Slowly, the knot in her stomach untied. Her breathing slowed, and her body warmed up to room temperature. She didn’t feel nearly as frantic.
Maybe I should’ve hugged him sooner.
Oh, no.
This was a physiological response, nothing more. Human beings responded to touch because they were social creatures. Anyone would’ve been calming in this situation. It had nothing to do with his hard chest or big arms—or his not unpleasant smell.
For the longest time, neither of them spoke. Arms wrapped around one another, they stood in a relaxed silence.
Jane had fully expected some sort of sexual overture from him, but he’d surprised her. Beauregard didn’t speak or move, he just held her, his touch light and friendly, completely platonic.
And then he spoiled it all by speaking.
“Okay, enough cloak and dagger. I gotta know what happened.”
Why couldn’t he drop it?
“What makes you think something happened?”
He chuckled. “Because I’m holdin’ you in my arms, which should’ve taken an act of God himself.”
No, an act of a serial killer, actually. Jane was trying to cope with the situation through gallows humor, and the irony wasn’t lost on her.
“Nothing important. It’s been a very long day.”
“And?”
“And I had dinner with a client.”
“Which client?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jane muttered the words against his chest. She should end the embrace, but somehow, she couldn’t push him away yet.
“Sure it does. Was this dinner a date?”
“It wasn’t a date. Contrary to your opinion, business meetings with food don’t constitute dates.”
He whistled. “Ouch. Fair enough, but you met this client at his home, all by your lonesome? The two of you had dinner together?”
“Yes, we had some paperwork to sign. Much like my purpose in being here.” Jane left the circle of his embrace.
“What’d you have to eat?”
“How is this relevant?” Her inner lawyer snapped to attention, and it felt good. Attorney Jane wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything. She brandished the law like a weapon.
“Maybe I want to know about the competition. What’d this client cook for you at your dinner meeting, which wasn’t a date?”
Once again, she heard the crunch of fish bones and winced.
“He caught fish and grilled them with vegetables. Can we move on to my reason for being here?”
“Damn, I’m impressed. He caught and killed the dinner himself. I might have to up my game. For the record, I could fry you up a mean catfish, though I prefer to get mine from the grocery store.”
“It wasn’t impressive.”
Valentine probably got some sort of sick thrill from killing the poor thing in front of her.
And she liked her meat to come from the grocery store in plastic-wrapped sanitary Styrofoam containers. At this rate, she might never eat so much as a fish stick again without hearing that godawful sound in her head.
“Then I’ll wine and dine you in a restaurant. And it was just the two of you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he do anything special? Light some candles?” He gestured to the candelabra as if to illustrate his point.
“We ate by firelight.”
“Hmm. I’d count it as mood lighting.”
Time to play the part of the professional. This was getting out of hand.
“I can’t discuss my other cases with you. Paperwork?” Jane pushed the glasses up her nose.
“No, ma’am, we’re gonna talk about this.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’m fine.”
“You ain’t fine. Even a fool like Rebel could tell.”
Jane summoned every last vestige of her patience. Her nerves were shot, and she’d about hit her frustration limit.
“Let’s try it again. Which client?”
She remained silent.
He sighed. “Christ Almighty, you’re a tenacious woman. I can see you’re scared.”
“I…,” she broke off.
Part of her wanted to confess everything. Handling this problem by legal means wasn’t an option, and the big bad mobster could take care of it in no time. Unleashing him on Valentine would be strangely fitting, but wrong on every level.
Jane swallowed the lump in her throat.
“If you don’t want to handle the paperwork, I’m going to leave. I’ve got a big drive in front of me, but I’m billing you for running me out here for no good reason.”
“Hold on now.” He checked the clock on the wall. “It’s nearly ten o’clock. You can’t drive home at this late hour, not in a storm. Stay here.”
Stay the night at Beauregard Manor? AKA Dixie Mafia central? After she’d been propositioned by a serial killer? With a hitman who’d been trying to seduce her for months?