Night Thunder by Jill Gregory Page A

making it sound like a casual question, but Josy wasn’t fooled.
    “I’m here to catch up on some work. I just needed to get away from it all.”
Yes, like murderers, the people who
trashed my apartment, and possibly the entire NYPD.
    “What kind of work do you do?”
    “Creative stuff. I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested,” she said hurriedly. “The music’s stopped.”
    “So it has.”
    He was still watching her with those piercing eyes, no doubt trying to recall if he’d ever spotted her face on a mug sheet. Josy tried to fight the panic thumping in her chest. Why had she been so snotty to him? Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut, put up with the dance, and done nothing to attract his attention?
    “Thanks for the dance. You’ve done your good deed for the night.” She forced a smile, hoping she looked polite and natural, and not on the verge of a meltdown. “I’m sure your mother will be proud.”
    He grinned suddenly, and it was like a punch to the gut. He was
much
too attractive and even more so when he smiled. Which, she told herself, he probably did only once in a millennium.
    To her dismay, he escorted her back to the table, where Corinne and Roy had already returned. Roberta was still dancing, this time to an upbeat song by Shania Twain. Her long frosted ponytail bounced as she swung on the arm of a thin sixtyish man in a bright yellow shirt. Josy remembered Corinne’s comment about Roberta and all the widowers in town.
At least someone’s having fun,
she thought as the middle-aged waitress and her dance partner showed off their moves.
    “Hope my big cousin didn’t step on your toes,” Roy said as she slipped into her chair.
    “Actually, I stepped on his. But I don’t think I hurt him too much,” she managed to say in a light tone.
    “If you did, no doubt he had it coming. Don’t worry, he’s pretty tough. Big-city cop and all—” Roy broke off at her shocked look.
    Big-city cop?
    “What? He didn’t tell you?”
    “He . . . said he’s the sheriff here.” Josy threw Ty a sharp glance as he dropped into the chair next to hers.
    “Well, yeah, he is, but he used to be a homicide cop in Philadelphia. He’s been decorated, shot, honored by the mayor, the works. You were dancing with a hero.”
    “Cut it out, Roy.” Ty signaled the waitress passing by for a beer.
    Corinne jumped into the breach, talking fast. “Roy, did you know that Josy works for an interior designer? She’s going to give me some tips for redecorating your place . . . I mean, our place. After the wedding, of course.” She looked hopefully at Josy. “You’ll still be here after the twenty-second of May, right?”
    “I’m not sure. I . . . think so.”
    “Interior decorator, eh?” Ty Barclay’s sharp gaze flicked again to her face. “Goes to show what kind of a detective I am. You got more out of her than I did, Corinne. She wouldn’t even tell me what she did for a living.”
    “That’s probably because you scared her, cuz,” Roy put in.
    “Can’t imagine how.” Ty gave a slow, hard smile, but his eyes were too keen for comfort. Josy heard alarm bells screaming in her head.
    Damn it. She’d stirred the suspicions of a cop after only twenty-four hours in Thunder Creek. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.
    The only thing she could do now was try to act as normal as possible. She had to try to stop Ty Barclay from wondering about her, or checking out her background.
    I’m sorry, Ricky,
she thought.
I’m not very good at lying. But I’ll try to fix it.
    “It’s just . . . my ex-boyfriend was a cop,” she heard herself saying, before she could think twice. “And it ended badly.”
    At least that much was true. “So . . . it shook me up a little when you said you were the sheriff here in Thunder Creek. I’m over it now,” she added with a pleasant smile, determined to douse any suspicions Ty might have about her before they could spark into dangerous flames.
    He nodded and leaned