“We’ll be here waiting.”
Jules clicked off the phone, knowing she had to prepare herself both mentally and physically to see Dalton again.
* * *
Jace stopped pacing long enough to ask, “Did Jules say why she wanted to meet with us?”
Shana smiled up at her husband. “No, she didn’t.”
“And she didn’t have a problem with his being here?” Caden asked, nodding toward Dalton.
Shana shook her head. “No, she didn’t have a problem with Dalton being here.”
“Excuse me, but this is my house. I’m sure if she had a problem with it, she would have suggested the three of you meet with her someplace else,” Dalton said.
“No need to get touchy. I was just asking since the two of you don’t get along,” Caden responded, stretching his legs out in front of him.
At that moment, an image of how well he and Jules got along entered Dalton’s mind...right along with an image of how she’d looked when he’d last seen her. She’d been naked in her bed. Her skin had felt warm beneath his fingertips, and her parted lips had just whispered his name.
He stood and began pacing, almost bumping into Jace a couple of times. “Will one of you sit down?” Caden demanded, frowning. “You’re making me dizzy.”
Dalton glared at his brother. “It’s my floor. I have the right to wear out the carpet if I want to.”
Jace lifted a brow. “And why are you wearing out the carpet?”
“Yes, Dalton, why are you?” Caden asked, too. “You seem kind of nervous about something. Is the fact Jules is coming over making you twitchy for some reason?”
That got Shana’s attention. Although she didn’t say anything, she stared at him in a way that made a prickling sensation spread over his skin. “I am not nervous. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Don’t we all,” Jace said, giving up the floor to slide onto the sofa next to his wife. “I keep thinking about everything Bruce said earlier. And Marcel brought up some good points. We can’t target just one person. Everyone is a suspect. Right now the only people we can really trust at Granger are each other.”
When the doorbell sounded, anxiousness suddenly filled Dalton’s body. It had been over a week since he’d last seen Jules, but he had thought about her every single day, dreamed about her every effing night. Already, blood was pumping through his veins, and his body was on fire, craving something he was trying to prove to himself that he could do without. And damn it, he was failing miserably, especially when he could already pick up her scent. Not Amarige specifically. This time, it was the feminine scent of a woman. A woman his body remembered mating with. A woman his tongue remembered tasting. A woman his—
“Are you going to get that, Dalton? After all, it is your house.”
He blinked and glared at Caden. Instead of giving his brother the satisfaction of a response, he headed for the door and opened it. And there she stood. Dressed in a maxi dress, jacket and boots, looking sexier than should be allowed during daylight hours. Why was he so glad to see her? Why were his mind and body telling him he had missed her? That he had been miserable for the past week? That he had wanted her, even though he’d tried convincing himself he hadn’t?
“Jules.”
“Dalton,” she said, parting lush crimson lips into a semblance of a smile. “How are you?”
“Okay, what about you?”
“Fine.”
“Damn it, Dalton, aren’t you going to let her in?” Jace called out.
Dalton stepped aside. “Come on in. The natives are getting restless.”
* * *
All eyes were on Jules as she stood in the middle of Dalton’s living room about to disclose why she had asked for this meeting. She could handle all pairs of eyes...except one. Curiosity was not lining the dark depths of Dalton’s pupils. What she saw nearly took her breath away, had goose bumps forming on her arms and had the area between her thighs tingling with a sensation she recognized very well.
“Jules, you wanted to meet with us,” Shana prompted.
Jules smiled at her sister. “Yes.” She paused a moment and then said, “I know that no one asked or hired me to do so, but I decided to prove that Sheppard Granger did not kill Sylvia.”
“What?”
“Why?”
“How?”
All three questions were thrown to her at once. The only one who hadn’t asked anything was Dalton, because, of course, he knew what was going on. But that didn’t stop him from keeping his intense stare on her as if he had x-ray vision, making her feel naked even while fully clothed.
“I think I can sum up all your questions in one response. Because I am a private investigator. That’s what I do for a living, and I’m good at what I do. Besides that, my sister is now a Granger. If your lives are in danger, then so is hers. The thought of that doesn’t sit too well with me. And although I’ve never met your father, my dad has, and he feels that Sheppard is serving time for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to prove his innocence?” Caden asked, arching a brow.
“Yes. Already, I’ve started my investigation and—”
“Started an investigation?” Shana asked with panic in her voice.
“Yes.”
“You do know what Dad thinks happened to the last private investigator, right?” Jace asked, taking Shana’s hand in his.
“Yes, I know. And I’ve looked into that situation, as well.”
Shana leaned forward in her seat. “Sounds like you’ve been quite a busy little beaver, Jules. I think you need to fill us in on a few things.”
Jules heard the censure in Shana’s tone and knew her sister didn’t like the thought of her taking on the investigation. “Okay, then. I had Manning do the legwork for a few things during that week I was in Miami.” Bringing up Miami made her force away erotic images that had suddenly sprung forth to the front of her mind.
“Who’s Manning?” Caden wanted to know.
“Her administrative assistant,” Shana answered.
Jules continued. “When I got back, I read the reports, and the first thing I found odd was that Marshall Imerson’s accident report had been sealed.”
“Sealed?” Jace asked, frowning.
“Yes, sealed. But Manning was able to get a copy, anyway. The ex-cop in me found a lot of things in the report inconsistent, and there were things I felt should have been looked into further, like the fact that a BAC had not been done. It was determined that Imerson was intoxicated at the time of the accident because an open liquor bottle was on the seat beside him, and he smelled of liquor.”
“That didn’t necessarily mean he’d been drinking,” Caden pointed out.
Jules smiled. “Precisely.”
“I decided to meet with Mrs. Imerson, his widow, so I drove to Steeplechase.
“She moved there a few years ago when her son went off to college.” Jules then went into the details of her conversation with Leigh Imerson. “She was bothered by everyone’s belief that her husband was drinking when she was adamant that he didn’t drink. She also indicated that he didn’t bring work home, so she didn’t know about an extra file he might have kept.”
Jules paused a moment and leaned back against the breakfast bar. “But what I found interesting is that I’m not the only person who wanted to know whether Imerson kept an extra file. It seems that not long after the accident, she was approached by someone else about it.”
“Who?” Shana asked, leaning in even closer.
Jules met her sister’s gaze. “Ivan Greene.”
Twenty-Nine
Un-fucking-believable, Dalton thought. That piece of information was something Jules had not shared with him when they talked on the phone. Ivan Greene? Mr. Want-to-be Mayor himself?
/> Dalton had sat back and listened to the information Jules was sharing with his siblings and Shana...checking Jules out from head to toe while she did so. The other people in the room had been so busy lapping up every little detail Jules was providing that he doubted they even noticed he was doing so.
But the instant that thought entered Dalton’s mind, Jace glanced over at him with that I-know-what-your-ass-has-been-up-to look on his face...so maybe someone had noticed.
“I went to see Ivan Greene yesterday.”
Dalton’s head jerked around so fast it was a wonder it didn’t snap. He stared at Jules. “You did what?” he asked, his voice rising a little louder than it should have. “You went to see that asshole?”
“Oh, he finally speaks,” Caden said drily, his eyes zeroing in on his brother. “You’ve been so quiet sitting over there, Dalton, that I’d almost forgotten you were here.”
“Yes, I went to see him yesterday,” Jules said, refusing to look at Dalton or Caden. “I asked for a meeting with his parents, but he wouldn’t let me talk to them. He met with me, instead.”
“What did he say?” Jace asked, rubbing his chin.
“A lot of BS if you ask me, but mainly that his parents were on a cruise at the time your mother was killed, and that he was in court all that day. I’m still checking on his parents’ alibi, but as far as I’m concerned, his doesn’t hold water.”
“Why not?” Dalton asked, definitely now focused on what Jules was saying.
“Because although he was in court, the judge granted an unusually long recess during the time of your mother’s death.”
“Which makes him a prime suspect,” Caden said thoughtfully.
“Not without a motive,” Shana interjected.
“If he needs a motive, then I’ll give him one,” Dalton said angrily, not liking the fact that Jules had confronted Greene by herself. If he was the killer, then the man was stone crazy, and crazy people would do just about anything. “His father was fooling around with Mom, and his mother finds out. I understand Ivan and his mother have a close relationship.” Like I thought I had with my mom. “If he felt our mother had wronged his mother, I can see him meeting with Mom, confronting her and threatening her if she doesn’t stay away from his dad,” he went on.
“But how did he get your father’s gun?” Shana asked.
Dalton glanced over at her, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Good question.”
“I’m not saying Ivan did it,” Jules said, reclaiming everyone’s attention. “All I’m saying is that I think he has some connection to the whole business. I asked why he was interested in Imerson’s investigative report, but he wouldn’t tell me. He danced around the question, but I let him know I planned to keep digging until I came up with answers. A good cop—or ex-cop—doesn’t operate on assumptions but on facts, and I intend to further my investigation and get those facts. I just thought I’d let you know what information I’d accumulated so far.”
“You’ve done a lot. We appreciate it, and you will be compensated,” Jace said, standing up and speaking for everyone.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It is necessary,” Jace countered. “We are planning to meet with Carson tomorrow at the office, and we still plan to do that. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to join us at that meeting. It’s at two o’clock.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there.”
“And just as long as you know, Jules,” Shana said as she stood, “I’m not exactly overjoyed about your handling this investigation, but I know if anyone can find the real killer, it will be you. And, in a way, that’s what terrifies me, because that person is someone who’s determined not to be found.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Jules was less than a mile away from Dalton’s home when her cell phone rang. She knew who was calling. “What do you want, Dalton?”
“You. Turn around and come back.” And then he clicked off the phone.
Jules’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Just who does he think he is to issue an order like that? Do I look like someone who’s happy to be at his beck and call? Do I look like someone who lets a man say jump and then merely ask how high? Do I—
She then made a quick U-turn convincing herself that she would go back but only to give Dalton a piece of her mind and nothing else. She arrived and parked her car next to Stonewall’s. He glanced up from whatever book he was reading.
“I forgot something,” she muttered when she walked past his car.
He smiled. “Whatever you say.”
She frowned and continued toward Dalton’s front door. As soon as she lifted her hand to knock, the door opened, and she gasped when she was pulled inside and the door slammed shut behind her.
Thirty
Dalton backed Jules up against the door, grabbing her wrists and holding them high above her head while molding his hard body to the softness of hers. However, he made sure to hold her where she couldn’t knee him in the groin as she’d threatened before.
“What do you think you’re doing, Dalton?” she said angrily, while looking him dead in the eyes.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I want you. I told you to come back, and you did.”
“I didn’t come back for this. I came back to give you a piece of my mind.”
“Really?” He smiled. “I definitely want a piece...but not of your mind. I want this,” he said, and ignoring her gasp, he released one of his hands to reach under her dress to the apex of her thighs. It wasn’t his imagination—he was certain her thighs parted to give him easy access.
Her heart was thumping hard. He felt it against his chest. He also felt the stiff nipples pressing against him. So why was she trying to fight what they both wanted? He leaned in close and began licking the side of her neck and collarbone. “Missed me?”
“Hell, no!”
He used his fingers to push her thong aside to get to her womanly folds. “You didn’t miss me?” he asked again, inserting his fingers inside her and going straight for her clit. Her breathing against his ear changed, but between one bated breath and the next, she managed to say, “No.”
Oh, so she wants to play hard to get, does she? He leaned in and captured her lips, sliding his tongue easily into her mouth and then kissing her the way she liked, the way she’d always enjoyed. His tongue moved around her mouth, reacquainting itself with areas he’d grown to love, craved to taste. Then she decided to join in the play, tangling her tongue with his, sucking on it in a way that made his shaft throb, while his fingers continued to massage. Her juices wetting his fingers were telling him what her mouth refused to admit.
But he would try one more time. He broke off the kiss, kept stroking her while he stared at her and asked in a deep, husky whisper, “You missed me?”
He felt her shiver, saw the stubborn look in her gaze, and when she used her tongue to provocatively lick her lips, the throb in his shaft turned to an ache.
“It depends,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance.
“On what?” Stroking her intimately was causing her scent to invade his nostrils, reminding him of what he’d gone more than seven days without. What he so desperately wanted now.
“On whether you missed me.”
Hell, yes, he had missed her. He could honestly say he had never missed any woman like this before and definitely wouldn’t confess to one if he had. But he would confess to Jules because, damn it, he had missed her. Not just the sex, but her. Seeing her, talking to her, touching her, holding her...
“Well?”
He stared deep into her eyes, holding tightly to the darkness of her irises. “Yes, I missed you. And just so you don’t doubt my words, let me prove just how much.”
He removed his hand from beneath her dress and while she stared at him, he licked the wet fingers,
inserting each one into his mouth and voraciously sucking on them before licking them clean. And then he clutched her close and leaned in to kiss her again, taking her mouth like a hungry person, feasting on her tongue like it would be his last chance to ever do so. She returned the kiss with as much hunger as he. As their moans mingled, the sound seeped into his being, the same way her scent was doing, firing him up, making him want her even more.
He withdrew from the kiss and pushed the jacket from her shoulders. He went for the buttons of her dress with lust driving his fingers. When he revealed a sexy red bra, he smiled. His favorite color. He would appreciate her wearing it later, but now he was driven to taste her and undid the front clasp of her bra, watching with ravenous eyes as her breasts spilled free. The tip of his tongue tingled when his gaze latched on to her nipples, dark, hard and luscious-looking. With a growl from deep in his throat, he lowered his head to slide one rigid peak between his lips, and then he began sucking in earnest.
“Dalton...”
His name was a breathless whisper from her lips as he continued to taste her, remembering he had dreamed of doing this very thing to her during his past few sleepless nights. Without missing a beat, he moved from one firm nipple to the next, sucking hard, liking how she was clutching his head to hold him right there as he hungrily consumed her.
But he wanted more, and he lifted his head to stare into her gaze, seeing her eyes diluted with lust, the way he knew his own were. Without saying a word, he eased the maxi dress from her shoulders and worked it down past her hips and her booted legs. He made a decision right then to keep her boots on. Bending down, he came to eye level with her red thong. Damn, he liked that thing. After pulling the flimsy scrap of lace down her legs, he tossed it aside.
What was it about her here, this part no longer shielded by the thong, that filled him with a need the likes of which he’d never experienced before? He wanted her so badly he was almost weak in the knees. Going without her for a week had been torturous. How could he have become addicted to anyone, especially this woman? The thought that any woman could literally bring him to his knees was breaking him down inside. But not enough to try to break free of whatever spell she’d cast on him.
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