After Midnight by Sarah Grimm, Sarah Grimm Page A

one. It didn’t sell very well.”
    “No?”
    He opened the case and discovered it was empty.
    “In the CD player.” She had one of those players that held over three hundred CDs. She kept it full. “Number thirty-two.”
    He shifted to stand before the player, studied it for a minute, then turned the dial. The machine responded immediately, shuffling through the discs until it reached the correct slot. An electric guitar riff filled the room, immediately followed by his voice.
    “Tempted”; her favorite song.
    He shook his head.
    “You didn’t believe me?”
    “I thought perhaps you were being kind.”
    “Why would I be kind?” She winced the moment the words left her mouth. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
    He gave her a slow, alluring smile that turned into laughter. “I’m not certain if you’re good or bad for my ego, Isa.”
    She couldn’t breathe. For a split second, she forgot how. The man’s smile was powerful enough, but when he laughed? Nothing had prepared her for the power of his laughter. Her knees turned to jelly. Her blood heated.
    “I think your ego will survive,” she managed around the knot in her throat.
    His gaze moved over her with a touch as sure as his fingertips had been a few moments ago. “You think your opinion of me doesn’t matter?”
    “In the grand scheme of things, I don’t see how it would, but you don’t need to worry, I like you just fine.”
    More than fine. His nearness put knots of tension in her stomach. The way he continued to look at her made the tightness she’d felt in her chest since he told her she was special, intensify. Desperate to put a bit of space between them, she asked, “Would you like to sit down?”
    He sprawled—there was no other word for it—on the couch closest to him. Resting his arms across the back, he placed one booted foot atop the opposite knee. The position of his arms pushed the sleeves of his shirt up higher than normal and revealed a wrapping around his right upper arm. The light reflected off of it in a way that told her exactly what it was. “You’ve seen my father today?”
    “I have.”
    “How’s he doing?”
    “Haven’t you spoken with him?”
    She sank onto the second couch across from him and shook her head. “No. I didn’t know what to say to him. I hoped to hear back from Officer Grant before I told him about what happened to my vehicle.”
    “What if I told you he already knows?”
    “How? Did you tell him?”
    “I didn’t have to.”
    Removing the clip that held all her hair atop her head, she tossed it on the coffee table between them, then raked her fingers through her hair. “What did he say?”
    “That he’d heard you had a bit of trouble. He asked how bad it was, and how well you were taking it. He also asked whether I believed Tommy was to blame.”
    “And you told him what?”
    He eyed her for a long moment. “That Tommy was the first person to come to mind when I saw the knife sticking out of your tire.”
    Everything inside of her went still. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I should call him.”
    “I’m sure he’d love to hear from you. He’s an interesting man, your father. He cares about you a great deal.”
    She gave him a cool look. “Yesterday you questioned his integrity. You accused him of hurting me.”
    “I didn’t accuse him of anything. I asked if he was the one who hurt you.”
    “Who said anyone hurt me?”
    He returned his foot to the floor and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “You did. I simply questioned whether your father was that someone.”
    Her heart skipped a beat or two. He had no idea how close to the truth he was. Too close. She wasn’t going to talk to him about this. Her past was exactly where it belonged, in the past. She wouldn’t revisit it for anyone.
    “Thomas isn’t my…“ Her voice wavered, and she dragged in a breath to steady it. “I’m not actually his daughter.”
    “According to biology. If I asked