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tomboy.”
    Why had she told him that? Her childhood was not up for scrutiny. Her memories were too painful to share with a man she barely knew.
    As if he sensed that she regretted speaking so honestly, he said, “I liked all the characters, but I found Boo to be most intriguing. An air of mystery always captures my interest.”
    Yesterday, he’d told her that he found her intriguing. Was that because he thought she was mysterious?
Careful, Taffeta
. He had a talent for prying information out of her, and that made him treacherous. She lifted her cup, forgot that the coffee was steaming hot, and burned her lips when she took a quick sip.
Ouch
.
    Mouth still stinging, she asked, “Where do you like to read?”
    He turned his cup with a deft twist of his fingers. “Mostly in my recliner by the fire. The flames give me something to stare at while I try to picture a scene in my mind. For me, reading is like watching a film, only I have to work harder to see everything. Scout in a ham costume. Jem breaking his arm when Bob Ewell attacks them on their way home. I could almost feel the chicken wire in Scout’s ham outfit prickling my skin when Ewell grabbed her. And I wanted to see more of Boo coming to their rescue, but Scout’s vision was partly blocked.” He had a distant expression in his eyes, but then he came back to the moment and smiled sheepishly at her. “Sorry. I tend to get carried away. Where do you like to read?”
    Again, he lured her into blurting out the truth without thinking. “In the bathtub. For me, nothingquite compares to a long soak in a hot bath with a fabulous book in my hands.”
    He grinned, and she felt herself redden.
What
had made her say
that
? He was probably picturing her naked in water up to her breastbone. She wanted to zip her mouth shut. The sooner she got him out of here, the better.
    “How do you pull that off without getting the pages wet when you turn them?”
    “I’m very careful.”
    He chuckled. “Does the air turn blue if you lose your grip and drop a book in the water?”
    A chill of wariness slid over her skin. “I can’t say, because I’ve never dropped a book in the tub. To me, books are treasures.”
    “Uh-oh. You one of those people who would never dream of turning down a page corner to mark your place?”
    To Taffeta, books were like old friends, and the more dog-eared they got, the more she valued them. “I’m not quite that bad. I prefer to use bookmarks, but I almost always lose them.”
    With the same suddenness with which he’d picked reading as a topic of conversation, he switched to music. “After hearing ‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’ blaring on your stereo last night, I know you like the Rolling Stones. What other groups appeal to you?”
    She glanced with yearning at the shop door, willing a customer, any customer, to come in. But it was early yet and wouldn’t get busy for another hour, weather providing. She had a hunch that DeputySterling knew that. A lawman kept his fingertips on the pulse of a town and knew its changing rhythms. She was stuck with Mr. Charisma for a while, and he was worming personal information out of her with frightening ease.
    She settled for saying, “I’m not big on particular groups or singers. If I hear a song I like, I’m sold.”
    He nodded. “I’m the same. I may love one song a band records and dislike everything else they put out.” He gave her another of those unnerving studies, making her feel as if he saw straight into her heart. “So, pardon me for asking, but have you ever been married?” Humor crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Just curious. So far, I’ve evaded capture, just in case you’d like to know.”
    Red alert
. Taffeta didn’t want to lie. She hated lying. But she didn’t want this man to learn too much about her, either. She considered saying that it was none of his business—which it wasn’t. In the end, though, she decided that refusing to answer might deepen his curiosity