Page 16 of Ruthless Cross

"That's a dire prediction."

"Do you disagree?"

"I wish I could. Just so you know, my mom didn't even realize she was on the balcony. She was sleepwalking. She wasn't trying to…kill herself." It was hard to get the words out, because they made the past few moments seem more real.

Flynn gave her an even look. "Okay. Why don't you sit down?" He tipped his head toward the place setting at the island counter across from the stovetop. "I poured you a juice. I'm guessing you've already had a lot of coffee."

She stared at him in bewilderment. "What is wrong with you? You can't just come in here and start cooking. What are you thinking?"

"It's breakfast, Callie. I'm not a chef like you, but I am known for my scrambled eggs, and the refrigerator provided quite a few fresh vegetables for the scramble. There's also bacon, English muffins, and fruit. There's plenty if you think your mother might want something to eat."

"She's sleeping again."

"Good." He filled a plate with eggs and slid it across the island, as she sat down. Then he made one for himself and came around the corner to sit adjacent to her.

"I don't get you," she said warily.

"You don't have to get me—just eat."

She felt torn between making a stand and trying his eggs, because they did look delicious, with tomatoes, onions, and green peppers mixed in. Finally, she decided to be pragmatic and eat. Clearly Flynn wasn't going anywhere, and she was actually starting to feel hungry.

"Did you reach your mother's doctor?" he asked, as she picked up her fork.

"He's on his way." She took a bite, and the savory flavor was rather amazing. "These are actually good."

"I told you—eggs are my specialty," he said with a smile.

She found his charming smile to be almost as unnerving as his serious demeanor, because she didn't know what to think or how to feel. He was acting like a friend, but he could also be her enemy. He'd said as much the night before.

While she wanted to know who had killed Arthur, she was afraid of what the answer would be, which didn't put her and Flynn on the same side. He would have no restraint when it came to tracking down the person who had murdered Arthur. He wanted justice for the man who had helped him get through the loss of his first love. He wouldn't let anything or anyone get in the way of that.

Thinking about Flynn and Olivia raised a few other questions in her head. She'd heard Arthur speak about his daughter on a number of occasions. Even though she'd been dead for fifteen years, she was still very much on his mind. He always referred to her as his flower girl, because she'd loved nothing more than playing in the garden or tucking flowers into her hair. He'd had the gardens in the back designed in her honor. There was even a bench with her name on it.

Arthur had talked far more often about Olivia than about his first wife Francine, but perhaps that was out of respect for Juliette. He hadn't wanted her to feel like she was second.

"Do you want more eggs?" Flynn asked, drawing her attention back to him.

Her stomach clenched as their eyes met. He really was an attractive man. He must have loved a lot of other women since Olivia. He wasn't wearing a ring, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Still, she wished she knew as much about him as he apparently knew about her. But then, she didn't have the resources of the FBI to investigate. She could do an internet search, but she doubted an agent would ever leave information online that wasn't completely meaningless.

"Callie?"

She realized she had yet to answer his question. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for cooking."

"I was being selfish. I was hungry."

"Do you always make meals for yourself when you're interrogating a witness?"

"I made an exception for you."

There was that sexy smile again. She had to fight the impulse to smile back, reminding herself she had nothing to smile about.

"Now that I know what you're afraid of, why don't you let me help you?" he suggested. "Talk to me about your concerns."

"I'm concerned that my mother is overwhelmed with grief."

"You're concerned," he said pointedly, "that your mother might have had something to do with Arthur's death."

Her breath caught in her chest at his blunt words. "My mom is the sweetest, kindest, nicest person you could ever meet. If anything, she's a pushover. She's not a killer."

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