9781631050275TheirPerfectMatchMarshNC by Alela Marsh Read Free Book Online

slightest movement by either of them would have brought their mouths into abrupt, fiery contact.
    “So,” he challenged in a husky tone, “what conclusions have you reached about this case so far?”
     “I…” He heard the sharp intake of breath, sensed the aroused tremor that shuddered down her spine as his lips started their slow, inevitable descent toward hers. “I haven’t really…”
    “Molly Grayson? It is you, isn’t it?”
    The intrusion stunned him like a two-by-four to the skull.
    The man in the plaid tie had pushed through the crowd and now stood a few feet away, glaring at them. One hand was still wrapped around his beer bottle, now mostly empty. The other was balled up in a fist.
    “Yes?” Molly spun away from Zane and looked up, blinking in surprise. The glint of recognition came a moment later. “Oh…Mr. Westley. Hello.”
    “So you do remember me,” the man slurred angrily. “I wondered if you’d admit it.”
    “What? Why wouldn’t I?”
    “Excuse me,” Zane quickly inserted himself between Molly and the tipsy trespasser. “Miss Grayson and I were in the middle of a conversation.”
    Ignoring him, the man thrust a trembling index finger toward Molly. The veins in his fleshy neck pulsed visibly above his dingy collar. “You. You owe me an explanation.”
    “She owes you nothing,” Zane said through clenched teeth. His warning had as much effect as if he hadn’t spoken at all.
    “I gave you all my savings,” the man raged as a small throng of bar patrons, their curiosity piqued by his obvious anger, gathered to watch. “You promised to find someone for me. No problem, you said. Now here I am, alone, just like before. Thousands of dollars, wasted! An’ I wanna know what you have to say about that!”
    “Listen, buddy, you’ve had too much to drink.” Zane instinctively moved forward, palms extended. It was a peaceful gesture that could turn into a bone-crushing defensive move if necessary. “Why don’t you pack it in for the night before someone gets hurt?”
    With a loud, sarcastic laugh, the man veered out of Zane’s path, sloshing beer onto his sleeve as he half-stumbled against the stool Molly had vacated. “I see you wasted no time finding someone for yourself. Did you get him through the computer, hah? Why whuddunya do the same for me?”
    “That’s enough.” Zane was about to grab for his beer-sodden sleeve when, to his surprise, Molly waved him off.
    “Look, Mr. Westley,” she offered in a soothing tone, “this really isn’t the place to discuss this. Why don’t you call me on Monday and make an appointment? We can easily reopen your account and go through the files again.”
    “So you can rip me off for another thousand bucks?” Westley’s voice rose to a shout. “You mus’ really think I’m crazy!”
    “All right, that’s it. Molly, excuse us.”
    “Zane, don’t!”
    Her plea came too late to register on his adrenaline-charged system. In a quick, decisive motion, Zane slid his fingers around Molly’s wrist, guided her safely to one side, then grabbed Westley by the scruff of the neck and hustled him toward the side exit. Behind them, the crowd burst into raucous laughter and applause.
    It took Zane exactly half a minute to drag him, stumbling and sputtering, through the gaggle of spectators and out The Grapevine’s back door. In the alley, Zane pushed him up against the side of the building and grabbed the empty beer bottle out of his hand. Westley let loose a string of strikingly unimaginative curse words—some directed at Molly, the rest at Zane.
    “I told you that was enough. Stand up and pull yourself together!”
    Flailing, Westley managed to knock Zane’s hands away, then crashed into a row of trash cans as his feet slipped out from under him.
    “Leave me alone!” he wailed when Zane reached out to help steady him. “You can thump on me all you want, but I got a right to complain! Damn woman ripped me off! Her’n her fancy