I picked up my coffee mug and took a sip. Cold. I like iced coffee, when it’s supposed to be iced coffee, not when it’s just room temperature.
“Have you pissed anyone off lately?” Jeff asked. “I mean, besides the Las Vegas Police Department.”
I made a face at him. “No, I have not,” I said. “At least not that I know of.”
“Well, we know it wasn’t Harry Desmond taking those pictures, since he was with you,” Jeff mulled.
“Why would you even consider Harry?” I asked.
“I don’t like him.”
“Really? Couldn’t tell,” I said sarcastically. “Or is it more that you’re just mad I went out with him?”
A smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Why would I get mad?”
“You don’t seem to like Colin Bixby very much, either.”
“You think it’s because you’re going out with him?” The smile had come out full force now, as if he were incredulous I’d even suggest such a thing.
I put my cards on the table. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“You’re always cutting him down, making fun of him, making fun of me going out with him. I mean, it’s like you’re jealous or something.” I had never considered that before, but now that I said it, I wondered. Was Jeff harboring a crush on me?
“Don’t flatter yourself, Kavanaugh,” he said, his eyes flashing angrily. “So you’re one of the few people I find I can tolerate in this city, but believe me, if I was interested in you, you’d damn well know it.”
He stood, shoving his chair against the floor with a loud squeal. “Are you ready? I promised your brother I’d get you safely to your shop, and then I have to get to mine. I’ve got a business to run, too, if you would care to remember.”
Jeff didn’t even wait for me. He just started walking toward the exit. I grabbed my bag and followed him, wondering who put that bee in his bonnet. It was as though he was protesting too much, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d sit back and watch a woman he was interested in go out with other men. Granted, I’d never met anyone he’d dated, and wasn’t sure exactly whether he was dating anyone right now. I knew he’d been married a few years back and had gotten burned pretty badly. Maybe he was just concerned I’d get burned, too, and he didn’t want to see that.
Because while he might not want a romance with me, I did know we were friends. He took a bullet for me. And if push came to shove, I’d probably do the same for him.
Jeff’s back was poker straight as he strode through the Roman marketplace. Even though it was dim in here, I knew we’d get slaughtered with sunlight once we went back outside. In seconds, our steps were in sync, but he still didn’t seem to want to talk.
I did, though. I had one more question.
“Why did you lie to my brother?”
Jeff stopped short. “What makes you think I lied to him?”
I shrugged. “I can tell.”
He gave me a funny look, then said, “That’s downright psychic, Kavanaugh.”
“You did lie to him.”
“So what if I did?”
“What about?”
“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about,” he said, starting to walk again.
I hustled to keep up with him. “Maybe I want to worry about it. Because it’s got something to do with me, doesn’t it?”
“Exactly why you don’t need to worry about it,” he said, pushing the door open and letting the sunlight stream across my eyes.
I rummaged in my bag for my sunglasses and stuck them on as I followed him, not even a step behind. “You can’t be serious that you’re not going to tell me.”
“You’ll tell your brother.”
“No, I won’t,” I said quickly, before realizing that if it was important, I might have to go back on that promise. He saw my expression change.
“There,” he said, pointing at my face. “I knew it.”
It was a little scary how well we knew each other.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll keep badgering you.”
“I’m dropping you off at your shop and leaving, so you won’t have the chance.”
We were bickering like an old married couple. Not the kind of thought I wanted to have about Jeff Coleman. I changed tacks.
“You didn’t lie to me, too, did you?” I asked.
He studied my face a second, unable to see my eyes because of the sunglasses, then said, “No.” And after a pause added, “I might not have told you everything.”
“But you’re going to now, aren’t you?”
We stopped on the bridge I’d been on last night with Harry, when he kissed me and the flash went off. I was having some serious deja vu, but I didn’t want to seem spooked in front of Jeff, so I stood my ground, happy that the sunglasses kept him from seeing my eyes darting around behind him, worried I’d discover another camera aimed right at me.
Jeff shifted from one foot to the other, his own eyes searching out something behind me, but I didn’t want to show him I was curious, so I forced myself to look straight ahead.
“The woman last night. We were talking about tattoos, and she commented on mine. But then she said Sylvia Coleman gave her a tattoo,” he added.
“Your mother? She actually said Sylvia Coleman?”
“Threw me for a loop. That’s what disoriented me, what I was thinking about when she went to the ladies’ room.”
I mulled that a second. “So she knows that I know your mother. Funny that she’d say Sylvia tattooed that dragon.”
Jeff took a deep breath. “Not the dragon.”
I didn’t think I heard him right. “What do you mean?”
“She said my mother tattooed Napoleon on her leg. She knew it was a painting you liked.”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Jeff kept talking, as though he didn’t notice.
“She was wearing tight jeans, so she couldn’t prove it. I couldn’t check it out.”
I wondered if she knew about the tiger lily on my side. Not many people knew about that one, because it was usually covered up by clothes. Even when I went swimming at the public pool in Henderson, I wore a Speedo one- piece. She could’ve seen the Napoleon tattoo when I swam, or when I wore a skirt. Although I didn’t wear a skirt too often. She obviously knew about the Celtic cross on my upper back because it was in living color on that blog- my penance for wearing a halter top. I wouldn’t be wearing that again. I thought about the stiletto heels in the plastic bag in the ladies’ room. My footwear was not something she’d studied at length, since I usually wore Tevas or Birkenstocks. Even the flats I wore today were a rarity. Heels weren’t exactly necessary when one was five foot nine.
“Did she say anything else about me?” My voice was unusually soft, as though I couldn’t speak above a whisper.
Jeff moved a little closer and for a second, his hand reached out like he was going to touch my cheek. But then he seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled it back, stuffing it into his pocket.
“We didn’t get much further than that,” he admitted.
“Why didn’t you tell Tim?” I asked. “I mean, shouldn’t he know?”
