Spirited 1 (29 page)

Seth turned his attention back to Peterson. “Look, Captain, my gut tells me that Jules is in danger.”

“Your gut?” O’Dell scoffed. “I think your
gut
is telling you that you’re about to lose your case to two detectives who can actually solve it. You’ll say anything to keep it.”

Seth’s jaw ached from grinding his teeth. “Captain,” he said, ignoring O’Dell, “you said we had a week to solve the case. I’m just asking that you let us have that.”

Peterson sneezed, then said, “You have five more days.”

Seth sighed in relief, but his relief was short-lived when his captain added, “But this latest murder appears unrelated. The only tie is your
nonwitness
,
Juliana Scott. I’m handing the dead jogger case to O’Dell and Reynolds. Give them her information so they can go interview her now.”

To his surprise, Jones argued. “With all due respect, she doesn’t know anything. She fought like a cat on crack to protect herself. There’s no reason to continue to question her. I documented everything that happened in my report.”

“Be that as it may,” Peterson replied, “this case belongs to O’Dell and Reynolds. They have the right to question anyone they see fit.”

The two homicide detectives grinned.

Seth inwardly cursed them. Jules hadn’t wanted to talk with the police. He’d respected her wishes and handled the case for her. Now it appeared she’d have no choice but to deal with the two most arrogant assholes on the force.

Well, he’d be there when she did!

“Why don’t y’all follow me over, I’ll introduce you,” Seth said to O’Dell.

“No. Give them her information,” Captain Peterson snapped.

Reluctantly, he did so, then Peterson glanced at the homicide detectives. “Get moving. I want this case closed ASAP.”

The door shut quietly behind Reynolds, who’d followed O’Dell out.

“Sit,” Peterson said to Seth and Jones. When they obeyed he continued. “I get the feeling you two have a personal stake in this case.”

“No, sir,” they replied in unison.

He narrowed his gaze on them, pointing an accusatory finger at Jones. “Your family legacy doesn’t give you free reign here, Jones. I don’t care that your granddaddy was the chief of police forty years ago. Or that your mama’s family owns half the property of the Oceanfront. You will do everything by the book.” Peterson swung his finger at Seth. “And I’m giving you a break. Don’t make me regret it. Solve the jewelry thefts, find the person who murdered Aimee-Lynn Masters, and close this now!”

 • • • 

J
ULES CHEWED ON
her lip, locking the shop door behind Diana as the Goth climbed into her mother’s SUV. Diana had been none-too-happy to leave her bike in the back room and ride home with her mother, but had caved after Jules had explained about the murdered mugger.

At ten minutes after six, Jules grew anxious again. Seth had called to say he was running late, but she wished he’d hurry.

“I . . . I say, Hugh . . . have you met my friend, Harvey?” Zig said in an incredibly accurate imitation of Jimmy Stewart.

Jules returned to the counter where he stood, then hopped up on it and listened. Zig and Chaz had been doing impressions all afternoon.

It had been a great way to keep Jules from worrying. Something she’d been doing since the two homicide detectives had come by earlier. They’d asked so many questions, she’d grown confused about their purpose.

Thank heavens Zig and Chaz had been there. Otherwise, she was sure she would have been hauled down to the station.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Zig switched from sounding like Jimmy Stewart to imitating Hugh Grant in an instant. “Bollocks! That’s not an enormous white rabbit behind you. It’s an alien with a . . . with a . . . bloody huge knife. I think he’s planning to make Jimmy stew!”

“Is this your idea of work?” Chaz interjected, sounding remarkably like Seth, at least until he laughed. Then Chaz sounded like a hyena. “I thought you were a cop, not a street performer.”

Jules laughed.

The front door handle jiggled and her laughter died in her throat. Fear flashed through her as both men snapped their gazes to the source of the sound.

“It’s all right, it’s only good ol’ Detective English,” Zig announced in his Jimmy Stewart voice. He crossed the room, unlocked the door, and opened it. “Why, come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Seth scowled at him. “I thought you were a cop, not a street performer.”

Chaz and Zig laughed with Jules again. For his part, Seth just looked confused. “Did I miss something?”

“Not really,” Jules explained as Chaz and Zig put on their coats. “The officers were just keeping me company.”

“If you no longer need us,” Chaz said to Seth, “we’ll be on our way.”

“We’re through here.” Seth managed a smile. “See you in the a.m.”

“You ready to go?” Jules asked when he glanced her way. She hopped off the counter and grabbed her purse and jacket from the nook beneath the register. “I’m starving.”

He nodded, and in no time, they were back in their building.

Seth did a quick sweep of her apartment, then said, “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.” He headed to his apartment.

She wandered through her living room. Alone. She shivered.

Funny, being alone had never bothered her before, but after the past few days, she wouldn’t mind steady company for a while. Okay, not just any company. The breathing kind.

“Aimee-Lynn?” she whispered, walking from room to room, flipping on lights as she went. The ghost didn’t answer.

Relief at being specter-free drained the tension from her body. Ready to relax, Jules changed into an old, comfortable heather gray sweatshirt and blue jeans.

Three sharp knocks sounded at her front door. She hurried from her bedroom to the living room. Finally! Seth was back.

“Just a sec,” she called out.

“Jules, it’s Seth. Open—” She pulled open the door to find him frowning at her. He finished his sentence adding the final word. “Up.”

“Hi, Seth.”

“You really shouldn’t open the door until you’ve checked who’s outside. I could have been anyone.”

“I knew it was you,” she said, and blushed. “Okay, I hadn’t actually
known
but I figured it was you.”

“Humor me and check from now on.” His frown faded and he held up a brown paper sack the size of a grocery bag. “Dinner’s ready.”

He strode through the living room, headed for the kitchen, then settled the bag on the table. She locked the door and joined him. Jules pulled out dishes, cups, and flatware, while Seth arranged the large containers on the table.

“You’re in for a treat,” Seth said, gesturing toward the food. “It’s my mother’s moussaka and my daughter’s baked bread. If you’re sweet to me, I’ll even feed you some of my special baklava.”

He grinned at her wickedly. Images of him feeding her naked winged into her mind.

Her tummy did a little flip that had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with the sexy man in front of her. She was certain she blushed, because the images winged faster now.

Ooh, if that man ever learned how to control that fantasy-push he did, she’d be in real trouble. But that would require her telling him about her crift and him believing her.

Two things she wasn’t sure could ever happen.

Subdued, she grabbed a glass of sweet tea for herself and a bottle of water for him. She sat down at the table. Across from her, the scent of warm bread, spices, and Seth tickled her senses.

He lifted his bottle of water in the air and she touched her glass to it. “To getting to know each other
much
better,” he said with barely banked heat in his gaze.

His look sent the blood rushing to her cheeks again. Confusion had her blurting out, “Seth, what’s going on here? Are—are we on a date or are you providing police protection?”

He frowned, sipped his water, then sighed. “Last night I’d planned for this to be a date.”

“And now?”

“Jules.” He shook his head. “I can’t seem to think straight around you. You come near me and all I can imagine is stripping you naked to see if your entire body tastes as sweet as your lips.”

She shivered at his words. She’d like nothing more than for him to do that. “But?”

“But what?”

“There has to be a
but
here, otherwise we wouldn’t still be talking about this. Right?”

Seth pressed the bottle to his lips and took another long draught. “I’m walking a fine line with my case. Since you seem to be in the middle of it—”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she interrupted.

“I know that,” he said, setting the bottle on the table and reaching for her hand. His warm fingers entwined with hers. “But you
are
the only link I have to two murders. Had I known that last night, I wouldn’t have kissed you. I can’t afford to let myself get distracted from solving my case. People get killed when cops get sloppy. I won’t risk your life by allowing myself to become distracted.”

“Okay,” she said, a little shaken by the sincerity in his words. She could fall in love with this man, so easily. If only she had any hope he’d ever believe in her crift. “So I won’t distract you. We’ll have a nice dinner and you can keep focused on solving your case.”

“Thank you,” he said with a wink. His expression sobered he added, “Don’t misunderstand, Juliana. Tonight, we’re just going to talk. But the moment this case is put to bed, I intend to have you in mine.”

Her cheeks warmed. Heck, her whole body burned at his words.

“You’re pretty damned adorable when you do that. I bet that got you out of a lot of trouble over the years.”

“What got me out of trouble?”

“That blush.” His gaze tender, Seth released her hand to stroke a finger down her cheek. As if realizing what he was doing, he pulled back and curled his hand around his water bottle. “I’d almost swear you could do it on command to manipulate a situation, but I don’t think you know how adorable you are when you do it.”

“Wow, jaded much?”

He laughed a short burst of air, then shook his head. “Maybe. But spend enough time dealing with the dregs of society and you’d be jaded too.”

“Come on, not everyone you meet is a bad person.”

“You seem to be the exception to the rule.”

“A high compliment.” She laughed. “Well, you seem to be a decent guy too, for a grumpy
cop
.”

“Grumpy?” His eyebrows drew together in a caricature of a frown. “I happen to be the most pleasant, giving
cop
living in this building.”

“And how many cops live in our complex?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“One. Now, let’s eat, I’m hungry.” Seth cut a slice of moussaka and served her, then himself.

The aroma of peppers, onions, and garlic wafted up and her stomach growled. “Everything smells delicious.”

“And tastes even better. Dig in.”

She did. The smell of the food didn’t do it justice. Taste exploded on her tongue. “Wow, is that cinnamon?”

Seth had just scooped a large forkful into his mouth, so he could only nod.

Apparently he was as ravenous as she was. They ate quickly and quietly. Before she knew it, she’d finished what he’d served her. She eyed the moussaka, tempted to take another slice, but didn’t want to appear piggish.

“You want more?” he asked, a curious expression on his face. He cut another slice and placed it on her plate. When she lifted her fork and took a bite, he said, “It’s nice to see you eat. Sexy.”

Jules almost choked. “What?”

Seth laughed. “At lunch yesterday, I was afraid you were like most women. You know, determined to be so skinny their bodies are shaped like teenaged boys’. You’re not like that. I’m glad. And seeing the way you enjoy the food, it’s . . . erotic.”

Heat burned her cheeks again.
Dang!
She fought to think of a reply that didn’t sound stupid but was saved when Seth changed the subject.

“Jules, why didn’t you want to file a report after the mugging?” Seth set his fork down on his empty plate.

“What’s the point?” She put her fork down too, her appetite suddenly gone.

“I’m going to make a guess here,” he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. “I think your ex-husband did something worse than simply not trusting you. Worse than cheating. But what? I gotta tell you, my imagination is running wild here. Clue me in. It would have to be something horrible to traumatize you so much that you not only don’t trust law enforcement officers, you don’t even like them.”

“I like you,” she blurted, a bit flustered by how right Seth was. “Look, it’s not like he beat me or anything. It’s . . . it’s hard for most people to understand. He just didn’t trust me.”

“You said that yesterday.” Seth straightened in his seat and pushed his plate forward until he could rest his arms on the table. “He didn’t trust you and you shouldn’t have trusted him, right?”

“Yeah.” She pushed her plate aside too and started to rise.

Seth stopped her by placing a hand on her uninjured arm. “Wait. Talk to me. I want to know what happened.”

“Why? What does it have to do with your case?” A jittery sensation started just behind her breastbone.

“It has nothing to do with my case. It has everything to do with understanding you better. I saw the way you paled when the paramedic mentioned the police and the fear in your eyes when I told you I was leaving patrolmen at your shop. You don’t just not like police; you fear them.” He paused, then continued in a lower voice, “I see the fear there now, staring at me, as if you expect me to hurt you. I promise I won’t.”

Part of her wanted to run, to protect herself from this conversation. From him. And part of her wanted to open up and tell him everything. But experience taught her that the latter could destroy her. Still, the sincerity and warmth in his eyes soothed her and she found herself wanting to trust another person for the first time in years.

“Four years ago, I was a newlywed living in a small town and married to the youngest sheriff Kemmerton ever had.” Jules sank into her chair again. She twisted her wrist. Seth let her go.

She pictured Kemmerton with its lush, green hills, lakes, and riverfront homes. She smiled. “That fall, I started teaching preschool. I loved my kids. Five-year-olds are so excited all the time. They love to learn and play and they haven’t yet learned to fear differences.”