Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 Karen Whiddon (best fiction books to read TXT) 📖

to the Italian movie they’re streaming at the theater next weekend.” Italia loved any reason to dress up, and she wore evening wear well. Which reminded her of how well Stanton wore a tux. She stifled a groan. Focus on dinner.

“That’s great, Mom.” Stanton helped himself to creamed spinach, homemade dinner rolls and salmon. Dominique did the same, suddenly hungry, no matter that she’d already had salmon at lunch today. The Coltons enjoyed their fish and seafood. It felt good to not be so anxious that food turned her stomach.

“I bet you’ll have a blast at the party, Italia.”

“I’m sure I will. I was invited to provide artwork for the social beforehand, and it’ll be on display at the charity silent auction, too, which is always nice for my business. It might not be the big-time, but it’s close enough for me.” Italia sipped her wine. “Did you know I saw Sophia Loren once, when I was a girl? My mother took me to Napoli, to the Teatro San Carlo. It was the opening of Carmen. Sophia and Carlo Ponti were in the box closest to the stage. They waved right at us.” Italia’s verve was invigorating, and with longing Dominique realized how much she’d missed her, and Stanton’s family. Italia was one of a kind, an artist. Frank’s success in steel had paralleled hers. Italia had a larger-than-life personality and charmed everyone she met.

“I’m sure they waved right at you, Ma.” Stanton spoke around a large mouthful of food.

“Manners, Stanton.” Italia reached around the back of Dominique and playfully swatted at her son’s nape. Frank’s chuckle resonated through the large room.

Italia clicked her tongue. “Don’t be such a slob around your fidanzata, son.” Her casual use of the Italian word for girlfriend or fiancée sliced through the easygoing mood.

Dominique’s hand froze midway between her plate and mouth, the creamed spinach suspended in unison with her shock. Here we go.

“Um...” Stanton chewed, wiped his mouth with the crisp white napkin that Italia seemed to have an endless supply of and sucked down half of his water goblet. “We’re, ah... Dominique and I are not back together. We, we’ve decided to see if we can work on being good friends again.” Stanton’s voice shook the tiniest bit, but Dominique didn’t miss it. Judging by Italia’s sharp intake of breath, neither did she. Frank remained silent, always the steady rudder for Italia’s enthusiasm and at times, over-the-top emotions.

“I’m so sorry we barged in on your dinner. It’s delicious.” A change of subject was in order.

“We’re just happy that you joined us, Dominique.” Frank rose from his end of the island and took his plate to the sink. “You two were awfully close for a while there. I understand that things don’t always work out as we hope, and I’m glad you’ve got a chance to salvage a friendship from your time together.”

Dominique blinked. Frank wasn’t one for false praise, or overt sentiment. He took things in stride, like when Travis decided to start his own business with Colton Plastics, breaking from the other siblings in their law enforcement or security fields. Italia overflowed with enough emotion for the entire town of Grave Gulch, not to mention her family.

“Thanks, Dad.” Stanton had recovered his composure and she looked at him. He met her gaze with a warm smile, made to look as though they were really seeking to become good friends again. His eyes told her the truth. They’d managed to get through dinner, and his parents appeared to have accepted their explanation at face value. But not for one minute should she forget why she was here. She was hiding from potential assassins, and in the midst of a story that did, in fact, have Pulitzer Prize potential.

Funny how the possibility of global attention mattered little since this morning’s events. It had to be the shock of the assault, and the shooting in the garage. It couldn’t be because she was painfully aware of all she’d lost and left behind. How ironic to figure out what really mattered to her when Pablo Jimenez would do all he could to kill her.

CHAPTER 7

The next morning, Dominique lay wide-awake in the guest bedroom from dawn onward. The lake’s view was just out the window, but she wasn’t interested in looking at the sunrise, or reminiscing over how she and Stanton had made good use of his parents’ dock, swimming naked on more than one occasion.

She’d brought Jimenez’s wrath to the Colton home, and she had to get out of here. It was one thing to put herself on the line for a story, and Stanton had willingly agreed to protect her. But Frank and Italia didn’t deserve this. They had to leave before the cartel found her again.

She left the bedroom to find Stanton and tell him they had to leave ASAP. The clothes his mother had loaned her, a loose sweatshirt and yoga pants that belonged to his younger sister, fit fine and were, in fact, far more comfortable than her usual work clothes. But she had only her high-heeled boots or her sneakers, no slippers, so she padded to the kitchen in stockinged feet. Her feet were still sore from running in her trouser socks on the street yesterday.

Stanton sat at the island, his laptop open, steaming mug of coffee in hand. His hair was sleep-rumpled and he hadn’t shaved yet. An old college sweatshirt was stretched across his torso, the logo long faded. He didn’t look up at first as her steps were silent on the polished wood floor. She paused. It couldn’t hurt to soak in this glimpse of what she’d turned down, could it? Not that she had regrets. They’d made the right decision. Hadn’t they?

It was being back here, all the time together yesterday, not to mention the life-and-death situation of her almost strangulation, that was making nostalgia tug on her heartstrings.

“Good morning.” She walked in as he looked up, helped herself to coffee from the half-full