eyeliner that emphasized the green of her eyes. The wide, overlong sleeves of her silky blue shirt slid back on her forearms, revealing slender fingers laden with rings. Acid-washed jeans hugged long legs. Every move oozed pure sexual magnetism—like, Nick imagined, the magnetism of those sirens of myth who lured sailors to their doom.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
He hadn't even been aware she approached. Words froze inside him. He sucked in a breath and struggled for the ability to speak.
"Sir? Are you okay?" she asked in a voice that was a smoky blend of softness and sandpaper.
"Sorry. Yes. Just a little lightheaded for a second." Nick looked at the candle he held in his hand. How had that gotten there? He lifted it toward her. "Do you have this fragrance in the eighteen-ounce size?"
She stared at him for a moment. Not a friendly look. "I'll check."
As she turned and disappeared through a gauzy white curtain behind the counter, he suddenly wished he'd asked the blonde for the candle; he didn't want to let this beautiful creature out of his sight. He still didn't know if she was Ravyn Skyler, but he thought she was. He hoped she was. Then he'd have an excuse to be around her more.
God. What was wrong with him? He hadn't been attracted to a woman since Annie. Damn sure not like this! He wished he hadn't had those drinks this morning. Could she smell it on him? He reached into his shirt pocket, searching for a breath mint but coming up empty. Damn.
She returned quickly, but to him it seemed like hours. "I'm sorry. We don't have the eighteen-ounce size in Lavender Dream right now. I'll make some more later in the week, if you want to come back."
Lavender Dream? How manly. No wonder she'd given him an odd look.
He nodded. "I'll be back. Later in the week."
She returned his nod but didn't speak. Her eyes seemed veiled, as if they held deep secrets. Nick wanted nothing but to unlock those. And not just whatever information she had about the Tin Man. He wanted to know everything about her. Hell, he just wanted to keep listening to her voice. Wanted to watch her face as she spoke. Inhale her fragrance. She smelled faintly like the smoky outdoors, like a campfire in the winter. She was warm yet cool. She was utterly fascinating.
He blinked rapidly, as if coming out of a trance. Guilt slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave. In the five years since Annie's death he'd barely looked at another woman, and now he was lusting after a complete stranger? Muttering something in the way of a thank-you, he turned and groped for the front door. He stumbled outside of the shop, not able to breathe freely until he was standing in the fresh air.
That was when it occurred to him: Ace job on the detective work, Lassiter. You're still not even sure if she was the one you came for .
----
Chapter Nine
Nick drove slowly along the country road, his Mustang's headlights cutting through the layer of fog that had risen up around him. Gravel pinged the undercarriage of the car, sounding in the stillness of the evening like small-caliber bullets.
A teenage girl at a gas station in town had willingly given him directions to the cabin where the Tin Man had attacked Ravyn Skyler. Her wide brown eyes sparkling with excitement, the girl had all but offered to drive him. Apparently, a serial killer was exciting news in this area. There was nothing like the media to stir up interest.
He passed a field, was barely able to make out the silhouettes of cows meandering across the grass. Set back from the road was an old farmhouse that looked like something out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre . Nick took a curve in the road, and as the teen had promised, a turnoff just past the bend led to the cabin.
The word cabin was actually generous; the building was more like a dilapidated shack. The logs were blackened in some places, faded in others. Huge chunks had rotted from the outer walls, and bullet holes indicated hunters used the structure for
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley