Final Deposit by Lisa Harris Page A

to pick up a large shard, she winced as one of the sharp edges grazed her finger. Blood pooled at the tip.
    â€œHey. Slow down.” Kyle snatched a paper towel from the roll and gently grasped her hand, letting the paper absorb the red stain.
    She stared up at him as he took care of her hand, gazing at his handsome face. His eyes met hers, and he pulled her into his arms again. She could feel his heart beat against her cheek and for a moment, she felt warm and safe. If only she could stay here for a while and forget all about everything.
    But there wasn’t time.
    She took a step back, burying dizzying emotions that would have to be explored on another day. Right now, she had to find a way to get her father out of this mess.
    Kyle cleared his throat and handed her his untouched mug of coffee. The moment between them had vanished. “I want you to sit down and drink this. I’ll clean up the mess.”
    She fumbled with the handle. “I couldn’t let you—”
    â€œYes, you can.” He smiled and turned away.
    Obeying orders, she pulled out one of the stools and sat down at the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room, and brought the mug to her lips. She breathed in the rich aroma, and her stomach growled. Loudly.
    â€œYou haven’t eaten yet today, have you?” He glanced up at her as he swept the shards into the dustpan.
    â€œI had a few sips of OJ at the hospital.”
    â€œI’m admittedly a horrible cook—I live on frozen dinners and takeout most the time—but I can make a killer omelet if your dad has a few basics in the fridge.”
    â€œYou’re offering to make me breakfast?” Her eyes widened. “I’m starting to wish I hadn’t lost track of you.” She felt a blush rush up her cheeks. Did she have to be quite so obvious? She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry. I—”
    â€œI’ve always believed that life is too short to beat around the bush.” He shot her a grin, then dumped the broken glass into the trash can. “Omelet?”
    â€œYeah. That would be great.” She took a sip of the coffee. “What if last night’s break-in had something to do with all of this?”
    â€œI’ve been thinking about that myself.”
    He stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips. “First things first. Frying pan?”
    â€œBottom right-hand cupboard.”
    â€œOil?”
    â€œCabinet next to the fridge.”
    â€œSalt and pepper?”
    Lindsey slid off the bar stool, then stopped at his questioning gaze.
    â€œWhere do you think you’re going? Sit back down there, young lady, and relax.”
    She grinned, amazed that he’d managed to make her smile again on a day like this. “Yes, sir.”
    Kyle proceeded to gather the items he needed. She watched his smooth, fluid movements. He might not be brilliant in the kitchen, but he still looked good in his khaki T-shirt that lay taut against his broad chest.
    â€œOkay. Back to your question.” He set the pan on the stove, turned on the burner and started chopping onions. “In the cases I’ve dealt with, there have been times when the victims ran out of money after maxing out credit cards and using up every available line of cash. The next step is often to borrow from friends or family. They might say they have a surefire business opportunity but are short on capital, or that they’ve come into a large amount of money but need funds to access it. Your father may have borrowed money intending to pay it back once he received his share of the fortune.”
    â€œSo the guy gets mad because my father can’t pay back the loan. But why the break-in?” she asked. “There’s nothing to steal.”
    â€œIt’s possible that the break-in was merely intended as a form of ‘encouragement’ to pay up.”
    Goose bumps ran up her arms despite the warmth of the