Read Real Challenge (Atlanta #2) for Free Online Page A

wasn’t trying to be.
    She got him to talk more about his love of swimming and she shared her favorite past time of yoga and “junking” as she sometimes liked to call her shopping jags into used-items markets. He laughed when she described a few of the items she didn’t buy.  
    “I swear it on my life,” she said laughing. “I actually saw an old, vintage dentist chair decorated with fringe and lace, and it had a little sign that said ‘recliner’ on it. If I didn’t hate the dentist so much, I would have bought it and left the damn sign on it for my living room.”  
    “Wow. I didn’t even know so many places like that were around. Sounds like a trip,” Scott said, laughing at the ridiculous idea of that chair.
    “I can take you sometime if you’d like,” she said, again with the warm smile.  
    “You know, that actually sounds like fun,” Scott said, also smiling. She couldn’t believe he would go shopping with her, but she at least like the idea that he might want to spend more time with her. She was gutsy suggesting another sort of date so early in the evening, but bold was kind of her thing.
    “Hey – look up there. Do you see the spotlight?” Scott said abruptly.
    She looked in the direction of his pointing and saw a beam sweeping through the sky. “Is that a search light from the old jail?” She laughed at the thought.  
    “Yep. They kind of mix the jail motif with the posh/gourmet atmosphere. It’s a strange mash up. Based on your house alone, I’m guessing you’re going to like it,” he teased.
    Instead of acting insulted, she just grinned and said, “We’ll see how it compares.”
    When they reached the parking lot, a valet parked the SUV for them and Cassie knew just how ritzy this old jail actually was. Scott tipped the valet entirely too much and Cassie saw a hint of that strut she first saw at the party. It made her kind of sad that he felt he had to act important that way, but she understood that was the world he was used to.  
    She walked in and dropped her jaw at her surroundings. The old sergeant’s desk was polished up to serve as the hostess station and there was a wall of old, many-sized mail cubbies behind it. Each was filled with things like vintage pearl-handled pistols, large-calibre bullets, shiny like-new handcuffs, and a folded, vintage prisoner uniform in a classic stripe pattern. The collection of varied colors, textures, and vintages was something she could genuinely appreciate. She loved the place instantly.
    “Party for Scott Merchant,” he said to the hostess who was dressed in a simple, elegant black outfit. Cassie watched the honest Scott from the car get all puffed up and haughty when he spoke to the hostess. He was acting important and obviously trying to be impressive in this environment.  
    “Welcome to The Big House, Mr. Merchant, Ms. Walker. Please follow me.”
    Wow, they even knew her name. He had gone all out. Cassie took in all the sights around her. The large lobby/booking area of the station had been converted into a dark, warm-toned bar with several high-top tables. The warm wood tones clashed with the charcoal gray of the cinder-block walls, but somehow the combination seemed intimate rather than strange. Black and white framed photographs of courthouse scenes, Alcatraz, and some of the more famous criminals throughout history dotted the walls.  
    The hostess walked them down one of the many long hallways of the cell block. Each had been carpeted in soft gray and pictures flanked by curtains helped to soften the institutional feel of the building. They passed larger holding cells with several tables in them each, and just as Scott had described, there were no doors on the prison cells. Again, the cinder block and iron walls would have seemed cold if not for the posh booths along the walls and warm lighting from candles and modest chandeliers.  
    They walked all the way down to the end of the hallway and the hostess showed them to a