Silver Falls by Anne Stuart

it hard to believe I’m attracted to you?”
    â€œWhy do you answer a question with another question.” She took another swig of the beer. She shouldn’t be sitting here, trading words with him, she should be in the car, being driven down the muddy road, or hightailing it down there on her own. She would, in just a couple of minutes. In the meantime this was a dangerous game, enticing after so many months of well-behaved safety.
    He took a seat across from her, far enough awayto give her a false sense of security. And she knew it was false. “Tell me about Tessa,” he said.
    It took all the fun out of a risky encounter. “How do you know about Tessa. And why do you want to know?”
    â€œI’m a reporter. I don’t betray my sources. Don’t you think it’s odd that there have been two similar murders in your vicinity in the last six months?”
    Again that unsettling knowledge, that thought. “If you know Tessa was murdered six months ago, then I don’t really need to tell you anything,” she said, trying to hide her sudden panic.
    â€œSophie told me.”
    She freaked. “Keep away from my daughter!”
    â€œOh, please!” he said, rolling his eyes. “I like women, not children. She’s a good kid, smart like her mother. Maybe smarter than her mother—she knows who she can trust.”
    â€œGod, don’t tell me she trusts you! I’m going to have to explain a few things to her once I get down from here.”
    He didn’t rise to the bait. “Look me in the eye and tell me you really think I’m a danger to your daughter.”
    She didn’t bother. He had hypnotic eyes—it was one of the dangers about him, along with his long, lean body and his sinful mouth. Not to mention his history.
    â€œI suspect you’re a danger to everyone you come in contact with,” she said, draining the beer.
    For a moment he looked startled. “Sometimes,” he said finally.
    A stray shiver ran across her back. “I’m ready to go home now.”
    â€œYou still haven’t told me about Tessa.”
    She rose, leaving her empty bottle behind. “She died. As far as the police could figure out she was the random victim of a serial killer, one who’s been active all over the Northwest. They grow the biggest crazies out here, you know. Ted Bundy and the Green River Killer and probably others. My theory is all this rain drives you crazy.”
    â€œHow did she die?”
    â€œNone of your fucking business!” She automatically clapped her hands over mouth. “Damn!”
    â€œYou don’t swear? What kind of Mormon are you?” He’d risen himself, taller than she was, dangerous though she wasn’t quite sure why.
    â€œI promised I’d stop saying fuck ,” she said. “It’s an ugly word.”
    â€œIt’s a great word in the right circumstances. It can, for instance, indicate a very enjoyable way to spend an afternoon. I suppose you promised my brother? He’s an English professor—he should understand.”
    â€œIt’s overused.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its place.”
    â€œJesus Fucking Christ!” Rachel exploded. “Are you always this much of a pain in the ass?”
    â€œWhy do you suppose they drove me out of town?” he replied. “Oh, sorry, that was answering a question with a question.” He moved closer, and she decided to stand her ground. A mistake.
    â€œYes,” he said, so close she could practically touch him. “Yes, I’m always such a pain in the ass, yes, I actually do want you, and as for what I’ve got against my brother, it would take too long to tell you and you wouldn’t believe me.”
    â€œTry me,” she said. Big mistake.
    â€œI was waiting for the offer.” He moved so fast she didn’t have time to react. He cupped her face, pulling her