Millionaire's Last Stand. Эль Кеннеди
laugh popped out of Sarah’s mouth. She quickly cut it short, offering an apologetic look. “Sorry, I don’t mean to disrespect the dead or anything. It’s just that you’re not going to find any female in this town who was close to that woman.”
Jamie raised her eyebrows. “Who hated who?”
“Oh, it went both ways. Teresa was … Let’s just say she wasn’t concerned with things like wedding bands.” Sarah shook her head. “In Teresa’s eyes, any man was fair game, even if he was taken. The women here didn’t take kindly to her throwing herself at their men.”
“What about the single ones?”
Sarah shrugged. “Teresa saw them as competition. She didn’t want or need friends.”
“What about when she married Cole?”
“What about it?” Sarah taped up the edge of the bubble wrap, grabbed a large paper bag and gingerly slid the canvas into it. “Marriage didn’t stop Teresa from going after any man she saw.”
Jamie had been trying very hard not to feel sympathy for Cole, but Sarah’s words brought a slight ache to her chest. Murder suspect or not, she didn’t envy the man. She couldn’t imagine how disgraced he must have felt, how badly his pride had been damaged knowing that his wife was not just unfaithful, but openly unfaithful.
But was he humiliated enough to kill her?
Her methodical brain piped up and she couldn’t ignore the question it raised. When it came to motive, Cole really did have a doozy of one, didn’t he?
“Let me just ring that up for you,” Sarah said, moving to the cash register.
Jamie absently reached into her purse and found her wallet, wishing that she could think of Cole Donovan as just another suspect, but for some reason, each time she pictured his handsome face, her body reacted in the most irritating way.
“So did he do it?”
Sarah’s wary question brought a frown to Jamie’s lips. “You mean Cole?”
The other woman nodded.
“I don’t know yet,” Jamie replied. “What do you think?”
Sarah looked uneasy. “I’m not sure. Everyone in town is pretty much convinced of his guilt—they’re ready to lock him up and throw away the key.”
“And you?”
Sarah shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did it. Though I’m not sure if he should be locked up or given a parade in his name.” She suddenly glanced at the window. “Speak of the devil.”
Jamie followed the other woman’s gaze. Almost instantly, her heart did a little somersault.
Cole was standing outside, staring right at her. With a tentative smile, he lifted one hand in a wave.
She smiled back, confused by the way her pulse sped up at the sight of him. He wore jeans again, along with a pair of black boots and a long-sleeved dark blue shirt that emphasized the ripples of his broad chest.
Damn. Why couldn’t he look like a normal rich person? Designer clothes, expensive haircut, pretentious smirk. Those were the wealthy people she was accustomed to, the ones whose houses her mother used to clean. Sometimes her mom brought her along if she couldn’t find a babysitter, and Jamie had grown up thinking that all rich people were evil, something her mother never failed to remind her of.
She didn’t think it anymore; she knew several affluent folks who were incredibly wonderful people. But it would just be easier if Cole Donovan was like one of the wealthy jerks she’d known growing up.
Maybe then she wouldn’t find him so attractive.
Trying to hide her reaction, Jamie accepted the credit card receipt Sarah handed her and scribbled her signature on the slip. “Thanks for being so candid with me,” Jamie told the other woman.
“Candid is my middle name.”
Jamie smiled. “Maybe we can have coffee sometime, when I take a break from the case?”
“Sure, that sounds great.”
With a quick goodbye, Jamie headed for the door and stepped out of the gallery. She made a mental note to ask Finn about Sarah Connelly, though she truly hadn’t had an ulterior motive when she’d suggested coffee. With the stress of her job, making friends—or making time for friends—wasn’t usually a viable option, and she’d actually enjoyed meeting Sarah. It might be nice having some female company as long as she was in town.
“Shopping on the job, huh?” Cole said as she came outside, eyeing the paper bag she carried.
“Killing time,” she answered. “I’m meeting with your neighbor in a bit.”
His expression darkened. “Will you let me know what he says?”
“I can do that.” She noticed he held a shopping bag, a clear one that revealed the stack of candles and flashlights within it. “Are you planning a séance or going camping?”
His mouth quirked. “Neither. I’m just stocking up on some supplies. The weather network says there’s a hurricane making its way up the coast. It probably won’t make it this far inland, but that’s what I thought last time, and we were without power for two days.”
We. She wondered if he meant him and Teresa. She also wondered why the sight of his mouth brought a spark of heat to her belly. He really did have a nice mouth. Wide and sensual, with a surprisingly full bottom lip.
Murder suspect!
She clung to the reminder, though it only left her a little bewildered. Despite Cole’s rough masculine voice and somewhat reserved demeanor, she didn’t feel an ounce of fear in his presence. Not that she scared easily—she’d been in the same room with dozens of vicious killers in her career, and didn’t usually feel frightened. She was always aware, though. Aware of their crimes, aware of what they were capable of, and that awareness succeeded in making her cautious. Maybe that’s what troubled her about Cole, not that she didn’t fear him, but that she didn’t think she needed to.
“I like storms,” she said, trying to keep the subject neutral.
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“No?”
“You seem like the kind of woman who likes the excitement.”
Their gazes locked, and there it was, that rush of heat again. Even as a girl she hadn’t been one to indulge in silly crushes. Boys hadn’t evoked many primal reactions in her, and when she’d felt something for someone, she’d always been guarded, wondering if the boy who showed interest in her did so because he truly liked her or because he thought she was easy since she came from a trailer park. That cautiousness had followed her into adulthood, as had the lack of carnal sexual attraction.
But carnal was the only word to describe her reaction to Cole. Everything about him teased her senses—his silky dark hair, the hard set of his broad shoulders, his delicious scent of spice and musk.
Okay, this definitely needed to stop.
“No, I just like the sound of thunder,” she said lightly, then edged off to the side. “I should get going. Gideon is expecting me—”
“You son of a bitch!”
The shrill female cry came out of nowhere, and Jamie nearly dropped her canvas from the sheer volume of the voice. She turned in time to see a petite woman marching toward them. Toward Cole.
Jamie immediately noticed the resemblance between this woman and the photo she had of Teresa Donovan. Both women had the same pale skin, inky-black hair and gunmetal-gray eyes, only this one looked older thanks to the deep brackets around her mouth and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.
“You have real nerve!” the