Ophelia couldn’t feel her legs anymore. The warmth from the fire nearby barely made a dent against the cold that had settled deep in her bones. She wrapped her fingers tighter around the mug, the heat seeping into her palms as she watched Jarod’s smug smile stretch across his face.
“We’re a great couple,” Jarod said with a lazy grin. “She’s a bit of a worker bee. Not exactly a queen, but you do what you gotta do.” His teeth were white and straight, almost unnaturally perfect.
What an annoying statement. “What does that mean?” Ophelia asked, keeping her tone neutral.
“It means you’re a queen.” He winked. “But you probably already knew that.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She might actually have to put this guy on his ass. The thought made her lips twitch into a small, involuntary smile.
Mistaking it as interest, Jarod’s grin grew wider. “So…you wanted to see me?”
“Actually.” She placed her mug on the table carefully. “I want to talk to you about Tamara Randsom.”
His expression sobered in an instant. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Heard you found her dead.” He shook his head slowly. “I figured she’d run off with some rich guy and headed to theCaribbean or somewhere warm.” His eyes shifted toward the windows, as if imagining sunshine and turquoise waters. “That’s what I’d do.”
“Then why are you here?” Ophelia asked, filing away his statement for later. She made a mental note to run a full background check on him.
Jarod’s head lifted, his gaze sharpening as he stared at her for a long beat before flicking purposefully toward Amka, who was busy cleaning glasses behind the bar. “Love,” he said simply, his voice softer. “This is where she lives. This is where she wants to be. If I could get her to move to an island, believe me, Chickie, I would.”
Ophelia blinked. “Did you just call meChickie?”
His grin didn’t falter. “Yeah.”
“How old are you?” she blurted.
He raised an eyebrow. “Twenty-nine. How about you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Ah. I’m older.” His grin widened. “What do you think about older men?”
Right now, she thought he was a complete ass. “When was the last time you saw Tamara Randsom?” She steered the conversation back on track.
He shrugged and took a slow sip of his drink. “Probably sometime in April or May.”
“Before she disappeared, you were her landlord, correct?”
He sat back, draping one arm over the back of his chair. “Yep. I owned the Tundra.”
“How long did you own the Tundra?”
“For about five years,” he said. “Inherited it from some aunt I barely knew. That’s when I moved up here.”
“Did it make good money?”
He lifted a shoulder lazily. “It brought in some cash, but the place needed more repairs than you’d think. There wasn’t greatmoney in it.” He paused, eyes glinting. “The hour-by-hour stuff was good, though. Not a lot of that around here.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Ophelia leaned forward slightly. “There are a few rumors…like you and Tamara had a relationship.”
Jarod’s expression tightened for the first time. “Oh no,” he said smoothly. “We didn’t have a relationship.”
“Did you have sex?” she asked bluntly.
He smiled again, the charm sliding back into place like a mask. “Agent, I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” Ophelia’s voice hardened. “Keep in mind that lying to a federal agent is a crime.”
Jarod’s smile disappeared. “Then I plead the Fifth.”
