Chet had taken it upon himself to warn her about Tabak, having heard, of course, that Jeremiah had run to her side after the attack. He knew about single-minded, driven men, he said. He’d been one himself. “You should have no illusions about Jeremiah Tabak, Mollie.”
He was sipping a martini, and he wasn’t watching Chet at the piano. He was watching her. Her reaction was immediate and intense, and so unexpected she couldn’t stop it before it took on a momentum of its own. Her body turned liquid. It was as if she were melting into the floor. Chet’s music, the dark, sexy atmosphere of the jazz club in contrast to the bright, sunny day, and Jeremiah—his unsettling mix of hard edges and casual ease—all came together to assault her senses, her nerves. If she had even guessed he might be here, she could have prepared herself, steeled herself against just such a reaction. As it was, there could be no more denying that he had the same effect on her now as he’d had when she was twenty, that nothing had changed.
He knew she’d spotted him. He tilted his glass to her in a mock salute and drank. She attempted a cool smile. He climbed off the bar stool and walked toward her. He wore a black canvas shirt and pants, and the dim light reflected every color in his eyes. She noticed the few flecks of gray in his close-cropped black hair as he slid into the booth opposite her. He’d been only twenty-six himself ten years ago. Not so old.
“Afternoon,” he said.
“I take it this isn’t a coincidence.”
He sipped his martini, smiled over the rim of the glass. “You don’t think I’m out on a Sunday afternoon to hear an astronaut play jazz?”
“Did you follow me here?”
“No need. I saw Chet in the Trib’s listing of weekend events and figured you’d be here, good publicist that you are. Also, you’re too stubborn to stay home.”
“I stayed home yesterday,” she said.
He smiled. “I rest my case. I see you skipped the fancy jewelry. How’s your neck?”
Mollie ran one finger along the rim of her empty glass. “Healing nicely, thank you. It only hurts when I touch it. All considered, I was lucky.”
His gaze settled on her. In the background, Chet segued into a mournful piece. “Mollie, I need to be straight with you and very clear about why I’m here.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“I spent all day yesterday and most of today pulling together every fact I could find on this jewel thief story. There’s not much, you know. The police are stymied. The rumors are all over the place, nothing I can grab hold of. The jewelry hasn’t shown up for sale in any of the expected places.”
“Must be frustrating for you,” she said, willing herself back into solid form. He was here on business. The man breathed, ate, drank, lived the next story, whether it was one he could write or not. And she didn’t even have the satisfaction any longer of knowing he could make a serious ethical mistake. As far as she knew, Jeremiah was exactly the reporter his reputation said he was. Tough, honest, ethical, probing, and determined not just to get the story, but to get it right.
“Yes, it’s frustrating, but probably not for the reasons you imagine.” He swallowed more of his martini, seemed to hate saying what he’d come here to say. “Mollie, I’m on this thing because of you and I’ll see it through because of you.”
“Wait just a minute—”
He held up a hand. Now that he’d started, he wasn’t going to let her stop him. “I wouldn’t have touched this thing if your name hadn’t come up as the only person my source could find who’d attended every event the thief’s hit. He—my source—thinks you’re involved somehow.”
“Involved? Involved how? Who is this guy?”
“Mollie, I didn’t come here to upset you or to divulge information I’m not in a position to divulge. I just think you should know why I’m on this thing.”
“Because of me,” she said.
“Yes. Because of you.”
His voice was deep and low and could liquefy her bones if she let down her guard. It seemed to blend with Chet’s music, seeping into her soul, lulling her into a state of tranquillity she hadn’t felt in days.
Then his words penetrated the fog and registered in all their starkness, and her chin shot up.
Jeremiah was already on his feet. Smiling, he touched her cheek, then bent down and kissed her lightly, his lips soft, tasting of martini. “I’m relentless when I’m focused on something,” he half-whispered into her mouth, “and right now, I’m focused on you and this jewel thief. If you’re involved, think about telling me how, and why, and what you plan to do about it. Because I’ll find out, one way or the other.”
She pushed him away and shot to her feet, her pulse racing, every nerve ending in her aching to smack him, even as the rest of her reeled at his kiss, wanted more, wanted all of him. “You are off base, Tabak, and way ahead of your precious facts. I’m not involved. And if I were, damned if I’d tell you.”
He frowned. “You know, darlin’,” he said in his twangy, exaggerated drawl, “you don’t make it easy for somebody to care about you.”