Page 26 of Wine and Research
The guy was too rigid, too regimented, and set in his ways to ever touch her heart, which meant they were both safe.
Literally.
Her curse shouldn’t be a problem, since she wasn’t at risk of losing her heart to Jeremy Mercer.
Now, her panties were another story. One she definitely wanted to research…in the future. After her deadline. After her ride-alongs.
After work tonight.
Elle snorted.
Cripes, she was a lost cause.
“You okay?” Jeremy asked, capturing her attention.
They were driving down a country road after having stopped for lunch at Gabe’s.
Shoot.
She needed to be more careful around him. The guy was no slouch at reading expressions and body language.
“Yes,” she replied. “I was just thinking about a funny scenario for my hero.”
He raised a brow. “The cop?”
She nodded. Of course, a cop. But she cut him some slack. At least he’d introduced the subject in a conversation. “I was thinking along the lines of him rescuing a cat in a tree, except it would be a goat in a boat on a lake.”
It wasn’t a lie, since that had been a scene she’d actually considered.
His lips twitched. “Sadly, that’s plausible.”
She laughed. “All right, then I’ll put it in.”
He nodded before returning his gaze back to the road.
“Now you’ve got me curious,” she said. “Care to share some of your humorous calls?”
He slowed to a stop at a stop sign and turned to stare at her for several moments. “I don’t want you writing about me.”
Too late,she thought briefly, before pushing that sex scene to the back of her mind. Technically, he’d only inspired it. The scene took place inside a house, and the knee between the legs had happened against a wall, not the door, outside, on a porch.
“I won’t,” she said, wondering if she needed to mention the sex scene. “I’m just curious. But it could inspire me to envision a similar scenario, like the goat instead of the cat.”
It was a good thing they were out in the sticks, because no one was around as they still sat at the stop sign, while Jeremy continued to study her.
Elle sighed. “If it makes you feel any better, my hero’s name is Ian Daniels. He’s the middle child of three, all boys. He’s six foot two, with black hair and brown eyes. He’s a third generation cop whose father died in the line of duty.”
For a split second, Jeremy’s gaze narrowed, and Elle wondered if perhaps it was just her eye twitching, or because she’d hit home on something.
“Wait…are you third generation?”
That had to be it because he was definitely none of the other things she’d described. At least, not that she’d heard—and thanks to her friends—she’d heard plenty.
“Second generation,” he replied before his attention returned to driving.
But his continued silence spoke volumes and clued her in.
“Your father died in the line of duty, didn’t he?” she asked, and when he nodded, she closed her eyes as her heart squeezed. “Sorry, Jeremy. I didn’t know.” Then she opened her eyes and regarded him closely. “How old were you?”
