Chapter Seventeen

We Shouldn’t Be Doing This

MILA

Riley using her surname shouldn’t have sounded sexy. It wasn’t even particularly intimate. To the contrary, it was probably a custom among colleagues in the magical force to call each other by their surnames, as opposed to using first names.

And Riley had simply said, good job. Not something like “what an exemplary piece of investigative work you did” or something.

But that didn’t hinder the warm glow that spread through Mila at the objectively lackluster praise.

She reined in the excessive swooning and concentrated on giving him an answer. “My next suspect is Mrs. Blackwell’s grandson.”

Riley shuffled the case files again with that deliciously sexy frown etched between his brows. “I thought it odd, too, that a twenty-eight-year-old man would spend his evening at an elementary school recital just because his grandmother is the drama teacher.”

“Yeah, but the janitor, after he was sane enough to stop babbling about being in love with the school’s nurse for five minutes, told me that Mrs. Blackwell is secretly loaded, like in she’s stinking rich.”

“Why would a rich person work at an elementary school?”

Mila waved him off. “Rumor has it a love of drama, both on and off stage, and plain, old boredom. Anyway, apparently her grandson is the biggest suck-up and has been her puppet ever since she wrote him in her will as her principal heir.”

“And you think he might’ve killed her to speed up the inheritance process. Checks out.” Riley moved another file on top of that of Mrs. Princeton. “Trent Blackwell has also gained a visit from us. Who’s your last suspect? You had three, right?”

Mila absentmindedly grabbed a fortune cookie and was about to unwrap it when Riley reached out and blocked her hand with his. “Don’t.”

Mila stared down at their joined hands, her heart thudding in her chest. She felt the heat of Riley’s hand through her own, and the sensation was far from unpleasant.

“Sorry,” he said, retreating his hand and its warmth.

“Why don’t you want me to open the fortune cookie?”

“I don’t trust the accuracy of their predictions.”

Mila laughed. “Come on, it’s just a fortune cookie. I promise not to take whatever pearl of wisdom is contained inside too much to heart.” She unwrapped the cookie, broke it in half, and read the message hidden within:

Sometimes love is staring you right in the face.

She swallowed, looked up at the gorgeous man who, at the moment, was very much staring her in the face, and dropped the tiny sheet of paper as if it had burned her.

Riley raised an eyebrow. “What did it say?”

“Nothing, you’re right. These things are silly. But how come you’re such a fortune cookie hater?”

Riley smiled and shrugged in a self-deprecatory way. “Guess my mom has always been against sub-standard future telling.”

“Your mom?” Mila frowned, then she put two and two together. Her brain cross-referenced his surname with that of famous seers, and she gasped. “Your mom is Glenda King? The Glenda King?”

Riley gave her a tiny nod.

“Gargoyles, you must introduce me. I’ve always wanted to have a reading with her, but her waitlist is like, insane.”

“Yeah, right,” Riley scoffed.

Mila scowled. “Why? You think your mom wouldn’t like me?”

Riley nailed her with such a penetrating stare that Mila felt like he was looking directly into her soul. “No, Mila, she’d probably like you too much.”

He’d called her Mila. And now, the way her name sounded on his lips, rolled out in a lush whisper that had the power to melt glaciers, to resuscitate the dead, to make the sun rise at midnight, would be forever etched in her memory.

Riley visibly regretted the words the moment they left his mouth because next, he added, “Anyway, forget about my mom. It’s getting late and we should wrap this up.”

Mila felt a pang of disappointment but tried to shake it off, nodding in agreement. She followed his this-is-just-a-professional-consultation lead and went back to discussing the case. “The last lead I have is that Mrs. Blackwell’s former lover was also present at the recital. Another grandma in their Buraco club gossiped that Mrs. Blackwell had recently broken up with him. And while the official reason had been that the relationship had run its course, the dumped gentleman is convinced she’s already involved with someone else.”

“All right, but why would a former lover try to murder her if he still had feelings? Shouldn’t he go after the other man?”

“Perhaps, but what if he couldn’t find out who it was or if his approach was more a case of”—Mila made a silly dude voice—“If I can’t have her, no one will.”

Riley chuckled at that, but still scratched his temple, unconvinced. “I don’t know. Passion crimes are usually more impulsive. Poisoning someone is a cold, premeditated act. It doesn’t really fit the MO of a crime of passion.” Still, he reached for the file of the scorned lover and put it on top of the pile with the other two suspects. “But still worth digging a little deeper into.”

As he finished talking, Mila realized she’d been fixating on his mouth. His full lips had her deeply hypnotized. But now that they’d stopped moving, her gaze snapped up to meet the dark wall of his obsidian eyes.

He arched an eyebrow, asking a question she didn’t know how to answer. So, for lack of better alternatives, she got up and fled, pretending to need the bathroom—very much her MO today. Only this wasn’t her house, and she had no idea where she was going.

Mila sensed Riley standing behind her before he even spoke. “Bathroom is the second door down the hall.” The words came out in a dangerously low rumble.

Mila turned and suddenly realized they were standing in a very narrow, very dark hallway with a mere two inches of space separating them.

Their eyes met, and Mila’s heart leaped, racing out of control. She couldn’t help but stare into the inky pools of his eyes, drawn like a moth toward a flame.

Riley’s gaze flickered down to her lips and quickly back up. The tension between them was palpable. She licked her lips nervously, and Riley’s pupils dilated.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. They were so close that she could see the tiny flecks of silver hidden within the black of his intense gaze. She could feel the heat of his body emanating from him, making her feel dizzy and disorientated. She tried to speak, but suddenly her throat was dry and no words would come out.

Riley took a step closer, his body pressing up against hers as he whispered in her ear, “You know we shouldn’t be doing this, right?”

Mila bit her bottom lip and nodded slowly. But she couldn’t deny the fact that her body was screaming for more. She wanted his touch, his kiss, his everything. It was like they were two magnets being drawn together.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face before cupping her cheek in his hand. His thumb stroked over her lips in a teasing motion before he leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers.

Mila’s knees almost buckled beneath her at the feel of his lips moving softly against hers. She could taste the sweetness of the bubble tea he’d been drinking on his breath as he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arm around her waist as he pulled her flush against him.

Time stopped, they stood frozen in an alternative dimension, lost in their own little world where nothing else mattered except for each other.

And things got a lot worse as Mila reached up and pulled the beanie off of him. She wanted to hear all of him, needed to feel both his body and his mind pressed against her.