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“Cold hearths are preferable.” She choked, her skin prickling, body now hot all over. She’d peel off her sweater if she could but she didn’t have anything but a bra underneath. “Cold is good. Hard and uncomfortable even better.”
His mouth curved in the most sinful, wicked grin she’d ever seen in her life. “As I’m concerned for your well-being, I would recommend hard is always better, but we can’t have uncomfortable. I promise you’d never be uncomfortable.”
Jet exhaled in a soft dizzying rush. He was going straight to her head, seducing her with words, and her body loved it. Traitorous body.
Thank God the kettle came to a boil and whistled. “You play dirty.”
“I do?”
“Yes, you.”
“You’re the one who sent a text that said ‘I could call, or drop by’.”
“Drop by doesn’t mean sex.”
“No, but drop by means I could see you, in person, which for men, is far preferable to phone conversations.”
“This is about the Douglas ranch investigation.”
He gave her a pointed look before grabbing a hot pad to lift the kettle from the stove and fill the mugs. “Right.”
“I’m serious.”
Steam swirled from the kettle and mugs. “So am I. I’ve been told to keep my distance from you or someone is going to cause me bodily harm.” He set the kettle down and gave her another pointed glance. “But here you are.”
She smiled. She couldn’t help it. It was his inflection and the glint in his dark eyes and the easy way he moved about the kitchen, so very comfortable. He’d obviously been a bachelor a long time. “Do you mind so terribly much that I am here?”
“No. I wanted to see you. I like you. And apparently I like a good fight.”
Jet choked on smothered laughter. “Nobody is going to put a fist in your face.”
“Because Harley and Cormac and the rest of that beast of a family have agreed that we can be friends?” he asked dryly, handing her a cup. “Be careful. It’s hot. I don’t want you to get burned.”
She appreciated the concern. She didn’t want to get burned, either. Not by the scalding hot mug, or by his gorgeous fascinating self.
He could hurt her. He’d break her heart if she let him. She couldn’t let him. She couldn’t drop her guard. Not with him, or anyone. It was too soon after Ben. She wasn’t strong enough yet, wasn’t ready to love, or trust…
Especially herself.
He reached out suddenly and brushed a tendril from her brow. The long strand tangled on a lash and as he freed the strand his fingertips brushed her cheek.
She inhaled hard, pulse jumping. His touch was electric and everything inside her zinged.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, his voice pitched low, his tone serious.
Her heart drummed even faster. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, the irises so dark she felt lost in them. Yesterday when they’d talked, she’d been able to see the boy in him, and yet this afternoon he was all man. A tough, physical, sexual man and she didn’t know what to do with him…
Or how to feel about him…
But she knew why she was here. In person. She hadn’t wanted to talk on the phone. She’d wanted to be here for this…this hot, crackling, sizzling energy. His hot, crackling, sizzling energy. She must be mad but everything about him intrigued her. He was like the story she just couldn’t put down. Beautiful. Unpredictable. And oh, so very compelling.
But did she really need to have her heart broken again? Because he would break it. He was a take no prisoners kind of guy. What she should do was go, before she developed more feelings, before she lost her head altogether.
“So I heard something interesting today,” she said huskily, holding her cup in front of her as if it was a shield and able to protect her in battle. “I thought it might prove useful to you somehow.”
“I’d love to hear,” he said, as if nothing had just happened between them. As if his touch had been nothing…
Maybe it was nothing…
That thought hurt more than it should.
She gulped a breath and dove into her story, desperate to find her footing. “I went to Java Café this morning for breakfast and ended up sharing a table with a couple. They were close to my age and the girl was telling her boyfriend about the Douglas ranch murders. I couldn’t help listening. It was impossible not to hear.” She paused and took a breath, telling herself to slow down. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was listening. Everything was fine.
“What made it interesting,” she continued, “is that the girl, Laura, lived on the Carrigan ranch at the time of the murders. Her dad was one of the foremen for the Circle C and even though she was just five, Laura remembered how awful it was then, living in the valley, and how scared everyone was. With the murders unsolved, her mom wanted to leave Paradise Valley. She didn’t feel safe so far out, and so they ended up moving to town, and then later her parents divorced.”
“Did she say why her parents divorced?”
“Her mom blamed the murders. Laura said something like whoever committed the crime killed two families that day, not one.”
“Interesting.”
“I asked her if she had any theories on who did it,” Jet added.
Shane’s eyebrows lifted.
Jet saw his expression and grimaced. “I like knowing things.”
He seemed to be struggling to check a smile. “So what did you learn?”
“Laura’s mom had two theories about the person who did it. It was either a ranch hand who had a beef with Mr. Douglas over something, or it was someone who had a thing for Mrs. Douglas. Apparently Mrs. Douglas was really beautiful and Laura’s mom thought that maybe someone had become obsessed with her and kind of went nuts.”
“Mmm. Only I don’t think it was a ranch hand.”
“Could it have been someone with that revival? The one that visited Paradise Valley in the summer?”
“How did you hear about that?”
“Laura mentioned it and then I asked Louise Jenkins—”
“Louise Jenkins?”
“The librarian. In Marietta.”
> “When did you talk to her?”
“Today. I went to do some research. They have copies of all the original newspapers.”
“I’ve interviewed her at length.”
“She told me.”
His lips curved. “You could be a detective.”
She smiled crookedly. “I could, couldn’t I?”
He was still smiling but he was looking past her, out the window over the kitchen sink, his attention on something else now. Silence followed and Jet could see he was deep in thought. She waited to hear what he’d say, wondering if her information helped him at all.
“I’d love to talk to Laura’s mother,” he said at last. “Sounds like she has very vivid memories and wouldn’t be opposed to telling me what she remembers.” His brow creased a little as he turned to look at her again. “She’s here in town?”
“No. She’s in Polson. I’m not sure where that is, though.”
“It’s on the south end of Flathead Lake.”
“Isn’t that where you lived with your grandmother?”
“Yes. And my mom’s cabin in Cherry Lake is just north of Polson. Maybe fifteen minutes from the town.”
“Is it someplace you’d fly from here or would you drive?”
“I’d drive. It’s not that far. Four or five hours, depending on the weather.”
“You should go.”
“I’m thinking about it.” He sipped his hot tea. Steam still rose from the cup. She could see that he was thinking hard on something and then he looked at her intently, dark eyes studying her over the rim of his mug. “Feel like a road trip? Want to go?”
“Go?”
He shrugged. “Why not? It’s a beautiful drive. You’d have the chance to see more of Montana.” He must have noticed her tell-tale blush. “We’ll have separate rooms. I respect the whole avoid the bed-couch-sheepskin-rug-in-front-of-the-fire thing.”
Her lips twitched and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too widely. He was impossible. And apparently she liked that. “There is no way I could hide that from Harley.”
“Wouldn’t want you to.”
“She’d freak.”
“She would.”
