She started to move around him, but he jerked out his hand, keeping her back. She could have pushed it, ducking under his arm or objecting, but she didn’t. Smart girl. Meanwhile, he advanced a step farther into the room.
He’d been here dozens of times over the past few summers. He had a key interest in her father’s research and had made a point of becoming friendly with the man. Everything looked normal for Professor Simon’s home. Casually messy, but not unhealthy. There was the living area front and center with a stack of National Geographic magazines scattered next to the recliner. To the right was a den that had a desk facing the window and an ancient computer setup. The door into the room was open so he could see that nothing looked odd there. In the kitchen, mail was set in a neat column on the counter—probably Julie’s doing—and a crumpled bag of fast food had been tossed into the half-full trash.
“Do you see anything weird? Different or out of place, maybe?” he asked her.
“No. And you’re freaking me out.”
His hackles rose at the fear in her voice. His bear hated making her afraid and wanted to rip into whatever it was that made him so nervous. “Something feels wrong.”
“Can you be a little more specific?” There was an edge to her words, part sarcastic, but more anxious.
He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he paced to the master bedroom. Slowly pushing open the door, he saw an unmade bed and a heap of laundry. Bathroom looked typical, too, though Julie had obviously been in there. There was an open toiletry case, and she’d thrown in toothbrush, comb, etc.
“You were packing things. For your father?” He needed to keep her talking. Her anxiety was cranking up his bear.
“Yes. And it looks exactly as I left it.”
Okay. So whatever was off probably hadn’t happened recently. He left the master bedroom and climbed the stairs to the upper loft. This was the guest bedroom, and his nose twitched at the dust. No one had been up here for a while. Except that whatever was wrong lingered here, too. A scent too subtle for his human nose.
She climbed up the stairs behind him, flicking on the stairway light as she went. He looked to her. Even on high alert, he couldn’t resist seeing the gentle bounce of her hair as she stepped into view. But that’s when his eyes narrowed on something he hadn’t noticed before.
“Stop!” he snarled, and she froze.
Pulling out his cell phone, he flipped on the spotlight, aiming it in the corner nearest the stairs. There was a thin layer of debris there, but it had been disturbed. Possibly by a large boot.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The dust has been disturbed.”
She frowned at him. “Seriously? That’s a dust bunny that hasn’t been cleaned in, like, a year.”
“It’s not shaped right.”
She gaped at him. “Did you get a degree in forensic science after high school? Criminology? Or have you just watched a little too much CSI?”
He ignored her, turning his phone so the spotlight ran over the entire floor. He couldn’t see a pattern. Maybe someone had been up here. Maybe he was just seeing things. “I trust my instincts.”
“Yeah, me, too. And mine say yours are crap.” She was teasing him. He could tell by the tilt of her head and the slight lilt in her voice when she spoke. He wanted to respond. Hell, he wanted to flirt and cajole and a zillion other things. But something overrode his mating instincts, and that was serious. So he didn’t respond to her overture, and eventually she huffed out a breath and headed back downstairs. He couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t given her any reason to think he was anything but nuts. But something nagged at him.
Taking one last look around, he lingered on a framed picture of teenaged Julie and her father. She looked young and fresh there, kissing her father who still had his hair. It matched his memory of the girl he’d once tried to attract, but it also struck him how young she had been. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and everything about her alive. The present-day woman wasn’t as bright. She was tired and disillusioned, her tone occasionally edging toward bitter and that saddened him. The woman had lost something that had made the teenager so vibrant.
Seeing nothing more of interest up here, he followed Julie back to the main level. She’d gone into the den to stand with her hands on her hips as she glared at the floor.
“Dad said his journals were right here,” she said pointing to the untidy desk. “But I looked everywhere.”
He followed her in, and his nose immediately twitched. “Don’t move,” he ordered. She was disturbing the smells.
She gaped at him. “Is this some sad kind of come-on?—”
“Out.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You’re confusing the scent.” He edged to the computer and bent over to sniff the chair.
“Did you forget to take your meds?” Her voice was part exasperated, part teasing, but he could tell she was losing patience. So was he, but not with her. There was a puzzle here, and he didn’t like where it was heading.
So he abruptly crossed back to her side. Even though he towered over her, she didn’t do more than lift her chin and arch one eyebrow. It was an impertinent look, and his bear loved the challenge in it. The man didn’t need the distraction, so he bent down, picked her up, and then set her just outside the den door. She squeaked in protest, but he moved quickly and with all his strength. By the time she had the breath to object, he had already gone back to the desk.
