Dead by Wednesday. Beverly Long

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      She didn’t answer. She just looked as shaken as he felt. A few more strands of her silky hair had fallen down and her lips were trembling.

      “Look,” he said, “I—”

      “I know you were just comforting me,” she said.

      He started to protest but realized that she was rationalizing the action. In her own way, she was as skittish as her cat. If she thought that he was romantically interested in her, her first instinct might be to run and hide, too. Carmen Jimenez might be twenty-nine, but he suspected she hadn’t had the experiences of other twenty-nine-year-old women. She’d been too busy raising her brother.

      For the first time, he felt better about what had happened at Liz and Sawyer’s wedding. Maybe it hadn’t been him that Carmen had objected to? Maybe it had just been her lack of experience and her generally shy demeanor that had sent her scurrying into the ladies’ room.

      This was going to require very careful handling.

      If it made her happy to think the kiss had been about comfort, so be it. “Did it work?” he asked.

      “I’m fine,” she said. “Really, I just needed a minute.”

      “No problem. I’ll call you tomorrow once I’ve talked to the cops at Raoul’s school.” He got up, gave her a little wave and opened the door. “Thanks again for dinner. It was great.”

      When he got to his car, he didn’t even turn on the heat. He was plenty hot enough. One kiss and he’d been about to implode.

      Very careful handling indeed.