Millionaire's Last Stand. Эль Кеннеди

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СКАЧАТЬ then” was all she said. She stepped onto the porch, gave him a careless wave and walked toward her car.

      Cole stared at her retreating back, dumbfounded. Hard as it was to admit it, he’d been enjoying her company. She might be a Fed, but she had the most endearing way about her. An unnamable quality that made him feel both comfortable and comforted by her presence.

      Turning away, he walked into the house and closed the door behind him. In the living room, he picked up the glass of bourbon he’d left sitting on the coffee table, slowly sank onto the couch and spent an impossibly long time thinking about Jamie Crawford’s gorgeous violet eyes.

      Jamie’s heart was pounding as she drove down the dusty dirt road leading away from the house. What on earth just happened back there? She could still feel the imprint of Cole’s touch on her palm. God, his hand had felt nice. Large, masculine, with a surprising amount of calluses. She wondered when he got the chance to work with those hands. He probably lived in a boardroom, yet the strong hands and the muscular body hinted that he didn’t spend all his time at the office.

      And the visceral wave of desire rolling through her body hinted at something too.

      She was attracted to him.

      Lord, how could this happen? Cole was undeniably attractive, yes, but he was also a murder suspect! What was wrong with her body that it couldn’t recognize that?

      In her ten years with the Bureau, she’d never been attracted to a suspect. Or a colleague, for that matter. She made sure to separate her personal life from her professional one. Work is work had always been her mantra. She’d seen too many fellow agents fall in love on a case, only to break up when the danger and adrenaline fizzled out. She’d decided years ago that she needed to find a man who was in no way related to her career.

      And Cole Donovan, though he wasn’t an agent, was directly related to this case. This murder case.

      Gritting her teeth, Jamie forced every last residual drop of desire from her body and focused on driving. She had to check in with Finn and tell him about the interview, and she also wanted to give Joe Gideon a call and set up a meeting. Then she had to pore over the case files and see if she could come up with anything Finn may have missed.

      Which meant she had absolutely no time to lust over a sexy millionaire. Especially one implicated in the death of his ex-wife.

      Feeling calm and grounded, she slowed the SUV as she entered the heart of Serenade. As she glanced out the tinted window, she couldn’t help but see the same appeal Cole had described. Serenade was definitely a place you’d want to call home. It was actually quite surreal, like the set of one of those wholesome family television shows. Main Street boasted cute little shops, including a drugstore with an honest-to-God soda fountain. The street widened and curved about halfway, showcasing a town square that featured a lovely circular fountain, curvy wrought-iron benches and flowering cherry trees that had to have been transplanted from somewhere else.

      But it was the town’s geography that took Jamie’s breath away. The majestic Smoky Mountains loomed in the west, a filmy summer mist surrounding the peaks, and she’d driven past several dense forested areas and fields in full bloom. So different from her apartment back in Charlotte, which was located near the university campus on a street boasting the constant mill of students. Serenade had none of the bustle—it was peaceful and uncomplicated, and unbelievably pretty.

      Jamie’s gaze was suddenly drawn to the fountain in the town square, where a gorgeous brunette holding a baby sat on the limestone base. The baby’s chubby cheeks were flushed with delight, and she was squealing as her mother sprinkled water from the fountain onto her nose.

      Before Jamie could stop it, a pang of longing slid through her body.

      “Not now,” she muttered to herself, trying not to sigh.

      She’d never believed in the concept of a biological clock, yet for some peculiar reason, she could practically hear her body ticking away the past few months. It was strange as hell. She figured she’d have children eventually, but it had never been a pressing matter. She’d spent the past ten years building her career, and her professional success made her proud. Work had always been enough for her. Until recently.

      Now, each time she saw a baby, that gush of yearning hit her like a tidal wave. And she didn’t even want to analyze that odd spark of sorrow she felt every night when she went to bed alone. Best leave her analytical skills to prying into the minds of killers.

      Serenade’s police station finally came into view, a singlestory, redbrick building with a flagpole sticking out of the neat lawn out front. The American flag flapped in the late afternoon breeze, and the tall sunflowers planted along the path leading to the door swayed in that same gust. There was a small parking lot at the back of the station, and she pulled her SUV into a narrow spot, then hopped out and rounded the building.

      When she walked into the station, she found herself in a small, brightly lit lobby. A plump woman with gray hair sat at the front desk, greeting Jamie with a suspicious frown.

      “Can I help you?” the older woman asked in a craggy voice reserved for longtime chain smokers.

      Jamie approached the desk with a smile. “I’m here to see Finn. I mean, Sheriff Finnegan.”

      The receptionist narrowed her eyes. “Is he expecting you?”

      “Yes. Can you let him know I’m here?”

      “Name?” the woman barked.

      “Jamie Crawford.” For the hell of it, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and added, “Special Agent Jamie Crawford.”

      That got the grumpy receptionist’s attention. Immediately, she picked up the phone, pressed a button and relayed Jamie’s message. A few moments later heavy footsteps thudded from the corridor tucked off to the left, and then Finn appeared.

      Jamie couldn’t help but grin. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a year, yet he looked exactly the same. He was a big man, with broad shoulders, a thick chest and long legs. His black hair was its usual scruffy mess, curling at the collar of his white button-down shirt, and his eyes were still the darkest shade of blue she’d ever seen and as shrewd as ever.

      “You lost weight,” was the first thing he said, staring at her in displeasure.

      “Hello to you too,” she replied with a laugh. Then she crossed the tiled floor toward him and gave him a big hug.

      A soft gasp sounded from the vicinity of the desk.

      “Relax, Margie,” Finn said, chuckling at his receptionist. “You’re not witnessing anything illicit. Ms. Crawford and I are old friends.”

      He turned back to Jamie, giving her that gruff smile of his, which always seemed to take such a toll on him. She’d known Finn for four years, and could probably count the number of smiles she’d seen on his handsome face on one hand.

      “You look tired,” she remarked.

      “I am tired.” Resting his hand on her arm, he led her to the corridor he’d just emerged from. “Let’s go to my office.”

      The police station was even smaller than it looked from the outside. There were three doorways in the hall—a conference room and two interrogation rooms—and then the hallway СКАЧАТЬ