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Sighing, he rolled to his feet and froze halfway up, his gaze locking with the most enormous German shepherd he’d ever seen. The thing was eerie how it stared unblinkingly, with one eye a normal brown and the other a chilling blue. It snapped its jaw at him once, and he didn’t flinch, but he wanted to. “Who’s this?”

Selina lifted her head to look at them. “My familiar, Grim.”

“Does he bite?” Because the dog sure looked like he’d bite, and Jack had enough self-preservation not to move until he knew he wouldn’t be the beast’s next meal.

She hummed in her throat. “If he doesn’t like you.”

“How do I know if he doesn’t like me?” He shot her a glance.

Her dark eyes twinkled with evil glee, obviously enjoying watching him squirm. “If he bites you, it’s a pretty good indicator.”

“That’s helpful, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Jack’s muscles began to shake a bit from holding the awkward, half-crouched position. “Any pointers about how to make him not bite me?”

“Nope. He does what he wants.” She pushed herself up and folded her legs.

He slowly rose to his feet, waiting to see if he needed to dive for his gun. “You couldn’t have named him Fluffy or something?”

“I didn’t name him.” Her breasts swayed a little when she shrugged and Jack had to force himself not to stare at them. Or drool. Damn, she was beautiful.

He offered her a hand to help her to her feet. “Who did name him, then?”

“Theodore Holmes.” She slipped her fingers into his and let him draw her up. The familiar didn’t growl or snap when Jack touched Selina, so he tried to make himself relax a little under the dog’s unnerving stare.

“Your vampire hunter?”

“The one and only.” Affection rang in her voice, and a knife of unwarranted jealousy twisted through Jack’s belly just as it had the first time she’d mentioned him with such warmth.

She let go of his hand and wandered over to a built-in bookshelf lined with framed photographs. She picked one up and offered it to him. “This was taken just after we met. His specialty is taking out rogue bloodsuckers, and I wasn’t about to turn down help at that stage of the game.”

He accepted the picture and saw Selina, looking exactly as she did now, but with dated clothing and a feathered Farrah Fawcett hairdo. The man beside her glared defiantly into the camera, his mouth set in disapproval. Cheerful-looking guy. “Exactly how long had you been on the force?”

“Barely a year at that point.” She took the photo back and repositioned it on the shelf. “Women had to meet the same five-foot-eight height requirement as men to become a cop in New Orleans until 1976. Someone filed a lawsuit about it and got the requirement changed.”

“What did you do before that?” Putting aside the vampire hunter and the case until later, he focused on finding out more about the woman before him. If he couldn’t make himself walk away from this attraction to her, then he wanted to know what made her tick. He doubted she’d answer personal questions at work, so he took the opportunity and ran with it.

“A lot of things. I’ve been around awhile.” A small grin fluttered at the corners of her mouth. “It’s been nice having more jobs open up in the last century or so. Housewife didn’t suit me.”

“What did suit you then?”

“I was a governess and a teacher for a long, long time in a lot of cities, mostly because that was one of the few things an unmarried woman could do.” She shrugged. “Except for, you know, prostitution.”

“Which you’d never do.”

She arched her eyebrows and managed to stare down her nose at him even though he topped her by at least eight inches. “How do you know what I’d do?”

Reaching out to brush his fingertip down her cheek and over her lips, he grinned. “While I don’t doubt that men would line up to pay you for sex, you’re not the type who’d sell yourself.”

“You’re right.” She huffed out a breath. “I haven’t.”

“See?”

“Shut up.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “I was a man’s mistress for a while, which is almost the same thing, but that was when I was going through my starving artist phase. Only I didn’t like starving, so I let my lover be my patron, which basically made me his mistress.”

“Starving artist? You?” No way. Her tough-as-nails exterior did not scream an artistic personality.

She waved to a large abstract painting over the fireplace. “Behold, my masterpiece.”

“It’s ... nice.” He tilted his head this way and that. “Uh. What is it?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Her chuckle was soft and rueful. “I wasn’t very good at it, but I guess every Magickal gives art a go at one point or another. We have time to test-drive everything at least once.”

“I can’t imagine being anything other than what I am. It’s what I love to do.” He grinned. “I guess it’s good I only get one shot at this.”

“And that you got it right the first time.” She winked at him. “Are you hungry?”

He knew his grin turned into pure wickedness, and she rolled her eyes when he looked over her naked body. She was slim and totally unselfconscious in her nudity. The woman was comfortable in her own skin, and that confidence was a sexy thing. Everything about her was sexy, intriguing. So she was more than just a sex partner. So what? He’d had friends with benefits before, and that was all this needed to be. He’d maybe freaked out about it too much earlier. Everything would be fine. He was in no more danger of falling for her than he was with any other woman he’d been with since his wife died. They’d keep it light, they’d have fun, they’d have some great sex, they’d do good work together, and that would be the end of it. See? Fine.

“Food sounds good, yes. Who delivers to this neighborhood?” He waved a hand to indicate the world outside her house. “Or I can make French toast if you have bread, eggs, milk, and some spices.”

“Mmm. French toast for breakfast, I think. Assuming we don’t get called in for another murder.”

He got to stay for breakfast, huh? Well, all right then. He didn’t mind that at all. Bringing a gorgeous woman breakfast in bed was definitely a good way to start a day. Assuming they didn’t get called in for another murder. They still had a lot of paperwork to go through before he had all the information he needed to even begin to put enough pieces together to solve this case, and the New Orleans files wouldn’t arrive until the department down there managed to unearth them. Digging up a decades-old cold case took some time, especially after the damage Hurricane Katrina had done to that city. He tucked away any frustration he might feel over the delay. There was nothing he could do to speed things up, so he focused on what was in front of him. Selina.

She meandered into the kitchen and opened a drawer filled with take-out menus. “There’s an Italian place that’s good, a Japanese restaurant with amazing tempura shrimp, a Thai place I love, and a Chinese hole-in-the-wall with the best chow mein I’ve ever had.” She grinned at him. “What? I order in a lot.”

“Apparently.” He scooped out a handful of at least ten menus, and that didn’t even make a dent in the pile she had accumulated.

“Don’t judge.”

“I’m not.” He held up his hands to ward her off, but considering he still held the menus, he doubted he did much to deflect her. “I like take-out food as much as the next bachelor. I got used to having food served to me in the marine corps. I just went to the mess hall and there was something to eat. No need to cook.”

She snagged the folded papers from him. “I’d say we need one of those in the PD, but I understand the food isn’t the best.”

“We do quantity over quality.” He made a face. “Don’t even ask about MREs.”