Nothing But the Truth. Kara Lennox

turn off the engine or get out right away.

      Bingo.

      She’d noticed this same car earlier. Normally she wouldn’t have taken note, but it was almost the exact car Jason used to drive, just a slightly newer model. The Mustang had been parked on the street near her apartment building when she had exited that morning, and for one brief, insane moment, she had expected to see Jason climb out from behind the wheel.

      Then she’d remembered that Jason was dead. Silly how one sensory trigger—a car, a song, a certain wine—could bring it all back.

      Raleigh was pretty sure the Mustang’s driver couldn’t see her. She stood in the shadow of the doorway, peeking out every few seconds.

      After about a minute, the driver killed the engine and opened the door. Though she couldn’t see the man’s face, she recognized his body immediately—the white T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, tapering down to a narrow waist, the worn denim riding low on his lean hips, and that butt—definitely drool-worthy, to use Beth’s terminology.

      Raleigh’s face heated. She was mortified by her reaction to Griffin Benedict. The man was trying to ruin her, and all she could do about it was notice how sexy he was?

      Griffin peered up and down the street, shading his face with his hand against the noonday sun. Raleigh shrank back into the shadows. After a few moments she dared another peek. He was heading her way.

      She intended to confront him, but on her terms. So she entered the store in whose doorway she had been lurking. It was a small drugstore, more of a snack shop, really. She ducked behind a rack of chips, peeking between the bags of Fritos and SunChips.

      Griffin entered and scanned the store. Oh, God, don’t let him find me like this, hiding behind junk food! As he ventured farther into the store, she ducked into a different aisle.

      After a few moments, apparently satisfied she wasn’t in the store, he left.

      She hurried after him. I’ve got you now.

      The next door down was a hair salon. Griffin entered. Raleigh quickened her pace to catch up, then stood just outside the door, flattened against the wall. She felt ridiculous, and silently cursed him for forcing her to resort to this childish behavior.

      He exited only a few seconds later and she popped away from the wall, nearly colliding with him.

      “Hello, Mr. Benedict.”

      “Holy shit!”

      She enjoyed the surprised look on his face. Probably few people ever got the jump on this guy.

      “I’m tired of you following me,” she said. “I want you to stop.”

      “I wasn’t—”

      “Don’t waste your breath. I saw you outside my apartment this morning. You must be getting some riveting footage.” She nodded at the tiny video camera dangling around his neck. “Just what, exactly, are you hoping I’ll do? Incriminate myself? You’ll wait a long time for that.”

      For a long moment, Griffin just stared at her as if appraising his chances of lying his way out of this. No way. She’d caught him fair and square.

      He stared for so long, she had to resist the urge to squirm and look away. What did he see? She had an insane suspicion he could read her mind. No: if that were the case, he would see she was innocent of any wrongdoing.

      And he would see her other thoughts, those inappropriate ones involving naked flesh, entwined limbs and tangled sheets. Oh, Lord, she had to stop thinking of him that way.

      His sexy mouth pursed, and she thought he might be trying not to laugh. Damn it, she was not supposed to be amusing. She had worked long and hard to come off as intimidating.

      Clearly he wasn’t intimidated.

      “All right, yes, I was following you. I was hoping you might do something…interesting.”

      “Like what? Strip naked on Main Street?”

      “Now, that would make for interesting footage.”

      She gasped in a breath. His attitude wasn’t helping matters. The unholy light behind those sincere brown eyes hinted that his thoughts were as impure as hers.

      “Wait a minute. You’re a newspaper reporter. Why do you want video footage?”

      He cocked his head but didn’t answer.

      “Are you going to keep following me?”

      Griffin shrugged one careless shoulder. “Wouldn’t be much point, now that you’re onto me.”

      “Good thing, because stalking is against the law. I could have you arrested.”

      “Nice try, but you’d be a little short on evidence.”

      Her blood heated up a notch, and not just from overactive hormones. She was really mad, and the fact that he was so calm, so…amused, just made her want to spit in his eye.

      Don’t let it show. Don’t let it show.

      “Our business is concluded, then, wouldn’t you say?” Maybe this would be the end of it. She tried to step around him, but he blocked her path.

      “Just a minute. I have more questions for you.” He had the nerve to lift the video camera, point it at her and turn it on. A blinking red light told her she was on camera.

      She definitely knew better than to lose her composure when a camera was rolling. “Ask away. What would you like to know, Mr. Benedict?”

      “I thought we were on a first-name basis.”

      “Did you have a question for me?”

      “Yes. In the past month, how many times would you say you’ve spoken to Leo Simonetti?”

      The question caught her off guard. “You mean Anthony. Anthony Simonetti is my client.”

      “No, I meant Leo. Anthony’s father.”

      Raleigh quickly regained her composure. “In that case, the answer is zero. I have no dealings with Leo Simonetti. The only other member of Anthony’s family I’m in contact with is Connie, his sister.”

      “Really.”

      “Yes, really. What’s your point here?”

      Still filming, Griffin pulled a creased piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. Another photocopy? What now? He handed the paper to Raleigh, and she unfolded it. It was a copy of her cell phone bill. One phone number, which appeared numerous times, was highlighted in yellow.

      Raleigh didn’t immediately recognize the number, but that didn’t mean much. She made hundreds of phone calls in a month.

      “Do you recognize that piece of paper?” Griffin asked.

      “It appears to be a copy of my cell phone bill, although I cannot, at this time, confirm the information it contains as genuine. Again, obtained illegally, as no one but me should have access.”

      He brushed aside the question of legality as easily as he would a mosquito. “Do you know whose number that is, highlighted in yellow?”

      “No, I don’t. Enlighten me.” If Griffin thought it belonged to Leo Simonetti, he was crazy. But whoever it was, she’d called him or her a lot. She examined the paper more closely. She’d called this person at all hours, too—daytime, evening, weekends, and…at 2:30 a.m.? She never called anyone at that hour. She would have been asleep.

      Had anyone else had access to her phone late at night? No, absolutely not.

      Griffin Benedict’s next words were spoken with relish. “The number belongs to Leo Simonetti,”

      Criminy. She couldn’t panic. Not when the camera was rolling. “Turn the camera off, please.”

      “Why? Did I hit a nerve?”