“The sergeant has already talked to her,” Aria told him. “She doesn’t need to be yelled at. She needs a fitting punishment. I think a week without wi-fi would be appropriate.”

Therese’s face blanched, and she protested. Both Eli and Aria shushed her.

“If I wanted your advice, I would have asked,” he said. Then, “You called the police?”

“I did,” the redhead behind the counter said. “I’m Emily Parker. This is my shop.”

“I apologize for the trouble,” Eli said, meaning it wholeheartedly. “I’ll reimburse you for any damages.”

“That’s not necessary,” the redhead replied, her smile warming a fraction. “But I’d appreciate it if you kept her away from now on.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “But she has a mind of her own. Did you press charges?” The last thing he needed was to send Therese home with a criminal record. She was his parents’ best hope to keep the business in the family. She needed a spotless record.

“No,” she replied.

Eli was flooded with relief. Finally, some good news. “Oh, thank god.”

“Emily caught Teri, so there’s no harm done,” Aria said. “But if she steals anything else, it’ll be my fault for encouraging Emily to send the sergeant away. Can you keep a closer eye on her?”

Eli’s relief was now tempered by wariness. He didn’t want to be indebted to anyone, especially not this woman. Something about her—the way she looked, the way she spoke—got under his skin. She was attractive and unusual, but it was more than that. She made him uneasy. Perhaps he was waiting for her to pull the mat out from under him. Journalists always did.

“No one asked you to do that,” he murmured. “But thank you. Like I said, I’ll do my best to keep her under control.”

The timer on his phone pinged, and Eli groaned. The pizza he’d put in the oven would be burnt to a crisp by the time they got back. Was anything going to go right today?

“Know any good takeaway places?” he asked.

“Punjab Palace, the Indian restaurant on the main street,” Aria told him. “They make a mean curry.”

“That sounds great.” It really did. After a long, hard day, sitting down with a bowl of lamb vindaloo sounded like heaven.

He ordered Therese to get in the car, only now realizing she’d escaped the situation without saying a word. He stepped outside, and Aria followed him, waving to the florist. He took the chance to have a good look at her. The bright colors were gone, and instead, she was wearing a pair of track pants and a hoody. Her hair was held in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, but escaping tendrils had formed a fluffy halo. She looked normal, but no less sexy for it.