Page 46 of In Her Sights
That made it impossible to hold back her laughter.
“Oh, good.” He sounded tentatively relieved as he squeezed her hand. She hated to admit it, but the press of his large, warm palm against hers felt comforting and really, really nice. “Does this mean you don’t want to rip my face off?”
“Yeah.” She stepped to the side, surprised at how reluctant she was to untangle her fingers from his so he could unlock his front door. From the way his grip tightened for a moment before he released her, he felt the same way. “For now. I imagine it won’t last too long, though.”
“I’ll take a temporary truce.” He held the door open for her. It was curved at the top, making her think of hobbit houses, even though it was a full-size entrance, big enough even for John’s significant height.
Stepping inside, she pulled off her boots while looking around. The place smelled like lemons and fresh wood, and she mentally rearranged all of her preconceived notions about John and what type of house he’d have. The hardwood floors were scarred from decades of use but clean, and the light that filled the space didn’t catch on any dust motes floating in the air. She felt a sudden rush of self-consciousness for her own rather battered house. Usually, she and her sisters were too busy working to do more than the bare minimum of housecleaning, except when Cara had some stress to work out at two in the morning. Even without seeing the rest of the place, she knew for certain that his bathroom would be spotlessly clean.
John had gone quiet and was eyeing her carefully as she looked around. A flash of vulnerability peeked out around his standard expression, and she realized that he cared what she thought of his home. It reminded her of how intimate it had felt when he’d seen her living space, and it dawned on her that it worked the other way, too. Watching her take in his home for the first time had to be nerve-racking for him.
Feeling sympathetic, she offered the first compliment that came to mind. “It’s so much cleaner than I expected.”
He blinked, appearing torn between offense and laughter. “What do you mean? Did you think I’d have a dirty house? Do I give off hoarder vibes?” His face dropped with obvious horror. “Do I smell?” Ducking his head, he raised his arm and sniffed.
“You don’t smell.” Since that wasn’t technically true, as she couldn’t get his addictive scent out of her mind, she amended her words. “Bad. You don’t smell bad.”
Eyeing her suspiciously, he took a whiff of his other armpit. “If I don’t stink, why did you hesitate just now?”
She was not about to venture into that mess of an explanation, since it would only lead to extreme embarrassment. Instead, she rolled her eyes and gave him her best impatient look. “I didn’t. Were you going to change clothes?”
Tossing his arms up dramatically, his expression one of complete indignation, he pinned her with an accusing glare. “If I don’t smell, why are you suddenly so insistent that I change?”
“Ugh. Drama queen. That’s why we came here, remember?”
Although he lowered his arms, he didn’t look completely placated. “Right. I’ll go change.” He was halfway up the stairs as he muttered, “After I shower.”
She debated whether to shout something impatient after him, but she was actually glad he was taking a few minutes longer than expected, since she was dying to explore the rest of his house. “Take your time,” she said sweetly—too sweetly, judging by the way he halted and turned his head to eye her suspiciously. Widening her eyes, she returned his look with her best innocent one, and he finally turned to climb the rest of the stairs.
Once he was out of sight, she slipped through the first entryway on her left into his living room. Although the large flat-screen TV did have a spot of honor over a fireplace, it was still a cozy room with many more books than she’d expected. She’d already known that John was a smart guy, but he always seemed to be moving. It was hard wrapping her brain around the image of him spending a quiet evening reading, rather than being out at sketchy bars, knocking bail jumpers’ heads together.
Resisting the urge to start examining titles—since she knew perfectly well that she’d never leave if she did—she moved into the dining room. The rooms were on the smaller side, but the lofted ceilings made up for it, keeping the house from feeling claustrophobic. It was cozy and adorable and, strangely enough, it suited John.
As she walked into the kitchen, she realized that the rooms made a circle, starting and ending at the entryway. Despite the age of the house, every room was freshly painted in currently trendy and warm colors, and all the furniture was newish and looked comfortable. He’d kept some of the vintage details, like the leaded windows and glass doorknobs, so that the place didn’t seem completely modern. Although her house—the one she grew up in and that she was chasing Sonny Zarver in order to keep—was unquestionably her very favorite place to be, she knew immediately that John’s house could quickly become a second favorite.
“Not that there’s any reason to be here after we bring Sonny in,” she told herself sternly, peeking into what appeared to be a study. This room was full of books, too. They covered two walls, making the small room feel even tinier. On the desk were a laptop and a tidy pile of folders. Quashing the temptation to peek inside those manila jackets and possibly get a glimpse of his active cases, she withdrew from the room. As much as she enjoyed stealing skips out from under John’s nose, sneaking a glance at his folders after he’d invited her into his home would feel like cheating.
She made her way back to the entry and sat on a cute wooden bench next to the oversize hobbit door. Although she felt twitchy and wanted to pace, she forced herself to stay seated. Since she didn’t want to think about how much she liked John’s house and how much she was starting to really like the house’s owner, she turned her mind to the skip they were chasing.
By the time John returned, freshly scrubbed and still smelling just the slightest bit like bubble gum, she’d come up with four and a half potential plans to get Sonny in custody without Tick’s poor mother having her house explode.
“Ready?” he asked as she popped up off the bench.
“Yep. Plan number five is missing the back half, but the first four are fairly solid.” She hurried out of the house in front of him, staying out of range so she could keep her body’s reactions in hand.
Her efforts to put some distance between them were for naught, since he caught up with her outside. In just a couple of his long strides, he was right next to her, and her senses were overwhelmed by his sheer John Carmondy deliciousness. “You have four plans?”
“Almost five.” If she was being honest, however, the parts missing from her fifth plan were fairly critical. “Personally, I like plan number two the best.”
“What is plan number two?” They reached his car, and John opened the passenger door for her. Although she gave him a sideways glance, she swallowed her snarky question about whether they were on a date. Instead of giving him a hard time, she slid into her seat and tried not to feel weird about the whole thing as he closed her door and circled around to the driver’s side. Once he was in his seat, he started the engine and then turned toward her expectantly.
“You’re actually up for making a plan this time, rather than just winging it?” she asked.
With a crooked smile, he raised his hands palms up in a What can you do? gesture. “Seems like it’d be a waste of four good plans if we don’t use them, now that you’ve thought them up and all.”
“In that case, head to Mother Tick’s house, and I’ll tell you on the way.”
