a Touch of Ice Read Online Free Page A

silkiness of his black cashmere sweater.
    The same image filtered through my mind. Nothing more. Not a single smidgeon of additional information. I reluctantly let go of him and focused on the pictures. It took a minute to realize they were actually me, and words caught in my throat, garbled. I chugged a swallow of coffee. “Wow. I don’t look like that. I’m not all…glowy.”
    Not that it was painful to look at me, or anything. My five foot, six inch body stays trim unless I go on a chocolate binge, easily fixed if I squeeze in extra time on the treadmill. I was blessed with midnight blue eyes (a gift from my mother), and a mop of dark red hair (definitely from my father). No glow had ever surrounded me at any time. I was sure of it.
    Mitch tipped his head to the side, studied me. “Like I said, sweet light. That’s why I had to take the photos. Look, my mind…I wasn’t thinking, didn’t mean to impose on your privacy. How about I send you copies?”
    “How about you sign a contract not to publish them?” Violet was exercising her right to sound like an attorney. Could be she’d noticed how the wet t-shirt outlined my breasts and was thinking ahead to a possible internet exposé.
    Mitch’s eyes got all wrinkled and squinty. “Yeah, sure. They were for me anyway. Just for me.”
    A knot grew in my belly. Fear? Of a potential relationship, or of dead bodies? Could be either. My feet wanted to run, far and fast, but my head really, really wanted to know about the dead body and how this whole thing could possibly be messing with my life. I took a sip of coffee, steadied my thoughts. “That’s a little freaky since you’ve never seen me before today. Ah, oh damn. You haven’t seen me before today, have you?”
    He sighed, tapped his long, squared fingers against the table. “No. I’m not a stalker. Look, I…”
    Violet was too quiet and I could feel her tension bouncing against me from across the table. This wasn’t getting me any closer to finding out about the body. Maybe a new topic. “So, tell me about your last photography assignment. Where did you go? What did you photograph?”
    He leaned back in his chair, balanced on the rear legs, and looked at me with no recognition. Suddenly he shrugged, dropped the chair back down, and focused on Violet, stress radiating from every muscle in his body.
    I had a brief moment of jealousy. Violet is gorgeous, and usually has a trail of men requesting her phone number. Was Mitch? Were they? Oh, bloody hell they’d be perfect together. Probably. Maybe. I covered my jealousy with a quick gulp of coffee. Whatever was going on between them shouldn’t be interrupted.
    “Somehow my photographs contributed to a friend’s death.” The words spilled out of Mitch, jagged, harsh. “It doesn’t make sense. Keeps nagging at me. There has to be a connection. Don’t know how, but there’s no other explanation.”
    A friend’s death? His photographs ? It gave me a whole new take on murder weapons.
    He dropped his head in his hands and was silent for so long my right eye started to twitch. I jabbed a finger against the lid and willed it to stop. Nothing is more annoying than a twitchy eye. Especially when you’re trying to be cool.
    He took a sip of coffee and shifted his focus back and forth between me and Violet. “I found a body yesterday. A childhood friend. Sorry, that was abrupt and I’m being rude.” He pushed his chair back.
    Violet shot me a so-that’s-what’s-going-on-with-you look, then focused on Mitch. “Sounds like I might be able to help.” She pulled a card out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Think about it. Call me.”
    I made a silent agreement with the universe to give up chocolate for a week if he stayed. And phoned me instead of Violet. Not that I had a clue about PI work, but I wanted…
    “What the hell. Maybe you can.” He held his thoughts close for a minute, and then words tumbled from his mouth. “Tony and I hung out some. Grew