To Die For by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online Page A

everything I asked for—or at least, Siana had threatened it. I didn’t think Wyatt needed to hear all of that, though. That comes under the heading of Too Much Information.
    “Do you have any reason to think he might hold a grudge?”
    Oh, I hoped so. That was why I still drove a Mercedes convertible. But I shook my head. “I don’t see why. He remarried a few years ago, and from what I hear he’s very happy.”
    “And no one else has threatened you in any way?”
    “No. Why are you asking me all these questions?”
    His expression was unreadable. “The victim is dressed almost identically to you. She was in a white convertible. It occurred to me, when I saw you and realized the similarities, that it was possible you were the intended victim after all.”
    I gaped at him in astonishment. “No way. I mean, I
thought
I was being shot at, but only because I knew Nicole was bananas. She’s the only person I’ve had any trouble with.”
    “You haven’t had any confrontations that maybe you passed off as minor but someone else could have taken more seriously?”
    “No. Not even a snippet of an argument.” Because I live alone, my life tends to be fairly peaceful.
    “Could any of your employees be angry with you about something?”
    “Not that I know of, and anyway, they all know me personally—and they know Nicole. There’s no way any of them could mistake her for me. Plus, they all know where I park, and it isn’t at the back of the lot. I don’t think I’m involved in this at all, other than just being there by an accident of timing. I can’t help you by pointing a finger at someone who might have it in for me. Besides, Nicole was the type of person who regularly pissed people off.”
    “Do you know any of those people?”
    “She annoyed every woman who belongs to Great Bods, but men tended to like her because she had this syrupy sex-kitten act. It was definitely a man who shot her, though, which seems wrong, but brings up the question of jealousy. Nicole is—was—the type who’d play the jealousy game.”
    “Did you know any of her boyfriends, or was there one in particular?”
    “No, I don’t know anything about her private life. We weren’t best buds; we never chatted about personal things.”
    He hadn’t once taken his gaze off my face, which was beginning to make me nervous. See, his eyes are kind of pale, that shade of green that leaps out at you if the person’s hair and brows are dark, which his were. On a blond you wouldn’t notice eyes like that so much, unless he wore black mascara—never mind. Wyatt wasn’t the mascara type. The point is, his gaze was piercing. When he stared at me, I felt sort of pinned.
    I didn’t like him this close. I functioned much better when he was at a distance. If we had been in a relationship, it would have been different, but we weren’t, and after my last experience with him I wasn’t willing to put myself on the emotional line with someone who blew so hot and cold. But he was so close I could feel the heat coming from his legs, so I moved back another inch or so. Better. Not perfect, but better.
    Damn him, why couldn’t he have stayed outside in the rain? Detective MacInnes had things handled in here. If Wyatt had just stayed outside, I wouldn’t be having these very acute memories of how his skin smelled, how he tasted, the sounds he made when he was so turned on—
    Nope. Don’t go down that path. Because when he’d been turned on,
I
had been turned on, too.
    “Blair!” he said, a little forcefully.
    I jumped and refocused, and hoped he hadn’t been able to tell where my thoughts had wandered. “What?”
    “I asked if you got a good look at the man’s face.”
    “No. I’ve already told all this to Detective MacInnes,” I repeated. How long was he going to keep asking me questions I’d already answered? “It was dark, it was raining. I could tell he was a man, but that was it. The car was a dark four-door, but I can’t tell you