Clara shuddered. “It scares me how easily innocent people can be blamed for something they didn’t do.”
“Well, it’s all over now, and I’m looking to celebrate—”
He broke off as the door flew open and a shrill voice declared, “There you are, Rick! I was wondering why you weren’t in your store!” Roberta Prince sailed across the floor and came to rest right in front of him. “I’m so happy to see you! I just knew they had the wrong person. How anyone could accuse you of murder is simply beyond me.”
Clara coughed, and Roberta threw her a lethal glance before sidling even closer to Rick. “We simply have to go and celebrate, darling. How about tonight? I know this marvelous little place up the coast—”
“Sorry, darling,” Rick said, in a sarcastic drawl, “but I have plans for tonight.”
“Oh.” Roberta looked momentarily taken aback, then she quickly recovered. “How about tomorrow night?”
Rick shook his head.
“The next night?”
Again Rick shook his head.
Obviously uncomfortable now, Roberta began to back away. “Ah, well, we can talk about it later. I have to run for now.” She hurried to the door. “Good to see you back, Rick.” With a flurry of waves she was gone.
Clara watched her stalk past the window and felt sorry for her. Even though Roberta had been readily convinced of Rick’s guilt, Clara knew what it felt like to care that much for someone who didn’t feel the same way. “She means well,” she said, smiling up at Rick. He simply rolled his eyes. “Now, about tonight. I’ll figure out some way to thank the others later, but right now I’d like to show my appreciation to you. I was thinking maybe a northern Italian dinner at my place?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re going to cook?”
“Of course. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted the fruits of my culinary skills.”
“What about Tatters? He helped too, you know.”
“I’ll save him some leftovers.”
She laughed to cover her confusion. It all sounded so intimate. Was she really ready to take the next step with Rick Sanders? Part of her desperately wanted to go, yet another, more sensible part of her was sending warning signals through her head.
Rick was waiting for her answer. She could tell by his expression he was already bracing himself for yet another rejection.
Was it the Quinn Sense warning her, or her own instincts? She decided she didn’t care. Raising her chin, she smiled into his eyes. “I’ll bring the wine.”
A Sinister Sense Page 21
