Willa grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She took another muffin and sighed. “I wish everything was as easy as getting fat.”
They all agreed on this very sage comment and then went back to their respective jobs. Molly’s afternoon flew by. She put out fires, answered phones, filed reports, and did background and security checks. At five o’clock, with most of the guys still gone on various jobs, she switched gears and pulled out her own personal laptop.
Time for Project Bad Santa.
Another look at the Christmas Village’s website didn’t yield any new information. But she did find ads on Facebook and Craigslist and a few other places advertising the village’s bingo, along with the claim that all profits went to charity. One of the ads noted that additional information for private parties was available upon special request. Hmm. She called the number listed. “I’m interested in a private party,” she said when a man answered.
There was a beat of silence. “Bingo night?”
She had no idea. “Yes. Who do I speak to?”
“Me.”
“Okay,” she said. “And you are?”
“Doesn’t matter. What are you looking for?”
Since she had absolutely zero idea, she hung up. And then researched the number. It was a cell phone registered to a Nicolas King. She wondered if she’d just found Crazy Nick. But when she searched that name, she hit a brick wall.
The guy didn’t exist.
“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” she said and tried a different angle, searching Tommy Thumbs. His given name was Thomas Russolini. Once she had that, she hit pay dirt. As Lucas had told her, he was indeed presumed dead, but before that he’d been wanted in five different counties for fraud, money laundering, and embezzling.
She leaned back. Think. What do you know? Well, she knew Santa and Tommy were brothers . . . On a hunch, she typed in what she imagined Tommy’s brother’s name might be: Nicolas Russolini.
There was one Nicolas Russolini in San Francisco. The address listed was in Soma, a stone’s throw from the Christmas Village. “You and your brother have been very bad boys,” she murmured, smiling in triumph. “You’re officially on the naughty list.”
“I’d go on the naughty list if it’d make you smile at me like that.”
She jerked around and found Lucas propping up the doorjamb, arms crossed, watching her. “What are you doing here?”
“We’ve got a date, remember?” he asked, voice low and sexy and . . . teasing.
If he only knew. She turned back to her computer and saved everything she’d found, all while incredibly aware of the man watching her every move.
“What did you find?” he asked.
“Crazy Nick’s address. Maybe.”
He pushed off the wall and came over. Reaching out, he opened her laptop and leaned over her to read her screen.
She stilled. He had a hand flat on her desk on either side of hers. If she turned her head, her mouth would brush against his inner biceps, a fact that did something quivery to her belly. And how was it that he’d been working since before the crack of dawn and he still smelled disarmingly delicious?
Long before she could gather herself to push him away, he straightened and looked down at her. “What’s your plan?”
“To go check out the village.”
He nodded. “With me.”
Here was the thing. She knew it was smart, and she really had no intention of going without him. But it rankled that he felt like he had to remind her, like maybe he believed she would be stupid enough to sneak off and go it alone.
“Molly,” he said into her silence. “It’s my way on this, or I hand you over to Archer and Joe and let you all fight it out.”
She refused to be intimidated. “We have a damn deal and I don’t go back on my word, so see that you don’t. You don’t tell them I’m on this case, and I don’t tell anyone we slept together.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, which was fascinating. She’d never seen it do that until the other night. Clearly she was on his last nerve.
“We didn’t sleep together,” he finally said.
She just smiled. “You keep telling yourself that.”
He dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’d rather ‘fess up then have you in danger.”
“Okay,” she said agreeably. “So you’re going to tell them what happened the other night?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Uh-huh. And you’re willing to bet your balls on that?”
He blew out a breath. “I really wish I knew what you have against my balls.”
She had to laugh. “For the record, I was working here at my desk, waiting for you. So you can stand down, soldier.”
He narrowed his eyes and searched hers as if looking for signs of deceit. “We’re doing this together,” she said and a thrum of adrenaline went through her at the thought of her first real case.
At least she told herself that was what her excitement stemmed from.
She stood and then sucked in a breath and shifted her weight to her good leg as her other did its usual frustrating thing where it sent nerve pain screaming up the IT band along the outside of her thigh from knee to hip.
Lucas reached out to steady her; soon as she was good, he let go and backed up.
She’d been prepared for him to hover and coddle, but she should’ve known better. Lucas wasn’t a hoverer or a coddler. In fact, unlike everyone else in her world, he never looked at her like he felt sorry for her, or peppered her with questions she didn’t want to answer.
She liked that.
He trusted her to know when and if she was okay, and she liked that too. Way too much. They’d shared a bed and for her, the sober one, it had felt shockingly intimate, especially given the fact that she hadn’t shared a bed with a man in . . . well, a damn long time. She was attracted to him, and he was attracted to her too, and . . . damn. She wanted what she hadn’t had the other night.
“You’re staring at me funny,” he said.
Probably because she was confused over how badly she wanted him. Okay, not so suddenly, but still, denial had been her friend and now that friend had deserted her. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re staring at me like . . .”
She turned her back on him and grimaced to herself, knowing exactly how she’d been staring at him. “Like I’m annoyed by your presence?” she asked.
“Like I’m dinner.”
She closed her eyes. “Oh, please,” she said on a low laugh. “I’ve slept with you now. Trust me, I don’t need a repeat.”
“So you keep saying.”
His voice sounded right in her ear now. He’d moved, shifting close enough that his chest nearly brushed the entire length of her spine. She could feel the heat of him and nearly moaned. Nearly. But she caught herself. It was just that his body heat was soaking into her and she found herself wanting to back into him. He smelled amazing and he was still dressed from his job, and that was a shocking turn-on too. As was the sexy smirk she heard in his voice.
Which didn’t make any sense. From the time she’d come into her sexuality as a teenager, complete with all the baggage of her kidnapping still hanging over her head, she’d only ever felt comfortable when she was the one doing the charming and chasing. She’d dated guys here and there, all very different from her brother and men like Lucas. They’d been . . . beta. Not pushovers, but nonthreatening. Nice and sweet. Emotionally available.