No One Heard Her Scream Read Online Free PDF Page B

him. Scenarios played out in her mind, but as she approached, he made the first move.
    A low masculine voice with a faint Hispanic accent.
    "I've taken the liberty of ordering your favorite. Cappuccino with cinnamon, I believe." He stood and pulled the seat out for her. "You looked like you could use a break."
    She removed her sunglasses and sat down, eyes focused on the man taking the seat across from her.
    "You knew I'd—" Of course, he knew she would follow him. Damn it! "And I suppose if you know my java preferences, you obviously know my—"
    He never let her finish.
    "Your name, Detective Montgomery?" He grinned, showing a subtle display of dimples. "At the risk of sounding like a stalker, the answer is yes. Or do you prefer Rebecca?"
    No amount of charm or cappuccino tempered her shock.
    And still, he pressed his advantage. With a downright lethal smile, he leaned toward her, close enough for her to get a whiff of his distinctive cologne. His intimacy and the small table did a number on her head. In her mind, the busy street and all its noise faded to nothing. All she saw were those eyes—dark, sensual, and honey brown. They commanded her complete attention. Becca tried to turn away but found it impossible. The man stared straight through her—unnerving and mesmerizing at the same time. With the palpable connection between them, she wondered if he felt it, too.
    Becca had to break his spell. She shoved the cappuccino aside and matched his posture, elbows on the table.
    "You have me at a disadvantage. I don't know your name. You in a sharing mood?" She tilted her head and waited.
    "A resourceful woman like you? You'll find out soon enough."
    The cagey bastard sure liked hoarding his secrets. She had to gain control of this conversation, fast.
    "I noticed you hanging out in front of the Imperial earlier."
    "Is this a crime, Rebecca?" A slow lazy smile, dark eyes riveted on hers. "If so, you won't catch me doing it again. After all, I am a law-abiding citizen."
    He took his first sip of coffee. Becca found herself fixated on his lips, full and expressive. Oh, hell! This man could be connected to the arson fire. Focus, Beck. Keep your wits, woman. She sat back in her chair and forced a smile.
    "I think the operative word is 'catch.' You seem to have eyes in the back of your head."
    Her mind worked overtime as she kept up her end of the conversation. Becca made a mental tally of his appearance, for purely professional reasons. Well over six feet tall with a lean athletic build, around 180 pounds. But when her imagination drifted to picturing that body up close and personal, under silk sheets, she forced herself back into cop mode and continued with her inventory of the man.
    Full head of black hair, well-groomed. And he smelled so damned good.
    She grimaced at her lack of focus and continued with the tough job of taking stock. Manicured nails. Expensive threads. A small scar over his right eye—a thin white line against an olive complexion—gave his face character. And it might prove to be a distinguishing mark to ID him. But his most memorable feature—his eyes—she'd recognize anywhere.
    If those eyes lurked in a mug book or in a database, she'd know them on sight. Deep brown honey melting under a July sun. Was that an eye color?
    "You look like a guy with an agenda. What were you doing at the theater?" She tried the direct approach.
    "I was there to represent the interests of my . . . benefactor. At one time, he had an affiliation with the old theater. That is all." He sipped his coffee, a slow deliberate move. "Looks like your investigator found evidence of arson."
    "You guessing, or do you know this for a fact?"
    "A pretty good guess, I'm afraid."
    Putting two and two together, she now understood why he'd been across the street, near the corner by the theater. He'd spied on them as they inspected the Dumpster in the back parking lot of the Imperial. Knowing he'd deny it, she tried a different tack.
    "So this