“They smell like heaven,” Ruby adds helpfully. “Want to try one? They’re still warm.”
For just a second, Detective Hale’s carefully maintained professional composure cracks like ice in the spring, and I catch a glimpse of a man who seemingly has a serious weakness for baked goods.
“Focus,” he tells himself, shaking his head as if he’s clearing it of cinnamon-induced fantasies. “I need to talk to you, Ms. Julep.”
“Oh? What’s this about?” I say, batting my lashes with the subtlety of a tropical storm.
He grunts, and it’s not an encouraging sound.
“I heard you’ve been speaking to my suspects.”
I float his way—actually float, like I’m being pulled by some gravitational force I can’t control—adding what I hope is an alluring shoulder shimmy to my repertoire of seduction techniques that have never worked before but might work now if the universe has any mercy. And I have a feeling I’m going to be needing a lot of that. And maybe bail money.
“Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t,” I tease. “Maybe I’ve justbeen making new friends in paradise and learning about gardening techniques that sound inappropriate.”
He frowns once again, completely unmoved by my feminine wiles, which is both disappointing and slightly impressive. “I want information.”
“I’m willing to barter,” I say, giving my shoulders another shimmy for good measure, because I’ve committed to this strategy despite all evidence that it’s failing spectacularly.
But he’s not taking the bait. In fact, he looks like someone who’s built up an immunity to feminine charm through repeated exposure, possibly through years of training or maybe just by existing in that body and having to deal with people throwing themselves at him constantly.
A loud crash from somewhere behind the kitchen punctuates the moment, followed by what sounds like Lani cursing in three languages.
Detective Hale sighs, running a hand through that perfect hair in a gesture that makes my knees forget their primary function. “Funny you should say that. I’m up for bartering as well.”
“Really?” I’m stunned and far too excited, which is sort of the opposite ofnever let them see you sweatand more likelet them see you completely lose your composure over the concept of bartering.
“My brothers run a construction company.”
I gasp, then let out a moan that probably carries more emotional weight than intended and definitely attracts Ruby’s attention in a way that makes her eyebrows shoot up.
“I doubt we can pay them,” I say with a sigh. “We can barely pay ourselves, and even that’s questionable.”
He tips his head to the side, studying me with those warm eyes. “They might be okay with working for cinnamon rolls.”
My mouth falls open, and I’m pretty sure I’m catching flies at this point. “Are they any good? The brothers, not the cinnamon rolls—we know those are good.”
“It’s debatable,” he says with a frown that suggests this is a sore subject and possibly a family drama that involves heated arguments at Thanksgiving. “There was some trouble about a year ago, and since then no one will touch them. They need to get their reputation back in order, and maybe putting this place back together might be the way to do it.”
I jump up and down with enthusiasm because I’ve just been offered salvation in construction worker form. “Now that’s some bartering I can get behind!”
“Not so fast,” he says, and his eyes ride up and down my body in a way that makes Ruby and Lani bite their palms to keep from making inappropriate noises. “They get cinnamon rolls. I get something else.”
“I’m prepared to surrender for the greater good of the case,” I say, trying for noble sacrifice and probably achieving something closer to a woman with questionable priorities and maybe a concussion from the heat.
“Good,” he says, stepping closer—close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, which seems unfair given the ambient temperature, “because what you’re going to surrender is everything you’ve gleaned so far about the investigation.”
My face falls. “You want intel on my investigation?”
“Correction. I want intel onmyinvestigation.” He leans in, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixed with ocean air and something that might be dangerous competence. “So howabout it? Let’s take a little drive, Ms. Julep. I’ll show you the island, you share everything you’ve learned.”
“Jinx,” I say with a shrug.
“Jinx,” he says with a nod.
Ruby makes a sound like a dying tropical bird while Lani fans herself with a takeout menu that immediately starts to wilt from the heat she’s generating.
The way he said it makes it sound like we’re negotiating something that would require a privacy policy. And I’m hoping it will.
