“A floating casino that’s docked a few blocks away. Dean seems to be spending an awful lot of time there.” More so than any of the other casinos on the bill. There’s no guarantee he’ll go back to the Carolina Belle, of course, but if we’re going to start anywhere…
“I need to be on that boat tonight,” Thad says, drawing the same conclusion—well, partly.
I whirl around to face him, eyes wide at his audacity. “Weneed to be on that boat.”
“Helen,” he warns me through gritted teeth.
It’s amazing to me how not two seconds ago my entire body was trembling because of his proximity, and now I’m so irritated that he could be standing in front of me totally naked, and the only thing that would matter would be making sure he admits that I’m right. “Don’tHelenme. I found this information. I’m the one who knew how to find Dean at all. Without me you’d still be back in Chicago, checking out books that you’re pretending to read and hoping he might randomly turn up.”
Thad narrows his eyebrows at me. “Let me count the reasons why it would be a bad idea for you to come along. One, you’re a civilian. I’m a trained, licensed bounty hunter. Two, Dean will recognize you the moment he sees you and might get spooked back into hiding. He doesn’t know who I am or what I look like. And three, yesterday you were almost kidnapped. If I’m on a crowded boat looking for Dean, how am I supposed to keep my eye on you, too?”
The ire I feel rising after each of his first two points unexpectedly deflates at his last question. I know that maybe I should be belligerent, insisting I can take care of myself, that he won’t need to look after me, but I’m sensible enough to know this probably isn’t true. I don’t have any training. And I would stick out like a sore thumb, in more ways than one. Aside from the obvious fact that Dean (and anyone looking for him) would likely recognize me, all of my clothes were stolen, and I’m stuck in the same jeans and sweater I’ve been wearing for two days. Plus it’s not really the attire I think they’re going for on a fancy floating casino, where the low-stakes bid is more than one month of my rent.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” I ask, feeling frustrated and helpless. “Just go on a ghost tour and eat beignets like my brother’s life isn’t in danger?”
Thad rubs the back of his neck again—that telltale sign I now realize is buildup to him telling me something I’ll likely not want to hear. “You need to stay at the hotel.” At my jaw drop, he holds up his hands and hastens to add, “At least for tonight. Once Dean is back in custody, I can take you wherever you want in the city, I promise. But until then…”
“I’m still kidnappable,” I finish for him, realizing the sense in what he’s saying, but not happily. After everything we’ve been through to get here, it feels like an anticlimactic ending, just sitting in the hotel watching TV while I wait for Thad to find Dean and hope that everything turns out okay.
But at the end of the day, I’m a former nun turned librarian. I don’t have any experience with apprehending bail jumpers. I’m not dressed to gamble on a luxury steamboat. And I don’t want to get kidnapped by the mafia.
“Fine,” I sigh, deflated, following him to the elevator. “I hope this place has the Hallmark channel…”
Thad lingers with me in the room for a few minutes, probably because he’s afraid I’m trying to trick him; but finally, after I settle in to watch a movie with that actor I like from that show I used to watch, he grumbles about getting ready and disappears into the bathroom.
About half an hour later, the door to the bathroom opens again. I’m absorbed in my movie now and trying not to sulk, so I do my best to smile as I glance back toward him. “What time are—” I start, but the words cut off abruptly as I absorb what I’m seeing.
Thad’s skin, fresh out of the shower, is glistening, his hair still a little damp but starting to dry in its usual soft waves. Along with his reading glasses, he’s wearing a pair of pressed slacks and a dress shirt that’s been unbuttoned down to his sternum, showing off a modest glimpse of chest that nonetheless gets my virginal heart racing. The sleeves of the shirt have been rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms, marked with dark tattoos that contrast his otherwise preppy look with a hint of something dangerous.
I’m staring. I know I’m staring. I try to stop, to get a grip on myself, but he cuts such a dashing, handsome figure that I feel a little shy. And a little pervy, too, because those exposed forearms are doing something to me. I feel sort of…tingly, in my lady parts. My entire body is alert and aware, like something is about to happen.
Which of course, it isn’t, because he’s about to go to the steamboat to find Dean, and I’m…staying here. All night.
“I look stupid, don't I?” Thad asks flatly.
I bark out a sharp laugh, because wow, has he misinterpreted my staring. “No. Not stupid. Different, but definitely not stupid.”
My voice must actually sound as winded to him as it does to my own ears, because Thad’s expression shifts. For a moment he frowns at me in that way I used to think was disapproving, but I now realize is just him concentrating—and then, unexpectedly, he grins at me.
I realize in that instant how infrequently Thad has smiled at me in all the time I’ve known him, because that smile, directed right at me, hits me like a freight train. If I thought the outfit was doing something to me, that smile knocks the rest of it out of the water. I would do anything he asked me to do when he smiles at me like that—and that recognition both thrills and terrifies me.
“So you like it?” he asks me, breaking what I realize is an unnaturally long silence as I’ve been staring at him.
“Y-yeah?” I’m trying to play it cool, not let on justhow muchI like it, but I don’t have much practice and am not very good at playing these kinds of games. “I wouldn’t have guessed you owned anything like this.”
“Part of the job. Have to be able to blend in.” He gestures to his shirt. “The collar’s a little funny, though. Can you help me straighten it?”
“Oh.” The surprised squeaking noise escapes my mouth without me giving it permission. I clear my throat. “Sure. Yeah. Fine.”
I step toward him and am overcome with another wave of want as I get close enough to smell his cologne. Holy cannoli. I barely manage to catch myself from swaying into him, pulled toward his skin like a magnet.Nice-smelling men are nice, is the coherent, Pulitzer Prize–worthy thought that comes to mind.
Swallowing, I attempt to keep my focus on his collar. My hands are shaking as I flatten out the little crease in the back, and I hope he doesn’t notice. “There. That’s better.”
I start to step back, but Thad stops me with a hand on my hip, holding me in place. The touch is light, not demanding or possessive, but it still elicits a gasp of surprise at the contact. I meet his blue-gray gaze, my heart thudding so loudly in my chest I’m sure he must hear it.
“You like me like this?” he asks.
There’s teasing in his voice, but also a hint of something vulnerable. He’s smiling, but his eyes move back and forth between mine as he waits for the answer. “I like you always,” I tell him honestly. I’m too flustered to be anything but completely honest. “This is just…a new flavor.”
