Page 32 of False Evidence

She spelled it out for him. “Paper thin, brittle, and if you tap it, you get stung. Several times.”

He nodded. “Accurate.”

No man likes to be told he’s fragile, but JT took it in stride. Maybe he really had changed.

But something about his words and manner brought to mind the man she’d fallen in love with once upon a time. Maybe, instead of changing into something new, he’d gone back to being the man who’d swept her off her feet when they first met.

ChapterThirteen

Menanichoch, Maryland

December 17th

Sixteen years ago

Alexandra took a seat on a barstool and let out a sigh as she lifted her stiletto-shod feet from the floor. The heels were gorgeous, but she couldn’t imagine wearing four-inch spikes on a regular basis. Theyhurt. And her date was bothered that she was as tall as he was when wearing them. He should have told her there was a height code and she’d have saved money on the shoes.

As a broke, twenty-five-year-old grad student, she wasn’t cut out for being the plus one at company holiday parties for professional men in their thirties, but Kendall had begged her to make it a double date, and the guy was handsome and had promised a gourmet meal, good wine, and dancing.

The food was good, and she’d enjoyed the wine served with dinner, but once the complimentary wine was gone, Russ had opted to skip the dancing in favor of gambling.

Alexandra had watched him at the blackjack table for a half hour before sheer boredom took over. She’d returned to the ballroom where the private party was being held, thinking she’d join in on the dancing, but it was a slow song, and Kendall was pressed tight to her date with a dreamy expression on her face.

Kendall had been dating the engineer for two months, and she was certain he wasthe one. Kendall was Alexandra’s sister in all but blood, which meant she had been on the Kendall- coaster too many times to count and had little faith Brent Forbes was reallythe one,but Kendall was happy right now, and that was all that mattered.

Deciding to leave the couple alone, Alexandra had gone to the quieter of the two bars that served the private party and was relieved to get off her feet.

The bartender was young—closer to Alexandra’s age than her date was—and had darker coloring and features that hinted at Native American heritage, which made sense given this was a tribal casino.

The casino was the venue for the holiday party because the majority owner of the engineering firm her date worked for was a Menanichoch tribal member. Joseph Talon was now a US senator, but someone in the family was CEO.

Or at least she thought that was what Kendall had said when she began her campaign to get Alexandra to play wing woman tonight. She hadn’t really paid attention because she’d been deep in the throes of a research paper that would make or break her first semester of graduate school.

Really, it should be illegal to talk to someone during the last weeks of any semester of graduate school, with fines doubled for theoretical physics students.

No.Tripled.

She’d said yes because the party was the day after her last paper was due and a free meal sounded about right for her budget. Plus, Russ had been fun when he came to their apartment for movie night with Brent a few weeks ago.

It hadn’t been meant to be a setup—after all, Alexandra had only joined them for pizza as a study break—but Russ had told Brent he was interested, and the idea of her joining the three of them at the holiday party had been launched.

She didn’t have time to date. She wouldn’t for the next several years. But she’d decided she could spare one evening over winter break.

So now here she was, alone at the bar, her date more interested in cards than dancing. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from giving her a key for the hotel room he’d booked at the casino’s resort.

Not just no, buthell no.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked as he set a beverage napkin in front of her.

She frowned. This was a cash bar, and she was broke to the point where she’d be snitching drink garnishes for a fruit salad if she hadn’t just had a four-course meal. “Club soda?”

“Is that a question?”

“How much?”

“Depends on if you want it with lime juice, mint, and white rum.”

“A mojito would be amazing, but out of my budget. Club soda with a lime wedge, please?”

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