“Personally, I don’t think Rocky had any notion how prophetic the name of his bar would be. He named it that because he was made redundant.”
Now that his afternoon and evening had been arranged to Jo’s satisfaction, all he wanted was out of there. It simplified matters to go along with her plans. “What time?”
She picked up his business card and glanced over it. “I’ll call your cell phone when I’m done, and arrange a time.”
From under her desk she produced a sturdy leather bag, too large to be called a purse, quickly slipping his card into a front pocket. Her next move set his heart racing. Slinging her bag over one shoulder, she slid her fingers through the long black silkiness of her hair before loosing it to fall in a flurry of waves and curls onto her shoulders.
The movement lifted her pink shirt’s miniscule tail above her waistband, allowing a glimpse of smooth satin skin. Her pants slipped lower on her hips, and the shadowy hollow that was her navel, broke up the curve of her honey-colored belly. How would it feel to cradle his head on its softness and simply lie there breathing her in?
Bad move.
Rowan lifted his stunned gaze and swallowed hard.
Their eyes caught as she tucked her shirt in, patted the side of her leather bag and started to walk round the desk. “Ready?”
If he were any more ready he’d be lethal. He’d been half-hard for the past hour, and now he had an ache pressing against his zipper that had to be noticeable. Who’d have thought he’d ever be grateful for the protection of a yellow envelope.
Waving his free hand in the direction of the door, he said, “After you.” Following the convention of ladies first, with heartfelt thanks.
Jeez, she couldn’t believe she’d actually done that. Jo stood at the top of the stairs feeling ashamed of testing the waters the way she had, lifting her arms above her head, knowing it would emphasize her breasts.
She’d watched him swallow the knot in his throat, an involuntary action that only confirmed he was human.
Knowingly, she’d set out on this provocative path, hating to think the buzz zapping her nerves every time he glanced her way was one-sided. That all these hot, bothered and bewildered feelings affected Rowan not one iota. Honestly. Some people read auras, whereas she could sense Rowan’s presence even without hearing his tread on the stairs behind her.
Where had it sprung from, this awareness? When?
Was it really new, or simply something she’d chosen to ignore? With each glance she’d cast his way, hoping he wouldn’t catch her, the hum in her temples increased and the blood in her head bubbled and fizzed as if she had the bends. She couldn’t remember getting this worked up over any man, not even Max Strachan, the last man she’d imagined she loved.
Imagined being the operative word. God, he would have the last laugh now. Max, the one man who’d been honest with her, even if only to tell her she’d no shot of him ever returning her affections.
And Rowan? She’d always thought of him as slightly uptight, at least in her company. First and foremost a by-the-rules guy. Never a step out of place until the last night they had worked together.
On the only occasions they’d met since, he’d acted pretty cagey, accepting her apology for darn near getting him killed with his usual stony face. As if nothing touched him, not even death.
So who had changed, her or him?
Jo stopped at the foot of the stairs, turned, waiting till Rowan drew level. “I have business with Sergeant Jackson. I’ll call you this evening.”
“No problem. I’ll walk with you. I want to tell the sergeant I’m leaving and thank him for his help. I expect to be in and out of the station house quite a bit. Might as well stay on the guy’s good side.”
Jo rolled her eyes and shrugged, a small piece of body language she’d inherited from her Dalmatian grandmother along with her cheekbones and black curls. “Suit yourself.”
What was he really after? It was unlike Rowan to be ingratiating. And how could he bear to watch Harry doing the work he’d had to give up? If she’d lost her job, the way Rowan had, she’d never enter another police station.
Spinning on her heel, she marched along the corridor, her steps brisk, concealing her doleful thoughts. But soon her true nature won through. She had a comic mental flash of what might have been, if Rowan had still been there when she’d arrived with Ginny. She broke into a grin as she pictured Rowan’s face.
All teenagers morphed into an alien life-form these days. What was the betting Ginny would have gone off the planet? Jo was grateful Rowan hadn’t heard the wolf whistle of approval coming from her car. With a sigh, she acknowledged she’d made a few hormone-driven moves herself in the last hour, as if her body had been taken over. The green light had gone on the moment he teased her about her offer to show him everything she had.
Then later…her feeble attempt to get a reaction from him, well that memory was plain embarrassing. Rowan would never really be attracted to her. She’d known him too long. In future it would pay to keep her eyes to herself and off Rowan. The problem being, the new Rowan was just so easy on the eye.
Dear heavens, now there was a thought to jump-start her brain. She was responsible for the new and improved model. Responsible for all the pain he’d gone through while they’d fought to piece his shattered leg together. She forgot how many times he’d gone under the surgeon’s knife.
Rowan’s strength of mind showed in taut, sleek muscles that couldn’t be bought. She ought to be thankful he hadn’t lost himself in the pain her foolish actions had inflicted.
How would she fare if she lost her career?
Would she even know herself anymore?
She burst through the door, mind made up. All thoughts of Rowan as a living, breathing babe were banned. All her priorities were in a straight line. She needed his help to prove her father’s ex-partner had burned down his house, not to discover how it felt to kiss a man with a moustache.
Of greater importance was a chance to prove to her superiors that she’d always known Rocky Skelton was a liar. Maybe then they would take a fresh look at the black marks on her father’s record. She simply had to place that doubt in their minds, and make them realize Milo Jellic had been done wrong.
Rowan had barely passed through the doors when Harry Jackson asked, “How’s it going, McQuaid? Was Jo able to set your mind at rest?”
Rest wasn’t exactly the way Rowan would phrase it. Set fire to his libido? Yeah. Tightened the thumbscrews on his hormones? You bet! After this, he’d be lucky to get a good night’s sleep for dreaming of Jo. Being over her, under her, inside her.
Damage control! He pulled a lead curtain across his thoughts.
Harry’s grin didn’t attempt to hide that he’d been conniving as he looked from one to the other of them. He and Bull were the only two who knew he’d come home. The only two he wanted to know. His old friend probably thought he’d been doing Rowan a favor by not warning him the detective he’d come to see was six feet of luscious curves. No way could Harry know they had a history together, or that most of his friends blamed Jo for his departure from the force. The
