Private Lies (Jane Avery Mysteries Book 1) by Cynthia St. Aubin

Author:Cynthia St. Aubin [St. Aubin, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542045506
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2018-04-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

A pain hammered behind my left eye socket as Sam’s excellent coffee crawled up my throat, dragging a wash of stomach acid with it.

Kristin Flickner. Valentine’s half sister.

What the fuckety fuck?

I was beginning to suspect that the whole goddamn crowd of Valentine’s friends and relations was one big inbred family, and my mother had been doing some rogue genealogical mapping.

Why the hell had I just assumed that Shepard knew what he was talking about when he’d said they were boning?

I was making up my mind to give him the rough side of my tongue—and not in the good way—when the soldier in question came barreling through the same door Carla had just exited.

In his arms, a giant beribboned bouquet of Stargazer lilies—my least favorite flowers.

I stalked down the hall and straight up to Judy’s desk, where Shepard was presumably inquiring as to my whereabouts.

“Shepard,” I said tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“There’s my girl now!” he said, pressing the malodorous blooms into my arms. “These are for you.”

“Well, isn’t that thoughtful.” I stood on tiptoe to press a mock kiss to his cheek while hissing a hasty, “What the fuck are you doing here?” in his ear.

“I just wanted to congratulate my smoochypoo on her first day,” he said, loud enough for Judy to hear.

Judy, biologically incapable of being charmed, merely harrumphed and turned back to her computer screen, muttering under her breath about unscheduled visitors.

“That’s very kind of you, pumpkin, but my first day isn’t over yet.”

“Are you sure, cuddlemuffin? Because I’m pretty sure we agreed I’d pick you up at seventeen hundred hours.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, lovedumpling. I told you to come by at six p.m. That would be eighteen hundred, right?”

I was on the point of arguing further when Melanie came swishing down the hall, stopping so hard at the end of it that Kristin ran right into her back. The stack of papers Melanie had been holding spilled from her hands like an avalanche and fluttered to the floor in a flurry of white.

Melanie dropped to her knees, blushing furiously as she hastily raked them into a pile. It was the first time I’d ever seen her flustered . . . and I liked it.

Kristin ducked around her and made a beeline for the door, tossing a hasty, “Good night!” to no one in particular.

Shit. I’d been hoping to catch her. At least long enough to get a closer look at her face and mentally measure the features against Valentine’s.

“Let me help you with that.” Shepard squatted down and gathered the pages that had floated like leaves to his well-worn combat boots.

“That’s mighty kind of you, sir.” Melanie layered on the Scarlett O’Hara drawl thicker than cream cheese icing on a red velvet cake, batting her dark lashes against her cheek.

I was pretty sure if I ever tried that, I’d probably look like I was having some kind of obscure ocular seizure.

Not liking the way Melanie accidentally on purpose brushed Shepard’s hand, I nudged him with my knee and cleared my throat.

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