Chantal continued, cringing inwardly, wondering what Elise was imagining. Or worse, guessing. “I don’t know what I can tell you. We heard the explosion, too, but nothing else.” She emphasized the we and glanced up at Jaz, giving him what she hoped was an adoring look. He grinned and linked his other arm over her breasts, clasping his hands just below her shoulder.
“Well, ma’am. We found the explosion a couple of miles from here, up in the Forest Service land. It was a snowmobile. We haven’t had any reports of a missing vehicle, but somebody was up there, and up to something. A lot of strange things were going on all over this mountain last night,” he added, seemingly to himself, but it was hard to tell through the glasses. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your eyes open and call me if you see anything.”
Jaz had been right, Chantal thought, wiping one avenue of disaster off her list. Sandhurst must have called off the alarm.
“Of course, Sheriff,” she said somewhat more smoothly, hating the way her life was filling up with lies. She made a move to extend her hand, but Jaz captured it with his and squeezed lightly.
The instant stab of pain reminded her of what she never should have forgotten—her palms were a mess from rappelling down the mansion and cliff. “We’ll call if we notice anything.” She snuggled closer under Jaz’s arm and wrapped her arms around his waist under his jacket. His body was warm and hard beneath her fingers, and she wondered how long it would take her to forget how he felt, wondered how long she’d want to remember. Two peas in a pod, two bugs in the same cocoon, they stuck together like glue.
Elise picked up on the not-so-subtle exchange and extended her own hand to the sheriff. “I’ll be calling you real soon, Sheriff,” she crooned, completely back in control. “The Lodestar Charity Ball is coming up in a couple of months, and we’ll want you and your lovely wife, Debbie, there.”
“Thank you, ma’am. We sure had a good time last year.” He shook her hand, tipped his hat, and left with another round of thank you’s.
Chantal sent her own silent thank you to heaven for Elise’s well-planned guest list and her incredible memory. She couldn’t have come up with “Debbie” to save her life.
Elise turned back around from waving the sheriff off the porch.
“Chantal, I think”—her glance took in the two of them, still wrapped together like braided rope—“I think we should have lunch tomorrow. Yes, definitely lunch.” She pulled the fur collar tightly around her neck and bestowed a look of dark suspicion on Jaz. Then she turned to Chantal, and the look lightened only a few shades. “Don’t forget about dinner with Roger tonight.” It was a command, not a reminder. She swept out of the cabin.
Chantal sagged against Jaz’s body. Lunch. One of those lunches. She knew the time and the place without Elise’s telling her. Oh, brother.
“We make a helluva team, lady.”
“You got that right,” she mumbled into his sweater. “Ever since we met, everything’s been going straight to—”
“Heaven,” he interrupted in a husky whisper, cupping her face in his hands.
His calloused fingers were rough against her skin, rough and infinitely gentle, as he tilted her head back. All night long she had wondered what she’d do if he kissed her again, and now she knew. Twice she had melted in his arms; this time would be no different. Just one last kiss before good-bye.
They were finally alone, and Jaz had waited long enough for another taste of forever. He meant to kiss her, to draw her deep inside him with his mouth, until all she felt was him—and he knew she knew it. Sooty lashes lowered over smoky blue eyes. Anticipation softened her mouth and tightened his gut, hurting and feeling good at the same time.
He lowered his mouth, skimming his tongue across her lips and rubbing his nose down the side of hers, teasing, telegraphing his need without
“Well, ma’am. We found the explosion a couple of miles from here, up in the Forest Service land. It was a snowmobile. We haven’t had any reports of a missing vehicle, but somebody was up there, and up to something. A lot of strange things were going on all over this mountain last night,” he added, seemingly to himself, but it was hard to tell through the glasses. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your eyes open and call me if you see anything.”
Jaz had been right, Chantal thought, wiping one avenue of disaster off her list. Sandhurst must have called off the alarm.
“Of course, Sheriff,” she said somewhat more smoothly, hating the way her life was filling up with lies. She made a move to extend her hand, but Jaz captured it with his and squeezed lightly.
The instant stab of pain reminded her of what she never should have forgotten—her palms were a mess from rappelling down the mansion and cliff. “We’ll call if we notice anything.” She snuggled closer under Jaz’s arm and wrapped her arms around his waist under his jacket. His body was warm and hard beneath her fingers, and she wondered how long it would take her to forget how he felt, wondered how long she’d want to remember. Two peas in a pod, two bugs in the same cocoon, they stuck together like glue.
Elise picked up on the not-so-subtle exchange and extended her own hand to the sheriff. “I’ll be calling you real soon, Sheriff,” she crooned, completely back in control. “The Lodestar Charity Ball is coming up in a couple of months, and we’ll want you and your lovely wife, Debbie, there.”
“Thank you, ma’am. We sure had a good time last year.” He shook her hand, tipped his hat, and left with another round of thank you’s.
Chantal sent her own silent thank you to heaven for Elise’s well-planned guest list and her incredible memory. She couldn’t have come up with “Debbie” to save her life.
Elise turned back around from waving the sheriff off the porch.
“Chantal, I think”—her glance took in the two of them, still wrapped together like braided rope—“I think we should have lunch tomorrow. Yes, definitely lunch.” She pulled the fur collar tightly around her neck and bestowed a look of dark suspicion on Jaz. Then she turned to Chantal, and the look lightened only a few shades. “Don’t forget about dinner with Roger tonight.” It was a command, not a reminder. She swept out of the cabin.
Chantal sagged against Jaz’s body. Lunch. One of those lunches. She knew the time and the place without Elise’s telling her. Oh, brother.
“We make a helluva team, lady.”
“You got that right,” she mumbled into his sweater. “Ever since we met, everything’s been going straight to—”
“Heaven,” he interrupted in a husky whisper, cupping her face in his hands.
His calloused fingers were rough against her skin, rough and infinitely gentle, as he tilted her head back. All night long she had wondered what she’d do if he kissed her again, and now she knew. Twice she had melted in his arms; this time would be no different. Just one last kiss before good-bye.
They were finally alone, and Jaz had waited long enough for another taste of forever. He meant to kiss her, to draw her deep inside him with his mouth, until all she felt was him—and he knew she knew it. Sooty lashes lowered over smoky blue eyes. Anticipation softened her mouth and tightened his gut, hurting and feeling good at the same time.
He lowered his mouth, skimming his tongue across her lips and rubbing his nose down the side of hers, teasing, telegraphing his need without
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