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He licks his lips, like he’s preparing to taste my name, then, “Sadie.” It rolls off his tongue like a whispered prayer. The desire to close my eyes and be lost in that sound alarms me, and I press my palms to the counter to ground myself.
It’s the same reaction I had as his words caressed me at the club, the same draw to his deep timbre—inviting, arousing, tempting. But I can’t… I’m not that person right now.
“You’re a detective,” he says, surprise edging into his tone. “I never would’ve guessed that. Though I did take a stab at your real hair color—and that, I’m pleased to say, I got right.” He winks, sending a jolt to my chest. “I like your natural color more.”
“Behavioral analyst, actually.” I match his cocky smile with one of my own, choosing to ignore his remark about my hair. “But it’s along the same field of work. Sort of.”
His eyebrows draw together, like he’s working something out. “A profiler?”
Damn television. “Yes. But don’t worry,” I say, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Long as you tell the truth, you’re safe.”
“I have no reason to lie. Nothing to hide.” There’s a hint of accusation there.
I note that, then try to push us both past this awkward encounter. “Your full name?” I ask, forcing my gaze to my notebook. I reach for my pen.
His hand snakes the pen off the counter first. “Colton Reed.” He studies the object for a second before he holds the pen out between us. I grasp it hesitantly, anticipating the touch of his fingers on mine. I hold my breath, waiting for their feel…but he releases the pen without making a connection. “I gave you my word, Sadie. I won’t touch you until you ask.”
My eyes stay locked on his disarming gaze while I lower the pen to the page. My stomach clenches, and I’m not sure if its nerves or what, but an ache thrums through me. Hot and vicious. Igniting my skin with awareness.
Breaking eye contact, I look down at the clean page and write his name. “You said you were at work the night of your neighbor’s attack. Can you confirm where that is?”
I can feel his smile charging the air between us. “You know where. And yes, that’s a confirmation.”
Right. “On that night you were bartending?”
“No.”
I look up to catch the serious pull at his features. “Can you elaborate?”
He pushes his sleeves up, exposing one well-defined forearm at a time, then rests his elbows on the counter. Lowering himself right before me, so close I could lean in and feel his breath on my skin, he says, “I’d rather show you.”
I force a smile. “I’m sorry, Colton. I don’t have time for games. This is a very serious investigation—”
“And I’m taking it seriously. I’m trying to tell you that bartending is only something I do as a favor to the owner until he finds a proper replacement. That if you ever explored a bit beyond your comfort zone, you’d already know the answer to your question.”
This, right here, is why I don’t mix business with pleasure. The line blurs, and I can’t focus on my job when that happens. I sigh and push away from the counter. “As long as this checks out, I think I have everything I need from you.”
Colton tilts his head. “As far as this is concerned, you do. I wasn’t home to hear any noises. I only spoke to Piper in greeting while checking the mail or in passing. I have nothing to offer you that will help with your case. For that, I’m sorry. But”—he reaches across the island and pulls my notebook toward him. And I’m so stunned by his willing admission, his knowledge of my job, that I don’t stop him—“as for having everything you need from me? You couldn’t be more wrong.”
I can only watch—frozen—as he plucks the pen from my hand without touching me and scrawls something along the side of the page. “You know absolutely nothing about me,” I say, hearing the tremble in my voice and hating it. “Just because I frequent a less than socially acceptable establishment doesn’t mean you can play games with me.”
He slides the notebook toward me and looks up. Straightening to his full height, he walks around the island, coming to stand before me. His flinty eyes slowly drag down my body, taking me in, mentally peeling away the layers of my clothing to leave me bare and vulnerable.
“I wonder which is closer to the real you, Sadie? The little, tight dresses you wear so sexy, or this baggy outfit meant to hide behind. Two very different looks, two very different intentions…but both offer some form of control and power for you.”
What the hell. Is this guy really trying to profile me? I’m the master of mind games—but if he wants to play, I can give him the room to hang himself. “Very insightful. You don’t want me to analyze you, do you?”
His knowing smile tilts his lips into a crooked grin. “Well, first you have to gather the facts.” He glances back at the notebook on the counter. “And if you’re up for that, then I’m all over giving you what you need.”
Head games. I might be damn good at them, but that doesn’t mean I like them. And I sure don’t like losing my footing in a case. I watch him slip out of the kitchen and back into the living area, where Quinn and Colton’s roommate appear to have completed their interview.
I pick up my notebook, but before I close it, curiosity demands I first glance down: Meet me tonight. The rope room. Wear red. Then below the note, his number.
Shit. My stomach knots, a deep need tightening my muscles. Shaking the feeling off, I pull out my packet of gum and stuff a piece into my mouth, my teeth grinding the mint flavor out before I’ve even left the apartment.
4
Flame
