time. And don’t worry, Becky, Mom will be after you next.”
“Ha!” Becky shot back. “Unlike you, big brother, I just say no.”
“Logan—” Diana tried again.
“Not this time, Mom.”
Becky looked from Ella to Logan to her mom and then laughed. It sounded rough, the laugh of someone who hadn’t found anything funny in a while. “So, how come I’ve never met you before, Ella? It must be pretty serious if Logan’s refusing to go out with whoever Mom’s set him up with this time.”
Heat crawled up Ella’s neck at how easy it was to suddenly imagine she was here in a totally different context. How easy it was to imagine having something “pretty serious” with the intense homicide detective.
What was wrong with her? Logan Greer was a colleague and she had to work with him on what might be the most important case of her career. He was off-limits.
“Ella doesn’t live here,” Diana said, before she’d mustered a reply.
At the same moment, Logan told her, “Ella’s not my date. She’s consulting from the FBI.”
All humor fled Becky’s face, leaving behind a strained expression, and Ella saw not Logan’s little sister, but a loved one of a victim.
Ella gave herself a mental slap for losing her focus. She was here for a case and she was completely failing to maintain proper boundaries.
“FBI?” Becky said, her voice wobbly. “Are you here about Theresa?”
Ella tried not to fidget. “Unofficially, yes.”
Becky looked from her to Logan and back again. “So, Logan is right? Becky was murdered by a serial killer?”
Ella glanced questioningly at Logan. He shared case theories with his family?
“Guess you’re not used to small towns,” Logan said, answering her unspoken question. “Nothing is secret here.”
She definitely was used to small towns; she was from one herself—an old farming community that had gotten partially enveloped by the surrounding college-town melting pot but somehow still kept its close-knit feel. But she wasn’t used to being a cop in one. “We’re checking into that possibility,” Ella said, uncomfortable.
Before Becky could ask anything else, Logan’s father strode into the room. Besides being the only member of the Greer family with blue eyes, he looked like an older version of Logan. He stopped in front of her and offered his hand. “I’m Andrew Greer. You must be Ella Cortez. Nice to have you join us.”
And suddenly, Ella understood all the references she’d heard the police chief shout over the phone about Logan’s family. Everything about Andrew, from his perfect posture to his instant smile and handshake, screamed politician. “Thank you. You must be Mayor Greer. Am I correct?”
Andrew gave her a wink and let go of her hand. “Until I get Logan here to succeed me.” Logan rolled his eyes, but Andrew continued. “I have to say, I wasn’t sure what to think about Logan bringing in a profiler, but now I’m a believer. What gave me away, Ella?”
Ella smiled back at him. So, this was where Logan got his charm. “Trick of the trade. If I divulge all my secrets, they’ll kick me out of the club.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” Andrew turned to his wife. “Should we eat?”
“Not yet.” Becky stood, folding her arms as she stared at Ella. “Don’t you want to question me about Theresa?” She sounded wrung out, but the strength underneath reminded Ella of Logan.
Ella shifted from one foot to the other. At the FBI, she was generally at a remove from the investigations. Most of the time, she didn’t even leave Virginia—she consulted on a case directly from a police file. When she did travel somewhere to give a criminal personality profile, she still didn’t do interviews—except on rare occasions with suspects. She was almost never involved in questioning the friends and families of victims. And she didn’t want to start with Logan’s little sister.
“Becky, we already took your statement,” Logan said quietly, getting to his feet and putting a hand on his sister’s shoulder.
“What if Ella has different questions?”
“I usually work from the police files,” Ella said gently, forcing herself to look directly into Becky’s misery-filled eyes. “If there’s something else I need, I’ll let your brother know.”
“Well—” Andrew started, in his cheery, politician’s voice.
Becky cut him off. “Okay. But just answer this for me—how would Theresa have run into a serial killer? It’s not like we were out partying with weirdos.” Her voice broke, but she composed herself and managed to say, “We hung out at the beach. We went dancing at the club right in town. We went shopping. It was mostly just the two of us. I don’t think she talked to a single person I didn’t know.” She looked from Logan to Ella, tears filling her eyes. Her voice wobbled when she asked, “Did I introduce her to the person who killed her?”
“No,” Logan insisted. “This isn’t your fault.”
“There’s a good chance that whoever killed her never even spoke to her,” Ella said.
Relief broke through the misery in Becky’s eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
Becky wiped her hand over her eyes and squared her shoulders. “Okay. Let’s go have dinner.” She hurried out of the room and after sharing a concerned glance, her parents followed.
Alone in the family room, Logan put his hand on Ella’s arm and said softly, “Thank you.”
Ella shrugged, trying to ignore how close Logan was standing, how sensitive the skin under his fingers had suddenly become, and trying to distract herself with what she knew. Her job. “There’s a very good chance it’s true. Yes, the killer had probably been watching Theresa, but it looks like the abduction was an ambush. Someone who does that probably isn’t confident. It’s unlikely he approached his victims first.”
She took a deep breath, aware that she’d been talking too fast, that Logan hadn’t taken his hand off her arm. Was it her imagination or had he shifted closer? She could smell his aftershave, something woodsy that made her want to close her eyes and inhale. She tilted her head back a little farther, gazing up into his eyes.
The moss green that had drawn her in from the moment she met him was just a small ring around his pupils now. The desire in his eyes seemed to heat her whole body.
She wasn’t sure if she stretched up on her tiptoes or he leaned down, but his lips were inches from hers, his breath on her face. One hand moved from her arm to the back of her head and he slipped his other hand onto her lower back, pulling her closer.
He gave her plenty of time to do the professional thing and back away, but instead she swayed forward and pressed her mouth to his. The stubble on his chin felt abrasive, but his lips were soft as they slowly brushed hers, as though he was determined to memorize every millimeter.
She was the one who insisted on more, who fused her body tightly to his until he slid his tongue between her lips and backed her against the wall. She wove her fingers through his hair and clung tightly to him as his mouth covered hers. Only a loud clink of silverware against china brought her to her senses.
She turned her head away from Logan’s and pried her hands off him. Her legs shook and her face burned even hotter as she met his eyes.
He was breathing as heavily as she was. His eyes were hooded, but she could still see passion there, and she got the feeling that if she asked, he’d forget dinner and follow her back to her hotel.
She actually didn’t know if she was going to suggest it until she heard herself say instead, “Sorry. That was a mistake.”
Logan