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“I think I can manage a classier first date than mere coffee.”
“Which suggests you’ve placed your bet on a different day.”
“I certainly have. Next Sunday, to be exact.”
Meaning I had to wait six whole days before I got any serious action? That was almost cruel....
“Is there any reason we’re waiting so long?”
He chuckled again. “If I said better odds, you’ll probably never speak to me again.”
“You may well be right.”
“In truth, I have Monday off. Given the café is also closed, I thought it’d be nice if I picked you up for dinner on Sunday night, after which we can then retreat to my place.” He hesitated. “There’re two bedrooms, so there are no expectations, and you can sleep alone if you so desire.”
“I think you can guess the response to that—especially given Belle’s comments this morning.”
“Perhaps, but I learned a long time ago to never presume.” His smile was evident in his voice. “I’ll finish locking up the station and be there in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I hung up and then raced upstairs to put on some fresh clothes and makeup. Belle still wasn’t home by the time I clattered back down with his coat, as well one for myself, so I left her a note, collected my purse and his keys, and then headed for the front door. He was striding down the street as I stepped out, and the warmth in his smile had my toes curling. He was wearing dark jeans that hugged his long, strong legs, and a rich blue sweater that emphasized his shoulders and brought out the color of his eyes. He was, I thought idly, a rather good-looking man.
I held his keys up and said, “Your truck is parked around the back.”
“Thanks.” His fingers brushed mine as he took them from me, and heat curled through my body. “But I’m afraid there’s been yet another change of plans.”
I valiantly pushed down the sliver of disappointment and said, “What’s happened?”
“I got a call from Ciara. She needs to discuss the autopsy results on Marlinda Brown.”
“At this hour? Isn’t it a bit late?”
“I asked her to do overtime to get the autopsies done, as we need to present the prelim findings to the council ASAP.” He grimaced. “It’s hardly fair for me to expect that of her and not be willing to put in extra time myself.”
He’d already put in plenty of overtime from what I’d seen, but it wasn’t like I had any right to comment on that. “And today’s body? Was it connected to the other two murders?”
“No—not unless our murderer has gained a sudden desire to kill cows.”
I blinked. “How on earth did the witnesses mistake a cow for a human?”
“They were city folk,” he replied, amused, “and it had floated out a bit from the shore and did look body-like in the rain.”
“I still suspect the witnesses might need to their eyesight checked.” I crossed my arms against the chill of the night and thwarted expectations. “Do you know how it died?”
“Ciara thinks it slipped down the slope when it was trying to get a drink, broke its leg, and drowned.”
“Poor thing.” I hesitated. “I guess we’ll do coffee another time, then.”
“Yes.” He brushed a finger down my cheek. Though the touch was light, it nevertheless caused havoc inside. “I’m sorry.”
I smiled as he dropped his hand and stepped back. “So am I.”
His fingers twitched, then clenched, and I had a suspicion he was barely resisting the urge to reach for me. So I did what any sane, sensible woman would in that situation—I stepped closer, rose up on my toes, and kissed him. I kept it light and sweet—made it a tease more than a declaration. But the minute I tried to step back, his arms went around me, the kiss deepened, and it became that declaration of intent I’d been trying to avoid. It left me aching and hungry for more, and while the sane, sensible part of me cursed my impulsiveness, the rest at least had something to dream about in the long hours ahead.
“You,” he said, as he eventually—and somewhat reluctantly—released me, “have totally ensured I won’t sleep easily tonight.”
“Good, because that was the aim, Ranger.” My tone was filled with mock outrage. “Consider it payback for making our first official date nearly a week away. And all to win a ten-dollar bet!”
