As she crossed the yard and climbed the porch steps, she woke up a little as she peered into the shadows. As Stuart’s unwelcome visit had proved, all the wrong people knew—or would soon find out—about Jane’s theft and subsequent arrest, and they’d be descending on the house like felonious vultures. She huffed a laugh, drawing John’s curious gaze.

“Maybe we should hang a sign on the door, telling everyone that the necklace isn’t here,” she said. “That might cut down on the number of opportunists trying to break in.”

John made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. “Are you sure it’s not?”

Instantly, all of Molly’s hackles were up as she turned to face him. Of course he had an ulterior motive. What else would explain how he went from trying to steal her skips out from under her to Mr. Helpful Backup Man? She squashed a rush of hurt that made her insides as tender as a bruise and stoked her anger instead. Since she was two steps higher than John, their eyes were almost level, and she used that unusual advantage to put extra power behind her glare. “Why are you asking? Is all this a scheme to get your hands on the necklace?”

His eyes widened as his hands came up, palms facing her, as if he were warding her off. “Whoa. No, of course not.”

“Uh-huh.” Crossing her arms, she didn’t break their stare, even though she was pretty sure she saw a flash of hurt flicker over his face. She steeled her spine, reminding herself that he was a good actor. There was no reason her distrust should injure his feelings. Besides, she’d said things that were a lot meaner than that before, and he’d simply grinned and let her insults roll right off his back. “If you’re not hunting for the necklace, than what’s all this about?” She gestured broadly, indicating everything that had just happened to them.

“What’s what about?” His already deep voice lowered even more, until it came out in a rumbly growl that made her shiver. What was it about John Carmondy that he could turn her legs to jelly just by talking? There was something very wrong with her. His annoyed tone shouldn’t affect her this way. “Me being nice? You think I can’t be a decent person without having an ulterior motive? Good to know exactly what you think of me.”

“Why wouldn’t I think that? When have you ever done anything for the sake of being ‘nice’?”

“I’m always trying to help; you just never accept it!”

Molly made a scoffing sound. “When have you tried to help—before this whole mess started, I mean?”

“All. The. Time.” His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth was set in a grim line. Molly was trying very hard not to get distracted by how aggravatingly attractive he looked when he was angry. “That skip who tried to jump you at the gas station in Franktown? Then there was the one whose mother chased after you with a hammer. And the guy who started throwing bottles of organic olive oil at you when you cornered him in Whole Foods. Any of these ringing a bell?”