“Not at all.” She stood and pulled the last certificate from the platen. “Then again, as I haven’t met your father, you very well might resemble him.”
He arched his brow, as though not appreciating her remark. But Leo only grinned.
“Are you wearing that suit for any particular reason?” she asked.
“I have dinner plans,” he answered with a gratified quirk of his mouth. “With Miss Brooks.”
Their interest in one another had been evident when they’d met after the tumult at Gleason’s Department Store, and although Dita commented while visiting a recuperating Leo at Duke Street that she found his occupation distasteful, there had still been a glimmer of interest in her eyes. Leo hadn’t seen that side of her friend for quite some time and was glad to see it again.
“Dita adores dancing,” she told Connor as he removed his fob and checked the time. “In case you were looking for something to do after dinner.”
Instant alarm rounded his eyes. “I’m not sure she would enjoy dancing with me. I’m embarrassingly clumsy on the dance floor.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Leo replied. “Dita also loves to laugh.”
She stifled a smile as he shook his head good-naturedly and tugged on the brim of his bowler. “Then I shall strive to make the lady laugh. I’ve locked the front door. You’ll be fine finishing up for the evening?”
Leo assured him she would be, and he hurried off with a spring in his step.
There wasn’t much else to see to before putting out the lamps. Leo pocketed the envelope from Mr. Bloom, curious if it had been delivered while Mr. Sampson was on duty, between the hours of ten o’clock and four in the morning. How else would his man have been able to gain access to her desk? Unless Mr. Bloom’s men were trained in lock picking, which was entirely possible. They were criminals, after all.
As she fed Tibia, refreshed the cat’s water bowl, and laid out clean newspaper in her litter box, Leo mulled over the last line in his brief message.Must be in the blood.Had he been referencing herfamily?
Eddie Bloom had been the one to warn her against digging into her father’s activities, specifically what had led to him being murdered. While Leo knew it was the Carter family who ran the East Rips that had given the order to kill her family, she hadn’t been able to tell Mr. Bloom how she knew that information—as it would have given away Jasper’s own involvement. But he’d clearly known more about the night of the Spencer family murders than he’d divulged.
Jasper only knew that Leonard Spencer had betrayed the East Rips, not in what manner. Had her father been involved in some sort ofspying?
Leo was inside the supply closet, checking that the shelves were fully stocked for the next day’s examinations when the scuff of feet behind her had her wheeling around, a firestorm licking her back and neck.
Jasper, his Thames-green eyes sparking with mischief, stepped into the closet. His lips formed a coy smirk. “How many times have I advised you to lock that back door?”
Leo’s heart buoyed at the sight of him even as it raced. The dizzying effect wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
“Numerous times, if I recall,” she replied, relieved that it wasn’t another intruder. “I may even take your advice one day.”
“I won’t get my hopes up.”
After several heartbeats spent grinning at one another, Leo held out her hand. Jasper tossed his hat onto a shelf, slid his fingers into her palm, and tugged her to him.
For the last few weeks, Leo had grown increasingly bold in her private thoughts of Jasper, especially at night when she lay abed, waiting for sleep to claim her. Remembering the electric rush through her body as his mouth explored hers in a kiss, or the prickling of heat wherever his hands touched next, had been both pleasurableandfrustrating. The things Leo saw might be seared into her brain, but feelings were disappointingly elusive.
She’d forgotten the exact scent of his cologne—pine forest and sandalwood—until she was standing against him now, inhaling it deeply. The memory of the smooth bussing of his lips against hers, and the coarse, if thrilling, graze of his stubbled chin had elapsed until now, when he kissed her again.
As Jasper’s palms pressed possessively over the hips of her cotton skirt, Leo gave in to the warm, honeyed delight of his affection. And to her own longing for him. He’d missed her just as keenly as she’d missed him. The soft groan from the base of his throat when she pulled her mouth from his gave her confidence in that.
“There are dead bodies to think of,” she whispered.
“They do not care if I kiss you.”
“It might be considered disrespectful.”
Jasper chuffed a short laugh, then rested his forehead against hers a moment before stepping back. His hands, however, kept her waist firmly within their grasp.
“I’m happy you’re finally home,” she said.
“As am I.” His palms glided lower, along her hips again. They paused as they came upon the outline of the envelope in her pocket. There was nothing inherently dodgy about storingsomething in her skirt pocket, but Leo’s knee-jerk reaction—to shift away, out of his hold—stirred his suspicion.
He peered at her. “What is wrong?”
