Chapter 3

___

Talk about bored. Jazz didn’t know what to do with herself. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get deep enough into it to hold her attention. It didn’t help that she wasn’t being allowed to do anything major. Morgan had come in once, seen her trying to push the vacuum around, and had taken it from her.

“Rest,” he’d said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

She’d glared at his back as he walked away, even going so far as to stick her tongue out at him. He’d laughed and said, “I saw that.”

It was only after he’d left that she’d realized he’d been able to see her reflection in the big mirror.

Feeling like an idiot, she’d grabbed her sketchbook and sat down at the dining room table to work on a few designs. She had a lot of work coming up, and it chafed at her to know she couldn’t do anything but wait. She hated being behind and even more so, she hated the sense of being behind schedule and having to work overtime to catch up. That sucked big time. She already spent enough hours staying late at night to catch up on paperwork that just never seemed to end.

That was the problem with being a business owner. Roxy had come onboard after Jazz had the business up and running. She’d needed to bring someone in, and Roxy had invested in her business.

They’d kept the name and neither had looked back. It had been good for them.

She doodled on the paper, letting her mind work on a design through free association. She was an artist first and foremost.

Letting her pen sketch, she quickly realized she was doing a sketch of Morgan. Now why would her mind get stuck on that image? Her heart was well and thoroughly engaged and although they hadn’t returned to quite the same level they’d been at before he’d walked, they were closer now.

She added shading to the dark lean jawbone, realizing she’d been instinctively adding a heavy shadow across his chin. She loved him well-shaved, but he looked dangerous as hell and more sexy than she thought was legal with that shadow.

A happy sigh escaped.

“What are you working on?” he asked from the doorway.

Refusing to answer him, she slapped the sketchbook closed. “I’m just doodling.”

Her phone buzzed, signaling an incoming text. Roxy. She read the message and grinned. “She figures I can do some of the paperwork. There’s a lot of bookkeeping that Perl is struggling to keep up with. Not to mention some reconciliations.”

“Is that a good idea?” he asked, frowning. He straightened and walked closer. “How is that resting?”

“I have to do something. Paperwork is something I can do.”

“But you’d have to do it here.”

She nodded. “Roxy is going to drop by with the stuff this afternoon while she’s out running around if she can fit it in.” She paused and looked at him. “If that’s okay with you?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Is working okay with me, or is it okay with me that Roxy is coming by?”

“Both. Although I’m not asking your permission,” she snapped.

He grinned. “Both are fine. As long as you don’t do too much for too long and you get to stay here.” He turned and walked away. “See how reasonable I’m being?”

When the pencil hit him in the back of his head, he broke out laughing. “By the way, lunch is ready.”

“Oh, why didn’t you say so?” She was starving. Morgan had always loved to cook and beat her skills in that particular area. However, being home like she was while he had stuff to do in the shop meant she could have cooked. As she entered the kitchen and saw hot soup on the stove and fresh buns sitting and waiting for her, she was glad she hadn’t. He’d made French onion soup with cheese melting all over the top.

“You remembered,” she said softly, falling in love with him all over again. Their first formal date…did people do those anymore?…had been to a small cozy French restaurant around the corner from the store. She’d felt so awkward and uncomfortable back then but would have done anything to make it work so she could jump his bones.

He’d ordered this for the two of them. She’d loved it. And had quickly fallen in love with him. And jumped his bones many times since.

“I did.”

She smiled happily and lifted her spoon. The French bread floating in the middle was drenched in melted cheese that ran over the sides of the bowl. She lifted a spoon of the broth and sipped at the hot liquid. “It’s delicious,” she said. That was one thing about Morgan. There wasn’t much that he couldn’t do and do well.

She could almost sympathize with Billy. Growing up in big brother’s shadow had to be challenging.

But no excuse.

“There’s still nothing new from the cops?” she asked after a moment.

He shook his head. He reached across the table, ripped a bun open, and dipped the fresh bread into the broth. “Not yet.”

He appeared so unconcerned that she was puzzled. “Surely something will break soon.”

“I’m sure it will.”

“Except you seem damn happy about it.”

“What’s to be upset about? You’re here. You’re safe. We’re alive, and Lord only knows there are lots of reason why that shouldn’t be.”

He had a point. She ate in silence for several spoonfuls. “I still think we should be proactive about this.”

“We’ve done all we can. We found the image on the website. Found the keys and found the letter. They can find the killer and the money.”

“I doubt they’ll find the money.”

“I doubt it too. But still not our problem.”

He continued to eat.

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“That nothing is resolved yet,” she cried out, putting her spoon down in frustration. “That asshole could be out looking for us still.”

Damn, he knew that. “No. The guy had a completely different build.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t be coming back for the money.”

“Only we don’t have it, and he already knows that.”

Morgan sounded so damn sure. “That doesn’t mean he won’t keep an eye on us and what we’re doing in case we find it.”

He paused for a moment, considered her suggestion, and nodded. “That is quite possible.”

“Right.” She grinned and continued eating. She wasn’t thrilled that she’d been right, but more that she’d brought up something he hadn’t considered.

Her phone rang again. “Roxy says she can’t make it for a few hours.” She groaned. “Damn it. Now what am I going to do?”

“I might be able to find something for you to do in the shop with me…” he said slowly. “But I don’t want to turn around and find out you’re re-arranging the whole place.”

“Ha. It would serve you right,” she grinned evilly. “You’ll never find anything after today.”

For a moment he looked almost afraid, then he laughed. “Come on. Do your worst. If you mess it up bad, you’ll just have to fix it later.”

She grinned.

**

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” He rolled his eyes at her, loving that she appeared to be over her irritation of that morning. He was determined that she rest. Somehow. She was determined to work. Somewhere.

He figured that having her in the shop would be the best way to keep an eye on her.

Bed was the alternative and his first choice, but Dean was here. And Morgan didn’t want a two-minute session with Jazz, he wanted hours. Just looking at her across the table, knowing bed was an option, was hard. Hell, he was hard.

Replacing his spoon in his empty bowl, he reached for a second bun to sop up the remaining juices when there was a hard knock on the door. Jazz gasped.

“Easy. It’s probably just Dean.”

She swiveled so she could see the front door, then relaxed as she spied Dean standing on the front step. “He said he might need my help this afternoon,” Morgan said. “Can you find something to do until we’re done?” Not the best wording and it did make her seem more like a child, something he hadn’t intended. He quickly added. “I need to know you’re safe.”

Her shoulders slumped and she nodded. “I’m fine. I’ll do the dishes then maybe go lie down.”

“Perfect.” Morgan let Dean inside and helped his friend carry in the boxes he had brought with him. There was a lot.

“It’s not all for your house. I have the stuff I need for Jazz’s as well.”

“Thank you,” Jazz said. “I appreciate it.”

He nodded. Dean had always been quiet, reserved. He’d actually been talking to Jazz more than Morgan had seen him talk to anyone. Then again, she was now a customer. Maybe that made a difference.

Dean was good people.

And a friend.

Both he and Jazz needed that right now.