Thread of Fear Read Online Free PDF Page B

barbecue brisket at the County Line. That was moments before she’d called Nathan’s mobile phone to tell him about some letter she’d received and ask him not to send her any more cases.
    Yet here he was.
    All his life Jack had had a hard time taking no for an answer. His mother had taught him if he wanted something badly, he should show up in person, ask politely, and then ask again. And again. And again, if necessary. It was the Bowman family credo, the one that explained why his sisters had sold more Girl Scout cookies than anyone else in town, and why their drill team fund-raisers always generated enough money for trips to South Padre over spring break. The Bowmans could sell milk to a dairy cow, and Jack refused to accept failure after one attempt. He stopped in front of Unit 4A and mustered a charming smile.
    The door swung open before his knuckles touched the wood.
    Fiona jumped back. “What are you doing here?”
    Holy hell, she’d ditched the suit. In a very big way. Jack stared, slack-jawed, at the two creamy scoops of flesh disappearing into folds of purple fabric. He managed to drag his gaze away from her cleavage only to get hung up on her shiny red lips. The cherry on top of a sundae.
    “Jack?”
    Then she stepped into the hallway, and he noticed the boots.
    Plenty of women in Graingerville wore boots. The western kind. These were black leather lace-ups that went clear to her knees, with skinny heels about four inches tall. A black miniskirt hugged her hips.
    “Hel- lo ? Earth to Jack?”
    He snapped his attention to her face. “That’s…quite an outfit, Professor.”
    Scowling, she shrugged into a long black coat that covered everything up to her chin. Then she turned her back on him so she could lock the door.
    All that hair hung in waves around her shoulders. It was reddish blond, or blondish red. There was a word for it, but damned if he could think of it when most of his blood had left his head.
    She spun around to face him. “I thought you went back to Graingerville.”
    Jack cleared his throat. “I was on my way out of town, and I realized I forgot to mention something.”
    She made a point of looking at her watch. “I’m late to pick up my sister—”
    “Where are you parked?”
    “The garage.”
    He flashed her a smile. “How about I walk you to your car? Then I’ll leave you alone, promise.”
    She huffed out a breath. She seemed to do that a lot when he was around.
    “Fine.” She slid her keys in her pocket and started down the hall. “What did you forget to mention?”
    “I forgot to tell you about the poppies.”
    “The poppies.” She stopped in front of the elevator, jabbed the Call button, and turned another scowl on him. “What poppies?”
    The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped in beside her. She pressed the button for the lobby.
    “We’ve got the best poppies in the entire state. Right outside Graingerville. Artists and photographers come from all over. We even have a festival.”
    She was looking at him like he was nuts. And she was right. As sales pitches went, this was a little out there.
    Her eyebrows arched. “And you thought I should know this why ?”
    “Nathan told me you’re a nature painter.” Wow, she had a pretty mouth. He wondered if she planned to use it on anyone tonight. “The best fields are off the back roads. I figured I’d give you a private tour. You can bring along your painting stuff, maybe do something for your show.”
    The doors dinged open, and she strode across the lobby to the side entrance. Her heels made little clicks on the marble floor, and the sound reminded Jack just how long it had been since he’d gone to the trouble to ask out a woman.
    He pushed the door open for her, and they entered thebreezeway to the garage. A cold gust of air lifted her hair off her shoulders. Jack darted his gaze around as he walked her down a row of parked cars. This garage needed better lighting and a security camera.
    She halted in front of