“Yeah,” he answered. Just “yeah.”
As I walked the box over to him, I asked, “What did you expect me to do?”
“Kiss me back. Exactly what you did—at first. That’s how these things work.”
These…things? What things?
Once I reached the counter, he pulled me around behind it with him, taking the box to set down next to the register. He lifted me up, setting my bottom on the edge of the counter, pushing my legs apart to step between them.
Shit.This close, he smelled really good. Like really, really good. This musky, manly scent that I wanted to bathe in. My heartbeat started racing again. Why did he affect me like this? My nostrils flared. My lips parted. I licked them, wanting nothing more than to have his mouth on me.
He placed his hand on my thigh, skin-to-skin contact, pushing my dress up as he leaned in. “You can’t keep doing this to me,” he whispered before pressing his lips to mine.
“Connor,” I whispered back, but with the feel of him, of his mouth working its magic, I forgot what else I wanted to say.
He only stopped the lip-lock when the bell jingled again. We both turned to see a short woman in a T-shirt and jeans that had been cut off into long shorts that reached her knees. The outfit was a bit of a mess, but she paired it with gray converse so she had some cool in her. She snickered when she saw us, then she glanced away from us, walking over to a display in front. I took that as my cue to hop down from the counter and tried to escape. He held me prisoner with his light touch to my arm and his blazing stare.
“You going to let me into those panties of yours?” he asked, whispering into my ear before dragging his lips down to bite the lobe.
“Whoa! Slow your roll, there, Clifford.” I softly slapped his nose. “Bad dog.”
“Woman, seriously—enough with the dog jokes. I’m a hound. I told you that.”
“Crying all the time,” I muttered.
“Simone.”
“What? You haven’t even asked me out on a date yet and think I’m just letting you into my panties.”
Again, he sighed. Connor did that a lot around me. “Our kind doesn’t date,” he said.
“Maybe your kind doesn’t, but my kind does.”
“Sweetheart.” He tugged on the bottom of my braid gently. “Youaremy kind.”
“Uh… no, I’m not. Last I checked, I get a magic power-up on the full moon. I don’t go all Scooby-Doo.”
“No—that’s not—” he started to answer until he noticed the woman walking up to the register with a bunch of baby clothes. She dropped them in a heap.
“I’ll let you get back to it.” Then, because it felt wrong not to, I bent in to peck his lips. “Seriously, try the baklava. Egor makes the best.”
Connor shot me a confused sort of look. “Yeah,” he said. “He does. Where are you going now?”
I thumbed through a box of old costume jewelry, picking up a brooch that caught my eye. A gem so dark red, it almost appeared black. A gold snake slithered around it. “This is beautiful,” I said, holding it up to show him.
“Keep it. Now, where are you going?”
“I’m off to find Jeffery’s killer,” I answered offhandedly.
He roared, “What?” so loudly that when I spun around, I actually knocked the box I was looking in on the ground, spilling the contents all over the floor.
“For darkness’s sake. You’re a disaster area and you’re not going after your ex’s killer.” He stormed from around the counter stomping over to where I’d bent down to pick up the things that spilled onto the floor.
“His name was Jeffery andI am.” I took out my anger on the poor tchotchkes, slamming them back into the box. What gave him the right to order me around? I was an independent woman. I was going to marry Jeffery. Someone took that future from us. I saw it as my duty to figure out why. My last gift to him and his family.
“Honey,” the woman with the baby clothes said. “Your boyfriend is right. You shouldn’t be going after a killer. That’s dangerous.”
Boyfriend? She thought Connor was my boyfriend?