Never Sorry: A Leigh Koslow Mystery Read Online Free PDF

get out of bed in another half hour anyway. She hung up, tromped down the two flights of stairs that separated her apartment from Warren's, and knocked on the door.
    It flew open almost instantly, and a long arm pulled her inside. "Did you see anyone in the hall?"
    Warren Harmon III had made Leigh's acquaintance when they were freshman at the University of Pittsburgh, vying for the least valuable player award in Volleyball 101. Warren had been an unattractive teenager—tall, scrawny, a poster child for acne medication. But in the decade since, the nonthreatening geek that Leigh had so enjoyed debating with had metamorphosed into a successful local politician. And, as she had recently forced herself to admit, not a bad looking one. Particularly in the blue silk robe he was wearing now.
    "Of course there was no one in the hall," she answered sleepily. "What sane person would be at this hour?"
    The arm continued to drag her back toward the bedroom. If it had been anyone but Warren, she might have been worried. He stopped in front of a closet, took out a man's fuzzy velour bathrobe, and held it out for her.
    "Put this on, okay?"
    Leigh smirked. "I don't know. Maroon isn't really my color. I like the one you're wearing better."
    Sighing with exasperation, Warren turned her around and slipped the robe over her arms. He stepped back and studied her. "There. You look stunning, as usual."
    She rolled her eyes. "Enough butter. I'm here already. Now how about you tell me why?"
    Warren started to answer, but was interrupted by the doorbell. He snatched Leigh's arm again hastily. "Sit down at the table," he ordered. "Hide those god-awful sweatpants. And here," he said quickly, pulling an empty mug from the cabinet, "pretend you're drinking coffee."
    Leigh sat down and took the cup. "But who—"
    "Just play along!" Warren whispered, advancing on the door.
    He opened it to reveal a stout, sixtyish woman wearing the sort of stiff-looking outfit Queen Elizabeth II might appreciate. Warren greeted her with a full dose of the Harmon charm—which could be considerable.
    "I'm so sorry to disturb you at this hour," the woman pleaded apologetically. "Myran just can't function without his reading glasses, and he's such an early bird. I've told him he needs to take better care where he leaves them—but he doesn't always listen to me, you know."
    Warren responded with both insistence that she was not imposing and chastisement of Myran for not taking heed of her wisdom—all the while moving gracefully backwards towards Leigh.
    Eventually, the woman looked into the kitchen. She had been in the middle of an indulgent giggle (having taken Warren's blatant flattery at face value) when her hand flew to her mouth, her face suffused with red. Leigh took a sip of imaginary coffee and waved.
    "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Harmon!" the woman bubbled, "I had no idea—"
    "Of course not, Mrs. Wiggin!" Warren soothed, "It's no problem at all. This is Leigh Koslow. Leigh—Mrs. Barbara Wiggin."
    "Nice to meet you," Leigh grinned broadly.
    Mrs. Wiggin smiled back hesitantly. Warren picked up a black glass case from the table and pressed it into her hand, then whispered something in her ear. She seemed to relax. "Oh," she said solemnly. "I see."
    "Would you like a cup of coffee?" Leigh offered. "It's vanilla almond."
    Warren's eyes widened.
    "Oh, no, dear!" Mrs. Wiggin said quickly. "I really must be going. Myran will have my head. It was nice meeting you." She threw a conspiratorial glance at Warren, then looked back at Leigh. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon."
    As soon as he had gallantly ushered his guest out the door, Warren turned to Leigh. "Vanilla almond? Please!  What if she had said yes?"
    "She wouldn't. Not in a million years." Leigh pulled off the heavy robe. "This thing is hot. The least you can do after compromising a woman is give her your best robe."
    Warren took the robe defensively. "There's nothing wrong with this. And you're one to talk about