Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(16)

This afternoon’s diner brew had left an acidy aftertaste in Jayne’s mouth. Though coffee didn’t sound appealing, Reed’s company did. The thought surprised her more than the physical attraction that simmered between them. She hadn’t even dated since…Well, since.

Had she imagined the gleam in his eyes? Only one way to find out. “OK.”

“Walk or drive?” he asked.

“Walk.”

He snorted. “Still don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust anybody.” Jayne’s words came out more bitter than she intended.

He fell silent. Clear eyes went flat as he studied the scar on her cheek for a few seconds. “Good habit.”

Without apologizing, he started down the street at a brisk walk. Jayne kept pace. They didn’t speak again until they were inside the bookstore. The coffee shop on the second floor was larger and more modern than she’d expected. Jayne ordered a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup. As she added a giant chocolate chip cookie to her order, she glanced sideways at Reed. “It’s been a really shitty day.”

His face softened as their eyes met. “I hear you.” He turned to the barista. “Coffee, black.”

They took their order to a secluded corner table. Jayne sat down, purse in her lap, and eyed the tray of sugar, sugar, and more sugar. “I’m going to be sick.”

He took the seat across from her, removing his coat and draping it over the chair back. His shoulders, encased in a gray sweater, dwarfed the chair. “Probably.”

She wrapped her hands around the Styrofoam mug and took a sip. Whipped cream and rich chocolate blended on her tongue. “Worth it.”

For the first time, he smiled. The expression catapulted him from handsome to Wow! Tension unfurled in Jayne’s belly. Warmth spread through her from the inside out. Must be the hot cocoa. As if. She concentrated on her cookie for a few seconds.

“Are you an art lover?” he asked.

Jayne looked up. He was nodding at the newspaper article sticking out of her purse. “Oh, yes. I’m a photographer.”

“What do you photograph?”

“Most of my paid work is travel brochures.” No lie. She’d actually only sold a half-dozen tabloid photos. No need to mention those. Or the obscene amount of money she’d been paid for them. Or how much she depended on that dirty, dirty money. “Someday I’d like to go back and finish my fine art degree.”

He sipped his coffee and set it aside. “Why don’t you?”

She crumbled a piece of cookie between her fingers and turned her face to the window. Daylight was fading, the sky darkening to a threatening, gunmetal gray. When she turned back, his gaze found her scar again. Knowledge lurked in his eyes—and realization sparked in Jayne. Duh. He’d heard her talking to the police chief. He already knew about the attack.

“His name is Ty Jennings. He was in my art history class. We’d gone out for coffee a couple of times after class. He was friendly, attractive, and seemed nice enough. One night, he offered to walk me to my car. I’d parked in a garage a half-dozen blocks away from school. He asked me if I wanted to go back to his place. When I said no, he got really angry. He grabbed me by the hair and started dragging me toward his car. I screamed, and he hit me in the face. I kept screaming, even when he was yelling at me to stop. He pulled a knife out of his pocket and dug it into my face.” She closed her mouth abruptly. She couldn’t believe she’d told him all that, but she’d recited the story so many times and in much greater detail, for the police, for the prosecutor, for her therapist. The words were rote. Jennings’s release gave her old terror new life, and somehow, telling Reed felt more personal, like he would see things inside her the others had missed. “If this guy hadn’t come out of the elevator…”

A weight on her hand stopped her from mutilating her cookie. Reed’s fingers were curled around hers, warm and solid and grounding. And the connection that sparked between them ran much deeper than skin on skin. From the expression in his eyes, both the gesture and their responses were just as much of a surprise to him. “I found out later he wasn’t even enrolled in that class. He was trolling. The police suspected he was responsible for two other abductions. The other girls were raped, murdered, and dumped in Fairmont Park. The prosecutor promised if I testified, he’d go away for a long time.”

“How long did he get?”

Jayne focused on his hand, strong and callused from hard work. Tiny scars crisscrossed his fingers. “It turned out that the police didn’t have enough evidence to charge him with the other crimes. He got six years.”

“That’s not a long time.”

“No. It isn’t. He got out last week, more than two years early. Money talks, you know. Jennings was an Ivy League frat boy.” Jayne remembered the prosecutor’s face as he’d told her, after she’d testified, that the other charges hadn’t stuck. No guilt whatsoever. Just another day at the office—for him.

She pushed the anger and helplessness back and drank more chocolate. Calories be damned. “He has no way to find me. Chief Bailey promised to keep an eye out for him. So, no dwelling allowed.” Enough about her. So far, he’d skillfully kept the conversation off himself. Time to turn things around. “What do you do, besides handyman work?”