Stranger, Seducer, Protector. Joanna Wayne
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need to close the door and keep that cat out of here, too,” Mike added, turning and scowling at Sin, who had crept into the room and scooted beneath the antique claw-foot tub.
“And, of course, the homicide detective assigned to the case will want to question you further.”
“Question me about what? I’ve told you all I know.”
Mike ignored the question and avoided eye contact with her, instead studying the ceiling as if he expected a new rain of additional body parts at any moment.
“Why not have the CSU team come out and investigate tonight?” Nick asked. “They might be able to locate the rest of the body inside the crumbling cavity and hand over all the remains to Helen at once.”
“Anything they’ll find has been here for months,” Mike said. “I don’t reckon it’s going to deteriorate that more much by morning.”
“Just trying to help.”
“If I need your help, Bruno, I’ll ask for it. Wouldn’t stand around waiting if I was you.”
Hostility fired like flint between the two men.
Mike pulled a small camera from his shirt pocket.
“Let’s give them work room,” Jacinth offered in an attempt to keep the peace. She swooped up Sin and she and Nick left the two men alone to take their pictures.
Sin cuddled in her arms for all of a minute before she squirmed her way free and pranced to the door of Marie’s old bedroom. Without a look back, the silver-gray Persian disappeared into the dark, antique-filled room that still held the lingering fragrance of lavender.
“What’s with you and Officer Friendly?” Jacinth asked as soon as they were out of Mike and Jordon’s earshot.
“It’s a long story.”
“How about the condensed version?”
“We had a run-in a while back.”
“About what?”
“His failure to adequately protect the integrity of the evidence in a case I was hired to investigate.”
So the conflict between them was at the professional level. That relieved her mind a bit.
“Whatever he does tonight is fine with me,” Jacinth said, “as long as the decapitated head leaves with him.”
“Not a chance he’ll leave that behind,” Nick assured her. “The chief would have his head.”
“Do you think he’s right about the approximate date of death?”
“Close. Temperature variances and humidity make it difficult to estimate, but forensics will get a handle on it.”
Jacinth stopped on the bottom stair and leaned against the polished mahogany banister. “I really appreciate your coming to my rescue tonight. But I’ve taken enough of your time. You should get back to your boxes.”
“If you’re still nervous, I could hang around, have a beer and keep you company until Jordon and Mike are finished.”
“I’m fine,” she said. And she didn’t have a beer in the house.
She walked him to the door. Nick lingered, leaning against the door frame, his gaze locked with hers. Awareness slithered through her, warm and a tad unsettling.
“Thanks again,” she whispered, hating that her voice held a throaty rasp. Just the dust, she told herself.
Yet when he leaned in closer, a tingling sensation danced up her spine. Instead of a kiss, he trailed a rough finger down her cheek. “I’m not quite through moving in, but I’m staying in the carriage house tonight. If you need anything at all, just call.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She closed and locked the door behind him, leaning against it to regain the equilibrium his touch had destroyed. Seconds later, she stepped to the front window in the stuffy parlor, pulled back the heavy drapes and watched Nick swagger back to his truck.
When he turned toward the house, she stepped away quickly, feeling a bit like she used to when her mother had caught her reading under the sheet with a flashlight long after her bedtime.
The imagery evolved and instead of a book cuddled beneath her sheets, she imagined Nick there. She closed her eyes and willed it away. She had just inherited a whole new set of problems and the last thing she needed was a sexy neighbor she knew absolutely nothing about to complicate matters.
Chapter Three
Nick shucked his jeans and hung them on the back of the antique rocker in his new bedroom. The bedroom was larger than what he was used to, more windows, higher ceilings, newer carpet. And neater. He hadn’t had time to litter the place with his newspapers, shoes and dirty clothes yet.
The bed looked comfortable, not that he ever slept soundly or long. He’d be lucky if he got more than a few hours’ sleep tonight.
Nothing wrong with the Findleys’ carriage house, except that he hated the strangeness, especially when he had a perfectly good house on the Westbank.
But when he’d spotted the Furnished Apartment for Rent sign on the Findleys’ front yard, he’d jumped at the chance to rent it. It was perfect for what he needed.
Jacinth’s leaky pipe couldn’t have fit better with his plans if he’d taken a monkey wrench to it and released the deluge himself. The decapitated head he could have done without.
The last thing he’d expected or needed was a new murder to intersect with the old one. The situation would complicate matters, but at least it had gotten him inside the crumbling mansion and closer to Jacinth. It was a start.
Which was why he couldn’t let Jacinth get to him on a personal level.
He just had to remember she was a Villaré. That should be enough to quell any lustful vibes she inspired, as long as he didn’t look into those bewitching dark-chocolate eyes of hers.
He shook his head as he threw back the sheet and collapsed onto the bed. Thinking of Jacinth’s eyes—or any other of her body parts for that matter—would not help him get to sleep. And he’d have to be up at dawn for the one date he always kept.
A date that would serve as a bitter reminder that Nick was running out of time.
JACINTH WOKE WITH A START as the piercing ring of her cell phone broke through the layers of sleep. She’d lain awake until after four. That seemed only minutes ago, but already slanted rays of sunshine pushed through the half-closed blinds.
Jacinth fumbled for the phone, knocking her paperback novel to the floor. She cringed at the thud. Her head hurt. Her sinuses were clogged. Her mouth was so dry it was difficult to swallow.
She mumbled a hello.
“Jacinth?”
Caitlyn. Jacinth took a deep breath and tried to sound enthusiastic. “What are you doing calling this time of the morning? Don’t tell me the honeymoon’s grown boring.”
“The honeymoon is sheer perfection, and the beach condo we rented has a marvelous view. When the sun hits the water, the Gulf appears striped with the most regal shades of emerald and turquoise I have ever seen.”
“Sounds divine.”
“It is, and you sound hoarse. Are you coming down with something?”
A case of crumbling drywall overload. Jacinth would have loved to spill the whole story and get her sister’s take on last night’s gore.
But Caitlyn had been through her own nightmare mere weeks before, barely escaping with her life before she married Marcus. She deserved this period of unadulterated happiness.
“I feel fine,” Jacinth said, “but my allergies