Page 46 of Deep Tide

“Encryption? Is that really necessary? Why don’t I just call you?”

“Don’t.”

The sharpness of his tone startled her.

“This way is better. Trust me.”

She slipped her phone back into her pocket, studying his face carefully. The grim set of his jaw told her he meant it about the encryption thing. And for the first time since they’d started this conversation, she was starting to believe he really was a serious investigative reporter.

He took out his phone and checked it. “Well, my five minutes are up. Thanks for your time, Detective.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I didn’t make any promises, remember? You may have wasted your trip.”

He tucked his phone away. “I didn’t.”

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Leyla stared up at the building and wondered which window was Sean’s.

She shouldn’t be here. She knew that. She’d been gone all day, first at the funeral and then at the Windjammer store placing a food order and working on the schedule. What she needed to do was go home and wash the day off and then sit down and catch up on the emails she’d been avoiding all week.

But she didn’t want to do any of that. After leaving the coffee shop, her car had steered itself here, as though it had a mind of its own.

Leyla glanced down at the phone in her hand.

“Screw it,” she muttered.

She scrolled through her text messages until she found the one he’d sent the other night. She started to write back but then stopped herself. Her stomach knotted as she tried to think of what to say.

Thump thump.

She jumped, startled, and turned to see a man beside her car.

Sean.

Her stomach did a little somersault as she buzzed the window down.

“Hey,” she said, looking him over. He wore jeans and a T-shirt and had his hands full of plastic grocery bags.

“Hi. What’s up?” he asked, probably wondering why she was sitting in the parking lot staring at his building.

“I was looking for you.” She swallowed. “I thought I’d see if you wanted to have a drink.”

He leaned closer and gazed down at her curiously. She was still in her funeral clothes—a black skirt, blouse, and heels. “What, you mean right now?”

“Sure. Or later. Whenever. Or if you haven’t already eaten yet, we could get dinner.” Now she sounded desperate. “I was just on my way home so—”

“Let me drop these off. You mind?”

“Not at all.”

He shifted the bags to one hand and opened her door. “Come on up.”

She hesitated for a moment, then raised the window and turned off her car. She swung her legs out, careful to keep her knees together, and he watched as she stood up and then reached in to grab her purse.

She stepped back, and he closed the door.

---