When I came back into the café after changing my pants I nearly groaned out loud. I hadn't realized that it was time for my weekly visit from the local detectives, but there they were, sipping their complimentary coffee, and taking bites out of their free pastries. Straightening my back, I walked up with a smile locked and loaded.
"Detectives Marks and Johnson, to what do I owe the pleasure?" I could see Clay and JJ out of the corner of my eye, but they weren't sitting together and they looked completely at ease. OK, glad someone is.
Marks, as usual, returned my smile. "Charlotte," his voice was a mimicry of Clay's natural deepness. "Thought we'd stop by and see if-"
"The pastries were fresh?" I was trying for humor, but fuck if I wasn't over this constant attention. His smile turned into a smirk.
"If the two of you are done flirting," Johnson cut in. "Has your memory jogged yet? Can you recall any suspicious characters during the time of-"
"The fire," I finished for him. "No, I still don't remember anyone running around my cafe with a glint in his or her eye, flicking cigarette lighters or whatever caused the blaze." My tone had gone back to frustrated. "I honestly don't recall any fucking one who looked weird, or as if they had some kind of torch the world mentality. Coming here every week isn't going to change that."
I could see the flash of white that made up Clay's shirt out of my periphery. "Miss Ramble, may I remind you-"
"That someone lost their personal property," again I was over this shit. "I know that. I do. I actually knew it before you came in the first time. A fire tends to do that to a building." I was fighting an eye roll and was starting to feel like what I imagined Keli might feel like daily. "That doesn't make my memory suddenly sprout a suspect for you, sorry." I started to head back to my office, I still had to send the order. "Now, if you'll excuse me, GENTLEMEN," I made sure they knew from the way I said the word how much I doubted they embodied any of the traits that would make someone assume that they were in fact 'gentlemen', "I have an order to send."
"We'll be back," Johnson muttered, and I wondered if he thought I couldn't hear him, or hoped I did.
"And I'll be waiting with bated breath," I tossed back. "Without a flash of whoever might have lit up that building, I assure you." I hope you fucking get that this is a wasted effort, was the implied message. As I walked past Keli I had to hold in a laugh as she was breathing her own commentary.
"Freeloading, donut munching," and it went on and on with every stereotype for a cop you could think of.
The order sent, once I cleaned up the completely destroyed leavings of my scone, I sat back in my chair and thought about Clay and the two determined cops. He hadn't shuffled out, he hadn't run away, so he was pretty fucking sure there was nothing to link him to the crime. I hadn't been sitting for that long when that quiet knock came and I wondered what the literal hell?
Clay walked in and leaned against the wall again. I was about to ask him if he just hated chairs when he spoke first. "Every week?" I had to rewind to see if I missed part of the conversation. Has my brain checked out again? "Char, do they really come every week?" The cops, it dawned on me that he was talking about the cops. I nodded. "Why?"
"That's an excellent question," I was still leaning back in my chair, but now I had a better view. "They think I know something obviously, but I can't figure out WHY. I mean, the light was on, the light was off, but I wasn't here." I knew they'd checked at Enzo's about my 'date'. Carrie had called once they stepped out the front door, asking me what the hell was going on, and I had to tell her that I had no freaking clue. "I almost wonder-" My father's face flashed before my eyes, but I swatted it away. "No, that wouldn't be why."
He was studying me. "What wouldn't be?" I sighed.
"My daddy dearest is a councilman here, he's well known, wealthy, and very connected." I bit my lip and ignored Clay's gaze landing on my teeth worrying the sensitive skin. "I doubt he'd take the time or energy to sic them on me." He hadn't taken the time or energy to get to know me when he walked out the door and moved down the street from us with his 'younger model', after all.
Clay watched me, but I could see he was considering what I said carefully. "You think Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum might be harassing you because of your dad?" I shook my head, I honestly didn't know, but the thought had crossed my mind. "Have they said anything about-" he stopped, and shook his own head. "No, I'm not going to pump you for information, not happening." He was speaking mostly to himself, but I found myself sighing.
"It's not pumping for information if I offer it willingly, right?" His eyes were still on me as I went on. "If you want to know if they've let anything slip about the rest of their investigation, the answer is no." I bit my lip. "They can't have anything if they're focused on me, right?" He nodded, but I could tell he was running something through his head. Maybe thoughts about where they'd hidden the corpse, or what accelerants they'd used to 'flame on' the building.
"About our date," I blinked at the quick change of topic. "I was thinking, if you don't mind, we could order in." I felt a twist of lust that made no sense since I'd only kissed him once, for fuck's sake. "Then we can just relax and-"
"Be closer to setting my bed on fire?" Even with the breathless sound of my voice, I managed to raise my eyebrow. His lips started curling like the fucking Cheshire Cat and I had to fight the urge to squirm, fuck. "And what type of dinner were you thinking we could order in?" That's right, Char, run away from the thought of what he would look like naked on your bed. You're at work, after all.
His smile didn't drop, his eyes didn't leave mine. "We could eat cardboard, Char, because dessert is what I'm looking forward to." Shit. "In bed. Flames or no flames." Damn it. I felt like I'd run a marathon as hard as it felt to catch my breath.
"Dessert?" Damn it, another squeaky question. "In bed?" At least I'd managed to sound almost normal for that one, I thought, but I felt flushed, and hot.
Clay licked his lips. "Isn't that the best place to have dessert?" Fuck.
Come on, Charlotte Elizabeth Ramble, get a grip. "You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"
"Nothing wrong with confidence, Char." His dimples were taunting me, I fucking swear it.
I swallowed and shook my head. "There's such a thing as being too cocky, Clay."
His smile grew and his eyes fucking twinkled. "You can never have too much cock- iness, Char-" and with a wink, a promise that he'd meet me after work, he walked out of my office like he hadn't just worked me up into a useless fucking mess with just his damn voice.