“I checked all the records you had listing the kids who’d lived with Lavine. The five of us are the only ones left alive. Six if you count Trina. Although it’s likely that the killer is some social worker gone loony or something, it’s possible the killer is one of them, so meeting in public is much better than meeting in private.”

One of her friends the killer? A new rush of panic flittered through her system, chilling her skin.

She’d never considered that. Why would she after knowing these people for so long? It didn’t seem possible that any of them would want to hurt others.

They could be dining with a murderer tonight. And if they were, how could they even tell?

Isabelle’s hands started to shake, and her pulse pounded hard in her limbs. It was too frightening to consider. Even with Grant at her side.

She laced her fingers over her purse to keep Grant from seeing her tremble. She didn’t want him to hold back information simply because he thought she wasn’t strong enough to handle it. She’d find a way to handle whatever bad news he threw at her.

“I can’t believe that any of them are capable of murder. I know these people. I’ve known them for years.”

“The killer is probably someone else tied to Lavine, but either way, we have to warn the others. If the killer continues in order of when they arrived at Lavine’s, then Everett is next. That’s not the kind of news you give over the phone. And we’re sure as hell not going to meet with him at his home, on the off chance that he’s our guy and he pulls a gun.”

Isabelle stifled a shiver of fear and revulsion. She still couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen what Grant had—that they were being killed in a certain order. At least that got the police to pay attention.

“What was the name of the detective assigned to our case?” she asked.

Grant exited the highway. “Clayton Mathews. I’ll meet with him first thing in the morning and fill him in on the details while you’re at work—unless you want to come along. In the meantime, he asked that we don’t tell anyone that we know about the order of deaths. If the killer knows we know, he might change his pattern, which will make it a lot harder to keep people safe.”

“I won’t say anything, but they might not believe us without that little bit of news. The police didn’t.”

“It’ll be our job to convince them,” said Grant.

“And if we can’t?”

He pulled into the parking lot of the Italian restaurant where they’d chosen to meet and parked the car on the outskirts of the lot, away from the other cars. Security lights cast deep shadows inside the Mustang and over Grant’s lean face. He unfastened his seat belt and turned toward her, shifting his long body beneath the wheel. His golden eyes seemed to catch and hold the light, glittering in the dimness as he looked at her.

He was so beautiful it nearly made her forget all about their dinner plans. It would have been nice to sit here in the quiet with him and look her fill—soak him up as fantasy fuel for after he was gone.

His hand captured hers, and he cradled her fingers in his warm grip. His thumb stroked over her palm, sending a dancing riot of sensation careening toward her heart. He was such a gentle man when he touched her, and for a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to have him for a lover.

She could almost feel his wide hands sliding over her skin, grazing her stomach and ribs, cupping her breasts. He was always so warm, she was sure the heat of his touch would make her melt. She could only imagine how hot his mouth would be as it moved over her body.

The potent image made her tremble and drove all the oxygen from her lungs.

“Don’t worry,” said Grant. “We’ll find a way to convince them. And if we can’t do that, then we’ll make sure they’re protected.”

“How?”

“The police will help now. Detective Mathews has ordered extra patrols on all of your homes.”

“It’s not enough. The police are overworked and under-staffed.”

“My buddy David can probably offer some help. He owns a private security company.”

“You mean the man who you’re going to work for? Isn’t he going to be mad that you’re not already there to help him?”

Grant shrugged and gave her that charming smile that made her feel hot all over—the one that no woman anywhere was strong enough to resist, the one that made her feel like she was the only woman alive and there was nowhere else on earth he’d rather be than here with her.

What a beautiful lie.

“He’ll get over it,” said Grant.

“For your sake, I hope so. I never meant to interfere with your new life.”

“You’re not interfering. I’m choosing to stay.”

No matter the personal cost to his own life. That was the part he didn’t say.

A rush of emotion tightened her throat, and she had to fight the urge to cry out of sheer gratitude. She’d felt the same way the night he’d pulled Lavine off of her and ended up handcuffed in the back of a police car with blood running down his chin.

“Thank you. It means the world to me that I’m not alone in this.”

Isabelle laced her fingers through his. He was so easy to touch, never making her feel like she’d invaded his space, and the more she touched him the easier it got. In truth, she hardly knew him at all, but he’d been in her thoughts for so many years, her body couldn’t tell the difference.

She loved the way his hand felt so solid and strong and how the work-roughened patches of his skin stroked over her softer flesh. He was all man, completely beautiful, and she was finding it more and more difficult concentrating on their job rather than what it would feel like to have those hands glide over her body in a lover’s caress.

“You’ll never be alone, Isabelle. Not so long as I’m only a phone call away.”

She had nothing to say to equal the power of those words, and she tried hard not to tear up. She didn’t want to scare him away or make him think he’d said something wrong when he’d given her such a priceless gift. “I’m lucky to have you in my life.” Even if it was only for a few days every fourteen years.

He gave her a grin and a wink. “You haven’t seen anything yet, honey.”

Isabelle laughed and her tension dissipated. She was pretty sure Grant had planned for that to happen—his teasing calculated to take her mind off what was at stake.

“Let’s go before we start steaming up the windows.”

Grant waggled his eyebrows. “I don’t know. Steaming up the windows sounds like a fun time to me.”

She grinned at him and unfastened her seat belt. “Maybe after dinner.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I see you’re still the same insatiable flirt.”

“Are you kidding? I’m much better at it now than when you last knew me.”

They got out of the car and headed across the parking lot.

“Practice makes perfect. Is that it?” she asked.

Grant looped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her tight against his side. “I’ve only been practicing because I wanted to make sure I was good enough for you.”

She shook her head at his ridiculous statement. “I bet you say that to all the women.”

“Maybe, but it’s always been a lie before now,” he teased.

Isabelle laughed. “If some woman ever does manage to pin you down, she’s going to have her hands full, isn’t she?”

Grant grin widened. “You were peeking when I showered this morning, weren’t you?”

Against her will, her eyes traveled down his body until she was looking at the front of his jeans.

Grant tipped her chin back up with his hand. “No staring,” he chided. “When you look it makes me hot, and I am not walking into a packed restaurant to face a potential killer with a raging boner.”

“You were the one who brought it up,” she reminded him with a grin.

“No, honey. You’re the one who brought it up. I promise.”

The idea she could turn him on made her feel a wicked sense of power. She was itching to see whether he was simply teasing her or he really meant that she could turn him on, but they were at the restaurant doors and her time to experiment was up.

It wasn’t until he was speaking with the hostess that she realized all of her worry and fear had faded away. She no longer felt brittle with tension. He’d distracted her on purpose, she was sure, and once again, she owed him a debt of gratitude.

The hostess showed them to their table.

Isabelle’s feet slowed as they got closer, and her stomach started to churn.

“You can do this,” whispered Grant. “I’ll be right beside you.”

She had no choice but to do this. Her friends needed her.

Isabelle plastered a fake smile on her face and went to the table.

Amanda was already there, waiting for them. Smudges of fatigue darkened her cocoa brown eyes, and her blond hair fell limp around her pretty face. She looked out of place here, wearing the uniform from one of her two waitressing jobs.

Isabelle greeted her with a hug. “Long day?” she asked.

“Not as long as it will be when I’m finally done. I’ve got another shift in an hour, so I can’t stay long.”

“We’ll try to be quick, then.” Isabelle turned and motioned toward Grant. “Do you remember Grant Kent?”

Amanda took the hand Grant offered. “How could I forget? You were my first crush.”

Grant gave her the same charming smile that had probably caused the crush to begin with. It certainly had caused Isabelle’s. “I’m flattered.”

Amanda chuckled. “I’m sure you are. I look so glamorous in my uniform.”

Grant winked at her. “Absolutely fetching.”

Isabelle’s little stab of jealousy shocked her. Grant was a die-hard flirt, and she had no reason to mind that he was doing it with Amanda. But she did.

“Where’s Rachel?” Isabelle asked Amanda, interrupting their banter.

“The teenage girl next door watches her for me on my late nights, which are almost all of them lately. I don’t know what I’ll do when my babysitter goes off to college next year.”

“Rachel can always come stay with me when you’re working. I’d enjoy having the company, especially since Dale will be leaving next year, too.” Isabelle kept the sadness from her voice so Amanda wouldn’t think it had anything to do with her little girl. Rachel was a joy to be around and would help ease Isabelle’s sense of loss when Dale went to college. She knew it was the way it was supposed to be, and that she’d be proud of him when he left, but she wasn’t looking forward to him leaving.

Amanda’s look of relief made Isabelle ache for her friend. The poor woman was barely holding her life together. She’d just come out of a bad marriage, had to work two jobs to make ends meet, and, on top of it all, her daughter was a constant worry. Rachel was one of Isabelle’s students and shy to the point of being nearly crippled by it. Isabelle had been working on pulling her out of her shell for two years now, but she hadn’t made much progress.