One side of his mouth lifted into a knowing half grin. “Passion can run hot and cold, Kris,” he said. “When one person can’t get what he or she wants, that passion can turn into brutal frustration and anger. I figured I was better off without a woman who would tell me she loved me one second and try to kill me the next.” His gaze touched hers. “I think that’s all you need to know about my love life. So, spell it out. What do you want me to do? Copy all the personnel files, grade reports, loan applications, social security numbers of the girls?”

“That would be great.”

“And illegal. Forget it.”

“Okay, okay, so just look through the information and let me know if you see anything that looks suspicious, anything that links the girls besides their choice of classes and the fact that their families gave new meaning to the word dysfunctional. You’re a cop.”

“And I could lose my job.”

“I’m asking you to do a little research, not break the law.”

His lips compressed as a waitress came by and asked if they wanted another round. Jay nodded and Kristi said, “Sure,” then drank half her beer while still waiting for an answer. Finally she said, “If you find anything, we’ll go straight to the police. Or the campus security and leave it to them.”

“You’d do that?” he asked, skepticism tingeing his words. “Just hand over everything you’ve got?”

“Of course.”

He snorted in disbelief.

“Come on, Jay, I’ll play you a game of darts. If I win, you’ll look through the records.”

“And if I win?” he asked.

“You won’t.”

“So sure of yourself?” he asked, his eyebrows slamming together. “No dice. I want to know what the stakes are if I win.”

The waitress came back with the new round, scooped up Jay’s empty and left Kristi with a beer and a half in front of her. “Okay, Professor, if you win, then you name it.”

“That’s pretty cocky.”

“Just confident.” She finished the first beer and stood. One dartboard wasn’t being used. She walked over to it and plucked one set of darts from their holder.

He slid out of his side of the booth and said conversationally, “I’ll expect you to pay up when I win and, trust me, you’re not going to like what I want as payback.”

She felt a little thrill sizzle through her blood, ignored it, and concentrated on winning. She didn’t like the stakes at all. God only knew what he would want from her.

But it didn’t matter.

She wasn’t about to lose this match.

CHAPTER 12

A s he sat in the driver’s seat of his truck, the engine cooling and ticking in the parking lot of Kristi’s apartment building, Jay decided he was a moron.

A bona fide, dyed-in-the-wool moron.