“So I’d better not disturb them if I want to stay on his good side—well, assuming I am on his good side, which, of course, I can never tell, but I figure as long as he’s not paying much attention to me one way or the other, that’s probably not a bad thing.” She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, wincing. “Anyway, I’ll let you go and I’ll call Elena later. I just wanted her to check the newswire for me—”

Pause.

“No, past stuff. Well, recent past. Murders. Not the kind of thing you’d read, of course—”

Another pause. Another spine-grating laugh.

“Oh, right. That’s exactly the kind of thing you read. Gotta keep your eye out for those brutal wolfy slayings—er, not that all werewolves are brutal or, uh, well—” Deep breath. “Let me run it by you.”

Within ten minutes, she had a page filled with cases, a few complete with names, but most with just locations or details that would make further searching a snap.

“Wow,” she said. “You’re amazing—I mean, your memory is amazing. Not that you aren’t—Oh, someone’s at the door. Thanks so much. I appreciate it. Really appreciate—”

She winced and I could see her literally chomp down on her tongue. She signed off quickly, then slumped forward, muttering under her breath.

“You should ask him out,” I said.

She shook her head sharply. “No way.”

“Please don’t tell me you think guys should make the first move. That is so—”

“Trust me, I have no problem taking the initiative. It’s just—he—Jeremy—is not the kind of guy you walk up to and say, ‘Hey, let’s go grab a beer.’”

“You could try.”

She must have considered it, judging by the look of terror that passed behind her eyes. She reached up, tugged out her hair clip, and wound her hair around her hand, walking to the mirror as she did. Nothing more painful than a crush. I remember my last one. Greg Madison. Deep dimples and a laugh that made my heart flutter. Damn, that had been painful. Of course, I’d been fourteen at the time, not forty. But I suppose infatuation is infatuation at any age, and maybe even worse when you’re old enough to recognize the symptoms, be mortified by your reaction, and still not be able to do anything about it.

Chapter 13

13