Jack and Djinn (The Houri Legends, #1)(55)

“Thanks. That does help, actually.”

“So you’re gonna close the case?” Leila had a ring on her right hand that she twisted absently. It looked like a keepsake of some kind—perhaps something that had emotional value to Leila, and Carson found himself wondering what the story was. He remembered the first time he’d met her, the way she’d paused before answering a question, and how much of a back-story he’d sensed in her.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I’ll tell the Captain it’s a cold case, that there’s not enough to go on. And technically, there’s not. There’s no physical evidence tying Miriam to Ben’s death, and even if there might be plenty of motives, I don’t think there’s a way to make the charge stick. It would waste everyone’s time and money, and just cause more trouble for Miriam. And she’s had enough of that.”

“Good,” Leila, said. “I’m glad.”

Carson hesitated for a moment, then asked, “So…what’s your story? You said last time I was here that you needed a fresh start, so you came here. What’s all that about?”

Leila glanced at him, took a deep breath, as if wishing he hadn’t asked that. “Oh, it’s a long story. Not very interesting, especially if you weren’t there.”

“Oh, you never know what I’d be interested in.” Carson reached over the counter, grabbed the soda gun, and filled his glass with water. “I’m interested in you, for example.”

Christ, he hadn’t meant to say that. He drank his water to cover his flush of embarrassment. Leila had turned on her stool, regarding him with several emotions written plainly on her face: surprise, embarrassment, curiosity, maybe a little fear.

“You are, huh?” she said, a slight smile on her lips, chewing on her straw. Curiosity was winning, apparently.

Carson laughed, an awkward chuckle. “Yeah, that just kind of slipped out. Sorry. But it’s true.”

“A Freudian slip? What else are you thinking about me that you’re not saying?” She had inched over on her stool so she was just at the edge of his personal space.

Carson hoped he was reading her body language right. He wanted to believe she was expressing interest.

“Oh…I don’t know,” he said. “You’re hot.” Shit. That hadn’t come out right.

Leila laughed, an infectious, musical sound that made him not feel so stupid. “Is that right? Keep going.” She crossed one leg over the other, facing him.

“Um….” There were a lot of things going through his mind. Her lips looked soft, a slight glimmer of lip gloss on them, making him wonder what they would taste like. He’d only met her a couple of times. It would be reckless to act on that thought. “I’m wondering what flavor lip gloss you have on. What your lips taste like.” Carson heard himself speaking the words as they entered his mind. “God, I have no filters suddenly,” he said.

Leila arched an eyebrow. “Filters are a nuisance anyway,” she said. Was it Carson’s imagination, or was she leaning into him, ever so slightly? “I’ve always believed in saying what you mean.”

Carson was leaning toward her, thinking how ridiculous it was to be considering kissing a girl he’d met a handful of times here, in the bar, at her place of work. “Yeah? So what are you thinking? Now that I’ve embarrassed myself completely.”

“Oh, so it’s my turn now, huh?” Leila was definitely closer than she had been a moment ago. Her wide eyes were inches from his, sparkling with amusement, and secrets, and something he wanted to believe was desire. “You haven’t embarrassed yourself at all. I’m glad you can say what you’re thinking.”

“You’re avoiding my question,” Carson said. Leila was sitting facing him, her feet on the rungs of his stool, her knees resting between his legs. His hands were on her knees, and she wasn’t pulling away.

“You caught me,” Leila admitted with a mischievous tip of her lips. “Okay, so what am I thinking? Hmmm. I’m thinking…you’re cute, in a rugged sort of way. I’m thinking you’re a little drunk.”

Carson nodded. “Keep going.”

Leila’s fingers were plucking at a loose string on the collar of Carson’s shirt, and then they were playing with a lock of his hair at his neck. She was definitely moving into his personal comfort zone; touching someone’s hair was a strangely intimate thing, yet he didn’t mind. “I’m thinking…I like you, and I’m hoping you’ll ask me out. There. How’s that for embarrassing myself? Admitting you’re interested in a guy goes against every rule of the dating game I know.”

“I’ve never been too interested in the dating game anyway,” Carson said.

“Me, neither. That’s part of the reason I moved up here,” Leila said. “I know I’m avoiding your original question, but…I don’t want to talk about that just yet.”

Carson nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Leila asked. “Or a wife?”

Carson shook his head. “Nah. Would I be here, talking to you like this if I did?”

“You’d be surprised what some guys will do even though they’re with someone.”

Carson shrugged. “You’d be surprised how much it takes to surprise me. I’m a homicide cop, remember? I’ve seen just about everything. What I should’ve said was, I wouldn’t be here like this, with you, if I was with anyone else.” Carson had been about to kiss her, but the moment seemed to have passed with the turn in the conversation.