Memories of Us by Linda Winfree

His hand tightened on the cup and he glanced toward the hall, anticipation settling heavy in him. This was ridiculous. He was reacting like a teenager catching a glimpse of his crush. The self-recrimination didn’t lighten the tightness in his chest any.
    “In the shop,” Cicely called back.
    Moments later, Celia appeared in the squared-off entry. She stopped, staring at him, her face unreadable. An uncontrollable smile quirked at his mouth. God, she looked so different at home. He’d gotten a glimpse of her other fashion side at the crime scene and here was another one—a white cotton camisole top, snug jeans, leather thong sandals with beads and stones. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and he wanted to wrap it around his hand, experience the softness of it, pull her in and cover her mouth with his. A surge of arousal joined the anticipation low in his abdomen.
    She moved forward and he shook himself free of the sensual haze. Sadness seemed to drag at her features. Where had she gone after leaving the office, to put that expression on her face? Or was it left over from what they’d witnessed in the autopsy lab that morning? He hadn’t been able to shake the images of the baby’s body all day.
    He set the cup aside. “Hello.”
    “Hey.” She brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears, and joined her sister on the other side of the counter. “Why are you here?”
    “I…” The thin silver chain she always wore dipped between her breasts, whatever lay on the chain nestled between them. He tugged his gaze upwards, to the smooth curve of her shoulder then to her eyes, as shuttered as her sister’s. “I needed the file on the Finney case. Raquel thought you might have it, but you’d already left the sheriff’s office and weren’t answering your cell.” My God, he was rambling. Get to the point, man. “I thought I’d run by and pick it up on the way home.”
    She nodded. “I didn’t have my cell with me. I’ve got the file next door. I brought it home to review for my testimony.”
    A smile slid over Cicely’s face. “We were just having some tea and a chat while he waited.”
    A look passed between the sisters and Celia lifted her eyebrows. “Bet that was interesting.”
    “Definitely.” Tom tucked his hands in his pockets. He felt like he was outside some inner secret here, almost as if the sisters had some kind of in-joke at his expense. “The file?”
    Celia tilted her head toward the hall. “Come on back.”
    He followed, eyeing the sway of her hips encased in dark denim. God, she had beautiful curves, from graceful shoulders to her firm breasts, to gently rounded hips and the sweetest ass he’d ever seen. He was bordering on obsession here and she was oblivious. In the dim light, silver winked at him above the low waist of her jeans. Body jewelry. Did she wear that under her pinstripes and silk at the office? A buzz of arousal rippled through his groin. He swallowed hard. She was his employee and he was ogling her behind her back, conjuring up salacious fantasies.
    “So you live with your sister?”
    “It’s a duplex.” Halfway down the hall, she swung a door inward and stepped through. “We converted it a couple years ago when she opened the shop. She got the big room up front and the right side, I got the left and the attic loft.”
    He entered the room after her and immediate peace settled on him, releasing the sensory overload he’d experienced in the shop. “Why the Bell, Candle and Broomstick? Is that symbolic or something?”
    “Cis’s tongue-in-cheek sense of humor.” She crossed the room and pulled open a pine armoire, revealing a television and several baskets. She rummaged through one. “I think she actually has an antique brush broom over there somewhere.”
    He glanced around. Plush couch, comfy chair, an ottoman—all in rich, touchable fabrics and earthy colors. A collection of photos shared space on a table beneath the window with a large clear globe. He