Old Maid's Puzzle

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Authors: Terri Thayer

Tags: #Mystery

BOOK: Old Maid's Puzzle
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Old
Maid's
Puzzle

OTHER BOOKS BY TERRI THAYER

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FORTHCOMING BY TERRI THAYER

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Old

Maid s

Puzzle

TEftNf THAYEN

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Old Maid's Puzzle wouldn't have been possible without the support of my super critiquers, Beth Proudfoot and Becky Levine. They keep me grounded and on track. They keep Dewey moving forward, and Kym in our sights.

Technical help came from Mike Hahn of the San Jose Police Department, and John Howsden, retired from Fremont Police Department. I picked a very small portion of their vast knowledge to help my story along. I greatly appreciate their generosity.

To Mary Hernan, thanks for the bagels and brainstorming.

Thanks to the fans who enjoyed Wild Goose Chase. This one is for you! It's nice to have an audience.

To all the Midnight Ink staff, a hearty thank you. You make me look good!

Old Maid's Puzzle block is an old design, sometimes called Hour Glass, School Girl's Puzzle, or Double X. The basic nine-patch block is made from six half-square triangles and 3 plain blocks. When set side by side, lovely secondary patterns emerge. Change the position of the light, dark, and medium fabrics for endless possibilities.

ONE

"YOU'VE GOT A FINELY honed definition of celibacy, Healy," I gasped through gritted teeth. Buster Healy leaned back on the arm of the couch and grinned.

His shirt was draped over the slatted rocker. My T-shirt was acting as a dust magnet on the oak floor and my bra was slung over the beaded lampshade. His jeans were firmly zipped up. Mine were unzipped but still on my hips-barely.

We were playing at our nightly activity of refraining from sex. Buster's definition of celibacy was that his body was off-limits but mine was fair game.

We were supposed to be renovating. I owned a tiny bungalow on the verge of a nice neighborhood in San Jose. A definite workin-progress. A UFO, my quitter customers would call it. Unfinished Object.

Tonight Buster and I had stained the twin built-in corner cabinets in the dining room. We'd finished early and found ourselves with time on our hands. Play time.

A deep breath restored some equilibrium. A guy as virile and handsome as Buster choosing to be chaste, that was a major turnon. His celibacy was a one-way street, though, with him having the right-of-way to my cul-de-sac. And I was denied through access. I wanted our deal to end tonight.

My body pulsed with sensation. "I can't take much more of this"

He nuzzled the end of my nose. "That's where you're wrong. The beauty of a woman's body is that she can withstand more excitement than a man."

I'd never met a guy with that particular theory about sex before.

"Did I even agree to this ban?" I asked.

I knew that I had. I'd even conceded that we might have gotten off to too quick a start the first time we reconnected, by jumping into bed. Twice. In two days.

That was nearly six months ago. Since then, we'd taken things slowly, dating as though we'd just met and hadn't grown up together. As though we hadn't had sex the first time we'd noticed each other as adults. The dating had progressed and I was ready to take things to the next stage. Buster was balking, sticking to the original deadline, which was still two weeks away. My plan required his full cooperation.

I continued my argument for breaking the boycott. "I thought the ban was on all forms. Any public service announcement will tell you that sex is sex. Just because it doesn't involve actual..."

"I know, I saw that After School Special, too."

"And?"

"Aren't you having fun?" His fingertips danced up my spine.

Hard to argue with that. Sometimes I had fun twice a night.

But I wasn't going to give up. My father had been sure I'd grow up to be a lawyer, since I loved to debate. Being a quilt shop owner didn't give me much opportunity to argue, unless I counted every conversation with my sisterin-law. I took in a deep breath.

"If `no means no,' it only follows that `yes means yes' Yes?" I said.

"No" Buster moved behind me, kneading the muscles between my shoulder blades. I was like a guitar string. He knew just when to tighten and when to slacken. He rested his chin on my shoulder. The point of his jaw dug into the tender flesh, but I welcomed the pain.

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