AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“In that case, Ms. Murdoch, would you mind telling me where you were this morning before dawn?”
CHAPTER 7
JESSICA
Good lord, was she a suspect again? This was getting tedious.
Feeling annoyed and just the tiniest bit defensive, she said, “Seriously, Detective? Well, if you must know…”
“I must.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, I was down at the Catch. It’s the local coffee shop for the fishermen down on the docks. The coffee is black, strong and could probably be weaponized. I like to get a mug, sit up on the seawall and watch the fishermen as they head out into the ocean.”
“Can someone verify that?”
“Absolutely. Those of us who are regulars have our own mugs. Nobody can use your mug except you. You are expected to return it when you’re done with it.”
Thorn sighed and slumped as if he was defeated before standing tall and squaring his shoulders. The man really was a sight to behold, and she thought she could be happy just looking at him for years. She bit back a snort. Who was she kidding? She wanted to do a lot more than just look at Detective Thorn Wilder. She was sure he didn’t know it nor felt the same, but he’d been the star of more than one of her dirtiest, most erotic fantasies. It was never going to happen. Guys who look like him dated supermodels with hot rocket careers not curvy mystery writers.
Not knowing what else to say or do, she simply said, “I never got a chance to thank you for making sure I was comfortable on the couch. The hotel staff said you were very clear that they were to check on me.”
He looked up and grinned at her. “You’d had a rough couple of days even before the crazy woman tried to kill you. You do realize that’s what she had in mind, right?”
“Yes. The needle with the poison kind of gave her game away. Thanks again for saving my life.”
“It’s just part of the job. Look, I know I’m going to regret this, but how about you accompany me back to your room? I need to know if you see anything out of place or that doesn’t belong there. I need you to understand you are to look and not touch. Clear?”
“What’s in it for me?”
The look of shock that crossed his face was quickly replaced with amusement. “How about your laptop? Ms. Hicks said you came up here to write.” She nodded. “If you promise not to communicate anything that’s going on to anyone—including the other members of your little murder club—I’ll let you have it so you can work. Deal?” he said, extending his hand.
“Well, if a handshake is the best you can do,” she said, taking it and shaking it.
He groaned. “I swear to God you’re going to be the death of me. Come on.” Taking her by the hand, he dragged her along behind him to her room. “Damn, I forgot to get the key.”
She pulled hers out of her pocket, grinning at him. “Luckily for you, I have mine.”
Before she could think what he might do, he snatched it from her fingers and unlocked the door. Slowly he opened it, looking for what, she wasn’t sure. But she let him lead the way, deciding she didn’t mind Detective Thorn Wilder going first, especially if it got her a nice view of his buns-of-steel ass.
“Let’s start with the bathroom,” he said, handing her back the key and pulling out two sets of gloves—one for him and one for her. His gloves fit his hands perfectly; they were rather large for her slender, more feminine ones, but did give her enough room for her long, painted fingernails. He looked at her nails. “How do you type with those?”
“Practice,” she answered, pushing past him into the spa-like bath. “This is such a nice bath. I thought about getting a steam shower for my place. After last night, I wish I had.” He chuckled. “What?”
“A steam shower is a huge luxury.”
“I’ve worked hard for my money. If I want to treat myself…”
His hands came up, framing her face with his thumbs resting on her lips. “I didn’t mean it that way. I live on my boat. There’s nothing recreational about showering on a boat. Oh, I suppose the multi-million-dollar yachts might have amenities like that, but not on a forty-three-foot center cockpit ketch.”
“You live on a houseboat?”
“No, ma’am. I live on a sailboat.”
That kind of surprised her. Jessica had imagined he lived in either a condo or a townhouse—some place that he could leave without concern when he had to be away from Augusta on an investigation.
“You look surprised,” he said.
“I am. If you’d given me five guesses for where you lived, a sailboat wouldn’t have been one. How do you have a sailboat in Augusta? That is where the state police offices are, isn’t it?”
