“Nancy Drew strikes.” But there was no humor in his voice.
“Don’t patronize me, Jeremiah. I’m your ‘common denominator.’ I was attacked. I received that nasty phone call.”
“Precisely why you should skip the dinner tonight and stay home and watch TV. Throw darts. Drag out your flute and play some tunes.”
She raised her chin to him, aware of his penetrating gaze, unintimidated by his relentless intensity-or the sense he was making. “That would be giving in.”
“That would be making an intelligent decision.”
“Maybe, but you do what you have to do, and I’ll do the same. Thank you for your time,” she said, and started briskly across the newsroom.
“When you said we,” he called quietly to her, “did that mean I’m invited tonight?”
She ignored him and kept on marching, and if he was frustrated and even a little irritated with her, so be it. She had come to him in the misguided hope he could be a friend, and he’d gone dictatorial and protective on her. Call the police. Stay home and throw darts.
Damn it, she thought, she half-hoped the thief would show up tonight and she could catch him herself.
“Nancy Drew,” she muttered, and exited the newsroom, aware of every eye in the place on her.
But when she got to her car, Jeremiah was already there, slouched up against its gleaming hood as if he owned it. Mollie sputtered. “How did you get here ahead of me? How did you know where I was parked-”
“I know all the shortcuts, and you’ll notice there are no other back Jaguars in the visitors’ lot.” He eased off the hood. “You’re on my turf now, sweet pea.”
“So?”
“So I want to know why you drove all the way down here to tell me about this nasty little phone call. I want to know,” he said, moving closer, “why you told me about your dinner tonight and said we should look at your pattern of activity and not just the thief’s.”
“The we was just a slip of the tongue. As for the call-” She met his gaze, ignored the flutter in the pit of her stomach, the deep, unfathomable, undeniable yearning she had to connect with this man. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t already know about it.”
He had no visible reaction. “Why would I know about it?”
“Or the guy who tipped you off about me. Maybe he knows about it.”
“You mean maybe he’s the one who made the call,” Jeremiah said, his tone steady, neutral. “And I knew about it.”
“It’s possible, isn’t it? And if you have to keep an open mind, so do I.”
“It’s not possible I knew about it. If I had, I’d be throttling him right now. Is it possible he made the call? Theoretically, I suppose so, but my gut says no.” He considered a moment. The line of his jaw seemed harder, the muscles in his arms and shoulders leaner, tougher. Ten years of digging into crime and corruption seemed to have affected him physically, not just mentally. “But it’s good you’re keeping an open mind. Now. I’ll be at your place no later than six-twenty-five.”
“What? Why-”
“That’s why you told me about your dinner tonight, isn’t it?” His voice softened. “So I’d be there.”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking-”
“Think now.”
She sighed. “I can’t stand not knowing what’s going on. I can’t stand sitting around waiting for the next phone call. I guess I wanted to find a way to help you-or for you to help me-”
But he was shaking his head. “Mollie, we can’t be a team, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I don’t work that way.”
“I know. You don’t need to remind me.” She hoisted her handbag onto her shoulder, tried to ease the lingering effects of the eerie call. “I understand. Really. Thanks for putting me in touch with Frank. Maybe the police will find this guy.”
He touched the collar of her linen shirt, just a flick of the finger that nonetheless sent shock waves through her. “You’re trying to tell yourself it’s strictly business between us, Mollie, but it’s not. It can’t be.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She sounded prim and unconvincing even to herself. She imagined he could see through the facade, straight into all the parts of her that still wanted him. “Of course it can.”
“You’re remembering. Right now, you’re remembering.”
Her knees quavered. “Remembering what?”
“I was your first lover.” His voice was low, not much above a whisper, a caress. “You remember.”
“Jeremiah…” She swallowed, telling herself this was a test, a way for him to establish terms. He liked making the rules. It was why he worked alone, it was why he stayed alone. She steeled herself against the onslaught of desire, the knot of confused emotions. “Jeremiah, I assure you, I’m long over you. I put your photo on my dartboard for my amusement, nothing more. It could have been a picture of Darth Vader.”
He seemed amused. “And yesterday when I kissed you, could I have been Darth Vader then, too?”
“The Emperor,” she said, unable to stop a smile.
“And if I kissed you right here, right now, what would I be?”
“Very forward.” But her head spun, her body burned at the thought of his mouth on hers.
“I like being forward.”
And his mouth descended to hers, his hand drifting to the back of her neck, where she wasn’t injured. She threw a hand back on the hood of her car, steadying herself as his tongue slid between her lips, tasted, probed, her entire body responding.
He drew back slightly, his eyes dark, his own arousal evident. “That wasn’t too forward, was it?”
Mollie straightened, tried to ignore the strain of her breasts against her linen top, the agony of wanting him. She was shaking with it, unsteady, her mind flooded with memories of him slowly, erotically exploring her body with his hands, then his mouth, teeth, and tongue, until, finally, when she was hot and quivering, taking her with hard, deep thrusts.
His dusky gaze told her that he, too, was remembering.
She willed coherency upon her thoughts. “Look, Jeremiah-” She swallowed, adjusting her shirt so her pebbled nipples wouldn’t show. “I know what you’re doing, but you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to fall for you. It was my choice to drive down here. And I take full responsibility for the consequences of that choice.”
“Hell, it sounds as if you decided to climb Mount Everest.”
She smiled. “You just concentrate on doing your job, okay?”
He dragged one finger along the line of her jaw, sending a stream of liquid heat straight into her bloodstream. “I always do.” He winked. “See you at six-twenty-five.”
Jeremiah went back to his desk feeling grumpy, out of sorts, and way too damned much as if he should have taken Mollie back to his apartment for the rest of the afternoon. He checked his messages. Nothing. He plopped into his chair and stared at his blank computer screen. Neutrality and objectivity had gone straight to hell with the appearance of Mollie and her bottomless eyes, bruised neck, and tale of a nasty phone call.
Helen Samuel couldn’t wait to accost him. “Okay. Tell me what Mollie Lavender was doing here.”
Jeremiah swung around in his chair. Bad coffee and frustration burned in his stomach. Fatigue pounded behind his eyes. “You know why you’ve lasted as long as you have, Helen? You’re by nature a very nosy woman.”
She grinned at him, unoffended. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just in a bad mood because you wanted to write the story about Friday night and couldn’t. You’re feeling conflicted.”
“Conflicted? Jesus, Helen. A reporter has to make these kinds of calls all the time.”
“Bullshit. You’ve got a woman wearing a necklace owned by one of the most famous tenors in the world. You’ve got the necklace ripped off at a fancy private party. You’ve got a gloved hand. You’ve got a daring, clever cat burglar. And you were right there. Jesus. It has to kill you. No wonder you’re a grouch.”