Flamingo Diner by Sherryl Woods Page A

back of this card.” He handed it to her, noting the beginnings of a smile tugging on her lips. “What?”
    “Matt Atkins, Chief of Police,” she said with a shake of her head. “I guess we really are all grown-up now.”
    He shrugged. “So they say.” For the last few hours, he’d felt like a teenager again, awkward and uncertain in the presence of a girl on which he’d had a secret crush forever.
    When she reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek, he turned so that her lips brushed his. It was just a fleeting, unexpected caress, but it was enough to send fire shooting through his veins.
    When he looked into Emma’s eyes, he saw by her startled reaction that the kiss had done something to her, too. Then her gaze turned shuttered, as if she’d suddenly remembered that her father had just died,and Matt cursed himself for being a jerk. The woman was in mourning and he was sneaking kisses just to prove something to himself.
    And what had he proved? That he could coax a reaction from her? That he still felt a powerful pull where Emma Killian was concerned? Or simply that he was about as sensitive as a sledgehammer?
    He considered apologizing, then decided that would make way too much of what had been little more than a friendly peck on the lips.
    “Get some sleep,” he ordered brusquely instead.
    “You, too. You must be exhausted.”
    He had been, but then he’d met Emma at the airport and he’d caught a second wind. “I’m used to long hours.”
    “But not to finding a friend drowned in the lake, I imagine,” she said quietly, a quaver in her voice as if the haunting image had lodged in her head.
    “No, not to that,” he agreed. “Don’t focus on that, Emma. It doesn’t do any good.”
    “How can I not?” she asked wistfully. “I’m afraid when I close my eyes that’s what I’ll see. It’s just been words up till now, but I’m afraid if I try to sleep, I’ll see what you saw.”
    To be honest, Matt shared the same fear. The scene was indelibly inscribed in his head. Even without having been the one to pull Don from that car, he’d seen him in the murky water, still and lifeless. If it had been horrifying for him, how much worse would it be for Emma? Thank God he’d been the one to discover Don, and not someone in the family who would be haunted by the image forever.
    “Come on, then,” he said, making a decision.
    Swearing to himself that this was not a totally self-serving act, he led the way into the living room and pulled Emma down on the sofa beside him.
    “What are you doing?” she demanded, but she didn’t resist. “Matt, you don’t need to stay. You need to go home and get some sleep.”
    “I can pretty much sleep in any position, especially after being up more than twenty-four hours straight,” he said, gently tugging her until her head was resting against his shoulder. “Now, go to sleep. I’ll be right here, if you start to have nightmares.”
    “I can’t let you do this,” she protested sleepily, but her eyes were already drifting closed.
    Eventually he felt her relax against him, heard her breathing ease. Then, and only then, did he turn off the light and let himself fall asleep.

5
    “W ell, if this isn’t just fucking terrific!”
    Emma was awakened by the sound of Jeff’s disgusted voice. “What’s going on?” she mumbled sleepily. She squinted and caught a glimpse of her brother’s outraged expression. “Jeff? Is everything okay?”
    She felt something shift beneath her and realized that she was resting not against a pillow in her own bed, but against Matt’s chest. At her sudden movement, he groaned and stirred.
    “Dad’s dead, and the two of you are making it in the living room,” Jeff accused. “Yeah, looks to me like life’s just peachy, at least for you.”
    “We are not making it,” Emma said calmly, straightening her blouse as she stood up. Jeff was clearly looking for someone on whom to take out his anger. She refused to let him goad her