eyes to meet hers. His were as cold and desolate as midnight in the desert. Though he refused to offer even one word in answer to her question, Nina understood the break was now over. She had encroached on forbidden territory.
The familiarity he’d allowed a few moments ago no longer existed. There would be no more banter about ducks or cats or long, sensuous looks or accidental touches that generated sparks. It was as if he’d thrown up an impenetrable fire wall between them.
Nina knew her question had caused the sudden turnaround, but told herself she should be glad it had happened. While a brief fling with a man like Ryan might be an experience worth remembering, Nina was all too afraid it would be impossible to forget when the time came to do that. She never had brief flings anyway, so it was for the best if nothing happened. If he could pretend no electricity passed between them, she could, too.
The man obviously had baggage. Big-time baggage she had no business exploring. He was an admitted workaholic, a man who lived for his work. She could see it clearly now.
He would never give up. He’d keep doggedly at it until he got all his answers. Then he would dive directly into another case without a pause, she would bet.
Had he always been that way, or was it connected to his leaving his job with the police force in Savannah and coming here to live? Beautiful as it was, she doubted he’d come here for the scenery. Savannah was a beautiful place, too, or so she had heard.
Something life altering must have happened, given his reaction to her question, but she wouldn’t ask him again what it was. She knew what curiosity did to cats.
Despite her decision to leave well enough alone, Nina had to admit that she enjoyed—and, at the same time, was annoyed by—the sudden, unfamiliar, and almost overwhelming thrill of anticipation that surged through herwhenever they had what she liked to think of as a moment
Well, that needed to stop. No more of those moments. She would focus only on helping discover who’d killed Desmond. That was why she was here, she reminded herself.
Someone ought to teach Ryan how to pause and celebrate the small successes the way she had learned to do, but Nina didn’t figure that someone would be her.
Chapter 7
Ryan didn’t trust himself to sit too close to Nina, so he had put the dining-room table between them. He could still smell her perfume. It teased him across the distance, barely perceptible but certainly there. She wore a subtle scent he didn’t recognize. But then, why should he? He hadn’t paid much attention to things like that even when he’d been married. Another oversight to castigate himself for, he thought as he shuffled the papers within the file and then tried to look engrossed in them.
They’d been at this for a while now, and she continued to wreck his concentration with every breath he took.
“About this Princess Samira Kamal who was involved with Desmond,” Nina said suddenly, looking up from her reading of the statements taken in Tamir. “What’s she like?”
Ryan took his time answering as he recalled the one time he had met the princess. “Sweet, trusting. Very open. Maybe a little naive. She’s led a sheltered life.”
Nina scoffed. “Not sheltered enough, apparently. She managed to have an affair with my brother.”
“Yeah, so he said.” The fact that he had said it in front of so many people in a public restaurant sure didn’t elevate Caruso in Ryan’s estimation.
Ryan looked over at the typed copy of Samira’s statement. “I didn’t do that interview with her. I was brought into the case later. From what’s in there, she thought she was in love with Desmond and believed he loved her. When she went to the guesthouse one night and saw him through the window getting cozy with someone else, she realized her mistake and decided it was over.”
“She would have been furious, I bet. She could have done it,” Nina said, a frown marring her perfect forehead. “Maybe Samira and this Farid guy are in it together, providing each other with an alibi.” She tapped her fingers on the report. “I mean, she’s a princess and he is her bodyguard.”
“Actually, he’s her husband,” Ryan informed her. “They’re married.”
She looked dumbfounded, first at him, then down at the report. Ryan knew the information was not included in what she’d just read because the couple had not yet informed her family when their statements were taken.
“I hear they sort of eloped. Difference in their stations and all that, I imagine. Word’s out now, though.”
“There you are! Jealousy!” Nina exclaimed. “What if he killed Desmond?”
Ryan propped his elbows on the table. “Farid was the best bet at first. He threatened Desmond publicly. But, no, Farid and Samira were both in Tamir at the time of death. We’ve established that without a doubt.”
Nina pursed her lips and sighed, still looking doubtful.
Ryan wished to hell she wouldn’t do that with her mouth. He forced himself to look away, to stare at the ho-hum picture some unimaginative decorator had hung on his wall. But the abstract flower petals slowly took on suggestive forms. He blinked them away.
She continued, totally unaware of his efforts to refocus. “Couldn’t they have falsified flight records or something? Surely her family would—”
“Not possible. The police flew over and took these statements soon after the body was discovered. Samira’s innocent and so is Farid. But I do plan to speak with her again in more detail about the woman she saw with Desmond in the guesthouse. Remember, Pete mentioned a woman, too? Could be the same one.”
Excitement lit Nina’s dark eyes as she leaned forward, her hands gesturing as if to grab his full attention and hold it. “We have to find her, Ryan. Surely someone else saw them together. She must have done it!”
“See? There you go jumping to conclusions again,” Ryan warned her. “This is precisely why it’s not a good idea to have an investigator involved in a case where there’s a personal interest.”
“Sorry.” She sat back, immediately assuming a more businesslike expression. “I’m perfectly willing to consider all the possibilities. I was only throwing out ideas. Isn’t that how you narrow it down to the nitty-gritty?”
“Nitty-gritty?” he questioned, chuckling at the phrase she used. “Nobody says nitty-gritty. It’s archaic.”
“Shut up,” she muttered. “So, when are we going to Tamir?”
“We’re not. I called to make the appointment to speak with Princess Samira and Farid, but they preferred to come here for the interview on the way back from a brief honeymoon.” She looked disappointed. “All right.” And she looked tired, he noticed.
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