A Profiler's Case for Seduction(21)
“Sounds barbaric,” he said drily.
She laughed. “Oh, it is. One of the fraternities sponsors it and there are plenty of keg parties before and after. The college board turns a blind eye to all the shenanigans on that one night of the year.”
The conversation remained light and easy as they ate. They both admitted that there were no traditions or rituals where they had grown up.
“I guess the biggest tradition that occurred in my household was that each year at Thanksgiving time my mother would order a turkey already stuffed and cooked from the local butcher,” he said. “We didn’t actually sit down to eat it at any specific time. It was just left out on the counter for us to help ourselves throughout the day when we got hungry.”
“Hello, salmonella,” Dora exclaimed, loving the sound of his laughter. “I always worked at my mother’s café on the holidays. There were no family gatherings for us, either.” Daisy, Dora’s mother, did have a tradition, but it was a daily event. She’d start each morning with a cup of coffee and the pronouncement that it was a new beginning. And each day by noon she’d be drinking gin and getting sloppy. Before night fell she would have lured at least one man into the back room for a tumble on the cot that was shoved against one corner.
Once again Dora was relieved when the topic changed to favorite foods they shared, colors that attracted them, and they even learned each other’s astrological sign. He was Aquarius and she was Libra.
“Compatible signs,” he exclaimed, and gave her a smile that threatened to melt everything inside her.
They lingered over coffee and dessert, chatting about nothing and everything. Only once did he seem to disappear from the conversation, going deep into his head with that unfocused look that was slightly unsettling. She tapped his hand and he returned with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” she replied as she cut into the thick slice of cheesecake in front of her. “So, how is the investigation going? Anything new?”
He cupped his big hands around his coffee mug as if seeking warmth from whatever visions had momentarily captured his focus. “Absolutely nothing. I feel like we’re all running around like Keystone Cops and the perp is someplace nearby laughing at all of us and the useless effort.” He lifted his cup to his lips and then set it back down in its saucer. His frustration was evident in the rigid set of his shoulders, in the dark smoldering of his eyes.
“I just can’t buy into the theory that it was a gang of students who kidnapped Professor Grayson as a stupid stunt. If that were the case one of them would have talked by now. Somebody would drink too much beer and brag to a friend or tell somebody else, and that hasn’t been the case.”
“But why else would anyone want to hurt her? I mean, what’s the motive for what happened to her?” Dora popped a bite of cheesecake into her mouth as she continued to gaze at him.
“I have a feeling if we could figure out the answer to that then we’d be able to solve everything.” He smiled softly and reached across the table with his finger extended. She froze as he touched the side of her lips. “Cheesecake,” he murmured, and put his finger into his mouth.
Dora was so entranced she didn’t move, could scarcely breathe, and then his words flittered through to her consciousness. “Solve everything? Surely you don’t think the kidnapping and the murders are related?”
“Actually, I do. I don’t know how, but there’s no doubt in my mind that they are somehow related,” he replied.
“You can’t think that Melind...Professor Grayson had anything to do with those men’s deaths, do you?” She looked at him, horrified by the very thought.
He studied her for several long moments; once again his piercing gaze seeming to see inside her to her very soul. “We’re looking at all possibilities,” he answered after a long pause. “Now, take that little frown off your forehead. We’ll eventually figure it out and I’d much rather look at your beautiful smile.”
“Why, Agent Flynn, are you flirting with me?” she asked with a forced lightness.
He looked at her seriously and a slow grin spread across his lips. “Yes...yes, I believe I am.” He appeared exceedingly proud of himself as he tossed a hand through his hair, ruffling the muss into a new style of disarray.
Her fingers tingled with the desire to linger in the silky strands, to make order in the chaos, but she clenched her fork tightly instead. “Harmless flirting,” she said, and wondered if she was reminding him or warning herself not to take him too seriously.