A Profiler's Case for Seduction - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,3
information. Maybe he could glean a little more information on the woman at the center of the mystery and the crimes that had plagued this town. And if Dora couldn’t give him any insight, all that was lost was a few minutes drinking coffee.
* * *
Dora had found herself half-breathless when the tall, dark-haired man had sat next to her in the theater. Handsome and lean, he’d smelled faintly of minty soap and shaving cream. His dark hair had been slightly mussed, as if he had no idea how attractive he was and didn’t much care. Hot. The man was definitely a hottie, but Dora had quickly reminded herself that men were off-limits to her.
When she’d walked outside and seen him, the first thing she’d noticed was how the sun danced in his thick, slightly messy hair and that his brilliant blue eyes held a piercing quality that both drew her in and unsettled her.
He’d shocked her with his offer to buy her a cup of coffee and her initial instinct had been to turn him down, to run as far away from him as possible. No men allowed.
It’s just a cup of coffee, a little voice had whispered in the back of her head as she found herself accepting his offer. Now, as they fell into step side by side, her tongue was tied in knots.
He didn’t seem to mind the silence, as he didn’t offer any conversation to break it as they walked toward the nearby campus coffee shop.
“Nice day,” she finally said.
He looked at her, as if startled to see her by his side, then gazed around and looked back at her. “It is, isn’t it?” He smiled and a flutter of warmth whispered over her.
“Autumn is my favorite time of the year,” she said, hoping to keep the conversation flowing.
“It is nice,” he agreed.
It was ridiculous that a faint nervous jitter had played in her veins the moment he’d asked her to get coffee. She was a forty-year-old woman, not a teenager, and yet each time she looked at him she felt an evocative heat in the pit of her stomach, a tingle in her veins that she recognized as full-on attraction.
His facial features were chiseled, with angles and planes that created not only a handsome face but also a face with a slight edge, especially with the hint of dark stubble on his lower jaw.
She breathed a sigh of relief as they entered the busy coffee shop. He pointed toward an empty two-top table. “Grab us that place,” he said, “and I’ll order the coffees. You like it any special way?”
“Just black is fine,” she replied. She hurried to the empty table and sat with her laptop case and purse on the floor at her side.
FBI agent Mark Flynn was easy to spot at the counter since he was taller than the others who stood in line before and after him. Maybe she’d agreed to have coffee with him because he was working in the field that she wanted to make her career. He’d solve the crime and be gone.
Maybe her decision to make an exception to the rule she’d made about men had nothing to do with the depth in his blue eyes or the chiseled features of his handsome face, but rather because she knew he wouldn’t be around long enough to threaten her self-improvement drive.
Comforted by this thought, she decided to just enjoy this moment, assured that she wasn’t going back down the dark rabbit hole from where she’d been pulled over three years ago.
She smiled as he returned to the table with two steaming cups of coffee. He eased down into the chair across from her. “A criminologist,” he said, as if they’d been in the middle of a conversation before he’d retrieved the drinks. “I’d say right now you’re in a good place for a little beyond-the-books learning experience with everything that has happened here in the last couple of weeks.”
Her smile fell away when she thought of the murders and the kidnapping of Melinda. “It’s been a terrible time for everyone. First the kidnapping, and then those poor men strangled and left to be discovered by students. At least Professor Grayson wasn’t killed, as well. But you probably don’t want to talk about your work while you’re enjoying your coffee.”
He took a sip from his cup and then leaned forward. “So, tell me about Dora Martin. Married? Divorced? What were you doing before you landed here in Vengeance?”