Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle. BEVERLY BARTON

I love banana splits.”

      “Somehow I figured you did.” He winked at her.

      Her stomach did another crazy flip-flop.

      Just as they reached the entrance that opened onto Washington Street, the door flew open and in pranced Robyn, wearing a hot pink cotton skirt that was so short it barely covered her butt. And her white blouse was completely sheer, showing off the hot pink lace camisole beneath.

      “Hey, I’m glad I caught you before you left,” Robyn said, looking directly at Jim.

      “Who are you talking to?” Bernie asked. “Jim or me?”

      Robyn giggled. “Jim, of course, silly. Why would I be asking my sister out to dinner when I could go with her handsome new deputy?”

      “You’re here to ask me out?” Jim grinned.

      Bernie wanted to knock that stupid grin off his face.

      “I’m sorry I didn’t call first, but it’s been wild over at the fitness center.” Robyn insinuated herself between Bernie and Jim, then laced her arm through his. “I’m running a two-for-one special this week and—”

      “Bernie and I were just heading over to the King Kone for burgers,” Jim said. “You could join us.”

      “Yuck, the King Kone. They serve nothing but junk food.” Robyn ran an appreciative eye over her own body and sighed dramatically. “I couldn’t keep this figure if I ate burgers and fries, now could I?”

      Jim glanced over at Bernie and shrugged. “What about Methel’s?”

      “Absolutely not,” Robyn said. “River’s End has great seafood and wonderful salads.”

      “And it costs an arm and a leg,” Bernie said.

      “So, if price is a problem”—she batted her eyelashes at Jim—“we’ll go Dutch treat.”

      “Is this place fancy?” Jim asked. “I’m not dressed for fancy and neither is Bernie.”

      “It’s not that fancy,” Robyn replied.

      “Look, why don’t you two go on out to River’s End and have a great seafood dinner. I think I’ll just head on home and scramble myself some eggs.”

      “Eggs are bad for you,” Robyn said.

      Bernie forced a smile, then gave Jim a quick glance. “See you in the morning, Jim.”

      Before he had a chance to say anything, Bernie rushed out the front door and walked hurriedly down the street. Her Jeep was parked at the courthouse, so she had no choice but to walk along the sidewalk, meeting and greeting people as they were leaving the antique shop and the library.

      Just keep that phony smile in place, she told herself, and keep walking. You are not going to cry because you have nothing to cry about. Okay, so your feelings are hurt just a little because you know Jim would much rather have dinner with Robyn than with you. And you’re a teensy bit upset with your sister because it never entered her pretty little head that Jim might have asked you to dinner and that his invitation had thrilled you beyond all reason.

      Bernie made it to the area of the courthouse parking lot reserved for her and her deputies and was forced to face and speak to several deputies who were leaving for the day. By the time she got in her Jeep, started the engine and pulled out onto Washington Street, tears clouded her vision. Lifting one hand, she swiped the tears away and called herself all kinds of a fool.

      Stop acting like a girl. You are not a sissy. You’re better than that.

       Chapter 10

      Thomasina had been staring at the large manila envelope for endless minutes, wanting to open it and yet afraid to see what surprise “gift” might be waiting inside for her. One of her students in the last afternoon class had found the envelope, with her name printed on it in bold black letters, lying on the floor at the back of the classroom, as if someone had accidentally dropped it there. She had thanked the student, laid the envelope on her desk and waited until the room was clear before she burst into tears. What had started out less than a week ago as an exciting romantic adventure had now turned into an unnerving nightmare. After allowing herself a good cry, she’d gathered up her things, including the unopened envelope, and driven home. Often when she had to teach a night class, as she did tonight, she didn’t bother going home; instead, she either stayed at the school and caught up on work or she drove into Adams Landing to shop and have an early dinner. But today, she had wanted—no, she had needed—to come home where she felt safe.

      She’d found a note on the refrigerator from her mother, telling her that she’d gone to Huntsville with her best friend, Rose Johnson, for a shopping spree at Parkway City Mall, and they wouldn’t be home until late. In a way, she was glad her mother wasn’t here to question her about her odd mood again, which she’d been doing all week. But a part of her wished her mother was here so she could tell her what had been going on for the past week and ask her advice.

      Thomasina had placed the envelope in the middle of the kitchen table, poured herself a glass of iced tea, sat down and studied the damn thing as if she could figure out what was inside without opening it.

      Monday’s gift would have been sweet, even endearing, if she hadn’t thought that Brandon was playing her for a fool, stringing her along while he kept seeing other women. But the gift that she’d received on Wednesday, an envelope containing sketches and a small box, had been stuffed in her P.O. box at the college. She’d questioned the secretary, asking if she had any idea who’d put the envelope in her box.

      “No, I’m sorry,” Kerrianne Gipson had said. “It’s been one of those days. I’ve been in and out of the office all day long. I’m afraid just about anybody could have left it. Why? Is there a problem?”

      “No, no problem. I was just curious. I’m sure there’s a note or something inside.”

      But the note hadn’t been signed.

      She’d waited only until she’d reached her car before ripping open the envelope and dumping the small box out into her hand. Inside the box she’d found a small bottle of perfume. White Shoulders. She didn’t know that particular scent was still being manufactured. It was such an old-fashioned fragrance. Her mother had used it for a couple of years nearly twenty years ago.

      She’d read the note before looking at the sketches.

      I dream of you this way. Of our being together. Of your loving everything I do to you.

      She’d found three sketches inside the envelope, each one more graphic and sickening than the one before, and all three depicting her naked and aroused in various S&M scenes. Her being whipped—the hand holding the whip large and menacing. Her on all fours, a dog collar around her neck attached to a leash. And her lying chained to a metal bed, a large dildo in her mouth and the tip of another one sticking out between her clenched thighs.

      She had ripped the sketches and the note into pieces, then had shoved them and the perfume bottle back into the envelope and gotten out of her car. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she’d marched straight across the parking lot to the large, green Dumpster, opened the heavy lid and thrown the envelope on top of the other trash.

      When she’d gotten home yesterday evening, she’d gone straight to her room; then she’d taken the pearl necklace, the lipstick, the nail polish, all the photos, notes, and sketches from the top of her closet where she’d stored them, stuck the nonpaper items in her slacks pocket and shoved the notes, photos, and sketches under her arm and carried them with her through the kitchen. She had taken a handful of matches from the box her mother kept in the drawer beside the sink, then had gone outside. She’d placed all the paper items inside the large brick outdoor barbeque grill and struck one match after another, placing each lit flame