Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [24]
Wonder if the results of any of the tests have come back. Wonder if he’d tell me if they had.
She’d just decided to excuse herself to the ladies’ room so that she could stop by his table and see what she could find out, when the door opened and a woman walked in.
Amanda noticed her the second she stepped into the room. Everyone noticed. She was impossible to miss.
In her late twenties, with pretty features on a soft, round face and rich auburn hair that cascaded halfway down her back in thick waves, the woman wore a plaid sleeveless shirt over a tank top that left little to the imagination and black capri pants. Her biceps and what Amanda could see of her calves bore tattoos of thin branches with thorns interwoven with roses that wound around, front to back, to form a complete circle. Her nail polish was deep red and she carried a large tote bag. Mercer stood at her approach and she embraced him, holding him tightly and closing her eyes. Amanda couldn’t see his face, but saw one of his big hands patting her somewhat awkwardly on the back.
When the woman sat across from him, there were tears in her eyes. She spoke softly, reaching out every once in a while to touch his hand. Feeling too much the voyeur, Amanda turned her attention back to Clark. There was something about witnessing such tender moments between others that made her uncomfortable. And just for a moment, there was a prickle of something that felt a lot like disappointment to find he was in a relationship. Not that she should care. After all, wasn’t this the man who wanted to put her behind bars?
“. . . so you won’t be upset if I stay with Chris and Tammy for a while? Maybe a few weeks, maybe longer. I just don’t know.”
“Oh. No.” Amanda tuned back in. “No, of course not. You just go ahead and do what you need to do. I understand perfectly.”
“I was hoping you would. I mean, if it bothered you, I wouldn’t go. I know you’ve gone through a lot, too.” He leaned forward just slightly. “I know those pesky police have been asking you a lot of questions.” He pretended to shiver. “Neanderthals, all of them.”
“Well, you don’t want to say that too loudly”—she lowered her voice to a stage whisper—“since the head Neanderthal just seated himself a few minutes ago four tables behind you.”
He swiveled his head around, then wide-eyed, turned back to Amanda.
“Is that him there with the tattooed lady?”
Amanda nodded.
“Oh, where are the fashion police when you need them?” He rolled his eyes. “Gorgeous eyes and hair to dye for—get it, hair to dye for?—but those tattoos . . . those clothes.” He groaned. “Everything about her just screams biker chick.”
Amanda giggled and sipped her iced tea. “Enough, Clark . . .”
“Oh, not by a long shot. I haven’t had this much fun in days.”
“Forget it. She’s with the chief of police and she’s—”
“He should charge her with assault on the sensibilities. Dressing with intent to offend.”
“Enough. You are wicked.” She laughed.
“Derek was wickeder. He’d be unmerciful if he were here.” His smile faded as he picked up the check the waitress had left on the table. He barely glanced at it. “Ready?”
“Yes, I’m ready.” They stood in unison. Clark took her arm as they walked to the cash register by the door.
“Did you want to stop by and say hey to the chief?” he asked as he paid the bill.
“No.” She shook her head and opened the door, held it for him while he put his wallet away. “I have the feeling I’ll be seeing him soon enough as it is.”
She couldn’t have imagined just how soon that would be.
The sun was out in full when she arrived home. Feeling sluggish from having eaten an unusually full meal in the middle of the day, Amanda decided the best remedy would be physical activity. She’d left the backyard half-mowed the previous evening when she’d turned off the mower and gone into the house for a bottle of water and stopped to check the answering machine. The two hang-up calls had spooked her.