by Mary Behre
The bells on the front door tinkled gently just before Diana opened the door with a flourish. Dressed in a pink pleated, ankle-length skirt and a button-down white blouse, she hugged an army green duffel bag to her chest and hurried inside.
In her standard combat boots, Diana clomped right through the ghost. The apparition blew apart like smoke on a windy day, only to form again where she’d been before Diana stepped through her.
With a shudder, Diana hurried over to the counter and said, “Let me change into my real clothes and I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” Jules replied automatically, and turned to watch the girl rush to the back.
“Hey, Jules!” Diana called out. “Can you turn up the heat? You don’t want customers to FTAO.”
The door to the bathroom closed with a snap, negating any need to respond.
“What is FTAO?” said a husky male voice.
Jules yelped in surprise and turned to find Seth standing on the other side of the counter. She hadn’t heard him come in. She frantically glanced around the shop. The ghost was gone.
Where’d she go?
“Jules?” Seth repeated his question, “What is FTAO?”
She met his gaze and grinned. “Freeze their a— er, butts off.”
His lips twitched. “She’s got a point. It’s a bit drafty by the door, but it’s not so bad once you come inside.” He paused, then winked at her. “It’s nice to see you again. Feeling better today?”
Heat crawled up her cheeks.
“I’m sorry about yesterday.” She took in his light green shirt, black slacks, and shiny black shoes. While she was sure the slacks looked better on him from behind—or rather, his behind probably looked excellent in them—he made for a maddeningly distracting male specimen in her shop.
What do I do with the first sex-god-warrior I meet? My impression of the Exorcist.
She repressed a shudder of embarrassment and said, “I’ll pay to replace your shoes and slacks.”
He laughed, a hearty, rich sound that filled her with warmth. “No need to go that far. Just have lunch with me today and we’ll call it even.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded. “While we’re eating, we can talk about what happened at the Dumpster and I can get your statement. I really should have done it yesterday but you looked too ill to be interviewed.”
For one brief, incredibly stupid moment, she thought he was asking her out. She’d actually forgotten he was a cop. But of course, a man as hot as Seth wouldn’t ask out a freckle-faced florist shop manager.
“So lunch is at the station, I take it.” A shiver crawled down her spine at the thought of going near a police station.
He shrugged and offered her another warm smile. “I was thinking we could grab a bite to eat at one of the local restaurants. What do you say?”
Surprised by his offer, she replied, “Sounds wonderful. Do you like Greek?”
Was it her imagination or did he flinch?
“Got a place in mind for lunch?” When she didn’t answer him immediately, he prompted, “Anything you like.”
“Well, Philomena’s has the best Greek food in town. I used to eat there all the time when I was in high school. I haven’t been back in years but heard the food is better than ever. You ever been?”
“To Philomena’s?” An inscrutable expression crossed his face and for a moment she thought he’d balk at her suggestion. Seth leaned on the counter. Suddenly the space between them seemed infinitely smaller. Intimate. And when she inhaled, sandalwood invaded her senses. “Yes, I’ve been there. It’s always been my favorite place.”
“Really?”
“Definitely.” He nodded then grinned at her. “Ready to go?”
“Yes,” she said, happy that for the moment she could pretend she didn’t see ghosts, he wasn’t a cop, and she hadn’t yakked all over him twenty-four hours ago.
“Great!” He smacked his hands against the counter. “Are you ready for the best Greek of your life?”
If you’re on the menu.
CHAPTER 7
SETH SHOULD HAVE been driving her to the station for questioning. Instead, he was escorting her to his mother’s restaurant for lunch. Hell, he’d waited, again, to talk to her when it was convenient. For her.
If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up blowing his case. But he couldn’t quite believe Jules had anything to do with the murder.
Even though she’d discovered the body, and her phone had been found with the victim, and the victim was a dead ringer for what Jules had looked like the night he’d met her, Seth was positive she was an innocent bystander. In his gut, he knew she was guiltless. Crazy as it seemed, his gut had never been wrong before, so he trusted it.
He just needed to figure out how she’d managed to get mixed up in his case. Then get her out of it.
Jules shifted on the seat next to him. Tearing his gaze from the road, he caught a flash of purple in the neckline of her polo shirt. Her bra was purple today. He suddenly wished someone would jaywalk in front of him so he could slam on the brakes and get a better look at her bra. Great! Like an untried adolescent, he was getting turned on by glimpses of her underwear.
Or maybe I’m just thinking with the head that sits south of my waist?
That had to be it.
Why else would he have offered to let her pick the restaurant and not argued when she’d chosen his mother’s establishment? Grimacing to himself, he slowed down and turned left onto Arctic Avenue. When she had requested Philomena’s, he should have just urged her to choose someplace else or admitted it was his mother’s restaurant. So why hadn’t he?
Easy. He was going insane.
Taking Jules to Philomena’s could only spell trouble for him. His family would flock around him the moment he stepped inside. Unless . . .
He might be okay if he managed to find a booth near the back. With a little luck, he might even nab a non–family member as his waitress. Simple. All he had to do was put the word out through the server that he wasn’t to be disturbed. He could conduct his interview at the restaurant and still maintain his privacy.
Coils of tension started to loosen in his shoulders at the thought of getting through lunch without his family descending upon him. They had been known to leave him alone from time to time if he made it clear that he didn’t want them interfering.
Who am I kidding? I’m just going insane from the lack of blood to the head on my shoulders.
His mother’s restaurant was only three blocks away. If he hit the lights just right he could be there in three minutes. If not, it could take fifteen and he could possibly conduct the majority of the interview in the car. Then they could just enjoy lunch.
The first light turned red.
“What’s with the lambs?” Jules asked, jerking his attention from his thoughts to her face.
She blushed clear down to the swell of her breasts that peeked from beneath the polo top.
He wondered if she blushed all over. He bet she tasted like strawberries. Shaking his head to dispel his wanton thoughts, he tried to focus. What had she asked, something about . . . lambs?
“What are you talking about?”
She gestured to the tie dangling from his rearview mirror.
Seth surprised himself by answering, “My mother, despite her devoutly attending church on Sundays, is heavily into horoscopes.”
“Ah,” Jules replied, nodding her head, but her eyebrows lifted in obvious confusion.
“I’m an Aries,” he clarified, but when she didn’t do more than widen her eyes, he asked, “You have heard of horoscopes, haven’t you?”
“Of course, I have. I’m a Cancer, but what does that have to do with the lambs?”
Seth stole another glance at her as he stopped for the second red light. He needed to question her, not discuss his mother’s penchant for giving him presents covered in barnyard animals.
Anytime anyone asked him about his rams, he closed up and wanted to
pound something. But with Jules, he could see the humor in it.
Her lips twitched. She wanted to laugh. He knew it. Hell, he laughed whenever his mother gifted him with a new ram.
Suddenly, seeing Jules laugh became a high priority. So instead of questioning her, he answered her. “Aries are smart, stubborn, strong, and”—he inhaled before finishing in a high-pitched, thickly accented imitation of his Greek mother—“‘as an Aries, my son, you are destined for greatness.’”
Laughter burst from her, rich and infectious. Her eyes sparkled and her entire face glowed with warmth, making her more beautiful than she already was. Damn, he liked that.
He liked her.
He shook his head and added in his own voice, “What I’m destined for is a lifetime supply of all things ram.”
“Why not just tell your mom you don’t like lambs?” Jules asked in a breathless, sexy tone that sent his pulse hammering.
“They’re rams.” He snapped the tie free and jerked it over his head before noticing it clashed hideously with his green shirt. Ripping it off again, he added with a grunt, “It would kill her if she thought I didn’t like her gift.”
“So you wear it.”
“Yeah,” he admitted with a half-smile and dropped it on the console between them. “But what can I do?”
“You wear an ugly tie just because your mother gave it to you?” Her features softened and she added, “That has to be the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
“Thanks.” He shifted in his seat, as he slowed the car at the second stoplight. “Jules, I wanted to ask you—”
But he didn’t finish his question because she said at the same time, “So you must be—”
He cleared his throat. “Must be what?”
The light turned green and he pressed his foot to the gas pedal again before chancing another glance at her. She grinned at him in such a devious manner, he wondered if he’d made a mistake asking. But, at the same time, he couldn’t resist finding out. “I must be what?”
“Worried about what I was going to say?” Her large green eyes widened in exaggerated innocence. “Don’t be. I was going to say that only someone secure in his manhood could wear a tie that awful in public unless he’s someone who really loves his mother.”
“I can’t be both?” he teased back. Damn, he shouldn’t be doing this. He needed to at least begin to interview her before they arrived at the restaurant but he was having too much fun to stop.
“I guess you can.” She cocked her head; her expression grew pensive momentarily, then her brows lifted and a grin tugged at her lips. She nodded at him in obvious approval, making pride swell inside him.
Seth turned the wheel and pulled into a spot outside of Philomena’s.
He cut the engine and turned to find Jules staring out the side window at the restaurant, tugging on her left earlobe.
He shouldn’t care if she was nervous. Hell, he was nervous. Suddenly, he found himself praying that his instincts were correct and she truly was an innocent caught up in his case.
Only one way to find out: conduct the interview. He had a job to do and he was determined to do it. Yet he found himself asking, “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She stopped fidgeting and faced him. “Again, thanks for being so cool and not doing this interview downtown.”
“No problem.” He replied, noting the small shudder that went through her as she spoke. “Police stations make you that uncomfortable?”
“How did you guess?”
“You tug on your earlobe when you’re nervous.”
“I do?” She blinked.
He couldn’t quite suppress a grin as he watched her reach for her ear again. Realizing it, she suddenly dropped her hand to her side.
“Weird, huh? Being nervous about police stations, I mean.” She blushed.
“Not really,” he said, opening his door. Wanting to put her at ease again, he added, “They make most folks nervous, including me. The food there is terrible.”
She laughed.
He hurried around to her side of the car, but she’d already exited. She stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the giant pita his cousin Antony had assured his mother would increase sales. The enormous sign hung precariously from the roof and looked as if it might launch itself at some unsuspecting customer at any moment.
From the way Jules trailed her gaze from the cumbersome pita to the front door and back again, Seth suspected her thoughts ran along the same lines. Jules said, “I don’t remember that being here when I was in high school.”
“It’s fairly new.” Resisting the urge to go around and enter through the back door, like he normally did, he captured her by the elbow.
She jumped but didn’t pull away.
“Shall we?” He leaned down to whisper into her ear.
“You betcha!” Jules grinned and her eyes twinkled.
Seth opened the door and waited for Jules to cross the threshold. He followed her inside and tried to keep his eyes off her perfect heart-shaped ass.
They were here to conduct an interview. And he needed to get his head on straight before his mother caught him ogling. Otherwise, she’d have them engaged and their wedding planned before the moussaka was served.
• • •
THE RESTAURANT WAS a nautical Greek-themed establishment with a homey quality. Flags, rugs, and posters from the Greek Isles decorated the walls and ceiling. Even the muted ceiling fans turning quietly above accentuated the Mediterranean feel.
Jules loved it.
She inhaled the warm aromas of Greek spices, fresh pizza, and lamb. The deli counter to her left bustled with energy. Two women hurried behind the counter, taking orders and passing slips of paper through a window to the kitchen, where a man served up the food on stoneware plates. Unlike most of the mom-and-pop places in Tidewater, which had disposable dishes and utensils, Philomena’s used actual flatware and real plates. Blue glasses and hand-painted plates laden with made-to-order food graced the half dozen cloth-covered bistro tables near the front.
Along the opposite wall from the kitchen were booths with navy linens on the tables and white cloth napkins waiting beneath gleaming silverware. The leather seats of the booths shined beneath muted colors of mosaic-style lamps hanging over each table.
A pretty brunette waitress loaded several delicious-smelling meals onto her tray. She bent her knees before propping the overly large tray onto her right shoulder, then straightened. “Thanks, Uncle Antony,” she shouted through the open kitchen window to the surprisingly handsome blond cook.
When she spun around, the girl froze a few feet from where Jules and Seth stood. Her hazel eyes wide, she glanced over her shoulder to the women behind the counter, who paid her no attention.
Seth grabbed Jules by the hand, practically dragging her through the small eating area to a booth at the back of the restaurant. She probably should have resisted being hauled around like a child, but she was too curious. The man ran hot and cold, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had him nearly pole-vaulting over the tables to the tiny booth nestled against the far wall near the restrooms. It might have seemed an odd choice, but the place was packed.
As they seated themselves, Jules glanced up to see Seth’s black brows lower and his mouth flatten into a thin line. He thrust a plastic-coated menu in her face, inadvertently smacking her in the nose with it.
“Oh. Did I hurt you?” he whispered, pulling the menu out of her hand.
Jules gasped when his index finger stroked the bridge of her nose. His lightly roughened skin soothed away any sting she might have experienced and sent her heart tripping. Seth turned his hand over and caressed her cheek with a knuckle.
Just like in the car, her defenses lowered. She reminded herself she shouldn’t show weakness around him. He might be the sexiest man she’d ever seen up close, but Seth had a fatal flaw no amount of beauty could fix. He was a cop on a case. A case that involved her in ways someone like him would never believe.
She needed to be extra careful around him. But careful slipped further from her mind when the left side of his mouth curled into a lopsided grin. He rotated his hand until his palm cupped her cheek and his thumb stroked dangerously close to her lips. She wanted to nibble it. She wanted to stretch like a cat and press her face against his hand in a silent plea for him to pet her more. She nearly did until sanity clawed its way into her psyche.
She wasn’t a cat. He wasn’t really interested in her for anything other than the case. And this wasn’t going to end with a happily ever after.
Straightening so he could no longer touch her, Jules stammered, “I’m fine. I’m . . . good.”
She felt bereft without his warm fingers gliding across her skin. If only she could shake off her hot, lustful thoughts. Life could be so unfair. Why couldn’t she be attracted to simple, non-police types?
“Welcome to Philomena’s,” the statuesque brunette said, appearing at the booth. “What can I get you today?”
Jules glanced around but saw no trace of the enormous tray of food the woman had been carrying moments before. What she did see was a distinctly interested smile on the waitress’s face as she looked at Seth.
For his part, Seth appeared absorbed by his menu, not even sparing the young woman a glance.
Jules had heard of people staring with their hearts in their eyes but had never actually seen it before. The waitress’s gaze had zeroed in on Seth’s face and she seemed oblivious to Jules sitting there or even Seth’s decidedly distant demeanor.
The girl, who appeared no older than eighteen, seemed to know him. And Seth’s refusal to glance up only proved it.
A pang of something hot and sharp hit Jules in the chest. The surprising and unjustified flash of jealousy was so intense she hoped it didn’t show on her face. Then again, neither Seth nor the waitress glanced Jules’s way for a good thirty seconds.
The waitress’s smile wavered and she turned a puzzled gaze to Jules. “Do you know what you want to drink, miss?”
