The Guardian. Linda Winstead Jones
elbow jutting out of the car.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.
He didn’t seem at all taken aback by her obvious annoyance. “Why, ma’am, I’m making sure the mayor of this fine town gets home safe and sound. That’s all.”
Was it her imagination, or was his subtle Southern accent exaggerated a bit for that comment?
Sara’s first impulse was to tell him that it was unnecessary, and then she admitted to herself that she was comforted to see him there, that the shadows did not seem so ominous now that she was not alone, and the noises that had moments earlier seemed out of place were suddenly ordinary and not at all alarming.
“This is ridiculous,” she said in a calm voice. “The least you can do is park your car, get out and walk with me.” She could only imagine what her neighbors would have to say about that, but it was preferable to having him tail her around the block at three miles an hour.
It was obvious by Dante’s expression that he had not expected the invitation. He’d expected—perhaps even wanted—a fight.
“All right,” he said, pulling his car closer to the curb and shutting off the engine. He exited the car in a way that was smooth and graceful and strong. She wasn’t sure how that was possible, but it was. This man, Chief Jesse Edwards’s cousin or not, was trouble with a capital T.
After the disaster with Dante so many years ago, Sara had worked very hard to be immune to trouble, especially of the male kind. While her friends in college had gone gaga over bad boys with pretty faces, she had always looked for more. She’d looked for intelligence and a sense of humor and kindness. She’d looked for stability. After her brief and fabulous and ultimately unhappy experience with Dante, those were the attributes she deemed to be worthy, not killer dark eyes and a face with sharp lines and nicely shaped lips, and thick heads of hair that might be a warm black or a very dark brown. Not long legs and strong hands and a way of moving that was both graceful and masculine. Those things were nice bonuses, but they were shallow and not at all important.
So why did her mouth go dry as Dante Mangino approached? “You’re not really dressed for walking.”
“That’s not a problem,” he said, and then he smiled.
“You don’t walk very fast.”
Sara resumed her walk. With Dante beside her she felt much less anxious in one way—and much more uneasy in another. She couldn’t allow a man to get under her skin so easily. Her memories of the past were just that—memories of a time gone by. She was not the same person she’d been at seventeen, and neither was he. She didn’t know him at all. Dante was still good-looking, and he was in great physical shape—and he had no manners at all. He had a wicked grin and a way of taking her breath away with a glance.
For so long—from the time she’d met Robert eleven years ago, in fact—her relationships with men other than her husband had been businesslike or comfortably casual. She’d never met any man who made her feel so on edge, so anxious. Sara was old enough and experienced enough to know what that edgy feeling meant.
In an instant, Dante Mangino had reawakened a part of her that had been sleeping for such a long time she’d thought it dead and gone.
It would be best to quickly and firmly put him in that business category, to squash whatever it was he aroused in her. “So,” she said casually as they walked down the familiar sidewalk. “Tell me about yourself. Are you married?” She hoped he’d say yes. No matter how attractive he was, no matter how he turned her stomach to mush with a glance, no matter that she still remembered what his arms felt like when they wrapped around her, she would not even consider getting involved with or even fantasizing about a married man.
“Nope,” he answered. He matched her short strides with his long ones with little effort, and offered no details or other information about himself.
“I imagine you have a serious girlfriend,” she said. As long as he was in some sort of committed relationship…
“No,” he said, as decisively as he’d denied being married.
She knew he wasn’t gay. Too bad. That would definitely solve her problem. She was a sensible woman. Why had she felt drawn to this man from the moment she’d opened the door? She didn’t believe in instant attraction! It was too much like love at first sight, which she most definitely did not believe in. She and Robert had been friends first, good friends, and love had come later. It had grown slowly and surely into something special.
Robert had been a lasting, slow burn. Dante had been a firecracker.
“Why the interest in my personal life, Mayor?” Dante asked.
Did he address her as “Mayor” in order to maintain a distance? Was he as uninterested in rekindling what they’d had as she was? It wasn’t as if they’d seen one another and fallen into welcoming arms. “I’m just trying to be friendly, to catch up. After all, we haven’t seen each other in a long time. I’m simply making conversation, and you’re not helping with your one-word answers.”
“Sorry,” he responded, not sounding at all remorseful. “So, let’s catch up. Are you dating anyone? Is there a guy around who would love to see you in that teeny-weeny red silk…”
“Dante Mangino!” Sara snapped. “That is…” she stammered and her step faltered. “That question is so inappropriate, I don’t know how to respond.”
“Yes or no will do,” he said, his step and his voice maddeningly steady. “After all, we’re just making conversation. Just catching up.” There was an edge to his voice as he threw her words back at her.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t bother,” she muttered. As they rounded the corner she was glad for the ensuing silence. She and Dante had nothing in common these days. They never had! Yes, he was good-looking and a fine example of the male species, but if she had to spend more than a few minutes alone with him, he’d quickly drive her crazy. Of course, they wouldn’t necessarily have to talk…Sara started counting her steps to lead her mind in another direction.
“Is there a boyfriend?” her walking companion asked a short while later, his voice deeper and more thoughtful than it had been before.
“I don’t see that it’s an issue.”
“A boyfriend or ex should be the first suspect in a theft like yours. The angle is very personal, very intimate.”
At least he didn’t say underwear again. “No boyfriend,” she said. “No ex, either,” she added before he could ask.
“That surprises me,” he said, sounding momentarily sincere.
“I’m a widow.”
“I know. Sorry.” His words were simple and short but seemed heartfelt. “So, no boyfriends at all since your husband died?”
“Robert’s been gone four years.” Four years, three months and seven days, to be precise. “No, there hasn’t been anyone since then.” That sting in her heart flared up again. The ache always caught her by surprise, though by now she should be used to it.
“How about unwanted attention?” Dante asked. “Has anyone been asking you out repeatedly, hanging around, sending gifts, writing letters?”
Since he sounded as if he was thinking strictly of business, she did not take offense. “No.” Then she laughed lightly and added, “Unless you count anonymous letters telling me what a terrible mayor I am and how a woman has no business in the office and how…”
Dante stopped in his tracks. “Anonymous letters?”
Sara stopped, too. They had almost completed her usual circuitous course, and she could see her house two doors down. It was all but dark, and where the oaks shadowed her house and the street it truly was night. “It comes with the job.”
“Do any of these letters threaten violence?” Dante snapped.