“No killing humans,” she whispered. “I remember.”
Regret laced his tone when he spoke. “Break one, break three.”
“No. That sounds like something that was made up to control your behavior. Like, ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away.’ Clearly an apple farmer thought of that. No one ever stops to think of the origin of…of…why are you laughing?”
“You.” His lips brushed over her hair. “You refuse to stop making me laugh. And—”
“And you shouldn’t be here.”
“That’s already getting old, isn’t it? It’s the truth.” His gaze mapped her face. “My strength would be a wildcard if I gave in to this. I can’t predict how I’d react to kissing you—or more, when I barely understand what you’re doing to me without throwing…more into the mix.” He paused. “This is unusual, Ginny.”
More.
That huskily spoken word made that made her thighs want to open. He would press against her hard and she’d wrap them—
“Stop,” he breathed. “You’re tempting disaster.”
“Maybe one kiss?”
He laughed without humor. “It wouldn’t stop there,” he said thickly, bracing his hands on the wall on either side of Ginny. “It would have to be all or nothing with you.”
Jonas flicked her a searing look and she saw his meaning there. Oh, she certainly did. A corresponding moving image came to life in her mind. Jonas moving roughly on top of her, her skirt around her waist…his teeth fastened to her neck. Her thoughts must have translated to her face because Jonas blurred away with a curse, leaving her in a near puddle against the wall.
“Only another eleven hours and seventeen minutes to sunrise,” he muttered. “Downstairs, please, Ginny.”
“Yes, Dreamboat,” she quipped, before blushing to the roots of her hair. Avoiding his questioning look, she slipped past him down the stairs.
“I knew I’d heard you call me that last night.” His voice was brisk—and directly behind her. “Do you have a nickname for Gordon?”
“I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”
“You wanted it to be my business or you wouldn’t have brought him up.”
“I was befuddled when I did that.”
Jonas hummed a skeptical sound. “How do you know him?”
“Am I…putting his well-being at risk by telling you?”
“No. Remember the rules.”
Ginny stopped and turned at the bottom of the stairs. “The rules are pretty much the only thing I’m thinking about right now.”
He touched the tip of his tongue to his upper lip. “Same.”
They held a heated mini staring contest. “What happens when you find the person who has been threatening me? Are you going to slap them on the wrist and ask them nicely to stop? Anything else would be against the rules.”
“You don’t think I’ve considered this?”
“What did you come up with?”
He took Ginny by the wrist and guided her in the direction of her office. “You’ve changed the subject from Gordon. How do you know him?”
“His mother is the founder of my dress making club. She favors a polyester blend.”
“Itchy.”
“Yes,” she agreed fervently. “And not breathable at all.”
A corner of his mouth jumped. “So you’re in a dress making club. I don’t suppose you’ve made many enemies there.”
“No…” she hedged, following him into the office and turning on the desk lamp, casting the small room in a dusky glow. “No enemies, per se…”
“Be less convincing.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve made any friends, either.” She dragged her index finger across her father’s old mahogany desk and the initials she’d scrawled there with a protractor when she was eleven. Her father had scolded her for it, then taken her for a Carvel ice-cream cone out of guilt. “They call me Death Girl, so we haven’t done a lot of gossiping over coffee.”
Jonas’s expression had turned stony.
“You’re mad on my behalf,” she breathed. “Are you sure we can’t kiss?”
“If there was a way, I would have done it already. Several hundred times.” He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they were scanning the room and Ginny’s stomach was still mid-somersault. “What about unhappy customers? Anyone who stands out?”
She sat down behind the desk, flattening her palms on the spread of paperwork. “Everyone who comes here is unhappy. It’s hard to pick just one.”
A flash of white teeth. “I see your point. This isn’t going to be easy.” He took a seat in the chair in front of her desk. With an arm draped along the back of the chair and his hair falling over his forehead, he was straight out of one of her movies. All he needed was a cigarette and high-waisted man pants.
On second thought, scratch the latter.
Some things were better in the modern age.
“It would help if you told me how you’ve been threatened, Ginny. It would help if you told me anything at all.”
“I don’t know anything at all. I only know…what happened.”
There was a tick in his temple. “Start there.”
She shook her head. “Tell me about your roommates.”