Cuff Me(63)

Whatever he’d thought had been between them in that moment had either been one-sided, or hadn’t been enough for her to end things with the Pretty Boy.

Jill was still getting married, and he was still…

Lonely.

The thought of sitting beside her for six hours…

Somehow the thought of holding her hand was a hell of a lot more painful than not holding it.

He’d paid for it with every bump of the incredibly turbulent flight home, but he told himself he’d earned it.

It was no less than a man lusting after another man’s fiancée deserved.

It was now three days after they returned from their LA trip, and Vincent was beginning to think that he’d imagined that entire disastrous scenario outside his hotel room that night.

They were speaking—the silent treatment wasn’t really an option given their working relationship.

But the easy camaraderie was once again gone, as was the sexual tension.

Vincent leaned back in his standard-issue desk chair as he watched her talk on the phone at the desk across from his.

She’d been on and off the phone all day, although most of the calls had been from her cell phone, and she’d slipped outside to make them.

Wedding stuff, he’d guess.

He tried really hard not to care. Really he did.

But this particular phone call was from her desk phone and definitely related to the Lenora Birch case.

A case that was all too close to being labeled a cold case.

It would be the first of Vincent’s career and thankfully, it gave him something to think about other than her.

It wasn’t just that it was a blow to his ego. Or to his perfect record.

It was that someone was getting away with murder. And he didn’t have the faintest idea who.

“Yes, thank you, Ms. Lee. If you could send over everything you have, that’d be so appreciated. No, copies are fine. Thank you, we really appreciate it… yes. Yes, I was a fan of hers too. So sad… yes, we’re doing everything we can…”

Jill finally hung up the phone and Vincent leaned forward. “Who was that?”

Jill plunged her fingers into her hair before tugging the blond strands outward slightly in frustration.

She looked as exhausted as he looked. “Janice Lee from the library. I’ve asked her to pull every newspaper article she has on Lenora Birch and send it over.”

“You think there’s something we haven’t seen?”

She lifted her shoulders. “We’ve checked LA papers and New York papers, but smaller presses… I dunno, there could be something.”

He blew out a breath. “Papers from what time frame?”

“All time frames.”

“That could take forever.”

“I know it could take forever, Vin. Do you have any better ideas?”

He studied her for a moment. “Let’s take a walk.”

“I don’t want to take a walk.”

He smiled at that because her voice was snippy, and very un-Jill-like. “I’ll buy.”

“You only ever want to buy the cheap stuff.”

He was already on his feet, moving behind her chair and then lifting it so he all but dumped her out of it. “C’mon. Starbucks. You can get one of your sugary-with-sprinkles sugar fests.”

Jill grabbed her jacket and followed him outside, although judging from the dark circles under her eyes and her shorter-than-usual temper, her cooperation had more to do with her need for caffeine than it did interest in spending time with him.

Jill chattered the entire way to the coffee shop.

About the case.

About her new shoes giving her blisters.

About how it was maybe going to rain and how she should have brought a different jacket and why wasn’t it spring already?

Then she chattered as they stood in line at the coffee shop.

About the terrible movie she’d seen last night with the totally ambiguous ending because what’s even the point if they don’t tell you what happens?

And about how her hair stylist had to reschedule.

She chattered all the way home.

Did he think they should go see Holly Adams again?

Did he think it was true that they were finally getting a new car?

And finally, when they were just a few steps away from the precinct and he’d said little more than his coffee order and mm hmm, Vin couldn’t take it anymore.

He stopped. Touched her arm.

“Jill.”

She glanced up at him, her smile as wide as ever, but her eyes were nervous and that broke his heart. They couldn’t go on like this.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

Her smile, incredibly, went wider. Even more false. “You’re asking to talk?”

Her laugh was even more brittle than the smile, and Vin said a silent prayer that they’d be able to repair whatever it was that he’d broken.

He merely stood, fiddling with the white plastic lid of his coffee, feeling unbearable as hell as he waited for his partner to decide whether or not to hear him out.

“Okay,” she finally said on a long breath, as though she’d managed to talk herself into a completely wretched task.

Vincent should have felt relief, but mostly he felt a sudden stab of panic when he realized for all his desperation to fix things between them, he didn’t know how.