“Bella.” Christ. She drove him crazy. So did the memory.

Because she was right. He had dropped to his knees in front of her, tugged her pretty pink lace thong to her ankles and had his merry way with her.

She’d returned the favor.

“You have to listen to me,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“Are you in charge of the case?”

“Yes. No.” He shook his head. “I am, but in about two minutes when I talk to my sergeant, I won’t be. I can’t be.”

“Because of last night? Because we-”

He put a finger on her lips. A direct contrast to only a few hours ago, when he’d wanted to hear every pant, every whimper, every cry she made for more. “Yeah. Because of that. I’m not exactly impartial now.”

She stared at him a moment, then pushed his finger away. “Am I a suspect, Jacob?”

“As a formality, everyone on the premises will be.”

“A formality.” She shook her head. “I’m the only one on the premises. Willow lives in the apartment upstairs next to mine but she’s in class. The store isn’t open.” She met his gaze and he was gratified to see hers had cleared.

Yeah. She was tough enough for this.

“I didn’t kill him,” she said. “I don’t even know who he is.”

His life had been saved on more than one occasion by nothing more than his wits and instincts. Those instincts were screaming now, telling him that this woman, this smart, funny, walk-on-the-wild-side woman could never pull a trigger to kill someone, much less at close range, in cold blood.

But then again, he’d seen worse.

“Who is he?” she whispered.

“Don’t know yet. He had no ID on him, no wallet, no keys, no money, nothing. He didn’t appear to drive himself here.”

She blinked. “Then how did he get here?”

“I guess we were hoping you could shed some light on that subject.”

She said nothing, just stared at him.

At a hard, single knock on the door right behind Bella’s head, she jumped, then turned and stared at the door as if it’d grown wings. “They’re coming for me.”

“No one’s coming for you.” He pulled open the door and faced Ethan.

“Can anyone join this party?” Ethan asked lightly.

Jacob wasn’t fooled. Ethan might look like a big, rough-and-tumble linebacker, with more brawn than brains, but underestimating him was a mistake. Ethan was sharp as a tack, and always solved his case. Jacob nudged Bella out of the pantry. “Why don’t you get yourself some more water.”

When she nodded and moved away, he looked at Ethan.

“What the hell, man?” Ethan asked quietly, his smile still in place for anyone who happened to look over at them. “You screwing with protocol for a pretty face? And don’t get me wrong, that is one pretty face…” Ethan turned his head, his gaze slowly sliding down the back of Bella as she walked away, from her wild hair to the sweetest ass Jacob had ever had ever sunk his teeth into. “Pretty everything,” Ethan corrected.

Jacob let out a careful breath. “I can’t be on this case.”

“You afraid to get tough with Cutie-Pie?” Ethan grinned. “That’s okay. Big, bad Ethan will do it for you. I can take one for the team.”

“I have a conflict of interest,” Jacob said tightly. “And it’s your fault.”

“Huh?”

“That date you signed me up for last night? It was with her.”

“And?”

“And the date didn’t end until a few hours ago.”

“Nice.” Ethan’s grin faded as the implications sank in. “Oh.” “Yeah.”

Before Ethan could say another word, Sergeant Castillo moved in close, leaning over both their shoulders like a bloodhound on the scent. “Ladies, we have a problem?”

“Yes,” Jacob said.

Ethan smirked. “Casanova here not only slept with the key witness, but he also slept with our only suspect so far. But at least it’s the same person, so…”

Jacob let out a controlled breath and resisted punching Ethan. Barely.

Ramon, dark skinned, dark-eyed and tougher than any of them on a good day, quietly stared at Jacob. “Ethan, coffee.”

Ethan didn’t budge. “I want to hear you chew him a new one.”

“Coffee. Now.”

“You aren’t serious.”

“As a heart attack.” Ramon never took his eyes off Jacob, waiting until Ethan stalked off. “Talk.”

“You remember the guys telling you yesterday that they’d signed me up for a date with the singles club.”

Ramon’s eyes lit with a quick flash of humor-the equivalent of a belly laugh on anyone else. “Yes.”

“It was last night.”

Ramon’s gaze slid across the kitchen to where Bella was standing in front of a baker’s rack, inspecting whatever she had on it. It looked like cream puffs.

They smelled like heaven.

His mouth watered and he wondered if under different circumstances-say, her not running out on him, and him not answering his cell phone-he’d still be at home right this minute, once again sampling her considerable wares-

“Let me take a wild stab at this,” Ramon said. “The date those assholes set you up on was with one Isabella Manchelli.”

“I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

Ramon didn’t cut a smile. “You slept with her. Hell, Madden.”

Across the room, Ethan approached Bella, fun, laid-back guy gone, cop face on, his pad out.

Ramon let the silence hang between them a minute, then blew out a breath. “Bad timing.” Yeah.

Ramon was quiet another moment, then shoved his fingers through his dark hair. “Okay, well, we’ll deal with it.”

They didn’t have much of a choice. Jacob glanced over at Bella again. She was still talking to Ethan, but looking past him, right into Jacob’s eyes, her own soft and compelling.

She’d planned on never seeing him again, and he’d reconciled himself to that as being for the best.

But fate had intervened now. He wondered just where it would take them, and if they were going to enjoy-or regret-the ride.

3

BY THE TIME BELLA finished talking to Ethan at the police station, it was nearly two, which was when her shift ended. She checked in with Willow, who told her that there was still yellow crime scene tape blocking off the shop, so she’d never opened for the day, disappointing their customers.

All those delicious pastries and cakes, going stale…

Ethan drove Bella home from the station. Home was, temporarily at least, one of the two small apartments above Edible Bliss.

“You’re new to town,” Ethan said lightly, idling at the curb while Bella unhooked her seat belt.

They’d been over this, but she nodded. “Yes.”

“You planning on sticking?”

“I don’t tend to stick, I never intended to stick.”

“Are you…unsticking anytime soon?”

“Not this week.”

“Good enough,” he said. “Thanks for cooperating this morning.”

She’d been raised right enough that she automatically thanked him in return, even though she had no idea what she was thanking him for. Asking intrusive questions? Plying her with bad cop coffee until she was so jittery she was in danger of leaping out of her own skin? He seemed like a good cop and a decent man, but she was on overload now, facing an adrenaline crash. “How long until we can go back inside?”

“Another couple of hours, tops. Just long enough to let CSI finish. You’ll call me if you think of anything else you can tell me?”

“Yes,” she said, then asked him the question she’d been wondering all day. “Are you Jacob’s partner?”

“We work together sometimes, but not on this case.”

Something in his voice had her taking a second look at him.

“Conflict of interest,” he clarified.

She hesitated, knowing that they both knew she was the conflict of interest. “Is he in trouble?”

He started to say something and then stopped.

“Is he?”

“For being with you? No. For not being able to keep his nose out once he’s feeling protective about someone he cares about? Not yet, but give him a day or two.”

“We’re not together. It was…just a one-night thing. You need to make sure your commander, or whatever he’s called, knows that. I don’t want Jacob to be in trouble over me.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

She nodded, ignoring the unease in the center of her gut, and got out of the car. She looked at the front door to the shop. Edible Bliss, the cute little paisley sign read. The interior was just as unique. Done up like a sixties coffeehouse, the colors bold and happy.

And just a little psychedelic.

She loved it here.

But at the moment, she also hated it.

There was still yellow crime tape blocking the front door. Willow was sitting on the steps. She was forty, tiny, with a dark cap of spiky hair tipped in purple this week. Her eyebrow piercing glinted in the sun as she watched Bella approach with a worried tilt to her mouth.

It’d been a while since Bella had stayed anyplace long enough to make friends, been a long time since she’d wanted to, but Santa Rey had snagged her by the heartstrings.

So had Willow. They’d spent only a month together, but it felt like more. She sank to the step at Willow’s side. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Willow had sweet, warm eyes and a smile to match, and she hugged Bella tight. “We don’t see a lot of murder in Santa Rey,” she murmured. “They asked me a bunch of questions and I didn’t get to ask any of my own. Do you suppose they have any leads?”

“At the moment, I might be their only one.”

Willow pulled back, clearly shocked. “They suspect you?”

“I think it’s standard procedure to suspect everyone.”

Willow was quiet a moment. “It’s probably not appropriate to ask, given what’s happened, but I never got to ask you. How did last night go? Date number eight?”

In spite of everything, Bella felt herself soften. “Nice.”