Page 23 of Obsession

Emma paused, and Sam almost bumped into her. He didn’t recognize the speaker, a man with blond hair and pale blue eyes who was dressed in what looked like a tailor-made suit, but Sam did recognize the man’s interest in Emma.

“Corey, I didn’t see you,” Emma said.

“I noticed you when you stepped inside the door. What’s wrong with your hand?”

“It’s all his fault,” she said, glancing at her bandaged wrist and chuckling. When Corey’s eyes widened, she added, “Not really. I sprained it—nothing major. Do you two know each other?”

“Afraid not,” Sam said.

At the same time, the other man said, “Sam Ryker? Correct?”

Sam frowned. He didn’t remember meeting this Corey.

“Didn’t I see in the paper that you were the top ranger for this district on the Natchez Trace?”

That explained it. He’d forgotten the write-up a reporter had done on him.

“Let me introduce you properly,” she said. “Sam Ryker, Corey Chandler. Corey is an attorney.”

Sam held out his hand. “New to Natchez?”

“I’ve been here three years.” He seemed reluctant to shift his attention away from Emma long enough to accept Sam’s hand. “Nice to meet any friend of Emma’s.”

He had expected Chandler’s grip to be wimpy, but instead it was firm. No calluses, though, like his own hands.

“Corey’s been trying to stop the project at Mount Locust from going forward.”

That didn’t sound like much of a friend, but Sam kept his mouth shut.

“Not me, Emma. One of my clients.”

“Is there any difference?” she asked, patting him on the arm.

“Definitely. I don’t enjoy crossing swords with you,” he said. “Since it’s so crowded here, would you two like to join me? I’m almost finished and then you’d have the table to yourselves.”

Emma hesitated and glanced at Sam.

“I see a table in the corner,” he said. “But thanks for your offer. Nice to meet you.”

“Sure.” The attorney pinned him with steely eyes. “I hope you enjoy your meal.”

They moved on to the corner table, and Sam held out the chair that faced away from Corey for Emma. “He likes you.”

“Corey?” She frowned. “He’s a friend, that’s all.”

“I think he’d like it to be more.” He glanced past her to the table where Corey was on his cell phone. Not only had the attorney’s eyes spelled out more than friendship toward Emma, they let Sam know Corey didn’t like him.

“You’re crazy. Corey has never indicated any interest in me atall—not even to grab a cup of coffee with him.” She rubbed her arm. “Thanks. Now I’ll be uncomfortable around him.”

“Maybe it’s just my imagination.” He glanced over the menu as the waitress arrived. Norma Jean was stitched on the pocket over her heart. The name rang a bell, and he studied the woman’s lined face. Unless he was mistaken, Norma Jean was working here the last time he’d visited Jug Head’s, over ten years ago.

“What’ll it be, folks?”

Sam glanced at Emma. “Know what you want?”

“Small catfish filet dinner,” she said.

“And your drink?”

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