Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(28)

“So you ordered her a rib eye?”

“We were splitting it. The portions are enormous. Would you like some?”

“No, I just ate.”

“I haven’t shopped this week.” Heat flooded Louisa’s cheeks. “I researched dog nutrition on the Internet. An assortment of meat and vegetables is recommended for a balanced diet.”

Conor dropped his head onto his crossed arms on the counter. His shoulders shook.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He lifted his head. A grin tugged at his mouth.

“You’re laughing at me.” Relieved, she set the bowl on the floor. Kirra gave the food a wary sniff and a nibble but ate only a few bites before wandering away.

“I’m sorry.” He stood up and rounded the kitchen island. “It’s been a long day.”

Louisa followed his glance to the corner of the room where she’d stowed a dog bed, a large chew bone, and several squeaky toys. “The woman in the store said Kirra would like her own bed, but she doesn’t seem interested.”

“You named her Kirra?” He stopped in front of her. His eyes, though red-rimmed and shadowed with fatigue, were bright with humor. How could he be laughing when he’d just been questioned by the police?

“It’s Celtic for ‘dark lady.’” She wanted to take a step back. No, she wanted to take a step closer. What did she want? “Is that all right?”

“I love it.” He leaned in. “I love that you took my dog in at a moment’s notice. I love that you ordered her a fifty-dollar steak.”

“We were splitting it,” she murmured.

“Thank you.”

Her nerves hummed with anticipation. Even though she expected—and wanted—the kiss, the muscles in her body went rigid when he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was tender and unhurried, and a surge of longing shot all the way to the arches of her bare feet. Her toes curled on the cold tile. He lifted his head, and her body protested. The lip-to-lip contact had lasted barely three seconds, not nearly long enough for her to relax.

He lifted his head, and his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Louisa nodded, wishing she could explain. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to trust him yet.

“You’re sure?”

She was more than all right. He’d kissed her, and she’d enjoyed it. The tension in her body had been pure shock at how much she’d enjoyed it. She licked her still-tingling lips. A simple yes wasn’t enough. He was still staring at her with that worried look.

“Definitely.” A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

“Will you tell me something?”

She tensed. “Yes.”

“Why did you hire Damian? Why are you so sure I didn’t do anything?”

She could hardly tell him she just knew he hadn’t done it. Although it was the truth, her gut reaction didn’t make any sense, not even to her. “It’s not logical.”

“Excuse me?”

“I put that badly. I’m sorry.” Louisa studied the small Flyers logo in the center of his gray shirt. “I often say the wrong thing when I get nervous.”

“It’s not a test.” Conor put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Just say what you’re thinking.”

He had the most beautiful eyes. When he focused intently on her, like now, her skin warmed and her muscles loosened, remembering that gentle kiss. Yet the tension rising in her belly was anything but relaxed. She was simultaneously comfortable and aroused in the strangest juxtaposition of sensations, like she’d washed a muscle relaxer down with a triple espresso.

But he wanted her to talk, and she was going to ruin everything with her nerdy analysis. There was no yield in his gaze, just patient determination. Should she risk it?

New life. New attitude.

Here goes.

“You’re an intelligent man. If you killed Zoe and intended to get away with your crime, you wouldn’t have left a bloody T-shirt where the police could find it, nor would you have driven off with her in front of witnesses.”

“What if it was an accident?” Conor reasoned.

“If you simply intended to sleep with her, why would you drive her anywhere? Your apartment is right upstairs. Plus, that doesn’t explain the connection to Riki’s murder. The police have based their case on an argument that isn’t logical.”

“Maybe you should be my lawyer.” Conor grinned. “I think I should call you Spock.”

“Spock?”

“You know, from Star Trek.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it.” Louisa sighed. “We didn’t have a television growing up.”

“No shit!” Conor cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s a shame.”

“Since you’re joking with me, can I assume you aren’t angry?”

“Why would I be angry?” Conor tilted his head. “You kept me out of jail.”

“Because I didn’t send Damian solely because I believed in you.” Louisa blinked away. “Although that was part of it,” she admitted. Heat flushed the back of her neck.

He paused, and his usually open expression closed down. “That would be foolish. We don’t know each other well enough for blind loyalty.”