Secrets Between Them. C.J. Carmichael

if that had ever bothered Jennifer. Most of the women he knew admitted to the odd bit of jealousy. But so far he hadn’t caught a glimpse of it in Jennifer.

      Was the woman really too good to be true?

      “Anything to drink?” The female server was at their table before they’d opened their menus. She looked and sounded a little grumpy, but Jennifer gave her a warm smile anyway.

      “I’ll have a coffee, please, Josie. Thanks a lot.”

      The server turned to him and he asked for his usual. “I think I’ll have a double latte, no fat, extra hot.”

      The server gaped. “What?”

      He winked at Jennifer. “Just coffee for me, too, please.”

      The poor woman, now more confused than grouchy shook her head slightly, then walked away, heading for the coffee station next to the kitchen.

      “That was mean, Nick, teasing Josie that way.”

      And yet she was smiling, if rather reluctantly.

      “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” He liked seeing Jennifer smile, though she was still pretty when she didn’t. Yesterday when he’d watched her picking flowers in the garden, he’d had a few moments when he’d actually felt bowled over.

      And his reaction had puzzled him. Typically his taste in women ran to urban sophisticates. His ex-fiancée had been—and still was—a senior editor at his publishing house.

      Karen was amusing, smart and witty. And, he had to admit it, she’d had a bit of a cruel streak, too. He had a feeling she would have satirized Jennifer’s sweet, unassuming ways.

      Don’t you think it’s an act, darling? No one could possibly be that nice.

      Yet, she was. He didn’t doubt for a minute that Jennifer March was the real deal.

      The server came back with their coffees. Jennifer pushed aside her menu and leaned closer to him. “Do you know what you’d like to eat? The seafood cassoulet is Derby’s specialty.”

      He was more of a burger guy himself, but he nodded. “I’ll try it.”

      Josie nodded, then scurried back to the kitchen. Jennifer leaned closer. “So tell me about your books.”

      He stifled a groan.

      “What are they about? How long does it take you to write one?”

      She’d beaten him to the punch. Got the conversation rolling in exactly the wrong direction. Now he had no choice but to talk about the very subject he wanted to avoid. “Every book is different. The last one took three years, including research.”

      “Is that why you’re here? To do research?”

      “Yes.” Nick made a production of passing Jenn the cream and offering her sugar. Then he took a long drink of his coffee, even though it was so hot it scalded the roof of his mouth.

      Of course he was eventually going to have to come clean with what he was doing here and what his book was about. He probably should have done so already. But once he did, she’d be more conscious about what she was telling him. This might be his only opportunity to get some unguarded thoughts and opinions.

      Nick smiled and Jennifer’s cheeks pinkened again. She was so damned cute and clearly she liked him. Maybe…

      No. That was definitely a bad idea. A little flirting, a little fun, sure. But this couldn’t go any further than that.

      “A few years ago we had another author stay at our B and B,” Jennifer said. “Craig Richards. Have you heard of him?”

      Great. She was talking about writing again. Nick shook his head.

      “He was researching a kayakers’ guide to the Gulf Islands. I have an autographed copy of his book in the sitting room.”

      Nick wondered if Jennifer would want an autographed copy of his book when he was done. It might be fun to come back here after the book was out and sign some copies for the locals…

      But he was getting ahead of himself. He had to write the damn thing first. And to do that, he needed facts. Feeling a little like a tennis player trapped in an endless volley, he looked pointedly at the poster of Simone on the wall beside them.

      “I guess the locals are pretty proud of their celebrity.”

      Jennifer’s posture tightened. She didn’t look at the poster as she said, “Yes, we are.”

      Why was she so guarded every time he mentioned the famous singer? He pretended not to notice the reaction. “So how did you keep up your friendship after she became famous? She must have been very busy.”

      “Simone was the kind of person who made things happen. If a hole opened in her schedule, she would be on the phone, arranging things. One day I’d get a call from her, the next I’d be taking the ferry to Vancouver to catch a flight.”

      “Is that how your Europe trip happened?”

      She nodded. “Simone had the idea on a Tuesday and we were in the air a week later. Between trips we stayed in touch with long phone calls.”

      “All worked around her schedule, of course. Her convenience, her availability.”

      Jennifer’s eyes narrowed. “She had more demands on her time than I did.”

      Having seen how hard Jennifer worked, Nick doubted that.

      “Simone wasn’t perfect, but she was my friend. And I loved her.”

      Maybe she had. She sure seemed sincere. But Nick wondered if he might be getting to the source of all that tension he sensed. The friendship seemed to be more one-sided than Jennifer was prepared to admit. “You must have been devastated when she died.”

      “It was awful. Especially at first when we believed she’d killed herself.”

      Emerson had set up his crime to look like suicide. And for over a year, he’d fooled everyone. During that time there must have been a lot of guilt. And all the forget-me-not friends would have felt it. “It must have been torture for her husband…”

      “Yes. Harrison took it the hardest.”

      Nick had figured he would have. “But it was Harrison who eventually proved Simone was murdered, right?”

      She nodded. “We all thought he was crazy when he first told us his theory. No one more so than Justine. But it turned out that Emerson was the crazy one and Harrison was right.”

      “That must have been a real shocker. Had any of you suspected Emerson had these obsessive, romantic feelings for Simone?”

      “No. It was always Harrison and Gabe fighting over her, so we were all dumbfounded. But after Emerson killed himself, the RCMP found papers in his house. Apparently in his mind Simone had loved him more than anyone else in the world. When he got up his nerve to tell her he loved her and wanted her to leave Harrison, and she refused, he killed her, then staged the scene to look like suicide. I still can’t believe it.”

      Jennifer wasn’t even looking at him as she spoke. Clearly she was reliving the past, still trying to come to grips with the horrible death of her friend.

      Poor Jennifer. He felt sympathy for her, and that worried him. It would be crazy for him to let his conscience get in the way now. This was good stuff. He had to keep her talking.

      “That wasn’t the first time Emerson committed murder, was it?”

      “No. Years ago he killed his parents.”

      The articles Nick had read had alluded to past homicides but had been hazy with details. He leaned forward to catch every detail of Jennifer’s answer.

      “It was so cold-blooded and…and senseless, Nick. They wanted to retire. That was all. That’s why he killed them.”

      “But what did their