Page 94
“The Clue Crew.”
“Not-So-Private Eyes.”
“Mystery Mates, Inc.”
Our eyes meet. It’s one of those things that should be funny, but something shifts between us. He’s still smiling, but it’s softer now, like everything we’ve been wading through just caught up to him too. Or maybe it’s just this moment. This closeness, suspended somewhere between overwhelm and clarity.
My heart stumbles, just a little. But I don’t look away.
Then his gaze dips—just briefly—to my mouth. Not even conscious, maybe. But I feel it. A gravitational pull that drags every molecule of air toward the narrowing space between us.
The room doesn’t change temperature, but I do. Heat floods through me, curling tight around my very bones.
I can’t pull my eyes from his, my heartbeat tapping out Morse code against my ribs. “Theo.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t do that.”
He’s all mock innocence when he says, “Do what?”
“That thing,” I say, leaning in just enough to feel the heat between us spark. “That whole ‘my mouth’s thinking about your mouth’ look. It’s rude.”
His lips curve. “Is it?”
“Cruel, honestly.” I narrow my eyes. “You’re weaponizing your smolder.”
His expression darkens, turns menacing. “Well, maybe if you weren’t sitting there looking like—”
I chuck a pillow at him, because I am a fucking coward.
He dodges it easily. Show-off. Before I can react, we’re in a blur of motion. A tangle of limbs, laughter, and something buzzier beneath it all.
Not quite tension. Not quite not.
My knee hits the floor, and his weight shifts to block my next move, bracketing me in, body close, as if I’m a flight risk he fully intends to keep grounded.
His hands land on either side of my hips, not possessive, just steady. It feels like he’s the only thing keeping my world from tipping sideways. I freeze as he leans in—not close enough to kiss, just enough to steal every rational thought. His breath skims my cheek, and my brain seizes all over again.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Jennings,” The words come out unevenly.
I swallow hard. “I’m very good at games,” I say, the confidence in the way I say it a bit more pronounced than what I actually feel.
He gives me a playful look. Testing. “Surely not better than me?”
I lift my chin, trying to look more composed than I feel. “Wanna find out?”
Something flickers in his eyes, molten and curious, but it disappears as quickly as it came. He steps back, still smiling, and offers me a hand like we didn’t just have an almost-moment that might have lit the whole room on fire.
He’s all charm and unaffected ease. “Come on. You’re supposed to see Emily this afternoon. Let’s try not to faint from the lingering effects of chloroform. Or your deep, growing attraction to me.”
I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet.
“No promises,” I say, before my brain has a chance to catch up.
17
BEHAVIORAL DRIFT
