Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [78]
Steeling his nerves, he rang the doorbell.
Shelley Gilbert opened the door. “Come on in, Sheriff Birkett.”
“Call me Mike.” He walked into the house and glanced around, looking for Lorie.
“She’ll be out in a minute, Mike,” Shelley told him.
He nodded. “Had any more trouble from the reporters?”
“Not so far. I’ve seen several cars slow down as they passed the house, and somebody stuffed the mailbox with those Playboy centerfold flyers.”
“Chief Ballard and I assigned crews from his office and mine to clean up those flyers as best they can. And if anyone is seen putting them out, they’ll be arrested.”
“That’s good.” She paused as if considering whether or not to say more. “But you and I both know that the damage has been done. Those flyers have accomplished their purpose.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Lorie emerged from the hallway and glanced from Shelley to Mike. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m ready to go now.”
Mike stared at Lorie. How was it possible that she was more beautiful now, at thirty-five, than she had been at eighteen? She honest to God took his breath away. She’d pinned her hair up, leaving dark rust-red curls framing one side of her gorgeous face. Her sleeveless beige dress hugged every voluptuous curve of her hourglass body and the heels she wore added three inches to her petite height.
Realizing that he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her since she entered the room, Mike hurriedly looked away and said, “We’d better get going if we want to arrive before the bride and groom.”
“You two go on outside,” Shelley said. “I’ll set the alarm and lock up.”
Mike escorted Lorie to his truck, opened the door, and gave her a hand up and into the cab. He waited for Shelley, and after she settled in, he rounded the hood and hopped up and into the driver’s seat. Lorie sat in the middle, her shoulder brushing his right arm and her hip pressed against his.
God, give me strength to control my reaction to Lorie’s body touching mine. I sure as hell can’t walk into the party with a hard-on.
The three of them drove into town, a quick fifteen minute trip, in relative silence. Idle chitchat didn’t seem appropriate. When they arrived at 121 West Fourth, cars lined both sides of the street. Mike pulled in behind a black Navigator, got out, and helped the ladies from the truck. They barely made it to the front door before Jack’s Corvette pulled into the driveway.
“It’s them,” Lorie said.
The honeymooners emerged from the antique Vette, Jack’s arm around Cathy’s waist, both of them smiling.
“What’s going on here?” Jack asked as he and his bride stepped up on the front porch.
“A welcome-home party that got a little out of hand,” Mike replied as he reached out to shake his old friend’s hand.
Lorie and Cathy hugged each other and then clasped their hands together, squeezing tightly, before letting go.
“You two look great,” Lorie said.
“Apparently married life agrees with both of you,” Mike added.
“Honeymoons agree with us.” Jack grinned. “You should try it.” He glanced from Mike to Lorie.
Ignoring the subtle reference to former lovers reuniting, Mike opened the front door. “We’d better get you two inside before the party moves out here on the porch.”
As Jack and Cathy entered the house, Cathy paused and looked at Shelley. “Hi, I’m Cathy Cantrell…” She laughed. “Correction. I’m Cathy Perdue. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Shelley Gilbert.”
“Shelley works with Maleah,” Lorie said.
“Where is that sister of mine?” Jack asked.
“On assignment,” Shelley told him.
Jack smiled and nodded, but Mike could tell that he suspected something was wrong. “You’ll tell me later, right?” Jack whispered, for Mike’s ears only.
“Sure thing,” Mike said.
Jack clutched Cathy’s hand and led her to the connecting double front parlors where most of their guests were congregated. The moment she saw Seth,