Jennifer Morey

Hometown Detective


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the need took him. He hadn’t anticipated getting to know her and she him.

      “What? Why not?”

      He leaned over the table, aiming his stick.

      “You do have a tragic story to tell.”

      “No, I don’t. I just didn’t feel like seeing them now, that’s all.” He hit a ball and it plunked into a hole.

      “They’re your family. Don’t they know you’re here?”

      Standing up, he turned and stepped toward her, stopping close. “I came here to see you.” He moved around her to make his next shot, sinking another ball.

      “Is it because they’re so much larger than you?”

      “No. I love my parents and they love me. I had a painfully normal childhood.” He dropped another ball.

      “What is that?” she asked as though she didn’t know.

      “Normal. Bedtime stories.” He’d had lots of those. “Be home by ten. Eat your vegetables. Don’t drink. Don’t smoke. Don’t do drugs. You can do anything you put your mind to do. Love you and hugs.”

      “What’s so painful about that?”

      She didn’t get it and he wasn’t going to explain. His childhood had been painful because it had been so idyllic. But idyllic hadn’t prepared him for the world. All the encouragement to do what his heart told him hadn’t opened his mind and soul to awareness of what his heart told him. His heart hadn’t told him anything. He’d gone to school to become a crime detective because he’d always been fascinated with his father, his imagination, his success. He’d never achieve that kind of success. He had to be satisfied with what he had.

      He continued to drop balls up to the eight. He was going to cream her. Noticing her slanted smile, he sensed her good-sport realization that she was going to lose.

      Moving to make the final shot, he stopped close to her again, seeing her sparkling green eyes get all flustered again. “Any last words?”

      She breathed a shaky laugh, one born of attraction.

      He called the hole and won the game.

      Wandering over to him, she held her stick in one hand, not having to tip her head back much to look up at his face. He took in her relaxed face that held a hint of flirtation and felt himself responding. “Are you as good at dancing as you are at playing pool?”

      “Yes. And I love country music.”

      Good because he liked the song the band had started playing.

      * * *

      By the eighth or ninth song, Kendra wrapped her arms around Roman as the melody slowed. She couldn’t remember having this much fun with anyone. They’d drunk more beer and danced the night away. Last call had been announced and she regretted the night coming to an end. She’d forgotten all about why he’d come to town. She cherished moments like this, when the world’s ugliest blows fell away and only celebration lifted her.

      She didn’t think Roman paid much attention to how or why they’d ended up dancing this close, either. Maybe with whatever kept him from seeing his family he needed a getaway, too. Or maybe this had nothing to do with getaways. Maybe they just liked each other.

      She leaned back to see his ruggedly handsome face, so dark and edgy with those light gray eyes that could be a wolf’s. His gaze moved down to her mouth, and then slowly rose to her eyes. The beer must be clouding both their judgments.

      “All right, folks, time to close up.”

      Realizing the band had stopped playing and had begun to pack up their equipment, Kendra stepped back from Roman.

      “Why don’t you come back to my hotel room with me and convince me why I should start calling this a case?” Roman asked.

      “Do you expect me to seduce you into taking it?”

      “There’s nothing to take yet.”

      “Stop saying that,” she said, unable to repress a soft laugh.

      “And no, I don’t expect you to seduce me. I’d rather this night not end so soon, that’s all.” He swung her into a music-free turn and bent her over his arm.

      “Me, neither.”

      Grinning, he lifted her up against him.

      “Why is that?” she asked with her mouth close to his.

      “Let’s not think about it.” Moving back, he took her hand and led her from the pub.

      With her head fuzzy and light, she stepped outside with him. “For the record, I’m not going to sleep with you.”

      “Good.”

      She laughed because she heard what she’d been thinking and feeling, that together they’d enjoyed the evening and wanted to keep the momentum going.

       Chapter 3

      Maybe they just liked each other?

      Kendra rolled her head to the side to see Roman’s sleeping face not three inches from hers. She lay in the curve of his arm, with her breast, ribs, hip and leg pressed against him. Thankfully, she still wore her clothes and he his. But how in the world had the night gotten so carried away?

      What the hell had she been thinking?

      After arriving at the hotel room, Roman had taken care of her, all without infringing on her privacy. She almost liked him. The unpredictability caught her off guard. She hadn’t seen their connection coming. And she had completely forgotten he never answered her question about why he didn’t want to see his parents.

      What kind of man was he? She knew nothing about him personally.

      Easing away, she sat up, and then stood from the bed. Tiptoeing to the door, she quietly left the room. Finding a pen and notepad, she scrawled a note, her last-ditch effort to get him to change his mind about investigating Kaelyn’s death.

      * * *

      Standing outside Kaelyn’s best friend’s small two-story Victorian, Roman leaned against the trunk of a tree. He hadn’t given in to the nagging compulsion to investigate Kendra’s twin sister’s death. Yet. He kept telling himself that. Spending last night with her changed the dynamics. The note she’d left, too.

      Now he felt something for her. He didn’t think he’d ever had so much fun with a woman before. Hanging with her had been like hanging with one of his buddies. Add the bonus of her hot body and he couldn’t stay away.

      He should have left hours ago. He should be deep into investigating a real murder. Like a magnet, Kendra had kept him right here.

      “My sister was murdered,” she’d written. “I’m going to talk to Kaelyn’s best friend in two hours. With or without you.”

      Then she’d signed her name, a pretty scrawl.

      Since that’s where he now stood outside waiting for her, he must have already given in. She’d baited him with that note, probably even planned a visit with the best friend on purpose, to draw him in. He felt the resolve settle in and take hold. Yeah, he wasn’t going anywhere. Even if he proved her wrong and Kaelyn’s death was suicide, he’d stay until the end. He’d investigate her case.

      And yeah, he’d even started thinking of this as a case—but only because of what she’d brought to light about being in contact with her long-lost sister. Why had Kaelyn kept her reuniting with Kendra a secret? He had to find out.

      He wished he could smoke.

      Really. Why was he doing this?

      Because she’d go forward without him. Her note told him that much.

      Because