She scoffed. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
He gave her his best disarming smile. “Were you here last night?”
“No.”
“Where were you last night?”
“I had a showing at my gallery.” She crossed her arms over her chest. He was on thin ice here. He’d obviously annoyed her.
“You work at a gallery too?”
“I own Zelda’s Folly in Chelsea.” She sighed heavily.
His chin dropped. Jesus, who was this woman? Everything about her intrigued him. She was like a puzzle he needed to solve, and he found his mind dwelling on ways to get closer to her. “I don’t know much about art. I mean, I like art. It’s okay, you know. It’s nice on the walls. You don’t really notice it, you know, in the doctor’s office or whatever. But it’s nice. Better than bare walls.” God, he was the world’s biggest loser right now. Bare walls? He internally groaned. “Thank you for your time, Miss… Rowan. What was your last name? I can’t remember.”
“I didn’t tell you.” She stopped talking, and the silence stretched between them. Silence soaked in orange peels and smoke.
She wasn’t going to tell him her last name, and he didn’t have a reason to require her to. Great. He turned to leave, but an idea, a long shot, made him stop abruptly and pull out his phone.
“One more thing. Since you’re the artsy type, maybe you can tell me if you’ve ever seen this symbol.” He brought up the picture of the dead woman’s wrist. He wouldn’t normally share evidence from a crime scene, but he’d cropped the photo to only expose the logo. On the woman’s pale skin, there was no way to even tell the context of the symbol. He turned the screen in her direction.
Then watched all the blood drain from her face.
Chapter Seven
Rowan stared down at the picture on the detective’s phone and tried not to react. The symbol was none other than the logo Adrienne had shown her yesterday for NAVAK. In fact, it was still on her desk, on a sheet of paper halfway under her ass. Her heart beat faster and she forced herself not to glance at the paper that was no doubt sticking out from under her hip. Nick was a detective, and if he was asking her about the symbol, there was likely a good reason, a reason she didn’t care to be associated with.
“Have you seen it before?” he asked again, obviously trying to read her reaction.
“Valor. My name is Rowan Valor.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. I have a class to teach. I’ll show you out.”
She stood up and casually flipped the paper over on her desk. She attempted to escort him from her office by taking his arm and gesturing toward the door. Nick didn’t budge. The only thing she managed to do was place her body unreasonably close to him, a result that caused her inner dragon to raise her head.
Only a few inches taller than her, he was nevertheless larger, a man whose arms a woman could get lost in. For a moment she stared at his mouth and the thin white scar that marred his upper lip. It was in the corner. She wondered if the same thing that had chipped his molar had made that scar.
Her dragon shifted under her skin, hot and slick inside her, and she felt her temperature rise. She wanted to kiss that scar. She wanted to close the sliver of space between them and see if he tasted like the spicy sandalwood scent that seemed to follow him everywhere. But Harriet’s warning blared in her head. He was human. This was dangerous. For her own protection, she needed to get him out of here, fast.
As if fate were toying with her, he stepped closer, his suit jacket brushing the tips of her breasts. By the Mountain, did he mean to kiss her? He leaned in, his mouth a luscious temptation within reach. But he tilted at the last second, his hand closing around the paper with the logo on her desk and pulling it out from under her hip. She closed her eyes and swallowed. When she opened them again, his expression had morphed from good-humored flirtation to something far more serious. All the muscles around his mouth tightened, pressing his lips into a flat line.
He stared at the logo with an intensity that wrinkled his forehead.
“That’s confidential!” She grabbed for the paper and ended up wrapping her hand around his.
Rowan was a dragon. She was strong enough to physically force this human man to his knees. But the buzz that coursed through her when their fingers connected almost brought her to hers. The problem was his presence, his overwhelming masculinity. Her dragon wanted to roll over and expose her belly every time she saw him. Her stomach dropped as their eyes met, her hands went cold, and her breath came out in a shaky exhale. She released his hand.
“Okay.” She smoothed the front of her dress and glanced at the toes of her shoes. “I’ve seen the symbol before—only yesterday actually—but I don’t know anything about it.” Even to her own ears, she sounded guilty as hell.
“Explain.” His voice was low and all grit.
“As I told you, I own Sunrise House. I love these kids. This is my passion. I own this building, but the land underneath it is a land lease.”
Nick inhaled through his teeth.
“Yes, I know. Not the smartest investment, but we needed this location. A local church used to own the lease, but they recently sold it to a real estate developer. Based on the guy’s MO, we fully expect he’s trying to have the place rezoned for commercial purposes.”
“Who’s the developer?”
“Gerald Stevenson.”
