Her Alibi. Carol Ericson

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      He handed her the glass, tossed a coaster onto the coffee table hand carved from a log and took the chair across from her.

      Looked like he wanted to keep his wits about him, too. The two of them had always shared a magnetic attraction to each other, but maybe he’d been able to shut down that magnet after their last contact a few years ago.

      “Tell me what’s going on.” He took a long gulp of tea. “Is it that husband of yours?”

      “Ex-husband.”

      “Right. You’re still fighting with him about that multimillion-dollar company?”

      “It’s much worse than that, Connor.”

      “Just spill it, Savannah.”

      “Niles is dead...murdered.”

      Connor’s eyebrows shot up to that lock of brown hair that curled over one eye. “Murdered? Wouldn’t that be all over the news? I know I’m kind of a recluse these days, but I do have a TV—cable and everything.” He jabbed a finger at the huge flat screen that claimed the space above his fireplace.

      “It’s... He’s... I don’t think he’s been discovered yet.”

      Connor jumped from the chair, and the tea splashed over the side of the glass clutched in his hand. “What are you telling me?”

      “I found him. At his house. Dead.”

      “And you didn’t call 911?”

      “Of course not.”

      “Of course not?” He threw his arm out to the side. “No, why would anyone call the police upon discovering a dead body, especially the dead body of your ex?”

      “Exactly.” She took a small sip of tea and avoided his wild-eyed stare.

      He stopped pacing and landed in front of the couch, looming over her with iced tea dripping from his hand onto the polished hardwood floor. “What the hell happened to him, Savannah? Why didn’t you call the police?”

      She shook her glass to rattle the ice. “He was stabbed to death, and I didn’t call because the police would’ve arrested me.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I woke up in his house, in his bed, and I don’t remember how I got there.” She closed her eyes and held her breath.

      The shocked stillness reverberating off Connor in waves made her more nervous than the agitated pacing. She peeled open one eye and swallowed.

      A muscle throbbed at the corner of his mouth, and the fingers curling around the sweating glass sported white knuckles. His blue eyes had darkened to the color of a stormy sea.

      Then he blinked, drained the tea in one gulp, wiped his palm on the leg of his board shorts and set the glass on the coffee table. “You’d better start from the beginning.”

      Warm relief flooded her body and she almost collapsed against the sofa cushions. This was the Connor she’d hoped to see—in control and even-keeled. He hadn’t agreed to anything yet, but he hadn’t thrown her out on her derriere, either.

      Sitting up, she squared her shoulders. “Niles and I met for a drink last night to discuss some business. I had come across something in the books and wanted to see some files.”

      “Why didn’t he just send over the file? Why the meeting, the drink?”

      She studied his square jaw, clenched in disapproval. Did she detect jealousy in that question?

      “Niles had been wanting to discuss other aspects of the business with me for weeks and figured this was his opportunity to have me at his mercy.” She cleared her throat. “I really wanted those files, so I agreed.”

      “How did the meeting go?”

      She ran her fingers through her hair, avoiding the sore spot on the back of her head. “Like all our meetings. We ended up in an argument.”

      His eyes flickered, but he took a seat on the edge of the coffee table and she eked out a little sigh because he was no longer looming over her.

      “Did anyone at the bar notice you arguing?”

      “I’m sure a few people did. We exchanged sharp words and may have got a little loud, but there was no knock-down-drag-out.”

      He rubbed his knuckles across his clean-shaven chin. He’d shaved off the beard since the last time she’d seen him. Bearded or not, the man still pushed all the right buttons in all the right places.

      She licked her lips, and his gaze bounced to her mouth and then back to her eyes.

      “What happened next? How’d you end up at his house? That house in La Jolla, right?”

      “Yeah, that one.” She caught a drop of moisture on the outside of the glass with her finger and touched it to her temple. “Niles had left the file I wanted at the house. I had to go with him to retrieve them.”

      “Go with him? You didn’t drive your own car?” He tipped his head at the window, toward the Lexus in his driveway.

      “I walked to the bar. It was close to my house and you know I don’t like to drive after even one drink.”

      “Is that what you had? One drink?”

      “Two.” She held up two fingers in a peace sign and then brought the fingers together. “Scout’s honor.”

      Unless she’d downed whatever was in that crystal tumbler at the house.

      “I’m not checking on you, Savannah. I believe you. What I’m trying to get at is if you were drunk when you left the bar with him.”

      “Absolutely not. I don’t get drunk...anymore.”

      “So why’d you black out? Do you remember going to his house? Driving in the car with him?”

      “I do remember getting into his car. I remember more arguing on the way to the house, arriving at the house and then...” She shrugged. “Nothing after that. I don’t remember what we did at the house. I don’t know how I lost my clothes and ended up in his bed. And I sure as hell don’t know how he wound up dead.”

      “And you didn’t...”

      “What?” She jerked her head in his direction.

      He swiped a hand across his mouth as if to keep the words from tumbling out. “You’re telling me that someone broke into Niles’s house, murdered him in a violent manner and you were allowed to sleep peacefully through it all. Why weren’t you killed along with Niles?”

      “That, I can’t tell you.” She skewered him with a gaze. “You almost sound disappointed.”

      Connor pushed up from the coffee table and stalked to the kitchen. “Don’t play the poor-me card. I know you too well.”

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