From anyone else, it would have won her attention and affection. Anything she wanted.
But not from him. Not that night. This woman was everything except for what mattered.
She wasn't her.
He gestured to Kenton, who took the woman by the hand and lifted her away from Dragon's lap. The woman left reluctantly, walking down the steps on spike heels that carried her deep into the crowd. It wouldn't be long before someone else claimed her. Before she set her sights on another man and wove herself into his attention.
The next night he came again. And the night after. The stool at the bar stayed open. Then, finally, she came back. Ariella didn't even glance his way. She walked up to the bar and leaned against it to say something to the bartender. The bartender nodded and said something in return. Ariella repaid whatever kindness he had given her with a smile before walking towards the door again. She was leaving. She didn't even stay long enough for a single drink.
This time, he couldn't just sit. He couldn't stay where he was. He got to his feet and gestured for his men not to follow him.
By the time he ran out onto the sidewalk, she was already halfway down the block. She walked casually, as if there was nothing on her mind. She had no reason to hurry, no reason to linger.
“You aren't even having a drink tonight?” he called after her.
She turned and looked over her shoulder. Her expression revealed nothing. There was no shock. No surprise. No flicker of satisfaction or happiness that told him she was trying to lure him out. There was only acknowledgement.
“Not tonight,” she said, then turned and continued down the sidewalk.
Dragon wanted to turn and go back into the club, but something stopped him. Like a hook in his belly dragging him, he couldn't stay where he was. He took off after her again. When he caught up, he ran in front of her and stopped, so she had to.
“I don't chase people,” he said.
Her eyes drifted up and down his body. The tip of her tongue just touched her lower lip.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“What is it with you?” he asked, exasperated, exhilarated.
“You tell me,” she said.
She stepped aside and walked around him to continue on her way. He reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her back and against him. His hands cupped her face, his fingers plunging into her soft hair. His eyes burned into hers, and he searched for breath.
She didn't move. One hand rested lightly on his arm as if to balance herself, but there was no pressure in it. She let herself rest in the strength of the arm gripping around her waist. He struggled for control. He struggled to drop her there and walk away, to be what everybody saw when they watched him.
He couldn't.
His teeth nipped at her lower lip, and a hint of breath caught in her throat. His lips brushed hers. Just enough to taste warmth and lipstick. His mouth hovered over hers, and they shared breath. Her head tilted, and their kiss melted reality.
Chapter Twenty Now
"It's just for one night," I tell Sam as I fold up the new plain black T-shirt I bought before we came to the hotel. "There are just a few weird things happening around here, and I want to look into them a little more. It doesn't make sense to drive all the way back to Sherwood, then come back here in the morning.”
“No, it doesn't,” he acknowledges. “It's better to have you there. But I'll miss seeing you tonight.”
“I'll miss you, too. Is there anything interesting going on back home?”
“Not really,” he sighs. “Same old things. Bianca wants us to go up to the community center next week. She came by the station today to pick up those coloring books for the kids, and she told me there's going to be a pre-opening reception at the center. She wants us to be there.”
"Well, I'd think so. Considering you're going to be doing that safety program there."
"And you gave the donation that made it happen," he says.
"She doesn't know that was me," I point out. "According to her, a nice man named Eli made that donation. But that sounds like fun. I'm looking forward to seeing it."
I drop down onto the end of the bed and let out a sigh.
"You don't sound like you're looking forward to it," Sam observes.
"It's not that. I'm just thinking about all this stuff. We found out nothing new about Mason Goldman or his wife, other than that they were perfectly pleasant and dull. But then this thing about Lakyn Monroe drops."
"It's like her case is chasing you."
"Then maybe I should stop running from it," I tell him.
"Are you going to?"
"Why do you think I'm sitting in a motel room circa 1952 that I'm sharing with Dean, so the clerk didn't hear my name and think he was renting to a serial killer?" I ask.
"What?"
"Never mind."
"Nothing is coincidental, Emma. Just remember that. Look for the simplest answer," he says.
"That always works out so well for me. This time the simplest answer feels like a crime that isn't a crime at all."
"You still think she did this herself?" Sam asks.
"I think it's a strong possibility. I just can't see another way for things to add up. It's just too strange. Like you said, nothing is coincidental. When it seems like it is, somebody’s doing something on purpose. I don't think somebody happened to see Lakyn at that bank, or that she was accidentally caught on the security camera. She wanted to be seen."
"And the picture of her license plate?" Sam asks.
"What better way to give an anonymous tip that will confuse people?" I stand back up and grab the bag off the bed to take to the bathroom. "Look,
