“I’m soaked to the skin.”
“No problem.” She scratched Chip behind one floppy ear. “I don’t have anything you can wear unless you want to put on a robe. It’s black but it does have flowers on it. I won’t take pictures, I swear.”
“It’s not exactly cold, is it? I’ll pass—not that I don’t trust you.”
She flicked her hair over her shoulder. What did he mean by that?
He shrugged out of his shirt and yanked at the hem of his T-shirt, peeling the wet cotton from his torso.
With the T-shirt over Sam’s head, Jolene drank in the sight of his lean, muscled body. Her fingertips tingled with the memory of his smooth, warm flesh and the need ached in her gut.
He pulled the shirt off his head, and she turned toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you that water and stuff those things in the dryer for you—as long as you don’t expect me to iron anything.”
“Lucky for both of us, the uniform doesn’t need ironing.” He followed her into the kitchen, holding his damp shirts in his hands in front of him, like an offering, facing her across the small center island.
“You can put those on the counter.” She nodded toward the island as she reached for the cupboard and grabbed a glass. “We never got to finish our chili, did we? Are you hungry?”
“I’ll pick up something on my way back to the station.” He perched on a stool, only his bare chest visible above the edge of the counter.
If anyone had told her this morning she’d have Sam Cross half-naked in her kitchen by the afternoon, she’d have...thanked them.
She filled the glass with ice and water from her fridge and set it before him with a tap on the counter. Wiggling her fingers, she said, “Why are you still holding those wet things? Give them to me.”
“Didn’t want to get your gleaming counter all wet.” He held out the bundle of clothes to the side, and she circled the island to take them, her gaze avoiding all that bare male flesh in front of her.
She took the shirts with both hands and walked back through the kitchen to the laundry room. “Perfect timing. I have some things in the wash that need to go in the dryer. We can save on electricity.”
“I don’t want my shirt to get your stuff dirty.”
“It’s fine. It’s just a few towels and...other things.” She tossed Sam’s shirts in the dryer and then piled her own clothes in after. She plucked a dryer sheet from the box and threw it in with the rest. She jabbed a few buttons, took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen.
“You never told me what you were doing in Paradiso? Some case you’re working?”
“Yeah, a case.” He ran the side of his thumb down the sweating glass. “And that’s why I want to thank you, Jolene.”
“Thank me?” She poked a finger into her chest. “For what? How did I help your case?”
Sam gulped back the rest of the water and smacked the glass on the counter. “By planting those bones at the construction site.”
Chapter Four
Sam narrowed his eyes, as he watched a rosy flush creep up Jolene’s face. She’d just confirmed his suspicions.
“You think I planted those bones at the construction site? That’s what you think I was doing there the other night?” Her long lashes fluttered with every blink of her eyes. “Wh-why would I do that?”
“C’mon, Jolene. What do you take me for?” He crossed his arms over his chest, probably losing a little of the high ground without his shirt. “You’re out there in the middle of the night, a shovel in the bed of your pickup and a set of bones appears on the day of the ground-breaking for a casino you detest.”
“That’s crazy.” She swept his glass from the counter and spun toward the sink. “Where would I get bones, anyway?”
“You’re a resourceful woman. I’m sure it didn’t take you long to figure out how to get your hands on a set of bones. And—” he leveled a finger at her “—you made sure we found the skull, because you knew it was there.”
Pulling back her shoulders, she tilted up her chin. “You can’t prove anything.”
“Give me a month or two, and I’m sure I could prove it.” He rested his arms on the counter and hunched his shoulders. “But I’m not interested in nailing you for planting bones. I’m not sure that’s even a crime.”
“Why not? Why even bring it up if you don’t care?” She set the glass in the sink and turned, gripping the edge of the counter behind her.
“I didn’t say I didn’t care. Didn’t I thank you for doing it?”
“You’re not making any sense. I’m not admitting to anything, but why should you be happy if someone left bones there?”
“Because that helps my case.” He scratched his jaw. “Can I have some more water, please? All this explaining is making me thirsty.”
“That’s funny. I don’t hear you explaining much of anything. You’re throwing around accusations and talking about some case. You still haven’t told me why you’re here.” She snatched up his glass from the sink, and his leftover ice tinkled as she filled it again.
“Missing people.”
Her hand jerked as she set the glass down, and the water sloshed over the side. “Missing people?”
Drawing an invisible line on the counter with this finger, he said, “There was a cluster of missing people southeast of San Diego at about the same time we saw an influx of a particularly pure form of meth, pink meth. We saw a similar pattern here in Paradiso from a few years ago. As I’d worked in this area before, my commander sent me here to look into it.”
“I don’t get it.” She dabbled her fingers in the puddle of water on the counter. “People go missing all the time. Why do these folks warrant closer scrutiny than all the other
