“Well then,” Kilian said, clearing his throat as he turned back to face her, “That was a hell of an evening, and a bitch of a way to end my night.”
Her lips parted in surprise as she watched Kilian loosen his tie and straighten the chair that Ron had sat in.
Dusting off the wooden chair, he sat before her and folded his hands in his lap. Kilian said nothing, merely watched. The look he gave her left her feeling uncomfortable and exposed, so she turned away, and gave her attention to the clock on the mantle.
The silence continued.
“Mr. Kelly,” she said after a moment.
“Detective,” he corrected her.
“Would you like an apology for your nose?”
“No.” He said it so casually, she had to turn and face him.
He sat there, long lean lines, his dark hair tousled, his eyes tired, though no less amused.
“Then am I free to go?” she asked, growing impatient with the devilishly handsome man before her.
“It seemsto me that you like to cause trouble. That's not an insult,” he added as she jutted her chin in defiance, “I enjoy trouble, and trouble causing women too,” he smirked. “But there's a time and place for that.”
She lifted a sculpted brow, was he hitting on her? Unsure how to respond, she took him in, and wracked her brain for the faintest memory of the name Kelly, then it hit her, she knew exactly who he was, “Yes, I've heard plenty of stories about the trouble you find.”
“Really?” he said, with a slow smile that sent her heart galloping in her chest. “What have you heard?”
“Oh, loads of things,” she said, doing her best to match his easygoing posture, and casual tone. “Stories of women.” He snorted out a laugh. “Of crime unreported, cover-ups and false leads.”
He pursed his lips before nodding slowly, “Yes, well, we all play our parts don't we.”
“I suppose we do,” she whispered.
The silence fell between them once again as his piercing blue eyes watched her like a fascinating specimen in a lab.
“Now that we understand each other, you watch yourself. You can't go around punching people that piss you off. Otherwise, next time I will be arresting you.” His voice was low now, a warning.
He was so serious that she couldn't help it. Laughter bubbled up within her and filled the small office.
“Something funny?” he asked, unamused.
“You will arrest me?” She shook her head, “You can certainly try.” She fought to suppress the giggles, thinking it was probably best not to push her luck too far.
“I don't think it'll be too hard. I've already done it once,” he said, nodding towards the handcuffs.
“It's only because I wasn't expecting it. If your friend Ron hadn't distracted me things would have ended very differently,” Grace said, all confidence. “I'll show you next time.”
“Next time?” he asked, tilting his head, and the firelight made dangerous shadows across his sharp cheekbones, casting shadows over his blue eyes.
He tapped long fingers on the arm of the chair before rising slowly to tower above her. Maybe it was wrong to enjoy this little thrill of the strength in a man she barely knew and who would undoubtedly be her enemy, but regardless of the reasons not to, it was there. This thing between them, that sent her pulse humming almost as soon as she’d laid eyes on him.
He stepped toward her, and the gravity between the two of them had her stomach tightening.
“Will there be a next time, Grace?”
Rising from her chair, hands still cuffed behind her back, she looked up, so much so that she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. Two could play this game.
Offering a slow smile from under thick lashes, she internally congratulated herself at the way his Adam's apple bobbed as if he were swallowing hard. Did she make him anxious too? Could he feel the chemistry between them, she wondered, before turning away from him, and strode toward the office door.
“Detective,” she called from over her shoulder, “My hands seem a bit occupied at the moment.”
