Read No Sunshine When She's Gone for Free Online Page B

saw that several tiny brown beads were missing on her favorite pair of disc sandals. She’d worn them for three summers now. “Better beads than bread crumbs,” she said, grinning. “Whoever notices I’ve lost the beads is standing too close for my comfort.”
    Carrie scrunched her nose and said, “You can afford to buy a new pair.”
    Jill could, but she economized. She’d come from having nothing to having something. The nothing stayed with her, even after she had a regular paycheck and decent cash flow. She refused to spend unnecessarily. She’d wear the sandals until they fell apart, which would be any day now.
    “By the way,” Carrie said, “I contacted Trace Saunders this morning to let him know we were in town. During our conversation, his wife, Shaye, came on the line and invited us to supper. Does tonight work for you? I need to call her back.”
    Trace was Aidan Cates’s brother-in-law and Shaye was his sister. It might prove interesting to meet his family, especially as Trace was so tightly connected to the Richmond Rogues. It seemed only polite.
    “Works for me,” Jill agreed. “Ask Shaye what we can bring. I don’t want to show up empty-handed.”
    A semitrailer backed up close to one of the stalls, and a group of men began unloading produce. The noise level rose considerably.
    “Be right back,” Carrie said. “I need a quieter spot to make my call.” She walked off.
    Jill turned into a booth and considered a selection of cantaloupes, honeydews, and seedless watermelons. She picked up one cantaloupe, then a second. She was holding both before her when a young woman tapped her on the back. The redhead seemed to think Jill worked there.
    “I’m in a hurry,” the woman said. “How can you tell if a cantaloupe is ripe?”
    Jill glanced over her shoulder, but couldn’t locate the produce vendor. So she answered from experience. She’d worked at Cormet’s Deli during high school; the deli had specialized in fresh fruit platters. She weighed both cantaloupes on her palms and said, “When it’s ripe, the fruit should feel heavier than it looks. It should also smell musky and sweet. You should be able to press your thumb in slightly on the bottom side and there should be a lip around the stem.”
    “Thank you so much,” the woman said. She quickly tested several cantaloupes for ripeness. Finding one that suited her, she sped off to a nearby checkout table where cash payments went into a metal box.
    Jill moved out of the way of a teenager carting crates of bananas, only to step into another man’s path. A man who cast a big shadow and now breathed down her neck. She knew before she turned around who stood behind her.
    “So we meet again,” Aidan Cates said.
    Heat skimmed down her spine like a stroking finger. She felt a rush of nervous energy. He leaned in, so close his chest brushed her shoulder and his thighs bumped her bottom. “From psychic to produce vendor,” he spoke low near her ear. “You do get around, don’t you?”

Three
    J ill’s hand shook and she spilled her coffee. The splash barely missed her left foot. She refused to turn around. Let him talk to the back of her head. “This isn’t my stall,” she informed him, “but I was assisting a customer.”
    “You tend to be helpful.” Aidan edged even closer.
    “I know produce.”
    “So I heard.” A sensual roughness deepened his voice. “I usually shake or squeeze for ripeness, although a thumb to the bottom sounds far more interesting.”
    Her blush was immediate. She’d never met anyone who made mature fruit sound sexual. She hated her reaction, hated worse that he’d embarrassed her. She drew a steadying breath and asked, “Are you following me?”
    His chuckle was all male and dangerous. “Don’t flatter yourself, babe. I’ve just returned to town, and have family and friends at the farmers’ market. Coming here is the fastest way for me to catch up.”
    “Don’t let me keep you.” Her throat was