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“Why not? Get down to business and get out of there,” she said. “Nothing wrong with simple, no-strings-attached sex.” She turned her head and met his eyes. “Seriously, you don’t want to hang out afterwards discussing your feelings, do you?”
“I like to take my time. I’m a giver, if you know what I mean. I guarantee that a guy who moves that fast hasn’t fully satisfied his partner.” He kept his gaze steady on her and was gratified to see the tiniest blush rise in her cheeks. Were they thinking the same thing? Because he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. In the unlikely event they ever hooked up, he’d be sure to make it last. Too bad, she’d made it clear after their one and only kiss that he wasn’t her type.
She cleared her throat and looked away. “It’s more likely that Mason’s intent here was criminal.” Her tone was formal, almost prissy, which was so not like her.
“Probably,” he agreed.
“I’ll get in touch with Micky.” She was all business. “He’ll know if this area has a reputation for any kind of criminal activity. He’s covered the crime beat for the newspaper for years.”
It was a good idea, but part of him had to think she’d suggested contacting Helen’s dad as a way of changing the tone of their conversation since the vibe in the truck had turned steamy. He cracked the window, letting in a cooler breeze. On the inside, he was debating whether he wanted this unnamed tension with Sophie to cool off or it he wanted to see how hot it could get.
SEVEN
On the drive back to the retreat, Sophie kept turning over in her mind what they had and hadn’t learned. Mason was a creature of habit. Most people were. Constantly visiting the same bar for lunch wasn’t out of the ordinary, nor was it all that suspicious. The drugstore and apartment building, though—there might be something to those. She needed more information, and she sure as heck needed to stop imagining how Owen could make sex last for more than an hour. That had to mean multiple orgasms for his partner. She crossed her legs a little tighter, trying not to imagine the many ways he could make that happen.
No. She needed to focus on the case, so she forced herself to mentally review the details and look for new leads. She managed to keep her brain occupied until they got back to their cabin. Then, all bets were off because they shared the small space and a bed. She had a flash where she imagined the two of them rolling around together on that bed. No matter how hard she tried to forget, the feeling of his lips pressed to hers… no. She yanked herself back. Don’t go there.
“I’m going to grab a shower,” Owen announced, which was about the worst thing he could have said at that moment. He was going to be naked, just a few feet away, letting hot water run down his body. Would his hands stray down to …
Stop.
“Sure. I’ve got some…uh…communicating to do.” She let out a ragged breath when the bathroom door closed. She needed a break from him and not for any of the reasons she might have listed a few days ago.
Flipping open her laptop, she concentrated on sending an email to Micky since she couldn’t risk calling him. Within a minute she got a reply back.
“A popular sex worker used to use a first-floor apartment in that complex for her rendezvous,” Micky wrote. “She closed up shop about three weeks ago and disappeared. Hope that helps. I’m glad to hear from you. I know you’re pursuing a big story, but I was starting to worry since I haven’t seen you around the office. Anything else I can do to help you out?”
She’d have loved to get Micky working with her. He was savvy and had years of experience. She couldn’t, though, since she’d promised Helen that she wouldn’t involve her father in the investigation. Since she couldn’t tell him what was going on, she went for the easiest excuse.
“No, but thanks. Jude wants to keep it between him and me for now.” That wasn’t a lie. Her editor had stressed to her the importance of keeping this investigation quiet until they had enough to take it to print. As always, he was being cautious—but she could understand it. Wilson had friends in high places. Friends who could make things very uncomfortable for the paper if they went after a respected local figure with anything less than rock-solid evidence of his culpability.
From the bathroom, Owen began singing, which would be annoying if his voice wasn’t so darn good. She cocked her head and listened to the lazy love song in his rich baritone as it blended with the running water. If he made love like he sang…
Not going there. Not picturing him soaping up his muscled body.
Oh, god. She was picturing it again even though she knew that was a mistake.
A new message came in. Thank goodness. A distraction.
“Damn Jude for being so timid about anything remotely controversial,” Micky wrote. “He’s more concerned about not pissing off advertisers or shareholders than doing what’s right in this business. The whole idea of a newsroom is that reporters work together. Get more done that way.”
“I can’t disagree,” she replied. “Thanks for the info. I’ll talk with Jude about bringing more people on board in the investigation.” Sophie only needed one—Micky. But she wouldn’t ask for more help from him, even off the books, without approval from Helen. She knew she was going to have to talk to her friend about that, and she couldn’t put it off any longer. She dreaded the conversation, though, so she moved onto other tasks as she psyched herself up to confront Helen.
First, she sent off a quick email to Razor suggesting a video interview. It was a long shot that he’d agree to such a thing, but there was no harm in asking. Then, she checked her phone and saw that it was almost time for her nightly communication with Helen and Julia. She sent off a text, suggesting a video chat instead of the usual text exchange that evening. It would be good to see their faces, and it felt right to ask Helen’s permission about Micky sort-of-kind-of in person.
She got a thumbs-up emoji from both and initiated the call. “Hey,” she greeted them with a smile as their faces popped up on screen.
They chatted casually for a minute, catching up because it had been several days since their last video talk. Helen looked relaxed and well. Julia seemed tired, which wasn’t a surprise since she had her niece and nephew with her—Wilson’s children who she’d taken with her when she’d fled. Sophie could see the kids watching television in the background.
“Anything new in your investigation?” Helen asked. Sophie explained how they’d followed Mason’s GPS trail and not learned much. She waited a beat before getting to her purpose.
“I emailed with your dad tonight,” she said to Helen. “And I know you don’t want him involved, but he would be a huge asset. He knows so much about the city and crime beat. He might already have information I need and—”
“No,” Helen said definitively. “I’m sorry, Soph, but you know how he is. He’d jump in with both feet and start tracking down leads personally, putting himself at risk. I can’t risk him getting caught up in this. So, no. I’d only agree if Owen could be dad’s bodyguard, too, and I know that’s not possible.”
“I understand. It’s just…well, Owen and I will work it out.” Sophie forced a smile, even though she was frustrated. She got Helen’s reluctance, though, and had to abide by her friend’s wishes. She turned her attention to Julia. The situation was extra tough on her since she was the sole caretaker of two young kids while in hiding. “How are you holding up, Julia?”
“Okay, I guess.” She glanced behind her and lowered her voice. “Every day’s a challenge. I didn’t anticipate that it would go on for so long. I have to admit that I’m getting…worn down. I’m scared, too. I jump at every little noise.”
