Page 43 of The Last Close Call

“About?”

He smacked the white, which sent one of his solids sailing into a corner pocket.

“Joy Kendall.” He straightened. “She called me over the weekend, just like you predicted.”

“Yeah?”

His brow furrowed as he studied the table.

So, Joy had reached out over the weekend. Had she given Jack a name? Rowan had been following the news religiously, but if there had been any major break in the case, the media didn’t have it yet.

Jack made a combination shot and sank two balls. He moved around the table, and Rowan watched him, brimming with impatience.

“So, did she provide you with a name?”

He didn’t look up. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And I’m working on it.”

Rowan frowned. “What’s that mean?”

“We’re having trouble locating him.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

He stepped around the table, brushing past her as he lined up another move.

So Jack now had a name. But not a location.

Somehow, she thought that must be even more frustrating.

She watched his sharp focus as he took another shot. He straightened and watched the ball glide into the pocket. Despite the casual clothes, there was a tension about him tonight. He carried it in his chest and shoulders as he moved around the table, sinking balls one after another with ruthless efficiency.

He’d come here to see her. He could have called or texted, but instead he’d come in person.

He looked at her. “Your shot.”

“Mine?”

“I missed the six.”

“Oh. Right.” She looked at the table and tried to decide which of her unlikely shots was the least unlikely. She went for a combination and didn’t even come close.

Jack sank the six this time and then leaned over the table and took aim at the eight.

“Side pocket,” he said.

She watched him, annoyingly impressed by his broad shoulders and lean waist. She knew pool could be sexy, but she’d never felt it as much as she did tonight.

He sank the eight with a hard thunk.

“Congratulations.” She rested her cue on the toe of her boot and looked at the table. It was a decisive victory. But it left her floundering for something to say now.

He stepped over and gazed down at her, not gloating even though he could have.

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