Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,16

roofs and college woes and in-law problems?

He blew out a breath and smoothed down his tie. Those were the only kinds of topics he and Alison ever discussed anymore. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d felt the tiniest zing of romance between the two of them.

But every Monday at eleven-thirty, Carolyn reminded him of what he was missing.

And if their innocent lunches gave him a lift—what was the harm in that?

She caught sight of him and raised a hand in greeting, her welcoming smile drawing him forward.

He wove through the bar toward her, tamping down another wave of guilt. His lunches with Carolyn were totally aboveboard and 100 percent business.

Except you enjoy them too much . . . and you’re flirting with danger . . . and you’re being unfair to Alison.

Fine.

That was all true.

And while nothing untoward had happened yet, if this kept up . . . if Carolyn ever gave him the slightest indication she was interested in taking their relationship to a different level . . . the urge to cave would be strong.

He should put an end to these meetings, remove the temptation.

And he would.

Soon.

But not today.

“I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.” Carolyn slid off the stool as he joined her.

“Sorry. It was crazy at the station this morning.”

“I’ll bet, after that fake bomb stunt.”

“I saw your article about it in Saturday’s paper. First-class reporting.”

“Thanks. I’m continuing to follow the story, but my sources at the PD say there’s nothing new.”

“That’s what Eve told me too.” He motioned toward the dining room. “Shall we claim our table?”

“By all means. I’m starving.”

She preceded him to their usual spot, plucked up her napkin, and draped it over her lap. “How’s Eve holding up?”

“The woman is a rock. In her shoes, I’d be seriously spooked. Are you having the usual?”

She gave a low, throaty laugh that juiced his libido. “You know me too well.”

“Your lunch preferences, in any case.” He swallowed, gave the order to the waiter, and handed the man the menus.

“I assume the police think the bomb person is a disgruntled listener.”

“They’re not saying much, but that would be my guess. The detective’s going to come by to review all the negative social media communication Eve gets. They also put a trap on our incoming phone line for the show.”

“And she’s not worried?”

“If she is, she’s doing a masterful job covering it.”

“You have to admire her guts—even if she could be taking a big chance. There’s a surplus of nuts out there these days. I’m not sure it’s worth putting your life at risk for a show.”

“What would you do in her place?”

She gave him a rueful look. “I wish I had that problem.”

“Your day will come.” Carolyn hadn’t been coy about the fact that her long-term plans included developing an on-air radio personality. It was why she’d sought him out. But as he’d told her—and she understood—those kinds of opportunities were few and far between. The number of slots in a twenty-four-hour schedule was limited.

“I’m beginning to wonder about that.”

“My advice hasn’t changed. Keep plugging away with your podcast, build your audience—and when an opening comes along, you’ll be ready. That’s how Eve broke through.”

“I know. I’ve studied her success. It’s inspiring. But back to this bomb situation. Is she taking any special precautions?”

“Not that I know of, although I expect she’s watching her back.”

“Are you worried about her?” Carolyn picked up a breadstick and twirled it in her fingers. “I mean, what if something happens to her? Are you going to feel any sense of responsibility? It would be terrible to have to live with that kind of guilt.”

Yeah, he knew all about guilt. He was feeling a ton of it just sitting here enjoying the company of an articulate, vivacious, attractive woman who wasn’t his wife.

But guilt over Eve?

That wasn’t a concern he’d considered.

“To be honest, I haven’t given that much thought. I’m hoping the police find the perpetrator and put this to bed.”

“I hear you.” She pulled a folder out of the small portfolio she always brought to their lunches. “I wanted to show you the topics I’m thinking about introducing on my podcast, get your take. I think they may attract a bigger audience.”

“Sure. Let’s take a look.”

During the remainder of their lunch, he focused on their programming discussion—and tried to ignore the faint, alluring scent that clung to Carolyn’s hair and drifted his direction whenever she turned her head.

By the time their separate checks came—another attempt

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