made a mental note to add to my grooming school curriculum a list of things men over fifty and under a hundred should not wear, i.e., bright green golf pants. “Golfing with the judges this afternoon?” I asked.
    “Why did the homicide detective want to question you if you’re not a suspect?”
    “Just general stuff. Nice day for a golf