“I’ll do my best, sir. I’m hoping to have the case resolved before the weekend, and leave you and the town to your holiday celebrations in peace.”
Diego glanced at the crowd again and shook his head. Yep, the sooner he got himself back to the safe anonymity of a city, the sooner he could celebrate the holidays the way he always did—by ignoring them.
4
CROUCHED ON CARL’S SHINGLED ROOF, the heels of her favorite boots digging into her butt, Jade shoved a frustrated hand through her hair, pushing it from a sassy tousle to a freaked-out mess. Fitting. After all, she was on a damn roof.
“Mayor Applebaum,” she said to the man at the top of the ladder, trying to sound grateful instead of hysterical. “I appreciate your help, but I don’t think you should be climbing on a roof to get my cat. Persephone is my responsibility.”
And the mayor was pushing sixty. If one of them was going to fall two stories and land on Carl’s nativity scene with a splat, it should be her. Younger bones healed faster.
“You didn’t let her out, Jade. A burglar did, so nobody is going to blame you for her escape.” When Jade snorted, the mayor sighed. “I’ll deal with Carl. You go deal with the unfortunate reason the cat’s AWOL.”
Jade eyed the furious mountain of a man pacing the lawn below, his beefy arms waving in the air. In one hand was a headless, tutu-wearing teddy bear. In the other, a very large, very flat sheet of plastic that had once been a blow-up globe. Which was worse? Facing the devastation of her bedroom, or facing the fury that was Carl?
She glanced at the top of the roof where her bratty cat perched, a teddy-bear head still dangling from the black furry mouth. Maybe she’d just wait here for a while.
“Come on,” the mayor ordered. “Detective Sandoval is already on the scene.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“Nope. The detective would like to run this on his own. I’ll lure Persephone in with Clara’s sugar cookies. Then after I’ve pacified Carl, I’ll bring the cat and see how our fine detective is holding up.”
She followed him down the ladder, grateful when he planted himself between her and the still-shouting Carl. Avoiding her neighbor’s eyes, she gave a guilty wave and scampered across the street. As she approached her front door, she pressed one hand against her churning stomach. She really shouldn’t have taste-tested so many cookies.
She’d seen how trashed her bedroom was through the window. Nobody else hit by the Panty Thief had mentioned their undies being tossed around. Was this an actual burglary instead? And why was the mayor worried about how the detective would hold up? Was he as bad as Mrs. Clancy thought he’d be?
Knowing she was stalling, she took a deep breath. For the first time in her life, Jade had to force herself to cross the threshold of the tiny cottage, her feet dragging across the polished wood floors. She could hear movement at the end of the hallway, indicating that the cop was already back there.
Maybe she could wait here for him? She could call her sisters over for moral—and housekeeping—support before she had to face the destruction of her bedroom. Her fingers inched toward the cell phone in her pocket. The temptation was so appealing. But so was the voice in her head, clucking like a chicken.
Get a grip, she ordered herself. Tossing her black leather duster over the back of a chair, Jade tugged her tunic smooth over her hips, rubbed a scuff off the toe of her boot, then headed down the hallway.
Chin high, she stepped into her bedroom. And for the second time that evening, froze solid.
Only this time the reason had nothing to do with fear.
Nope, this was lust. Pure, sticky lust.
It was like a million sweaty, hot dreams. The kind that woke her in the middle of the night, aching with need and frustration. He stood in front of her dresser, one hand filled with little scraps of nothings she called underwear.
Intense need swirled through her. Her legs were like jelly, her stomach clenched with an edgy sort of desire. The kind that made her thighs tremble and her nipples tighten against her silk bra.
A bra, she realized, that matched the hot-pink panties dangling from his index finger.
Her breath knotted in her throat, Jade tried to clear her head. Her home, her undies, had been violated. But her brain was busy stripping the man naked. And from the look of him, naked would suit him just fine.
He was gorgeous. At least, he was from the backside.
She took a visual inventory. Tall, an inch or so over six foot. Broad-shouldered and slim-hipped with a butt so tight and hard her mouth watered. Arrow-straight black hair covered his collar and invited her fingers to test the weight of those strands to see if they were as soft and silky as they looked.
Then he turned, just his head, and met her gaze.
Heat poured through Jade so fast, she swore she had a tiny orgasm standing there in front of a complete stranger with his hands in her panties.
His eyes were like midnight. Dark, intense and searching. As if he could see all the way into her deepest fantasies and clue in to her every secret. Nerves, the kind she’d never felt around a man before, assailed her. Jade bit her lip, trying to figure out what it was about him that was so enthralling.
“Can I help you?” he said. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him. Deep and throaty, with just a hint of a Hispanic accent. The kind of voice made for sexy pillow talk.
“Ma’am?” It wasn’t the verbal nudge that yanked her out of the sexual stupor. It was the amusement in his tone that told her that he was not only aware of her overwhelming interest, he thought it was funny.
Nothing like being laughed at to clear a girl’s head.
He turned to fully face her, offering the perfect view of his wide, sculpted chest hugged lovingly by a black T-shirt. Trying to ignore this new enticement, she kept her gaze on his amused face. Big mistake. Chiseled cheekbones, a full bottom lip made for nibbling and eyes so deep and dark she knew if she fell in she’d never climb back out. Her heart, already racing, tripped over itself.
“This is a crime scene. I’m going to have to ask you to leave until I speak with Miss Carson.” His smile was a grin now, just this side of mocking.
“I’m Jade Carson,” she said stiffly, stepping farther into the room. Her foot caught one of the pieces of fabric strewn over the floor, sending a black lace demibra across the hardwood, just inches from his motorcycle boot.
Her face burned as red as the silk panties dangling from her vanity mirror.
His smile faded. His gaze traveled from the small notepad in his hand to the black lace bra on his toe, then back to her.
“You’re Jade Carson? The owner of this house, and—” his finger swirled to indicate the room “—all of this lingerie?”
“Yes.” What? She might not have the overblown curves of a centerfold, but she looked damn good in her unmentionables. Maybe she could yank down her jeans and show him the dove-gray lace of her thong.
“You’re the librarian?” he asked slowly. His gaze took a slow stroll over her body, his expression making her tingle with both nerves and desire. Those dark eyes met hers again, the look in them hot and intense before he shuttered his gaze.
Jade shivered a little, missing the heat and wondering what’d turned it off. And what it would take to turn it back on. After all, he’d already seen all her underwear.
“I’m Detective Sandoval,”