Flirting with Fire. Wendy Etherington
timing couldn’t be worse.
Gia squeezed his hand. “Thanks for sticking.”
“Franco and the rest of the guys wanted to stay, too. I convinced them I’d take care of you.”
“And why would you volunteer for that? I don’t expect you to save me all the time, you know.”
“But I like to.”
Meeting his gaze, her eyes focused with determination. “Why?”
He scrambled for the right answer. If their relationship—such as it was—could be plotted with angles and measurements, he’d be on much firmer ground. Her importance in his life had grown exponentially with every word of welcome, smile and conversation. The shared confessions were absolute proof his feelings were much more than a crush and they weren’t going away. Maybe if he drew a diagram of—
“Yo!” The detective slammed his hand onto the desk. “Could you wind up your personal drama so I can get on with my investigation?”
“Sorry,” Nathan said, dragging his attention from Gia.
“Yeah, yeah, got the hots for each other.” Anderson waved his hand. “Doesn’t take a detective to figure that out. But back to the dead guy…”
Gia scowled—whether at the memory of a deceased customer or the idea of them having the hots for each other, Nathan wasn’t sure. “I don’t know what else I can tell you. Elliot started to eat his dinner, he gasped then collapsed. He probably had a heart attack. I’m sorry he died, but I don’t see how we can do anything about it now.” Rising, Gia faced the detective. “Have you eaten? I’m sure we have plenty of leftovers in the kitchen. I’d be glad to throw something together for you.”
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