Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 by Karen Whiddon (interesting books to read for teens TXT) 📕

“What is it?” Stanton missed nothing. She wanted to believe his heightened perception was all about being with her, but Stanton had superb intuition.

“That man’s still there.”

“Right. We’re leaving. Now.” He stood and offered her his hand, which she waved away. Her legs were stronger, the shock having worn off.

She followed him back onto the street, pointedly not looking at the creepy guy at the counter. The fresh albeit chilly wind was refreshing and made her feel more human, less like a stalked opossum.

“I’ve got to go to the Gazette offices. You’re going to be bored there.” Maybe Stanton would agree to leave her there for the rest of the day, come back for her at close of day. It’d be nerve-racking, working with him next to her. “There’s a security guard at the entrance. I’ll be safe inside for the afternoon. You know the paper doesn’t scrimp on employee safety.”

“I do, and it doesn’t change my job description, Dominique. No way are you going anywhere without me. And we can’t be certain there aren’t bad guys staking out the Gazette. I’ve got somewhere else we can go. Come on.” Instead of going to his car, parked in front of the café, he put his hand in the small of her back and pointed her to the granite building next to the café. The first several floors were offices, but there were twelve floors of luxury apartments above the commercial spaces.

“I’m not going to your apartment.” She halted, refusing to move forward.

“You don’t have a choice right now. We need to keep talking about the case, and it’s imperative we’re not overheard.” As he spoke, the man who’d been watching her exited the café and ambled in the opposite direction down the main drag of Grave Gulch, as if he was out for a Sunday stroll. Dominique had her doubts. She looked at Stanton and he was watching the man, too. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. When he finished, his gaze was back on her, and there wasn’t an iota of compromise in his sapphire irises.

“Let’s go.”

“Fine.” She fell into step with him. “We’ll go to the paper after this, then?” She wanted to talk to her boss and fill him in on the most recent events. He deserved more than a text with news that she’d been attacked, needed backstory, no matter how much she’d reassured the senior editor that she was okay.

“Not today.” He was resolute. Anger tried to spark in her center but all she felt was resigned. And bone-tired.

Neither spoke as they rode the elevators—first the public one to the tenth floor, then a private, residents-only lift to the penthouse. Memories whirled in her mind the closer they got to Stanton’s apartment. When she walked through the familiar sleek doors into the contemporary space, it was impossible to not see every place she and Stanton had made love. On the foyer’s tile floor the night after a particularly scary scenario he’d provided protection for, on the sofa that faced a wall of windows that overlooked all of Grave Gulch and to the countryside beyond.

“Let me take your coat.” He was behind her, gently easing off her sleeves when she’d wanted to do it herself. “It’s okay to accept help, Dom. I know you’re hurting. I’d be sore, too, after a brute like that came at me.”

She relented and allowed him to slowly ease the garment from her body. He laid it over the end of the sofa and walked to the kitchen, giving her a welcome modicum of privacy. As if he remembered she preferred to work alone, with minimal distraction. The thought of sitting still at her laptop, still in her gym bag, only made her aches hurt more.

“This view only gets better with time, doesn’t it?” It was a shallow comment but she wasn’t up for deep conversation. Not yet. She needed mental space after coming face-to-face with the memories of her and Stanton. The afternoon sunlight shone on the wooded areas surrounding the medium-sized city, varying shades of green offering hope for warmer spring weather soon. Winter struggled to let go of its hold on Michigan, keeping the mornings and evenings chilly well into May. Trees were a source of strength and peace for Dominique, and being able to appreciate this unique view on a regular basis had been one of many gifts she’d let go of when she’d left Stanton.

She’d missed this.

“My time to enjoy it gets less and less.” He spoke from the kitchen counter. She heard a coffee machine and looked over her shoulder as she timidly sat on the edge of the leather sofa. “We just had coffee and tea.”

“You didn’t get to finish yours, and I need a shot of espresso. Keeping your insides warm will help you relax, too.” He walked back into the room and handed her a pink mug. It had the logo of a local 5K run on it, an annual Grave Gulch fundraiser for breast cancer. It had been hers, something she must have left behind after their breakup. She looked at him, held up the mug.

“I’m surprised you kept this.”

“Why? You thought I’d throw everything away? It’s a good cup. Keeps my coffee hot the longest.”

“There couldn’t have been much to toss. I never really moved in here.” She sipped and Stanton was right; she needed the warmth.

“No, you didn’t.” His tone was noncommittal. Why couldn’t their relationship feel like that to her? Instead of making all of her emotions churn, with regret’s bitter taste heavy on her tongue. “What were we discussing, again? Charlie Hamm?”

He’d thrown her a lifeline and she could have hugged him. No, no, not hug. Nothing that had to do with touching him. In a complete betrayal, her fingertips began to itch as if they’d die from never feeling his hard, smooth skin under them.

“Dominique?”

“Yes, Charlie Hamm. I know that if I can