As he swung into a U-turn, Elise said, “Hot chocolate.”
“Hot chocolate it is.”
“With whipped cream.”
“Of course.”
She bit her lip. “I suppose I should learn to like coffee like a grown-up, but there’s something so comforting about hot chocolate.”
“After the experience you had, you deserve comfort.” And protection. And whipped cream.
“I don’t have to go in like this, do I?” She yanked at the hem of her dress, which had hitched up around her thighs.
“I’m parking right out front. You can wait in the car.”
“One of the perks of riding with a cop.”
He parked the car illegally at the curb and hopped out. Even though the sun was rising on the busy street and people bustled in and out of the busy coffeehouse, Sean kept his focus on his car and Elise’s profile through the window.
She must’ve been terrified coming to in that trunk. Despite her soft, feminine appearance, she had to be made of steel to have waded into the San Francisco Bay to avoid her captor.
Holding a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a coffee in the other, he nudged open the door and strode toward the car. Before he reached the door, Elise hopped out and took both cups from him.
“Which is which?”
“Yours is on the right.”
She bent over into the car to secure his coffee in the cup holder. As she did so, her skimpy dress slid up dangerously high.
She backed out of the car, one hand flattening the dress against her thighs. When she straightened up, she rolled her eyes. “This dress was a lot longer when I started out last night.”
“I believe you.” He rubbed her arms as if to erase her goose bumps. “You shouldn’t be out here without my jacket, anyway.”
“I couldn’t figure out how to roll down the window. Must be locked.” She licked her lips and gave a little shiver—more like a wiggle.
It was the sexiest combination of moves ever aimed at him, and she didn’t even mean it—didn’t mean it as a come-on anyway.
“Get back in the car and wrap your hands around that hot chocolate. I asked for extra whipped cream.”
She scurried around to the other side of the car and huddled in his jacket again, one hand darting out to grab her cup.
She slurped a sip through the lid and closed her eyes. “Perfect.”
“Are you up for a few more questions?”
Her slim fingers tightened around the cup, but she nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Have you been having trouble with anyone? Gotten into any arguments? Coworkers? Neighbors?”
She snorted. “You think someone put out a hit on me?”
“Just covering all bases, Elise. What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a teacher, a kindergarten teacher.”
Her students must love her sweet sincerity. You couldn’t fool kids that age.
“No trouble at the school?”
“Everyone’s great, no politics on the playground.”
“What about your landlord?”
“Oscar? He travels a lot. We get along great. I pay my rent on time and don’t have any wild parties. He’s my friend’s brother. That’s how I met her, Courtney.”
“Ex-boyfriends? Ex-husbands?”
She sipped her cocoa—too long.
“No.” She sucked in a breath. “It’s beautiful.”
“What?” He jerked his head to the side.
“The bridge. I’ve been here for almost a year now, and it always takes my breath away when I get an unexpected view of it.”
Sean grunted.
“They thought I was a jumper, you know.”
He gripped the steering wheel. “Who?”
“The city workers who discovered me. They thought I’d jumped from the bridge. How crazy is that?”
Sean’s eye twitched and he dug his knuckles into his eye to stop it. “Crazy. Chances are you wouldn’t be walking out of the water if you had.”
“I know there have been a few survivors, but I don’t think they swam to shore on their own.” She snuggled deeper into his jacket. “What would make someone do that?”
Sean lifted his tight shoulders. “Only they know. Right or left?”
She blinked her eyes. “Keep going straight, and then make a right at the next signal.”
“So, no bad blood between you and anyone?”
“No. I...I don’t like to fight—typically.”
Except for her life.
She guided him the rest of the way to her house, and he parked on the street. Single-family homes lined the block, but he could tell several of them were conversions.
She shrugged off his jacket and shoved her feet into the paper slippers. “Thank you, Detective Brody. Will you call me to let me know what time to come down to the station? If you give me something to write on, I’ll jot down my home phone number. I guess my cell is gone.”
Did she really think he’d drop her curbside while some lunatic had her purse, her address and her keys?
“I’ll walk you up.”
She thrust her arms into the sleeves of his jacket and scrambled from the car, holding on to her cup.
She led him to the side of the house and through a gate onto a brick walkway. Holding up her finger, she dipped beside a planter. She raked through the dirt and pulled out a key.
He’d seen better hiding places, but at least she hadn’t stashed the key beneath the welcome mat.
She puckered her lips and blew on the key before inserting it into the dead bolt. It clicked.
The key scraped when she pulled it out of the lock, and Sean’s stomach knotted with the sound. He cinched her wrist as she reached for the doorknob.
“Wait. Me first.”
Her gaze darted to the door and back to his face. She dipped her chin and stumbled back.
He withdrew his weapon from his shoulder holster and edged open the door. Coiling his muscles, he stepped into Elise’s house.
The rising sun filtered through the slats of her blinds, throwing a vertical pattern across the deep blue carpet on the floor. A low light glowed beneath a whimsical lampshade painted with flowering vines. Colorful children’s books littered a coffee table in the shape of a piece of driftwood.
Sean eased out a slow breath and took another step into the inviting room. “Everything look okay in here?”
She peered around his body, nudging his arm with her head. “Looks fine to me.”
Something scratched at the sliding glass door, and Elise grabbed his biceps, digging her nails into the material of his shirt. She released a noisy sigh along with his arm and pointed to the door. “My mangy friend is looking for a handout.”
A gray-and-white-striped cat pawed at the door again, flicked his tail and walked away.
“How many