Unstoppable: Love With The Proper Stranger / Letters To Kelly

“Be careful about coming on too strong with the suspect,” Daniel warned him.

Miller blinked. “Excuse me?”

The kid’s lips curved slightly in amusement. “I figured that’s why you came over here, right? To ask my opinion about where you stand with Serena Westford?”

Miller didn’t know why the hell he was here. He turned toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

“John,” Daniel said, “sit down. Have a soda.” He unlocked the little self-service refrigerator and crouched down to look inside. “How about something without any caffeine?”

Miller found himself sitting down on the edge of the flower-patterned couch as Daniel set a pair of lemon-

lime sodas on the coffee table.

Daniel sat across from him and opened one of the cans of soda. “I listened in on most of your conversations,” he said. “I think it went well—Serena kept talking about you even after you left. She was asking people if they knew you. She’s definitely interested. But she kept referring to you as Mariah’s friend, John, and it was more than just a way to identify you. I got the feeling that she’s getting off on the idea of stealing you away from her friend.”

Miller gazed at his partner. He’d never heard Daniel talk quite so much—and certainly not unless his opinion had been specifically solicited. “Yeah, I got that feeling, too,” he finally said.

“What are you going to do about it?” Daniel asked.

“What do you think I should do?”

It was clear that Daniel had already given this a great deal of thought. “The obvious solution is for you to see the friend again. Play Serena’s game. Hook her interest even further by making it seem as if you’re not going to be an easy catch.” The kid gazed down at the soda can in his hands as if seeing the bright-colored label for the first time. “But that doesn’t take into consideration other things.”

Other things. “Such as?”

Daniel looked up, squarely meeting Miller’s gaze. “Such as the fact that you really like this other lady. Mariah. Marie. Whatever she wants to call herself.”

Miller couldn’t deny it. But he could steer the conversation in a slightly different direction. “Mariah invited me to go out to the Triple F building site tomorrow morning.” Of course, that had been before he’d ignored her so completely at Serena’s party.

Daniel nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Miller had never hesitated over making this kind of a decision before. If he had a choice to do something that would further him in his case, by God, he’d do it. No questions, no doubt. But here he was wavering for fear of hurting someone’s feelings.

It was absurd.

And yet when he closed his eyes, he could still see Mariah, hurt enough to leave the party without him, but kind enough to write a note telling him she was leaving. He could see her, head held high as she went down the stairs to the beach.

He’d left the party soon after and followed her to make sure she’d arrived home safely. He’d sat in his car on the street with his lights off and watched her move about her house through the slats in her blinds. He watched her disappear down the hall to her bedroom, unzipping the back of that incredible dress as she went.

She’d returned only a moment later, dressed in the same kind of oversize T-shirt that she’d worn to bed the night before. When she’d curled up on the couch with a book he’d driven away—afraid if he stayed much longer he’d act on the urge to get out of the car, knock on her door and apologize until she let him in.

And once she let him in, he knew damn well he’d end up in her bed. He’d apologize and she’d eventually accept. He’d touch her, and it wouldn’t be long until they kissed. And once he kissed her, there’d be no turning back. The attraction between them was too hot, too volatile.

And then she would really be hurt—after he slept with her, then married her best friend.

So he’d make damn sure that he wouldn’t sleep with her.

He’d show up in front of the library tomorrow at 6:00 a.m. He’d see her again—God, he wanted to see her again—but in public, where there’d be no danger of intimacies getting out of hand. Somehow he’d make her understand that their relationship was to be nothing more than a friendship, all the while making Serena believe otherwise. Then Serena could “steal” him from Mariah without Mariah getting hurt.

Miller stood up. “I’m going to do it. Figure I’ll be out of the picture all day tomorrow.”

Daniel rose to his feet, too. “I’ll stay near Serena.” Miller turned to leave, but Daniel’s quiet voice stopped him. “You know, John, we could do this another way.”

His cover was all set up. He was here, he was in place. And all of his reasons for not going ahead would be purely personal. He’d never pulled out of a case for personal reasons before and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

“I haven’t come up with a better way—or a quicker way—to catch this killer,” he flatly told his partner. “Let’s do this right and lock her up before she hurts anyone else.”

Chapter Six

MARIAH SAW HIM AS soon as she rounded the corner.

Jonathan Mills was sitting on the steps to the library, shoulders hunched over, nursing a cup of coffee.

He couldn’t have been waiting for her—not after last night. Not after he’d been visibly dazzled by Serena.

And yet she knew there was no one else he could have been waiting for. She was the only one on all of Garden Isle who regularly volunteered for Foundations for Families. Occasionally there would be a group of college students on vacation, but the Triple F van would pick them up over by the campground.

Mariah briefly considered just riding past. Not stopping. Flagging the van down near the drugstore or the post office. Leaving her bike…where? This bike rack in front of the library was the only one in town.

Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away.

But Mariah knew that that, too, wasn’t any kind of solution, so she nodded to him briefly as she braked to a stop.

He stood up as if every bone in his body ached, as if he, too, hadn’t had an awful lot of sleep last night.

“I realized as I was getting ready to meet you here that I don’t have a tool belt,” he told her.

Her own belt was in her backpack, weighing it down, and she slid it off her shoulders and onto the sidewalk as she positioned her bike in the rack. She didn’t know what to say. Was he actually serious? Did he really intend to spend the day with her?

Her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment when she thought about last night. And the night before. She’d actually thought he was as attracted to her as she was to him. She’d gone and thrown herself at him and…

She could think of nothing worse than spending the entire day with this man, yet she couldn’t simply tell him to go home. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Yes, she’d resolved last night that she’d have nothing more to do with him. Yes, she’d come to the conclusion that he was far more shallow and self-absorbed than she’d previously thought. Still, she couldn’t tell him to go away.