Not. Again.

“It’s been two weeks, what do you mean you can’t find her?” My cell phone took the brunt of my anger. A couple heads on the library walkway turned in my direction, and I lowered my voice. “This is what I pay you for.”

“She really doesn’t seem to want to be found this time.”

“I don’t give a damn what Anna wants. Check her credit cards, her bank account, and call every ex she has.” The thought of her staying with any of those disgusting assholes turned my stomach. Why didn’t she call me? She always called me.

“I already have,” Paul snapped. “This is my sixth year of doing this, Jag. Cut your shit and trust me. Unless you’d rather hire another PI.”

“You know you’re the only person I trust. Just fucking find her.” I stabbed the end button and ignored the gawking reflections of the guys behind me as I swung open the door. I took my cover off and locked my anger in a box like it belonged to someone else, because it did. “Hey, Alice.”

The aging librarian smiled. “Hi there, Lieutenant Bateman. We sure have been missing you round here.”

“I have actually missed being here. I went to put some furniture together this week and realized I’d left my tool bag here.” The night I kissed Paisley.

“Well, you just hop on back there and grab it.”

“Thank you, Alice.” I took the steps two at a time and walked to the storage room. The study alcoves were nearly empty, and the door to the storage room was propped open. My bag still sat on the worktable. I picked it up and took a look around the room with a healthy dose of pride. We’d done this, taken a huge mess and transformed it into something useful, needed. The excess books were organized neatly, no doubt Paisley’s work.

“Don’t you, forget about me,” she sang, dancing into the storage room, and every muscle in my body froze. Her arms full of books, she kicked the door closed and kept singing. She had earbuds in and scooted past, her back to me. She tried to be careful, but the books tumbled out of her hands onto the center table. She swung her hips along to the music. Her jeans highlighted every curve, hugging her ass like a wet dream, and her fitted sweater was a shade darker than her eyes.

Finally. After two weeks, I felt like I could breathe. The rush of sweet oxygen filled me, and I watched her for a few seconds more, pretending she wanted me there…pretending she wanted me at all.

Her silence since the kiss spoke volumes.

“Will you— Oh my gosh!” she shrieked as she caught me watching her. One tug of the cord, and the earbuds fell out. “Jagger! How long have you been there?”

I grinned, so damn happy to be near her. “Long enough to guess that you’ve been watching The Breakfast Club.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “I may have had a John Hughes marathon this last week.”

“It shows.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears, and my hands itched to run the strands through my fingers. “So…” she mumbled, leaning against the table.

The table I’d kissed her on. “So…” I tried to think of anything but the sound of her whimpers when I stroked the roof of her mouth with my tongue. Well, shit, now that was all I could think about.

“Thank you for the flowers,” she said quietly.

I ran my tongue across my teeth, but my stud was out, since I was in uniform, and it didn’t have the same calming effect. “You mean the ones I’ve left on your doorstep every day?”

She held my stare. “Yes, those. They’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Jagger—”

“Just don’t, Paisley. I got the message loud and clear. I really don’t think I can handle any more rejection. Not being there the day after? Yeah, I can understand that, but fuck, I’ve managed to have civil conversation with Carter, but you won’t see me?” Not that it had been pleasant, but we’d come to a decent agreement to leave the personal shit outside the aircraft. Neither of us could afford for our scores to drop because we couldn’t manage to be professional.

“I was gone most of it.”

“In Birmingham?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, Morgan told me.”

“She did?” She rubbed her fingers across the center of her chest—her nervous tell.

“Yeah, said you and your mom were off mending your broken heart or something.” I twisted my cover in my hand. “I didn’t mean to wreck your relationship, or you. It just…happened. I swear it wasn’t premeditated. Not that I hadn’t thought about it, because kissing you seems to be all I think about when I get around you, but that night…”

“Don’t,” she begged, her eyes shutting tight. “That night…I’ve never felt…” Her shoulders slumped. “What I did, kissing you, that was wrong.”

Fuck. Twist the knife a little more.

“Not because I didn’t want it. I think we both know there’s something here. But I’ve never betrayed someone. I hate what I did to Will, when he’s done nothing but try to take care of me.”

“I understand.” I set the tool bag on the table.

“But you can’t. Not really. Maybe one day you’ll understand what he’s done for me.” She covered her face with her hands.

I gently pulled them away. “Don’t blame yourself for this. I’m the one who kissed you.”