Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(11)

“OK.” Jayne’s face ached as she faked enthusiasm. “But no promises.”

“I understand. Tell Mae to save me a blueberry muffin.”

“You bet. I should get moving.” Jayne scooted out of the booth. The hunter was still standing in the aisle, staring at the article and blocking her exit.

He glanced up at her sheepishly, like he’d been caught doing something wrong, as he stepped out of her way. “Sorry.”

“No problem.”

Did the hunter know R. S. Morgan?

Jayne bit back the question and made a mental note to “run into” Jed in a more private location. She stopped to pay her tab at the tinsel-trimmed counter. A minute later, zipped and gloved, she pushed through the glass door. The cold wind was an eye-watering shock. Inhaling was like swallowing razor blades.

A second gust froze her right down to her cotton bikini, and she braced against its breath-robbing bite. She’d thought Philadelphia got cold in the winter, with the damp that drifted off the Delaware River, but Maine made Philly feel like Aruba.

Jayne huddled inside her down jacket, more fashionable than functional, as she race-walked around the corner of the building. In the overcast gloom of the rear parking lot, her Jeep listed oddly toward one side. She rounded the vehicle. Both tires were completely flat. Could she have run over nails or glass? Jayne bent closer. Both sidewalls bore six-inch slits. She raised her eyes. Shock pushed her back two steps. Her windshield was covered with the same symbols that had been on her door at the inn.



Reed flattened his palms on the reception desk of the tiny police station in the basement of the town hall. Huntsville only employed two cops, Chief Hugh Bailey and his lieutenant. Hugh’s office was dark. The lieutenant’s office door was closed, but light glowed behind the glass.

The scrawny, goateed guy working the front desk looked up from his computer screen and gave Reed a tired sigh.

“Is Hugh around?” Reed asked. He was pretty sure the kid was the mayor’s son, Evan, home from college for winter break. Nepotism was alive and well in Huntsville.

“Nope.” The kid yawned and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “And the lieutenant’s on the phone. Whatcha need?”

“Don’t know. Hugh called me.” Reed was not going to get into it with Lieutenant Doug Lang, egomaniac extraordinaire. Three minutes in the same room as the lieutenant was enough to make Reed’s molars ache.

“The chief should be back in a few. You can wait or leave him a message. Whatever.” The I don’t give a shit was implied.

The phone rang. Reed helped himself to paper and a pen, more than happy to leave the chief a note and delay the inevitable confrontation. As he pushed through the doors onto the sidewalk, the outside air felt refreshing as opposed to blistering cold.

“Reed?” The voice was female—and distressed.

Reed turned. And every thought in his head leaked out of his slack-jawed mouth. It was her, his goddess. Again.

“Hi.” Relief flashed briefly in her eyes before her tone shifted to all business. “I need to talk to a policeman.”

“You need Chief Bailey.” Reed tore his eyes away. Sure, Lieutenant Doug Lang was inside, but goddesses should not have to consort with *s. “But he’s not in his office now.”

Her pale skin was pink from the cold. The tinge emphasized the odd scar on her cheek, a shiny circular depression the size of a quarter. With better light than during yesterday’s dusk encounter, Reed could see that the wound hadn’t been large, but it’d been deep. His chest went taut as he considered the various ways she could have been injured. Thanks to his former career, the list of possibilities was long, varied, and violent. His desire to press his lips against the mark, on the other hand, was totally inexplicable.

“Any idea when he’ll be back?”

“Should be soon.” Don’t ask. Don’t get involved. Shit. The desire to help her was a compulsion. He might as well try to stop breathing. “What’s wrong?”

Something flashed in eyes the soft, pale blue of an aquamarine. Relief? Or something more?

Reed stared into their clear depths, momentarily riveted. Was she attracted to him? The mere thought sent a wave of heat through Reed. He hadn’t considered dating since he’d moved up here. There were some pretty, single women in town. A few had made their interest clear, but Reed hadn’t felt the tiniest spark of chemistry.

Jayne Sullivan had ignited an explosion in two ridiculously brief meetings.

Danger Will Robinson.

Reed blinked, breaking the connection. He unzipped his parka, letting a wave of cold wrap itself around his chest to lower the heat wave that was building up underneath his wool sweater. He kept his eyes and his imagination off the wave of hair that curled over one shoulder and tumbled across her breast. Which he should not picture naked in his head. Too late. He knew it’d be as perfect as the rest of her.

The lady needed help. Say something, moron. But his vocal cords refused to cooperate. And his brain was occupied with mentally stripping off each piece of her clothing. Reed’s blood began to flow in a southerly direction.

She chewed a full pink lip and nervous fingers pulled a tiny tube from her pocket. Her purple gloves were knit, with little rubber dots on the insides of the palm and fingers. Reed swallowed. Watching someone apply Chapstick had never been so erotic. He shifted his weight. His jeans definitely hadn’t been this tight when he’d left the house. He took a moment to admire the concrete under his Timberlands. And to get a grip on reality. This woman was here to see Hugh. She needed a cop. Not a horny handyman.