a physical.
Jo kept her eyes lowered slightly, her gaze hitting the stranger about midchest. It lingered over the glint of gold-edged sunglasses casually hooked in his shirt pocket, as a quick, indrawn breath tightened the fit of his shirt.
The view was everything she’d imagined.
Pretending disinterest, she didn’t raise her eyes until she drew level and Bull was saying, “This is the little lady you want to talk to. Detective Jo Jellic.”
Bull’s too precious diminutive put a hex on the smile she’d been holding back to blind the stranger with. Deliberately, she thrust out her hand, getting in first.
At chin level she got her first surprise. Not at the few days growth of dark gold beard that covered his skin, but the several weeks older sun-tinted moustache. Her eyes held on it as if counting each hair, each sun-lightened strand above his full, firm mouth. If he’d been smiling, his teeth would have made a dazzling contrast to all that gold. But he wasn’t.
Tilting her head—for the man topped her by at least five inches—Jo added another point to his total. It took a couple of seconds for the penny to drop, then her breath caught in her throat, and her greeting stuttered to a halt.
Shocked, her hand clutched air while she doubted her own eyes.
“Jo, meet Rowan…er…McQuaid,” said Bull with a quick look at the business card in his hand.
“Rowan McQuaid,” she wheezed as her oxygen ran out.
God, he’d changed!
Time froze as he looked down his long nose at her, nostrils flaring slightly, with eyes the opaque green of glass that has been battered by rough waves. Cold as ice, his hand enveloped hers. A shiver she badly wanted to hide slowly crept up her spine, never missing a notch. Jo let out another breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as his eyes lightened and hazel flecks patterned the green, the way she remembered.
“As they say, long time no see,” he drawled, a dry sound, lacking warmth.
And where was the surprise in that? The changes she perceived in this man, who had once been her friend, had all been her doing. All her fault.
“You…you look well. I hardly recognized you, Rowan.”
“Well, it’s been two years, and you know what they say about time.” It healed all wounds.
But what about their friendship, could it even come close to fixing that? Jo let her hand drop, and took the opportunity to ease her tense body through the narrow space between him and her desk, wary of brushing against him.
She’d once prided herself on nerves of steel, yet they quivered now, like a plucked bowstring. It puzzled her mightily when the dull, leaden feeling of guilt she’d expected was superseded by feelings of uncertainty. As if she was indeed that little lady her colleagues kept calling her.
Sitting down, she took advantage of the distance the width of the desktop allowed, and sheltered behind it.
A frown shaped her brows in a V of futility. What couldn’t be mended would have to be endured, for she’d demolished everything that had held them together the night Rowan had busted his leg taking a bullet meant for her.
Oh, she had paid. Paid well. Lost touch with most of her friends while she frittered away her homicide experience on jobs any beat cop could handle. But at least she still had her career.
She wanted to give him a great big hug to show she knew his pain, that she cared, but she was afraid any expression of empathy from her would go over like a lead balloon. Instead she asked, “How are you really doing, Rowan?”
Jo was the last person Rowan had expected to meet in Nicks Landing. Clutching tight to control, he chivvied her to prevent betraying himself. “Lighten up, Jo. Don’t take it so seriously.”
Don’t do as I do, do as I say.
He’d outgrown the habit of enclosing his senses in a protective coating when Jo was near. He’d even ousted her from his dreams. Deliberately, he hadn’t kept up with her whereabouts. Seeing her today had come as a shock. But he would be damned if he’d let her know why, or pity him for it. Feigning a grin, he put his weight on his injured leg and lifted his arms. “Look, no hands.”
Jo’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. Their dark brown irises melted like chocolate. A look that Rowan wanted to reach out and smooth away. And therein lay the danger.
Now he knew why the hairs on the back of his neck had lifted, as if a ghostly hand ruffled them, filling his palm with an urge to brush them down. Now he knew it was a ghost from his past.
“So, Rowan, what brings you to Nicks Landing?”
“McQuaid’s here about that case you’re working on. Wants it cleared up fast,” Bull answered for him, rushing the gate like the animal he was named for. Unlike most other things in Nicks Landing, Bull hadn’t changed. He still acted the way he had when they were both boys, running wild during summer vacation.
“I thought you’d left the force….”
Her words dwindled away softly, but Rowan noticed she hadn’t said “had to.” Or “you were unfit.” No, he’d give her that. She’d finally learned discretion. The art of not running off at the mouth and saying exactly what she was thinking.
“Take a look at this.” Bull handed over Rowan’s business card. “Insurance Investigator.”
Rowan watched Jo’s eyes linger over the card. He’d had a few of them made under two or three different headings, today’s one for Allied Insurance. Few knew that even his name was misleading, only people like Bull and Harry Jackson who remembered him from the old days. He’d counted on their friendship not to give him away, using it to oil the wheels with this Skelton business.
“And what’s that to do with me or my case?” Jo gasped, her mouth quivering as if disturbed by the turn of events.
Bull answered, “Allied has been taking a lot of crap from Rocky and his wife, and they want this puppy put to bed.”
“Just like that. I can’t just call it quits to suit your employer.” Her chair bumped the wall as she stood leaning forward, fists clenched. “This case is important to me.”
“C’mon now, girlie. You know that case is going nowhere.”
Jo blinked, and under her lashes her eyes flashed a warning in Bull’s direction before turning back in his.
She was good and mad now. He preferred her spitting fire than looking all soft and sad, tempting him to do something about it.
“I’ve only been on this case two weeks. That’s not enough time. I need more. I deserve more.”
Bull came round the side of her desk, mouth open to speak. She cut him off. “I know what you’re going to say, Sergeant. You only gave me the case so I could tidy it up and stick it away in a file, but that’s not the way I work.”
“Don’t worry, Bull. I know what Jo’s like. Once she gets her teeth into something it’s hard to prise them apart.”
Bull
