Flirting With Disaster (Camelot 3)

“I noticed that.”

“You can do better.”

Judah had unruly black curls and huge, dark eyes. He had a low, sexy voice that she loved to listen to when she was tired, lonely, and in need of a glass of wine.

And maybe it was starry-eyed of her, but she felt as though she already knew him from his music. When he’d said he wanted her on the case, she’d hoped it was because he shared that feeling of familiarity, and their deep, instant connection would lead to awesome conversation and multiple orgasms.

But really, she’d settle for a less-than-mystical experience if it meant she finally got some action.

“I don’t think I want to do better,” she said.

“Fine.” Caleb sounded resigned. “I’ll stay out of it. But I’m going on record as strongly disapproving.”

“Got it.”

The gas pump shut off with a hollow mechanical thump, and Sean turned to the machine to wait for a receipt, shoulders hunched against the January chill. The wind ruffled his short blond hair and turned the tips of his ears red. He had to be freezing his ass off out there.

Katie was hoping Louisville would be warmer than Camelot had been lately. It was only a four-hour drive, but Kentucky was the South, right? Gray skies and freezing rain had been haunting central Ohio for so long, she could hardly remember what the sun looked like.

All week, she’d been dreaming of Kentucky bluegrass. Totally unrealistic, given the time of year and the fact that she was about to spend the weekend in some dank, beer-piss-smelling nightclub, but she couldn’t turn the daydreaming off. Her mind had a mind of its own.

“Let me talk to Owens,” Caleb said.

“What for?”

“None of your business.”

“Is it about work or my personal life?”

“Also none of your business.” His voice had gone all clipped. She wasn’t getting anything else out of him.

She tried anyway. “C’mon, Caleb. It’s my phone.”

“Put him on.”

“Yeah, fine. Okay.” She jimmied the phone out of its cradle and leaned way over to open the passenger-side door a crack. “Caleb wants to talk to you.”

Sean took the phone, and she closed the door, not wanting any more cold air to get into her toasty car than necessary. He walked ten feet away and lifted the phone to his ear.

She imagined what he’d sound like if she could hear him. He had an unusual way of shaping words. Every syllable came out perfectly enunciated, as if he had nothing better to do than tumble the sounds around his tongue.

She liked listening to him talk. Yet another reason it chapped her hide that he wouldn’t speak to her.

After a minute, he disconnected the call and folded himself into the car. He was too tall for a compact. Too broad, too. He brought the cold air in with him, and she could feel the chill coming off his black leather jacket and soaking into her right shoulder.

“You good to go?” she asked, putting the car in gear and releasing the emergency brake.

He nodded, eyes straight ahead.

“You wanna drive?” They’d already begun rolling toward the exit. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

If he thought she was funny, he didn’t show it. Instead, he waved her on, settled back in his seat, and closed his eyes.

Sean Owens: World’s Most Boring Copilot.

One of her favorite Judah songs came up on the stereo, so Katie cranked the volume and started to sing along, bouncing gently up and down in a low-key car dance.

Caleb couldn’t spoil this for her, and neither could Sean. Nervousness be damned—she was on a mission. She had sixty miles left to drive, a job to do, a future to claim.