Tempted by a Dangerous Man by Cleo Peitsche Page B

I never joined social media, and I always used my initials for business dealings. But you won’t find anything. It was erased.”
    “So you’re officially dead?”
    “No. More like a ghost.”
    “I heard that drug dealers and pimps have to pay taxes, so you must, too.”
    “Nice parallels. And yes, I do pay taxes. I’m a private chef.” He stretched and stood. “Speaking of which, I should rustle up dinner.”
    As I followed him down the steps, I cursed myself for jumping in with so many questions. I really did want to know about his wife, the mysterious other Audrey, but I was terrified. I knew he wasn’t over her yet, or not over her death at least, and it was clear from the way he talked that he missed her.
    The cabin had grown quite warm in our absence. “Not bad work for a little stove,” I said as I pulled off my boots and coat. I also removed the snow pants because they made too much noise when I walked. Long underwear served quite fine as pants. “Guess there’s not so much space to heat.”
    Corbin raised an amused eyebrow. “Electric heat. I switched it on when we arrived.”
    “Electric…” But there were lamps, and the stove and refrigerator. Hell, there were appliances everywhere. I just hadn’t thought about it. “Thought we were in the middle of nowhere.”
    He looked even more tickled.
    “What?”
    “You’re going to be surprised tomorrow.” Whistling, he started pulling out pans.
    “Why surprised?”
    That made him laugh. “Don’t want to ruin it.”
    I narrowed my eyes as I coiled myself into one of the chairs so that I could watch him. “I don’t get the sense that it’s a good surprise.”
    “I know I’m going to enjoy it.” Corbin grabbed a red onion, removed the ends and the skin, and began chopping it coarsely, his large hands nimble.
    “So what happened? To your wife? Was she sick?”
    “No. She… later. Another time.”
    Damn. Who knew if I’d be able to get him talking again? Me and my big, interrupting mouth.
    Still, I could take solace in one thing: Corbin had once had a nice, normal life.  
    If he didn’t want to talk about his wife, there were plenty of other mysteries that he could solve. “Whose cabin is this?”
    “Mine. Paid cash for the cabin and everything in it. It’s completely off the radar. There’s a woman who owns the surrounding land. If anyone showed up asking questions, she’d play the sweet old grandmother on them. If that failed, she’d probably unload both barrels. Though there’s no reason for anyone to come here. I pay her yearly for utilities. Safe haven.” He grinned. “You should feel special.”
    “Oh, believe me, I do. Just being in your presence is like winning the lotto.”
    “Can’t hear sarcasm when I’m cooking, so thank you.”  
    I was about to ask more questions about the houses and vehicles, but there was something I’d been thinking about a lot. “What was the thing in your wallet that you almost showed me?”
    Corbin poured oil into the pan on the burner. A moment later, he added some orangish powder, then scraped the onions in. “I promised myself that I would answer all your questions from now on, but it’s not so easy,” he admitted somberly. “I dislike talking about the past.”
    “Promised yourself when?” I asked, hoping to lighten his mood a bit. “Come on, that’s an easy question!”
    He shot me an aggrieved look. “While we were walking. Though I can always change my mind again.”
    I held my hands up in surrender.  
    “Several things in my wallet. You’re still welcome to look, but the most important is my wedding photo. No matter how far undercover I am, I have it on me.”
    And that was another kick in the gut, much harder than the first one. He had flat-out told me that he was still dealing with losing her, but I had buried that fact. Convenient… until it wasn’t.
    I realized that I needed to respond. Since I absolutely didn’t want to see that picture, I asked, “What did she