Page 16 of Return Ticket

A sweet scent enveloped him as he stepped through and he guessed she’d just come out of the bath because when she leaned past him to close the door, he felt the heat of her skin.

He reached out for her as she turned, and pulled her close.

He’d undone his coat as he’d walked up the stairs with Jerome, and she slid her arms underneath it, her head coming just under his chin.

He tightened his hold, astonished at his luck at having this beautiful, extraordinary woman in his arms.

“Hmm. You’re cold,” she said, rubbing her cheek against him. “And working late, by the looks of it.”

A wave of desire hit him, and he suppressed a shudder as he stood holding her, all warm, and sweet-smelling, and sleepy.

She lifted her head and looked up at him. “What is it?”

He kissed her upturned face, a gentle brush of his lips on her forehead, her cheeks and then, finally, her mouth.

She kissed him back, lifting a hand and cupping the back of his neck. It made the fires burn hotter.

Last night he’d been so restless, he’d gone back to the office. Tonight . . . he forced himself to pull away.

She looked up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes languorous.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against her temple. Then he set her away from him.

She blinked in surprise, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and seemed to get herself together. “Do you want some tea?” she asked, voice a little husky.

He wanted to have sex with her, but because he wasn’t going to do that, at least not tonight, sitting shoulder to shoulder with her on her narrow window seat, sipping tea, would be better than nothing.

He nodded, helping her with the task until they each had a hot mug in hand.

“Did you feel better after you left us?” he asked.

She nodded. “I told Mr. Greenberg what happened, then felt well enough to continue my round.” She took a sip of tea and eyed him over the rim of her cup. “He says the Land Rover is well known around Covent Garden Market. More than just DC Hartridge and I have been shocked. And apparently there’s no law against it.”

James lifted his brows. “I’ll contact the Covent Garden lot, find out what they’ve tried to do against him.” But he’d been worried about the same thing. That there was no law against electrifying your own car.

She yawned, and he put down his mug reluctantly.

“You need to get a good night,” he said.

He got to his feet, and she followed suit, trailing after him to the front door.

“Sorry to bring up work,” she said as he shrugged into his coat, “but Mr. Greenberg said there was another body found—in Hammersmith and Fulham. It’s a different borough, but the place where the body was found is actually really close to the border with Kensington and Chelsea. I wondered if you knew about it?”

James felt the hair rise on his arms. “Was it found at another vacant lot?”

“No, an allotment.” She pulled her bathrobe tighter. “In a ditch some of the gardeners who own lots there were digging to solve a drainage issue. The body was half-buried, and that reminded me of the one I found. That’s what made me wonder if there was a connection.”

“Did Greenberg say how they died? Who they were?”

She shook her head. “He only learned of it last night. He has a map on his wall now, after what happened in the summer, and he marked it with a red pin. He doesn’t know any of the details, just that a traffic warden was called to the scene first, about two days ago now. They were walking by, and the uniform makes people think we’re coppers.”

“Thank you. If you hear anything else, about this body, or any others, let me know straight away.” He tied his coat, wound his scarf on. He would get nothing out of anyone tonight, but tomorrow, first thing, he’d go to Hammersmith and Fulham.

“You think they are connected, don’t you?” Gabriella was looking at him with big, dark eyes.

He forced himself to shrug. “It’s possible,” he said.

But as he ran down the stairs and out into the rain, he was afraid they were.

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