Free Dangerous Bond (Jamie Bond Mysteries Book 4) by Gemma Halliday, Jennifer Fischetto Page A

into his office to grill him. Our usual routine. Maybe I should've called first.
    "Jamie?"
    The receptionist and I both looked up toward the voice. Standing a few feet behind her was Aiden. I watched as a slow smile spread across his features, a twinkle catching his eyes that made him look like a kid who'd just spotted a candy bar. He also looked yummy enough to eat, in a charcoal-gray suit with a light-blue button-down beneath.
    "Thank you," I whispered to the receptionist and walked to Aiden's side.
    He watched my steps, his eyes traveling from my face to my hot-pink and zebra-print pumps to the swing of my hips. He hadn't missed a step, and I may have slowed mine down just so I could watch him watch me. By the time I was at his side, that twinkle had darkened into a deep, stormy blue, and my cheeks were getting warm. Didn't they have AC on in this place?
    "What a pleasant surprise. Let's go to my office." He grabbed my elbow and led me down the corridor.
    Maybe it was the soft pull of the carpet or the jelly in my legs, but my knees may have buckled once at his warm touch. Definitely not more than twice.
    He pushed open his door just enough that my shoulder brushed against his chest as I entered. If I was the suspicious type, the one who didn't believe in coincidences, I'd say that he purposely made me touch him. And I'd have to say that I really didn't mind.
    "Take a seat," he said and walked around the large desk to his own leather chair.
    I'd been in his office several times, but for some reason it felt smaller today, and the air was heavy with his musky scent.
    He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "Is that a new skirt? It fits you like a glove," he said.
    My breath hitched. I hadn't been expecting the compliment. And while I'd had a suspicion that he was watching my butt as we'd walked to his office, it was unlike Gentleman Aiden to say so. I felt my cheeks go warm. But I had to admit, I didn't necessarily hate this new bold side.
    "Um, thank you. I-I…" I almost forgot why I was there. "About Mrs. Claremont. Did she turn herself in?"
    "Yes, she and her lawyer came here this morning." He paused. "And the fact that you know that means you must still be working for her."
    "Yes, I am."
    He raised an eyebrow. "She has other cheating husbands?"
    I cleared my throat, not sure if he was flirting with me or making fun of me. "No, she wants me to look into her husband's death."
    "The police are already looking into it."
    "The police are looking at her. "
    He nodded, that slow smile spreading over his face again. I noticed his eyes leaving mine and sliding lower, ending somewhere in the region of my silk blouse. "Touché."
    I barely resisted the urge to fidget under his hot gaze. "Mrs. Claremont said she had an alibi for the time her husband died. She told me she was at a hair salon on Rodeo."
    His eyes moved up to meet mine with deliberate slowness. If I didn't know better, I'd say he wanted me to catch him staring at my breasts. "Did she?" he asked.
    "I'm assuming she told you the same story?"
    Aiden nodded.
    "And did you look into the alibi?"
    He crossed his hands in his lap, looking very cool and unaffected—by either my questions or the sudden heat in the room. Seriously, where was the AC?
    "We did follow up on her story. However, the timeline didn't fit."
    I felt a frown crease my forehead. "So she wasn't at Lucerne's having her hair done?"
    "She had been, but according to her stylist, the receptionist, and another patron, Mrs. Claremont left a solid hour and a half before her husband was killed. She could have easily made it home in time."
    Perhaps… "But her car wasn't there," I protested.
    "If I was going to shoot my spouse, I wouldn't leave my car in the driveway in case someone passed by."
    He was right. I guess I'd just hoped she hadn't been lying to me.
    "So you're charging her?"
    He paused. "We're questioning her. Whether we formally make the arrest depends on what she tells the detectives with her