A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

ugly. I won’t be wearing sleeveless tops over the next few weeks,” she stated airily while her insides churned. Why did the very sight of this man leave her feeling so unsettled?
    Rawlings drew so near that Olivia thought he’d kiss her. He didn’t. He reached an arm around her back and gently eased her forward so that her sling barely touched his chest. He put his cheek against hers and used his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingertips then moved under the lobe, tracing a slow line down the skin of her neck to her collarbone. He breathed into her ear. “We got them. Full confessions. It’s done.”
    He pulled back so that he could look into her eyes, leaving Olivia instantly hungry for his touch. “The moment the Donald siblings were out from under their parents’ thumbs, they began to plan their revenge against their classmates. Anyone who repeatedly taunted them with the cliché ‘the cat got your tongue’ was to be punished. They had an entire list of enemies to terrorize and a dozen more cliché tableaus to create.”
    “ I’ll certainly think twice about using one in my writing,” Olivia joked softly.
    Rawlings continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “And when the paperwork involving the Donald siblings has been filed and all the press interviews are done and Oyster Bay falls quiet again, I will want one thing and only one thing.” His gaze was electric. “I’m here to see whether you will grant me this one thing.”
    Olivia took his wide, strong hand in her own. “What would that be?”
    “An evening. A bottle of wine. Some time to see what this is. In short . . .” His eyes met hers, green and golden brown in the light. “You.”
    Pushing aside thoughts of the dramatic morning, her blood test, and the fact that she needed to tell Rawlings that she was no longer involved with Flynn, Olivia smiled. “I think we can work something out.”
    Behind Rawlings, a delivery truck pulled into the parking lot and Olivia dropped the chief’s hand. “Come inside. I believe there’s a chocolate milk with your name on it.”
    Millay looked up when the pair reentered the bar. “Gabe’s got a nice setup back here. I could get used to not standing on beer-covered concrete all night long. Chief? What’ll it be?”
    Rawlings placed his order and then informed the Bayside Book Writers that the case of the Cliché Killers was closed. “I’ll grant you the first interview if you’re interested,” he told Laurel.
    “Of course she is!” Harris shouted. “Having one of us being published on a regular basis gives this group some weight. You’re our pathfinder, Laurel. You can’t stop now!”
    Laurel laughed. “When you put it that way . . .”
    Millay put both palms on the bar. “Olivia. I need some whole milk. Gabe only has half-and-half in this fridge, so unless the chief wants to clog an artery before he starts giving Laurel here a bunch of stellar quotes, you’d better grab some from the kitchen.”
    Olivia was about to walk away when Millay called her name again. “And some lab called. I pretended I was you and they told me that your blood test was positive.” She grinned. “You’re a little old to be getting knocked up, aren’t you?” She paused, seeing the stricken look on Olivia’s face.” Hey, I’m just messing with you. You’d have the smartest, best-looking, richest kid in town. You’d be single mother of the year! Olivia?”
    It was all Olivia could do to wave off Millay’s ridiculous assumption and continue on toward the kitchen. She could feel every eye upon her as she walked away, yet the simple act of putting one foot in front of another was remarkably difficult.
    The entire kitchen staff had arrived and had begun preparations for a busy Friday night. Olivia moved through the activity and chatter like a zombie. The milk was forgotten. Rawlings was forgotten. The throbbing in her arm came at her from a great distance.
    In her office, she sank into her chair and struggled to breathe normally.
    “My father is alive,” she told the room. She looked from the desk to the telephone to the computer. “My father is alive.”
    The objects remained blissfully mute. There was no living thing to bear witness to the mixture of hope and agony surging through Olivia’s heart. For that, she was grateful.
    She didn’t know when Haviland trotted into the office, but his presence allowed Olivia to function again. She looked up the Okracoke Ferry schedule