“You’re solid, Sherlock,” Jagger said.

I looked over to see him standing oh-so-nonchalantly Jaggerlike with a cue stick at his side. “Hmm?” Solid? Was he telling me I was hot and solid? (Please, God!)

He looked at the pool table. “Solid.”

Solid-colored balls. Duh. What on earth made me think that Jagger had complimented me?

I took a cue stick in my hands then noticed the square of blue chalk sitting on the end of the table. Uncle Walt sometimes watched pool on television, and I’d joined him on more than one occasion. Being a quick study, I stopped, picked up the chalk and rubbed it on the end of the cue stick as I’d seen the pros do many times.

Jagger raised one eyebrow.

Buzz Lightyear got off his stool and walked over, more than likely thinking he was going to see some spectacular shot, and ER Dano looked at me and then turned back to his drink.

But I could see his reflection in the mirror-and he could see me.

Great. An audience, and me not exactly a pool hustler.

I shut my eyes for a second to picture the pros’ hands when they shot. Even if I didn’t get any ball in, I’d at least look good.

I set the chalk down, leaned over, placed my fingers in position and aimed the white ball at a lovely shade of green ball that was near the corner pocket, realizing I had no idea how to hit it. Just give me this first one, Saint T, I prayed in my head and before I knew it, I’d hit the white ball, it sailed down the felt concourse and hit the lovely shade of green ball directly into the side pocket!

I looked up at Jagger. No expression.

Ha! That, in and of itself, meant I did well-I believed that and was sticking to it. Slowly I stepped back and leaned against the wall, hoping I looked hot or sexy or at least not stupid.

“Still your turn,” Jagger muttered.

Damn. “No kidding. I was taking a break.” With that I looked over the table, found a darling red ball near another pocket-and landed that sucker right in!

After one more I missed, and Jagger took over, sinking five balls in a row.

Well, at least I’d lose with my dignity still intact, since he didn’t cream me right off the bat. Actually, I played on, holding my own, all the while praying and visualizing the pros.

“Good job, Sherlock,” Jagger said right after I sank the eight ball-after all my solid ones.

Of course, Jagger only had one left, so I didn’t cream him by any sense of the word, but I did beat him.

I beat Jagger!

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. Couldn’t help it. Maybe it was more of a cocky grin, but beginner’s luck had given me a gift tonight.

Suddenly ER Dano was standing right next to me. “Five bucks.” He looked directly at me.

I swallowed. “Five bucks for the winner?” Geez, that sounded so stupid. By the look on Jagger’s face and his head shakings, he thought so too. But Dano remained stone-faced. “Oh. Okay,” I said. “But, you know, I should get some points spotted to me since I’ve already played a game.”

“How you figure that out, Nightingale?”

Did Jagger just flinch?

This was getting to be more and more fun!

I walked toward the bar, took the last few sips of my Cosmo and turned back. “I mean, kicking Jagger’s butt took some energy out of me. Not sure if I have enough left to kick yours.”

Jagger really glared at me now.

Lilla and Buzz gasped behind me.

And ER Dano gave me a delicious smile.

Suddenly I felt as if I had a phone cord wrapped around my neck-and it was tightening.

Seven

“Okay, so it was beginner’s luck with you,” I said to Jagger after ER Dano kicked my butt-three times. Fifteen bucks. I owed him fifteen bucks.

Jagger pretended as if he didn’t care as he took my arm-make that grabbed my arm-and pulled me toward the back of the bar and out the emergency door. No alarm sounded, and I’m sure he knew it wouldn’t. Out in the alleyway, he turned toward me.

“I could give a shit about pool, Pauline. We need to talk about the case, since we haven’t had a chance to yet.”

I’ll just bet you don’t give a shit-since you lost! I thought.

“Okay, what the hell are we doing out here?” I asked. “What? You want some pool playing tips from a pro?” I started to laugh, and he gave me a look.

Oops.

Silenced me right up.

“What did you find in the files before Payne was…before Payne came in?” he asked.

“How’d you know I even found anything?”

At first he looked at me as if I were nuts. Maybe I was, for asking him that question, when Jagger seemed to know all. Or maybe not.

“Payne wouldn’t have tried to kill you for no good reason.”

Hmm. That was probably true. If he had simply caught me there and wasn’t worried, he wouldn’t have pulled a knife. After all, that would have blown his scam. A knife. Eeks.

My knees weakened.

I leaned forward.

Then steadied myself on…Jagger’s chest.

“I was nearly killed,” I mumbled.

His finger touched just beneath my chin, lifted my head a bit until we met eye to eye, and before I could contemplate what kind of outfits souls wore up in heaven, Jagger’s lips were on mine.

Well, not exactly on mine, but over, inside and…yum.

He pulled me closer, and I let him. Strong arms held me so tight, I could barely breathe, but knew-just knew-that if he held me tighter, I’d be in Nirvana. Very gently he ran a finger around my face, encircling me with his touch.

After a few moans (mine) and a few sensual animal sounds (his), I reached my hands up to run my fingers through his hair.

Jagger eased to the side enough that his lips touched near my ear. “I don’t know what I’d do if…”

As his words trailed off (no way could I fully comprehend anything in this position), I ran my hands down his neck, around his shoulders and just leaned into him.

If there was safety in numbers, I felt very safe with this one.

He ran his hands along my spine, sending warm sensations throughout my body. If I’d had to walk, I would have melted into a puddle of desire. Slowly his hands ran across my shoulders, arms and settled on my breasts. With the very gentle touch, I sighed and wished my clothes would melt into a puddle.

Jagger’s lips continued to explore mine, his tongue touching my mouth. We both sighed and held tighter.

Before I could run my hand across his chest, he was holding me at arm’s length and looking oh-so-very Jaggerlike. “We need to get working more on this case, Sherlock.”

Suddenly my safe, sensual little harbor of love was interrupted by the question, Did Jagger mean he couldn’t live without me cause I was fantastic and he was madly in love with me-or did he mean that I was a decent partner?

“Yeah,” I said, pulled back and ran my hands down my clothing as if taking out any Jagger-induced wrinkles-as if that could erase what I felt right now. “Yeah, we do.” I swallowed, hoping that would bring me back to reality.

Reality? Reality that Jagger and I were coworkers and nothing more? Or that we really had feelings for each other, but couldn’t pursue that avenue or it’d ruin our partnership? In my book, love was thicker than a paycheck. But then again, there was so much about Jagger that I didn’t know at this point, I had to tell myself that we were merely coworkers and that people’s lives might depend on us working platonically.

That was what I tried to convince myself of, but in reality, I sensed there was something more. Something Jagger was keeping to himself (surprise, surprise). Something, maybe, from a past relationship-because he certainly reigned in his feelings with me.

With us.

“So? What did you find before Payne came in?” he asked again-thank goodness, because I didn’t like where I was going in my head. “I assume he came in and found you.”

“Yeah. He came in, all right.” I proceeded to tell Jagger about the files that I found, which convinced me that Payne Sterling was a criminal-but an empty feeling nagged at me all the while.