Carrigan escorted me past the pool, one hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of my back, and up the steps to my apartment. When we got to my door, I turned, pressing my back against the wood. Trying to shrink like a violet. “Thank you, Mr. Carrigan.”

“That’s you thanking my father-in-law.”

“Thank you, Mitch,” I corrected. “Nice to meet you.”

I hesitated for a moment, thinking the word bashful over and over in my head until it took over me, until I was radiating it, and then stepped up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. I let my hands skim the shoulders of his suit jacket, dragging my nails a little so he could feel them. His cheek was in that in-between state of smooth and stubbly, a touch oily under my lips. I lingered there, leaving the invitation in the air. Carrigan gripped the top of my arms to steady me, and I let my heels hit the ground. A man that handsome, turned on by a scared little woman—it would be up to him to make the next move.

“Good night,” I said, breathless for a second—but not with desire. Feeling instead the delight of realizing I hadn’t entirely forgotten the game. Maybe you never really could. “I don’t know what I would have done tonight if you hadn’t shown up. It makes me believe good men do still exist.”

I had my key half in the lock when he threaded his fingers into my hair and, with one gentle tug, pulled me to face him. I let my lips part and my eyelashes flutter, putty in his hands, his for the taking. It didn’t last long—not even long enough for him to slip me the tongue—before he was shaking his head and saying, “I don’t know what came over me. I have to go.”

“Of course,” I said, pretending to be in a daze. “Good night.”

I watched him walk past the pool, the blue glow illuminating the underside of his face, shadowing his eyes—like a skull, I thought, then shook my head. I’d been morbid enough for one night. He didn’t stop once, didn’t turn around to look for me. And he hadn’t exactly thrown me into bed. But there was something there.

As he walked away, getting smaller and smaller, I rubbed the bare spot on my wrist where Jackal’s bracelet had been and felt, for the first time since that night in the canyon, hope. That thing for suckers.

Chapter 22