She grinned. 'So I'll drag him to bed and question him during sex. It's amazing how often truth comes out when the little head is in control.'
'I'm not going to dignify that comment with an answer.'
'Coward.'
'Totally.'
She turned off the receiver again and headed out. Pausing just outside the door, she let her gaze roam across the crowded room as she carefully took in the scents.
And just when she least expected it, she caught a wisp of the one she was looking for.
Her heart leapt, then zoomed into high gear. She raised her nose, sniffing lightly as she followed the faint aroma to the right. It led her to the back booths, then drifted away, lost to the unsubtle aromas of flowery perfumes and sweaty sex.
She frowned, glancing around. Two couples inhabited the closest booths, both of them getting down and dirty. The end booth was inhabited by two dark-haired women chatting animatedly.
Grey had been sitting in the end booth earlier this evening.
Coincidence? Maybe not. Yet if he was the killer, why couldn't she smell that smell on him?
She opened her senses a little more, but the aromas lining the air were too thick and too layered, threatening sensory overload again. There was no way on Earth she was going to be able to pick out one faint scent in a room as confined as this, no matter how good her nose.
Still, she walked past each of the booths, acting as if she was searching for someone as she carefully tasted the air.
And caught the faintest trace of that scent again. She stopped, frowning. It seemed to be coming from the booth with the two women in it. Maybe one of those two had met the murderer sometime during the night.
If that was the case, she'd have to tell Jack. They needed a watch put on both women.
At least her catching the scent meant they were on the right track. The killer had been here sometime in the last few hours—maybe he was still here, somewhere. Given Gantry's nonappearance, that would surely mean he was off the suspect list, right alongside Harrison. Grey was the only one left of the three suspects that she couldn't definitely say yay or nay to.
And if he wasn't the killer, who was? Was it someone all five women had rejected? Surely the police had considered that possibility—though undoubtedly, it would be nigh on impossible to check every single man the five women had mated with at this place. As Jack had pointed out, the security cameras didn't cover all areas. There were lots of nooks and crannies where some loving could be had without the camera catching on.
Which left her with Grey and Harrison. And given Grey's reluctance to answer questions, the only man she could interrogate was Harrison. Though she may have wiped him off the suspect list, maybe he could tell them something that might give them a clue as to who the real killer was.
A long shot, but longs shots were all they really had at this point.
She turned and found her gaze meeting Harrison's. He was still at the bar, but he was looking over his shoulder, and there was something in his gaze that suggested he knew exactly where to find her no matter where she was.
A chill ran up her spine, though she wasn't exactly sure why.
With him watching her so closely, she could hardly disappear into the restroom and ask Jack to keep an eye on the women. Especially since Harrison may have been watching when she'd walked out of the restroom. She may have wiped him off the suspect list, but that didn't mean she was right.
She walked up to him, sliding her hand around his waist as she stopped beside him. The heat of him hit like a club, almost making her gasp. Lord, it was like walking into a furnace of desire.
And that made her frown. Something was very off kilter.
He hadn't effected her so strongly before, so why was he doing so now? Or was it merely the fact that the need for satisfaction was growing in intensity, and her hormones were becoming less fussy about where they got it?
She swallowed, then said, in a voice that was a little too husky for her liking, 'Care to by a girl a drink?'
His blue eyes met hers. The blatant interest she'd seen earlier was now a bonfire. His lust lashed her skin, making her pulse skip, and race. This man was primed and ready to go—it was just a matter of deciding if she really wanted to go that far.
Though if the desire stirring between them was anything to go by, her hormones had already decided in the affirmative.
'Darlin, you can have anything you want—just as soon as I manage to catch the attention of one of these lovely ladies.'
'Easily fixed.' Eryn raised two fingers to her lips and gave a shrill whistle. People jumped and stared, but the whistle succeeded in getting them a barperson.
'That's a real handy trick.' The amusement crinkling the corners of his blue eyes sent another rush of desire shooting through her veins. 'You'll have to teach me.'
'It's easy,' she teased. 'You just put your lips together and blow.'
'Keep talking sexy like that and I'm all yours.'
She grinned. 'Are cowboys really that easy?'
'When you've been on the range with nothing but a horse between your legs and cattle all around you,' he drawled, 'most definitely.'
She laughed. 'And has this particular cowboy ever been near a horse or cattle?'
'Only the mechanical kind in country bars.'
'Honesty. I like that.'
He slid her glass of wine across to her. Their fingers brushed, and electricity skittered across her skin, reigniting the deep-down ache. Damn, what was going on here? Why was she reacting to this man so strongly, when before her reaction was, at best, lukewarm?
He wrapped a hand around his frosty beer. 'How come you're down here again? I thought you'd been grabbed for the night.'
She shrugged. 'Turns out I made the wrong choice.'
He raised an eyebrow. 'How's that?'
'He wasn't after what I'm after.'
'And you know this because…?'
She forced a smile. 'Because he let me go.'
'A fool indeed.' He gave her a look that held enough heat to smoke her insides. 'Be assured I will not make the same mistake.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'Presuming the offer comes to the table.'
He hesitated. 'Of course.'
'And the offer very much depends on how you feel about questions.'
'Darlin', with the prospect of wild sex in the offering, you can ask me any damn thing you like.'
She leaned a hip against the bar, taking a sip of wine before saying, 'You said you've spent time with eight or nine women so far—what went wrong?'
He shrugged. 'Everything.'
His voice was a little vague, and she frowned. 'In what way?'
He hesitated, eyes a little distant, as if he was fighting to find the memories. 'Four of them were bi. They weren't looking for anything long term, just a sperm donor.'
'Then why did they come here? There're sperm banks all over the place.'
'Maybe they wanted a particular look, and that can't be guaranteed at sperm banks.' He shrugged again. 'Let's not dwell on the past. Let's talk about the future.' He half turned, facing her. 'Or at least the next few hours.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'Presuming again that I have a few hours to spare.'
'Even the busiest person can make a little time for wild and wicked sex, can't they?'
'Maybe.' She sipped her drink, but it did little to ease the aching dryness in her throat. Oh, how she wanted to give in to the desire throbbing through her veins. But as much as her hormones might protest, she was here to do a job. Right now, that job was questioning this man, not shagging him.
