She studied him carefully. "Why?"

"Because my stomach's growling so loud I'm surprised you can't hear it."

Again her mouth quirked. "I can hear it, actually. I meant why did you follow me?"

"You were tired and you feel guilty because you haven't processed information in those files in one night that will probably take the both of us days to get through." She hadn't bought his explanation, so he gave the only answer that would satisfy them both. "For some reason I like you. I didn't want anything to happen to you. That's all."

She flinched, her eyes taking on a suspicious glint that rocked him as she took a giant step back from his window. She turned her head to look up at the prison building. When she looked back, her eyes were clear, her smile slightly mocking. "Then let's get something to eat. But not around here, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay. This time you follow me."

Tuesday, November 28, 10:15 p.m.

Reed stepped out of his garage and waited as Mitchell's little Alfa turned into his driveway. He was a little surprised she'd stuck with him when it became clear they were headed to his house, but here she was, ratty jacket and all. He'd had partners over for dinner before after all. Foster, a bachelor with a hot plate, was a regular.

But Foster sure as hell didn't look like Mia Mitchell. Reed's heart thudded heavily in his chest as she got out of her car. From where he stood, he could see her every curve. You're crazy, he thought. This is a bad idea. B-A-D. But there had been something in her eyes, a soft vulnerability. He'd thought she had no softness in her yesterday morning. He could see now that he'd been very wrong.

She stopped three feet from him, blonde brows lifted. "Cafe du Solliday?"

"I don't know about you, but I can't stand the thought of another burger in a sack."

Her lips curved, amused. "You gonna cook for me?"

"That depends on your definition of cook. Come." He led her through the garage into the kitchen where Beth stood at the microwave as popcorn popped. "Hi, honey."

Beth turned only her head to glare at him. Rolling her eyes, she looked away.

Conscious of Mitchell behind him he took a step toward his daughter. "Beth?"

"What?"

"What's wrong now?"

Beth set her jaw. "Nothing."

"I think I'll go," Mitchell murmured and he held up his hand.

"No, it's okay. Beth, this is Detective Mitchell, my temporary partner. This is my daughter, Beth. My polite daughter, Beth."

Beth shook her head with a disgusted huff. "It's nice to meet you, Detective."

"It's nice to meet you, Beth. Look, Solliday, I can-"

His smile was strained. "You can sit. Please. Beth, if you won't tell me what's wrong in a reasonable way, then you can go to your room."

"What's wrong is that everybody continues to treat me like I'm four years old. All I wanted was to stay over Jenny's tonight. I even brought my toothbrush, for God's sake. But Lauren…" She gritted her teeth. "Lauren embarrassed me in front of everyone."

"Who was everyone?"

"Never mind." The corn continued to pop, each sound like another punch of tension.

"Lauren followed my instructions. You know no sleepover's on school nights."

The microwave beeped and Beth grabbed the bag. "Fine." She slammed the microwave door and a minute later slammed her bedroom door. Reed turned to Mitchell with a wince.

"I swear I had a nice daughter once."

She smiled ruefully. "Aliens. Pods. Body snatchers. It's the only explanation."

With a tired chuckle, he took off his over coat and suit coat and laid them across a chair. "I'll give her a chance to cool off before we discuss which privileges that little tantrum cost her. Take off your coat, Mia. Stay awhile."

Coming to his house was a really bad idea. But as Mia watched Solliday move around his kitchen, it was damn hard to mind. He'd shed his coat and set his dirty shoes outside. They still bore the remnants of mud from that morning, although Mia was quite certain they'd be shiny enough to see her face in by eight o'clock tomorrow.

Meeting his daughter had been interesting. But Beth was fourteen and Mia supposed that said it all. What had been more revealing was his response. Patient, firm, and bewildered. Bobby would have backhanded her to the floor. Even Kelsey had never defied him in front of company. But Mia pushed Bobby from her mind and focused on the different, but equally unsettling thought of Reed Solliday.

He was tugging at his tie and Mia found the sight a lot more intimate than she would have liked. The play of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt as he pulled the tie free of his collar sent a flutter through her gut and a sharp zing straight down.

Reed Solliday was a very watchable man and in the quiet of his kitchen she could admit to herself that she was interested. Watch yourself, she told herself firmly. You don't do cops. But he's not a cop, her mind reasoned as she fought to keep from staring at the dark course hair that now peeked from his open collar. Fucking technicality. Get a grip. She dragged her eyes up to find him staring at her, eyes nearly black.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly, as if he read her thoughts.

What was wrong was that Reed Solliday looked way too good standing there with his tie off and that it had been a very long time since she'd had a man and that desire had suddenly, unwantedly come knocking. Pounding. Crashing at the damn door. But as none of those was an appropriate response, she shrugged. "I'm not sure why I'm here."

His brows lifted in challenge, his gaze still fixed on hers. "Dinner?"

She swallowed. "I thought we were going to stop someplace close to the precinct."

He looked away, severing the invisible thread that had connected them. He pulled a glass casserole dish from the refrigerator. "I like to eat real food when I can."

Real food Mia could appreciate. "So what is it?"

He peeled back the foil. "Looks like lasagna."

"You didn't make it?"

"Nope." He slid the dish in the oven. "My sister Lauren did. She's a good cook."

So his sister was the one who watched Beth when he had to work late. Mia had wondered. Now she was relieved. And annoyed that it mattered at all. Casting her eyes aside, she watched him rummage in the fridge for lettuce. "Do you want help?"

"No, thanks. I'm not the cook my mom was, but I can manage a salad."

Was. "So she's dead? Your mother."

"Five years ago. She had cancer."

"I'm sorry." And she was. From the wistful tone of his voice, he'd loved his mother and obviously missed her. She thought about Bobby and wished for just a fraction of Solliday's grief. But there was none and would never be. "What about your dad?"

"He remarried and retired to Hilton Head. Plays golf every day." The words were tempered with affection and she felt a pang of jealousy that made her ashamed.

He set the salad bowl aside and pulled a pitcher of tea from the fridge. "I called for my messages while I was waiting for you back there at… Well, back there. Ben left me the analysis on the accelerant from Hill's house. It's ammonium nitrate, the same as in Doughertys'. It's commercial grade, could have been bought in any feed store. I hate to send Ben off chasing wild geese until we have something more to go on."

"Once we've gotten some leads from the files we can show some photos around. See if any of the local fertilizer distributors remember anything. What about the plastic eggs? I've been trying to remember the last time I saw a panty hose egg in the store." She made a face. "Not that I go looking for such devices of torture myself."