“So, that’s what you’re getting from Sledge,” I said. And the mismatch was so apparent that even I could read it.
No wonder I hated the guy on sight.
Evelyn said, “But that doesn’t necessarily mean you can tie him to your etheric entity. Especially if you’re thinking he’s responsible.” While she might not be saying “ghost” or “murder,” she didn’t have to. “The entity doesn’t have a timestamp. It could have occurred well before Mr. Sledge moved in, or anytime after he moved out.”
“I have a hard time imagining our guy in the rest home as a murderer, but you never know. And Boswell….”
He didn’t seem bloodthirsty to me. But who knew what he might convince himself of on any given day?
“And don’t forget,” Evelyn said, “any workers in the unit would have access between residents.”
True enough. Though I doubted I’d want to nail any of them like I did Sledge.
Since there was no word yet on Sarah’s location, we took Evelyn back to her hotel and headed home. I dropped my keys on the coffee table and shrugged out of my blazer. “What’s taking Records so long?” I wondered. “They tracked Boswell—and his van is literally a moving target. They’ve got access to everything from traffic cams to credit cards to deleted social media. How hard can it be to find a thirty-something in this day and age?”
Normally, Jacob would have piped in by now. But as I slipped off my tie, I noticed he was still standing in the entryway door, looking hard at a spot on the scarred wooden floor. Massive spider? Centipede, more likely—though when I scanned the floorboard he’d been scrutinizing, I came up blank.
I said, “Don’t tell me that now we’ve got a habit demon.”
Jacob shook himself out of his fugue. “What?”
“Never mind. I’m just as antsy to nail Sledge as you are.”
Jacob narrowed his eyes. “You’re awfully interested in him.”
“Aren’t you? I thought he was exactly the type of guy you’d go up against, back in the day.”
Jacob’s reply echoed one he’d made earlier when he was interviewing the guy in question. “What type is that?”
“The type that seemed like he’d leave an arc of bloodsplatter on his bedroom wall and dare it to catch up with him, what else?” I crossed my arms and considered my husband. “Why, was there something about him I’m missing?”
“Doubtful…you checked him out thoroughly enough.”
Jacob had said it playfully. But like most jokes, there was a grain of something serious at the heart of it—so serious it was laughable. “You think I’m hot for the guy?” I scoffed. “Jacob—if he was the last man on earth, I’d take a long, cold shower…and stay there till I drowned.”
Jacob grunted and looked somewhat mollified.
My gazehadlingered over Sledge’s bulked-up shoulders and squat-rounded ass, but only to drive home my inherent loathing of everything he stood for. Unlike most people I’ve known, I never really went in for a gym-honed physique. Not until I encountered one with an actual personality attached…one that made me feel likeIwas the catch.
I grabbed Jacob and turned him to look me square in the eye. “Pay attention, mister.Thisis what it looks like when I’m checking someone out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EVIDENTLY, THAT DAMN “satisfactory” rating had left Jacob doubting everything about himself, and I’d need to pick my words carefully so he didn’t develop a complex. I hooked a finger into Jacob’s tie, notching it loose with a couple of easy tugs. “Listen,” I said softly, close enough he would feel my breath on his cheek. “I don’t care how hard someone can flex. It’s what’s inside that matters. And there’s no reason to ogle some mailman when I’ve got the whole package right here.”
Corny? Absolutely. But it did tease a smile out of him…one that I angled in and traced with a brush of my lips. Jacob let out a careful breath. He was holding himself stiffly. But he didn’t pull away.
I lingered there, my lips grazing his, until I felt the tension slacken in his shoulders. “You’re the one who turns me on,” I murmured. “Nobody else.” I slid a hand along his chest, feeling his body heat radiate through the starched cotton shirt. He let out another breath, softer this time, and tilted his head just enough to coax another kiss out of me as his hand slid around my waist.
The tension in him gave way slowly—but it did relax. I slid my palm down his abs. Were they as chiseled as the six-pack Sledge no doubt cultivated? Probably not. And did I give a rat’s ass?
Not in the least.
I eased back, close enough to keep the heat between us, and met his gaze. “You won’t find me checking out any other guy,” I said, voice rougher than I meant it to be. “When you walk into a room, you make everyone else disappear.” His dark eyes flickered, uncertain, but his grip on my waist tightened.
I backed up toward the loft, pulling him along with me. It was slow and awkward, but I didn’t want to drop his gaze. Not when I needed him to know that I wasn’t just blowing smoke. The day would come when he was no longer the hottest guy in the room. Sure, he’d look good “for his age,” but eventually, he’d encounter someone younger and sleeker, someone without laugh lines or glints of gray in his beard.
The funny thing is, I don’t usually notice what Jacob looks like anymore. Frankly, it tends to catch me off guard, like when we meet someone new and it jogs my memory, and I think about what it was like to take him all in for the first time.
