by Elle Kennedy
His tongue swirled over hers and she moaned softly. Was this how kissing was supposed to make you feel? Out of control, paralyzed with pleasure? Never in her life had she experienced the burning bolts of arousal whipping through her body.
The unfamiliar sensations succeeded in bringing a jolt of panic. She pulled back at the same time Cole did, noticing that his dark gaze was focused on her hip. The hem of her shirt had ridden up, revealing the butt of the Glock tucked into her waistband.
“You’re armed,” he said in a flat tone.
She faltered. “Of course. I’m a federal agent.”
His expression darkened, as if the reminder had sucked the passion from his body and replaced it with cold clarity. “And you’re in the same house as a suspected killer.” His voice went gruff. “Yeah, I get it.”
Jamie felt the uncharacteristic urge to apologize, but didn’t get a chance as a sharp squeak sounded from the crook of her arm. She looked down at the squirming bundle she’d rescued from the storm. It was a small terrier, with brown fur matted to his little body and liquid amber eyes gazing up at Jamie in total misery. When she’d seen those big eyes peering out from under that piece of metal outside, her heart had almost stopped.
“I had to get him,” she said softly. “He was trapped. I couldn’t leave him out there.”
“Aw, shit,” Cole muttered. “That’s Elmer.”
Jamie held the dog against her chest and rubbed his damp head in a soothing motion. “Elmer?”
“He belongs to Agatha Tanner, she lives up the road.” Cole sighed. “I always told her she shouldn’t let him out without standing outside to supervise. There are too many wild animals running around this area. It’s not safe for a dog this small to be alone.”
“Oh, you poor little guy,” Jamie said to the trembling animal. She patted him again, then glanced at Cole. “Do you have anything for him to eat?”
Cole lifted his shoulders in mystification. “Got some salami in the fridge, which will probably go bad if the power doesn’t come back on soon. Will that do?”
“Are you hungry, Elmer?” she asked the dog. He gave a tiny whimper, which she decided to take as a yes.
In the kitchen, Jamie grabbed two small bowls from one of the cupboards, poured water into one and tossed a couple of slices of salami into the other. The wet dog immediately shoved his nose into the meat bowl and greedily devoured the salami while Jamie laughed. She looked over at Cole to see if he shared her amusement, but the expression on his face stole the breath from her lungs. Lingering heat combined with dark wariness.
The tension that had hung over them in the hallway returned, the same tension she’d been hoping would go away if she distracted them both with the cute dog.
Evidently there was no avoiding it.
Leaning an elbow against the counter, Jamie swallowed. “Listen, I always carry my weapon—”
“I get it,” he cut in. “You’re a cop. You carry a gun.”
He didn’t sound upset by it, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face when he’d seen her gun. She knew she had no reason to apologize, but I’m sorry tickled the tip of her tongue.
Cole spoke before she could voice the words. “I don’t know why I was so surprised,” he said roughly. “I guess…we were having coffee in the living room and I forgot about why you came to town…rather stupid of me, huh?”
“I forgot too,” she confessed.
And what a thing to forget. Cole was a suspect in his ex-wife’s murder. Jamie was supposed to be investigating him. How could those little facts slip her mind? How could she have let him kiss her?
“The kiss…” She took a breath. “I can’t get involved with you, Cole. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
His gaze dropped to her waist, to the bulge beneath her shirt. “You’re right,” he said with a tense look.
“Your ex-wife was murdered,” she added. “Whether you’re cleared of the crime or not, you’re still a part of this case.”
She wondered if he heard the wobble in her voice. Hopefully the torrential downpour outside covered it up. She meant every word she said, though. She couldn’t get involved with this man. It went against every professional ethic she possessed.
“You don’t have to say anything else,” Cole answered, his deep voice pulling her from her thoughts. “I don’t want to get involved either.”
She couldn’t stop a prickle of offense. “You don’t?”
“My marriage just fell apart like a damn game of Jenga.” His chest rose as he inhaled an unsteady breath. “I’m attracted to you, but the last thing I want right now is to jump into anything new.”
He was attracted to her. An unwanted thrill which only made her head spin shot up her spine at the confession. Joy and disappointment and relief mingled in her belly, forming a cocktail of confusion. She’d just said she couldn’t be with him and he’d agreed with her, so what was there to be disappointed about?
And why had her pulse kicked up several notches when he admitted his attraction?
“Yeah,” she finally said. “Neither of us is in the place to start something up. My job, your marriage…not a great combination.”
“Right,” he said with a nod of concurrence.
“So it’s settled then.”
“Settled.”
“That kiss was a dumb idea.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “Terrible idea,” he agreed.
Their gazes held, and she attempted to keep her expression as blank as the one he displayed at her. God, she hated games. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d been just as blown away by that kiss as she had. But maybe it was best to pretend it hadn’t shattered either of their worlds.
And it was certainly best to ignore the appealing picture he painted at the moment, with his wet shirt emphasizing every sinewy muscle on broad chest, the razor stubble gracing his strong jaw, the way his dark hair gleamed in the candlelight.
She hastily turned to look at Elmer, who’d finished eating and was now staring up at her with curious eyes. “Uh, I guess I’ll turn in. Is there a bedroom I can sleep in?”
“It’s eight o’clock,” Cole said with the amused twitch of his jaw. “Maybe you should have some dinner first.”
Dinner? With him? Sitting at the same table, fighting each little spark of desire that ignited her belly from his mere proximity?
Then her stomach gave a little growl, and she realized it was probably a good idea to eat something. She hadn’t had a single bite since the morning and she couldn’t sleep on an empty stomach.
“You’re right,” she conceded. “We should have some dinner.”
He was already heading to the fridge. “I’ve got some leftover Chinese food from yesterday. We won’t be able to heat it up, but I like it better cold anyway.”
“Me too,” she admitted.
She couldn’t help but ogle the way the muscles of his back bunched and flexed as he bent into the fridge to pull out several white food cartons. Without those sexy black eyes on her, she drew in a calming breath and ordered herself to keep it together. So what if she hadn’t felt an attraction this strong to a man before?
If Cole could waltz around the kitchen pretending their kiss hadn’t affected him, then so could she.
Cole didn’t sleep a wink that night, and it wasn’t the sound of the rain battering the house or the roof’s moans of protest each time the wind hit it. His insomnia had been the direct result of the woman in the next bedroom.
The woman who needed a gun on hand in order to be in the same room as him.
As he’d lain in bed and stared up at the ceiling, he’d choked down the bitterness that coated his throat, and forced himself not to dwell on it. He didn’t blame Jamie for being cautious. Everyone else in town believed that he was a killer—so why wouldn’t the federal agent who’d come here to solve the case?
Still, it grated, knowing that the lighthearted conversation in the living room hadn’t been completely genuine. It wasn’t
about a man and a woman getting to know each other. They were a cop and a murder suspect. Definitely not the foundation for a love connection.
Besides, he had no intention of getting involved with Jamie, no matter how much the kiss had affected him. In that moment, he’d been so grateful that she hadn’t been hurt in the storm that he’d given in to the reckless desire he felt for her. But her gun had been the kick in the ass he needed, a reminder of why he couldn’t be with her. With anyone.
During the night, he’d kept going back to the day he’d met Teresa, the thrill that had shot up his spine as the raven-haired beauty had approached his table, her lips curved in a teasing smile. How different his life would be if he’d simply stood up and walked out of that bar. Instead, he’d allowed himself to tumble headfirst into an uncharacteristic whirlwind affair, letting his lust for Teresa Matthews cloud all common sense. Why hadn’t he seen how wicked she was? Picked up on the toxic thread winding through her body?
Stupid fool that he was, he’d married the woman. And she’d poisoned him. Infected every inch of his life, to the point that he wasn’t sure he trusted his own judgment anymore.
Jamie Crawford wasn’t Teresa. He knew that. He saw it, from the perception exuded by her gorgeous violet eyes to the determination she displayed about this case. But he wasn’t going to jump headfirst into anything again. Or ever. Hell, just the notion of lowering the shield around his heart and letting another woman in made his palms grow damp.
By the time seven o’clock rolled around, he gave up on the illusion of sleep and climbed out from between the black silk sheets in his king-size bed. Outside, the storm had evidently moved on, leaving nothing but silence in its wake. And destruction, he noted in chagrin when he stared out the bedroom window at the front yard.
Tree branches littered the dew-covered grass and the shed at the edge of the driveway was all but gone. Wonderful. Three weeks ago, he’d spent four days building the damn thing and now his hard work was in tatters. He spotted the tin roof lying by Jamie’s car, inches from the thick tree trunk that had collided with the ground. The sun was a bright yellow ball in a clear blue sky, the heat of it warming Cole’s bare chest right through the windowpane. Looking at the cloudless sky, it was hard to imagine that a tropical storm had terrorized the town only hours ago.
After pulling a T-shirt over his head and slipping into a pair of gray sweatpants, he made his way downstairs, pleased to see that the power had come back on. The sheriff must have had the electric company up at the break of dawn.
Cole was just pouring himself a cup of coffee when he heard a canine yip and then Elmer bounded into the kitchen, his little paws slapping against the tiled floor. Jamie appeared a moment later, looking sleepy as she watched the small dog come to an excited halt in front of the food bowl they’d given him last night.
“Morning,” she murmured. “Mind if I give our tiny friend the rest of the salami?”
“Go for it. Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Cole busied himself with pouring the steaming hot liquid into a mug, but from the corner of his eye he couldn’t help but admire the tall, slender woman moving around his kitchen. She wore the black pants and dark blue collared shirt she’d donned yesterday, and the clothing still looked a little damp. Her hair had a slight wave to it too, as it hung down her back, the deep auburn tresses gleaming from the morning sunshine streaming into the kitchen.
She was an incredibly beautiful woman, even when tired and rumpled. His body tightened with arousal just looking at her. And his mind was anxious for more details about her. It troubled him that he wanted to know everything about Jamie Crawford. He knew she’d grown up poor, but there was so much more left to discover. Like why she’d joined the FBI, what she did in her spare time, her favorite movies.
What she would look like naked and moaning as he made love to her…
He nearly choked on his coffee. Man, definitely not the right train of thought. Hadn’t he just decided that getting involved with this woman—with any woman—was a bad idea?
“Do you want me to drop Elmer off to his owner or will you?” Jamie asked as she sipped her drink, oblivious to the inappropriate thoughts running rampant in his head.
“I’ll do it when I go for a run.”
Her eyes twinkled. “You run?”
“Every morning,” he confirmed.
“Me too. It’s part of my routine—coffee, toast, a run and then work.”
“Maybe we could go running together while you’re here.”
The suggestion slipped out before he could stop it, and he regretted it immediately, especially when a flicker of reluctance crept into her lavender eyes. She didn’t want to get involved either, he had to remind himself. She’d told him so last night.
“Yeah, maybe,” she said noncommittally in reply to his offer. “If there’s time.”
Her words reminded him that she still had a murder case she was helping the sheriff solve, which made him think of his ex-wife again, and with that, his body stiffened, and this time it wasn’t from desire.
“Will you keep me posted on any progress you make?” he asked roughly.
“I’ll try.” She took a long swallow of coffee and shot him a tired look. “Let’s just hope there’s progress to be made.”
She hesitated as if she wanted to say more, and Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “What is it?”
“At some point, we’ll need to discuss your ex-wife’s affairs. I’m going to need more details.”
Pride tensed his jaw. “I told you everything I know about that. Parker Smith is the only one whose name she mentioned.”
Jamie put down her mug and bridged the distance between them, gently putting a hand on his arm. An instantaneous burst of heat seared through him.
“I know it’s uncomfortable to talk about, but anything you know about the affairs will help.”
He studied her face. “You think one of Teresa’s lovers may have killed her?”
“It’s a possibility.” She made a face. “Though apparently there was no limit to who she pissed off, so at this point, anyone and everyone is a possibility.”
He gave a derisive snort and was about to respond when the keypad by the back door buzzed, indicating that the gate had been disabled. Since Ian was the only other person who had the security codes, Cole wasn’t surprised when a few moments later footsteps sounded from the hallway and Ian called, “Cole? You awake?”
“In here,” he called back.
Ian appeared in the doorway, holding a black leather briefcase in one hand. “Morning, boss. I just flew in to—” He suddenly noticed Jamie. “Oh. Hello.”
“Ian, this is Special Agent Jamie Crawford,” Cole introduced. “She’s helping the sheriff with the case. Jamie, this is my assistant, Ian.”
Extending a graceful hand, Jamie greeted the younger man with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
After a moment of palpable confusion, Ian moved in for a handshake, then glanced at Cole in puzzlement. “The FBI is working the case now?”
“I’m here unofficially,” Jamie explained.
At seven o’clock in the morning?
Ian’s unspoken question hung in the kitchen, and Cole could see the cautious interest on Ian’s face.
“I came by to speak to Cole yesterday and got caught in the storm,” Jamie added.
At the mention of the storm, Ian shook his head in wonderment. “It’s incredible. Some parts of town look like a war zone. The statue in the town square toppled right into the fountain and there’re fallen trees everywhere. I saw a mention of the hurricane on the news last night, but didn’t think it would reach Serenade.”
“Well, it did,” Cole said. He slanted his head. “What are you doing back so soon? You only left yesterday afternoon.”
Ian held up the briefcase. “I’ve got the Hanson contracts for you to sign. He faxed them to the office last night, so I figured our pilot could have me here faster than it would take for a courie
r to get you the contracts. I knew you’d want to go over them ASAP.”
“I’m surprised Hanson cut the deal so quickly,” Cole said. “I appreciate your haste, Ian.”
Cole’s peripheral vision caught Jamie edging toward the door. “I should get going,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Thanks for the shelter from the storm.”
“Anytime,” he said lightly.
She hesitated in the doorway. “There’s the issue of the tree trunk blocking my car…”
“Shoot, right. Let us help you with that.”
The trio headed outside, where Cole and Ian heaved the soaking wet tree and moved it to the side of the driveway, allowing Jamie to reverse the SUV. She gave a little wave as she drove off and Cole noticed Ian watching her with a frown.
“It can’t be good, the Feds getting involved,” Ian commented as they walked to the house. The British inflection crept into his voice. “The case is still all over the news, and I’m afraid the company is starting to see the effects of Teresa’s death, boss.”
A frown puckered his brow. “What’s going on, Ian?”
They went back to the kitchen, sitting at the table as Ian slid a thick file folder in Cole’s direction. “First, here are the contracts.”
Cole extracted the papers from the folder and gave them a cursory glance. “Okay. What else?”
“Kendra Warner backed out of the hotel deal. She sold to George Winston.”
Cole let out a curse. Winston was his biggest rival, a developer who had no qualms about poaching potential clients and no ethics when it came to business. “Did she say why?”
Ian shrugged in discomfort.
“Ian.”
“She said she didn’t want to do business with a murderer.”
The soft-spoken revelation had Cole gritting his teeth. He’d already seen his stock take a hit thanks to the damn newspaper headline implicating him in Teresa’s death, but this was considerably worse. The Warner hotel would’ve been a cash cow for him.
