Spirited 1

by Mary Behre

  “No. That’s it.” Jules reached for her earlobe, then sailed past it and grabbed her shoulder as if it pained her. “Seth, I swear I had nothing to do with her . . . death.” She shuddered.

  Her voice, laced with fear, incited a need to soothe her, comfort her. Seth patted her right hand. She turned her palm up and entwined her fingers with his. Her soft skin felt like silk against his calloused flesh.

  He’d been fairly certain she was an innocent caught up in this before they came to the restaurant. Now he was almost positive.

  Still, he needed to finish questioning her. After all, she had met the victim prior to her death. But that too could just mean Jules and the victim traveled in similar circles. Being familiar with a victim didn’t necessarily make someone a murderer or an accessory to murder.

  “You do believe me, don’t you?” The sincerity in her eyes pulled at him.

  “Yes, precious. I believe you.”

  “My name’s Jules, not precious.”

  She reminded him of her real name, just as she had done the night they met and the morning she came to collect her purse. Her eyes narrowed to sharp emerald slits and her stubborn chin jutted out, and she looked absolutely adorable. Precisely why he did it. He preferred her annoyed rather than frightened as she’d been moments before.

  “Yes, Jules.” Stifling a chuckle, he added, “I know you couldn’t have killed her.”

  “Thank heavens.” Relief lit her round, green eyes.

  At that moment, his daughter returned with two plates and a large Philomena’s pizza.

  Jules withdrew her hand from his and they both scooted back to give Theresa room. His normally graceful daughter nearly knocked his coffee cup into his lap while setting the pie on the table. Though he caught the mug before the entire contents spilled, quite a bit splashed over his hand and onto his lap.

  Seth jumped to his feet.

  “Daddy!” she gasped, then thrust a cloth napkin at him.

  “It’s all right, Theresa.” He tried to sop up the spilled beverage before it soaked into his slacks. It was useless. Unless he wanted to look like he’d wet himself, he needed to go home and change.

  The skin on his hand burned. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d been doused with the coffee at first. Now that the shock wore off, the pain radiated.

  “You might want to put some cold water on that,” Jules and Theresa said in unison. He grimaced as his daughter lapsed into a nervous giggle.

  The tender flesh between his right thumb and forefinger reddened and grew spotty. He shook his hand in a futile effort to soothe the burn.

  “I’m so sorry, Dad.” Theresa glanced back at the deli counter and added, “I’ll get you some ice.” And she was gone.

  “Wow, you look like you’re going to blister if you don’t take care of that fast.” Jules grabbed his hand and held it between her slender, cool fingers. Then she glanced at his wrist watch. “Oh, I hate to say this. But I really need to go.”

  “Now?” He frowned. Her sudden desire to bolt temporarily distracted him from the pain. “We haven’t even had lunch yet.”

  “I know but . . .” Jules glanced around the room as if searching for an escape. “I need to be at the shop. I lost half a day yesterday. I-I really need to get back to work.”

  “Why the sudden need to leave?”

  A line dug between her eyebrows. “I’ve been out with you for over an hour.”

  Seth glanced at his watch in surprise. She was right. They’d left the shop more than ninety minutes earlier.

  “Oh. Right.” Seth shook his head. No wonder she was trying to leave. “Look, have some pizza and I’ll take you back to the shop after I take care of this.” He glanced down to his hand still in hers.

  “I really don’t have time to wait.” As if realizing she still held his hand, Jules suddenly released it.

  Without her touch, the heat seemed to engulf his flesh. Excusing himself, Seth hurried to the washroom. After five minutes with his hand under the cold running water, his gut quivered warningly. He just knew when he went back to the table, Jules would be gone.

  He wasn’t wrong.

  Theresa returned with a plastic baggie of ice in her hand and a frown pulling between her eyebrows. “Daddy, your friend asked me to tell you she caught a cab back to work. She said she’ll see you later.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart.” Kissing her on the top of her head he said, “I’ll see you for dinner next Sunday?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” She hugged him. “If you want, you can bring her along. She’s . . . nice.”

  “Theresa.” He closed his eyes briefly then grinned at her. Clearly his daughter was as much of a matchmaker as her grandmother. “It’s supposed to be just family.”

  “I know but Yia Yia invited Jovani. So I bet your friend would be welcomed too,” she blurted, then hurried away before he could reply.

  The last thing he wanted to do was deal with Theresa’s fiancé and Jules at his mother’s house during Sunday dinner. Now that was an image guaranteed to cause a brain implosion.

  Compartmentalizing the unwanted picture, he focused on dealing with his more pressing situation. Keeping the ice on his injured hand, he pulled out his cell, and dialed his partner.

  “This is Detective Jones.”

  “Any more luck with having our tattoo artist track down his receipts?” Guilt flickered through Seth. He probably should have started with hello or something more civil. But he pushed away the thought. He’d spent the last five years repairing his reputation, and in doing so, became known as a hardass. He had no intention of letting his persona slip now.

  “None.” Jones answered, taciturn as usual.

  “I need you to go over to the florist shop and keep an eye on the staff. Make note of who is coming and going.” Seth thought about it and added, “And keep an eye on our new friend. She says she doesn’t know anything, but she does. Even if she doesn’t realize it. Oh, and I need you to send a photo of the vic to my cell.”

  “Will do, but why the photo?”

  “Because I believe Jules met the victim before her death.” He ended the call without giving Jones time to comment. Not that he expected the kid would.

  Seth needed to stop at his apartment and change before he saw Jules again. This was becoming a bad habit. It might be easier to go naked around her.

  And there went his libido again. He tried to ignore it. Tried to convince himself the anticipation licking through his veins had nothing to do with sex. It was only because he was certain she was involved with the case. It had nothing to do with the idea of seeing her again.

  Or sex.

  Or her purple bra.

  Yeah. Right.

  CHAPTER 8

  JULES FROWNED AT her purse under the counter at April’s Flowers.

  Why she was still carrying it around, she didn’t know. It made her nervous having such an expensive item with her. Plus, after talking to Seth about it at the restaurant, she realized it was time to just let go of the past. Her marriage to Billy had been a mistake. Keeping the reminder, even boxed as it had been, wasn’t helping her to move on with her life.

  She stared at it and wondered if she should just donate it.

  Picking up the black clutch, she traced the letters emblazoned on the front with her index finger. Startled, she traced them again. Although white letters spelled out P-R-A-D-A, someone had blackened the “O” then artfully emblazoned an “A” over it.

  “That creep!” No wonder Billy had insisted she keep the purse even after she’d turned down his reconciliation request. He knew it was a fake.

  All this time, she’d kept it carefully preserved in the Amazon.com box it had arrived in. Now she wondered how she had managed not to notice sooner that it was a Prada knockoff. Turning it over, she carefully examined it. Furious at first, she couldn’t help but laugh.

  At least she hadn’t forgiven him.

  She tossed it lightly under the counter, then jumped when it hit the wood paneling with an
audible thunk.

  “About time you got back.” Diana stomped across the floor in her combat boots. “Miss April said to tell you she’ll meet you at home tonight for the special dinner.”

  Momentarily confused by the girl’s words, Jules hesitated. “What? Oh, that’s right. She’s making her lasagna de April tonight. Are you coming to dinner too?”

  “I want to, but I can’t.” Diana sighed and grimaced before continuing to the front window. She dug into a bucket of Halloween decorations. “I have choir tonight and if I miss another rehearsal my mom’ll freak.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll save you some pasta.”

  “Thanks.” Diana smiled then turned back to the window. “What do you think?” Diana set down a witch and two doll-sized scarecrows on coffin-shaped boxes.

  Before Jules could respond, Diana yelled, “Wait! Don’t look yet!”

  She darted forward, rearranged the scarecrows and the witch several times, dangled one scarecrow by an arm and a leg, then retreated a step to examine her work again. A wide grin on her face, she opened her arms in a very showroom-girl style, indicating her window dressing masterpiece.

  “Very nice.” It wasn’t just nice. It was brilliant. Jules never would have thought to hang the dolls like that. It was both aesthetically pleasing and eye-catching. “Looks like you’ve been busy here without me.”

  “Actually, I started it yesterday while you were Dumpster diving,” Diana replied. “Why were you doing that, anyway?”

  “I heard my cell ringing.” Jules didn’t want to think about being in the garbage bin. Ever again.

  “Did you lose it or something?”

  “No, I just tossed it in there so I could swim in rotting lo mien. Everyone’s doing it,” Jules replied with a grin.

  “It’s true? Garbage is the new vintage?” Diana snorted. “I didn’t know you were so hip.”

  “That’s me. Hip.” Jules laughed in spite of herself. And this was why she liked Diana so much, her ability to find the humor in most anything. Answering the earlier question, she said, “Yes, Diana. I lost my phone. You know, the phone the police have.”

  “OMG!” As if suddenly remembering something, Diana slapped a hand to her forehead then giggled. “The hottie cop left you a message. I don’t know how I forgot. I mean that guy is H-O-T. Who could forget a man who looks like that being here? Then again, he’s no Jake Gyllenhall. Now, if he walked in here—”

  “Diana, what did the cop want?” Jules asked. Her heart raced. How had Seth beat her back to the shop?

  “Oh, right. Well, Mr. HC has been by twice to see you. At least, that’s the excuse he gave. But I think he likes me. KWIM?”

  KWIM? Ah. Know what I mean.

  With effort, Jules didn’t smile.

  Diana was about the same age as Seth’s daughter. Somehow she doubted Seth would be attracted to a Goth teen who spoke in text-speech.

  “Officer Masculine Perfection is back!” Diana shoved the box of remaining decorations into a corner and raced behind the counter. She hopped up and down, then turned to face Jules. Even the heavy ivory powder couldn’t disguise the flush on Diana’s cheeks. “How do I look?”

  “Great.” Jules grinned and yanked on an apron, determined not to stare at the front door. Instead, she watched Diana, who busied herself at the cash register and pretended not to watch for the man to arrive.

  Masculine Perfection.

  Jules had to agree with Diana’s description. Her neighbor, with his amber skin, rock-hard abs, husky voice, and sinfully sexy eyes, defined masculine perfection. Glancing down at her apron, she kept her eyes anywhere but on the door as the bell chimed. She may have been enormously attracted to the man, but there was no need to show it.

  After all, he was the most narrow-minded, conclusion-jumping-to clod she’d ever met in her life, as he had proved the night they met.

  Or not.

  He definitely wasn’t all bad. He did love his mother enough to wear the gifts she gave him. And while many teen fathers accepted little responsibility for the children they created, Seth obviously adored his daughter. And she him.

  Plus, he’d been kind to Jules. Considering she had ruined his shoes and probably his slacks, he could have made her feel guilty. Instead, he’d taken her out to his family’s restaurant to eat.

  Where she promptly ran away as fast as she could, the moment she realized she was softening toward him. No. He wasn’t the clod.

  She was.

  “Feelin’ better, Jules?” asked a deep-timbre voice from the other side of the counter.

  “Pardon?” Jules glanced up in surprise to see a huge man with sandy blond hair and light mocha skin. She squelched the disappointment in her belly that Mr. HC wasn’t Seth and smiled at the man in front of her. “Hello.”

  “Remember me?” Brows drew together over blue gray eyes.

  “Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t. Should I?”

  She stared hard, trying to place him. He seemed vaguely familiar. An image of her little sister Shelley, as she might have looked as an adult, flashed through Jules’s mind.

  Weird.

  “My partner’s Detective English,” he said.

  Built like a defensive back, he radiated an air of calm and quiet even as he fingered the gold badge dangling from his black suit jacket.

  “Right. Of course.” She smiled at him and extended a hand. “Yes, I feel much better. Um, I didn’t catch your name . . . ?”

  “Detective Devon Jones,” he answered. “Dev.”

  “Nice to meet you, Detective Jones.”

  He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Dev.”

  Despite his seemingly easygoing demeanor, Jules had the impression Dev was accustomed to being in control. An authoritative air wound around him and made her slightly nervous.

  Like Seth, this man definitely met her three H rule. But Jules wasn’t attracted to him. Perhaps she was getting smarter. Or maybe she had somehow found a way to turn off her instant attraction for men in law enforcement. More likely it was because her radar had already pinged hard on her unattainable neighbor, who hadn’t shown up in the shop looking for her.

  “My partner asked me to check on you,” he said, leaning his arms on the counter between them. “You gave us quite a scare yesterday.”

  “I’m fine,” she answered, her cheeks warmed at the memory of yesterday’s catastrophe.

  Diana giggled and he glanced over at her. She licked her black-painted lips and arched a brow at the man.

  Dang! Jules should have realized the girl wouldn’t be interested in someone old enough to be her father, but this guy . . . Old enough to be “mature” and young enough to still be hot.

  The man’s pupils dilated as he glanced from Diana to her and back again. He blew out a heavy sigh and an inscrutable expression crossed his face. It could have been lust or it could have just been gas. Either way, he needed to go.

  “Detective Jones.” Jules drew his attention away from the tittering girl. “I’m fine, as you can see.”

  For a brief instant, when their gazes locked, Jules sensed something coming from him. Dim and vague though it was, it plucked at her proverbial heartstrings. Loneliness and the need for something that had nothing to do with being a police officer shone in his eyes. It was personal. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did.

  He stretched out a hand and reached for her. For reasons she couldn’t understand herself, she allowed him to touch her. With her hand in his, his need became definable.

  Connection.

  It radiated through her. She hadn’t felt this kind of association in years. Not with anyone who wasn’t family. And he couldn’t be related to her; she only had sisters.

  Didn’t she?

  Jules twisted her hand free.

  He grimaced but didn’t try to hold on to her.

  Diana huffed loudly.

  Jules and Dev both glanced at the girl. To Jules’s dismay, the girl smiled and glanced at Dev from under her lashes. The move was even more
of a come-on than the blatant sexual smile she gave to Mason yesterday.

  “Detective, we’re very busy. You know, getting ready for the local high school dance. Isn’t the homecoming dance this weekend, Diana?”

  “Yes,” the girl hissed.

  Ooh . . . Jules was going to pay for that later. She hadn’t meant to embarrass Diana. No, she’d meant to make it clear to The Hottie Cop that he was too old to even consider taking the naïve and vulnerable Diana up on her blatant offer.

  “So, Detective Jo—”

  “Dev,” the man interrupted, raising one finger in the air. A questioning look brightened his eyes. He gave his head a quick shake and said, “My partner wanted you to know he has a few more questions.”

  Of course he does.

  “Would you mind asking him to wait until this evening? I really need to get back to work. Sundays are always busy right after church.” Jules smiled and stepped back, increasing the distance between them.

  As if by divine intervention, the front door bells chimed and four customers filed in.

  Dev glanced over his shoulder and straightened. Tapping two fingers on the counter, he said, “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

  “Thanks. I promise to make myself available to him tonight.”

  A small smile curled the corner of his mouth and she realized how that must have sounded. “Oh, no! I meant I’ll be sure to find him after work, so he can finish questioning me.”

  “I know what you meant,” Dev replied with a laugh before he spun on his heel. His long strides ate up the distance to the door.

  As Jules watched Dev depart, an image of Shelley’s face flashed through her mind. Young and sweet, she’d been seven the last time Jules had seen her. With bright red pigtails and big blue eyes, she was calm and obedient.

  Unlike Jules.

  Why was she thinking about her sister?

  She needed to work. Compartmentalizing her thoughts of Seth and Shelley, and the feelings they both provoked, Jules greeted the first customer. He wanted a dozen cash-and-carry roses.