Valentine's Day Is Killing Me Read Online Free

and it’s as gross as it sounds, believe me. Basically, I did everything you’re not supposed to do…I mean, have I not seen any episode of the Law & Order franchise? I rolled the guy over, tried to see if he was okay, got my prints all over the shrimp fork—it was my shrimp fork, by the way—”
    She covered her eyes. “Oh, boy.”
    “—started yelling for help and, annoyingly, that’s when people noticed the body: when they looked over and saw me crouching practically on top of him.”
    “Great.”
    “Worst date ever,” he finished.
    “I was just having that same thought.”
    “Honey,” he told her, giving her a penetrating look from those amazing eyes, “you’re out there. I’m in here. So I win the Worst Date Prize.”
    “Agreed. So, now what?”
    “I tell my lawyer what happened—when he shows up—and justice prevails.”
    “It’s not like you had a motive, right?”
    “Never saw the guy before tonight. Although, I was kind of annoyed he didn’t give us a better table.”
    “Well, for God’s sake, keep that to yourself. Maybe somebody at the restaurant saw what happened.”
    “If someone did, no one said shit to the cops while I was there. Of course, they could have feared my murderous rage and clammed up as a result…”
    “Sure.” Who could fear long legs and blue eyes and a narrow waist? Scott was a little on the skinny side, but she liked tall guys. And he was really tall. Yum. “Well, I guess I’ll just wait with you until your lawyer gets around to showing up.”
    “Aw, you don’t have to do that,” he protested as she looked around for a place to sit. “You should go grab something to eat. Aren’t you hungry? It’s after nine o’clock and we never got a chance to…”
    “I couldn’t eat. Not after seeing that poor guy. Did you see his eyes?” She shivered. “I’ve never seen a real dead guy before. TV doesn’t count.”
    “I have,” Scott said glumly. He had a place to sit, she noticed—a small bench in the far corner, not to mention the toilet—but didn’t. Instead, he stayed close to the bars. Close enough to reach out and touch her, if he wanted. “I used to work in a funeral home.”
    “And you left to design greeting cards?”
    “What can I say? I wanted something in the fast lane.”
    She gestured to the holding area. “It doesn’t get much faster than this.”
    “Honey, that’s the truth.”
    “Don’t call me honey.”
    “Darling? Sweetie pants?”
    “I told you, this isn’t going to work.”
    “It’s the cloud of murder hanging over my head, right?”
    “No, I already told you. The age difference.”
    “Oh,” he yawned. “That.”
    “Look, let’s stay on track here, all right? Can I get you something? Or is a detective going to offer you a sandwich and then play bad cop?”
    “Honey, I have no idea. I’ve never been arrested before.”
    “Well,” she said, “I’ll go get you something to eat.”
    “Thanks, honey.”
    “Stop that.”

Chapter Eight
     
     
    “This is getting weirder and weirder. I mean, the evening just keeps topping itself.”
    “It’s like adopting a dog,” Scott said, glancing over her shoulder as she signed page after page. “Look at all the stuff you have to fill out! Is there anything there about me having all my shots?”
    “Ho-ho. I don’t know why I’m doing this.”
    “Because we’re in lurrrrrrrrv?”
    Because she couldn’t stand the thought of him in that grungy cell when she knew to her bones he was innocent. Because she wanted him to like her. Because she’d lost her fucking mind. Because his shirt was off.
    Yep, he was standing there in his dark slacks and his shoes, but his bloody shirt had been taken as, she assumed, Exhibit A. His chest was exceedingly distracting: wide shoulders, a light fur of hair running between his nipples and down into his pants, flat stomach, nipples the size of quarters. Christ!
    Focus focus focus.
    “Have him back here at 1:00 P.M. tomorrow, Miss