The District by Carol Ericson Page B

same time she took off. She was communicating with me.”
    “You’re probably right.”
    She searched his face for any hint of humor, but saw only concern. That’s what she’d always loved about Eric—he was a tough guy with an empathetic soul. He’d had enough tragedy in his young life to be able to truly feel what others felt.
    His hazel eyes darkened to bottle-green, and she parted her lips. He brushed his mouth against hers so quickly, she might have imagined it.
    “Call me if you need me. I’m leaving my side of the door unlocked tonight.” He waved his hand in the air. “But I am closing it. Apparently, Darius likes nail polish and perfume.”
    She nodded stupidly and stared at his broad, bare back as he headed into his own room.
    Eric clicked the door shut, and then smacked his forehead with his palm.
    He had no self-control. A kiss? It’s not like she was falling apart at the seams. Christina Sandoval did not fall apart at the seams. She didn’t even have seams.
    A sniffle. A teary eye. That’s as far as it went with Agent Sandoval. She didn’t even seem remotely bothered by the recent threats to her. She seemed strangely removed from those threats. Something else had her going—jumpy, tentative. Something more than her sister, since she’d been acting jittery ever since he walked into the station this morning.
    With the way they’d left things between them, she had every right to be jittery. He’d been an ass.
    He peeled off his damp board shorts and tossed them into the bathtub. Then he brushed his teeth and crawled naked between the sheets.
    As he stared at the blinking green light on the smoke detector, he heard a click. He jerked his head toward the door between his room and Christina’s.
    “Damn.” He’d forgotten his promise to her to leave the door unlocked on his side. He rolled from the bed and padded across the floor. Pressing one hand against the door, he turned the dead bolt. The click sounded like a gunshot.
    He held his breath. Then he turned and crept back to bed. As his head hit the pillow, he heard an answering click from the other side of the door.
    Was that an invitation?
    He pulled the pillow over his head. If you know what’s good for you, Brody, ignore it.
    But when it came to Christina, that advice was easier said than done.

Chapter Eight
    Christina greeted him in the hotel restaurant with heavy eyes and a yawn.
    “You look like you need another eight hours of sleep.”
    “ Another eight hours? Try two.”
    “Are you still worried about Vivi?”
    “Yeah, Vivi.” She dropped into the chair across from him and gulped down some of his ice water.
    “I’ll tell you what.” He reached for his phone. “I’ll give Judd a call and see if he can track her down.”
    “Would he do that?”
    “If he’s not busy.” He scrolled through the contacts on his personal phone until he reached Judd’s number. He tapped the phone and it rang on the other end.
    His brother’s gruff voice rumbled over the phone. “Judd Brody, leave a message.”
    “Judd, it’s Eric. Give me a call. I want you to find someone for me.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t see how that guy can make a living with his social skills.”
    “Do you think he’ll call you back?”
    “Like I said, if he’s not on a case taking pics of some cheating spouse.”
    “Is that usually the type of work he does?” She wrinkled her nose.
    “He’ll take just about anything, but he does missing persons, a lot of bodyguarding, too.”
    “Any celebrities?”
    “Here and there.” He raised his brows. “Why? Are you thinking of writing another book?”
    “Another book?” She smacked the table. “I thought we cleared that up? There was no book.”
    He patted her hand. “Take it easy. I was kidding. Is it too early to kid about that?”
    “No, kid away. I’d rather have the bad jokes than the dagger looks.” She waved at the waitress. “That reminds me. I still have those notes. I meant what I said then