His body started to react to the sheer physical appeal of this woman he’d kissed to within an inch of his sanity just yesterday. Jesus, he wanted her. And not just to sink into her heat and lose himself in her body, her rhythm, her life force. He wanted to heal her and love her and cherish her. He wanted to make her so dizzy with need that she leaned on him, and only him, for support.

Dragging a hand through his hair—it was good to have fantasies—he took a mental cold shower. “Guess you don’t need me here anymore.”

She turned to drop the sponge onto the edge of the sink. “Thanks for coming. I appreciate it.”

He should have turned and left. But at least a little bit of blood had returned to his brain, so he decided that now was a good time to ask her some questions about the conversation she’d just had with Quinn. Cop, first. Horny guy, second.

Chase went to the blinds and opened them. “I’d be happy to make Quinn some breakfast before I go,” he said. “One of my killer omelets would help soak up the booze in his blood.”

When she didn’t respond, he glanced over to find her staring at him as if he’d just double-faulted on match point. “What?” he asked.

“You want to make an omelet for a suspect in your case?”

He pocketed his hands, figuring that was the only way to avoid grabbing her and wiping all the frosty anger out of her with a mood-altering kiss. No, better to flee while they were still friends. Sort of.

“Guess I’ll be on my way then,” he said, walking to the door. “Call me if you need me.”

“I won’t need you.”

He paused to look back at her. She returned his gaze with a defiance that didn’t surprise him in the least. She didn’t need him? They’d see about that.

He pivoted toward her, darkly satisfied at the way she drew back into the corner where the counter took a turn.

She raised a hand to hold him off. “Look, I don’t know what you’re—”

She broke off when he paused with his chest pressed against her palm, and he couldn’t stop the triumph that swelled in his chest at how wide her eyes had gotten. She didn’t know what to do, how to react. She wasn’t slapping him, so clearly she wasn’t going to make a big squealy deal out of this, probably for fear of making him think he had power over her. Little did she know.

Reaching up, he grasped the wrist of the hand she’d planted against his shirt, but instead of drawing her to him, he stepped forward, fencing her in.

“This isn’t—”

“Shut up, Ky,” he drawled.

Letting go of her wrist, he braced his hands on the counter on either side of her and went in for the kill. She turned her head to the side, avoiding his lips by a scant inch. The move put his nose at the crook of her neck, and he breathed in her vanilla scent, enjoyed the lazy spin of his senses. After letting his slow exhalation caress the side of her neck, he tried to kiss her again, only to have her turn her head to the other side. Since she had yet to try to push him away, he angled his head forward, lightly brushing the tip of his nose over the surface of her cheek.

“I don’t want this,” she said softly.

Yet, he noted, her breathing had gone shallow and choppy. Oh, yeah. “I think you do want this,” he murmured, and nipped at her earlobe with his teeth.

She breathed in sharply. “Stop.”

“I don’t think so.” He tried a third time—it’s the charm after all—and nearly groaned out loud when her lips finally met his.

Heat flared instantly, and it was the kind that sucked all the air out of his lungs. His plan to thaw her, to prove how much she was kidding herself, flew out of his head the minute her tongue stroked against his. When her hands slid into his hair, and she pressed fully against him, making a small, helpless sound in the back of her throat, he lost complete control of the kiss.

He surged against her, wanting more, needing more. He’d meant only to kiss, to make a point, that no matter how cold she pretended to be, he knew just how to set her on fire. But it wasn’t enough. With her, a kiss was never enough. He wanted so much more. He wanted everything.

And then she shoved him back, her formerly stroking hands planted firmly against his chest. He blinked away the blinding desire to focus on her face, saw the glitter in her eyes, the icy set of her jaw. A smile that didn’t come close to touching her eyes played at the corners of her mouth.

“You really should think these things through,” she said.

The realization that she’d played him struck like a ringing slap. He should have known better than to challenge her competitive nature, to play dirty. She’d always come out swinging. Game, set, match.

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Clearly, I’m out of my league.”

He thought he saw a flash of doubt, or maybe hurt, in her eyes as he turned away. But he didn’t turn back. He had his own hurt and doubt to deal with.

He walked out of the house, his steps sure and probably a bit too stompy, not pausing or looking back. Next to the SUV, he stopped, squinting against the harsh sunlight and trying to ram his brain back into work mode.

Things had changed. He’d heard with his own ears as Quinn had tried to confess something to Kylie, and she’d shut him down. To protect him. She believed he was innocent, fine. But Chase’s doubts were growing, and Sylvia Jensen was right. If Quinn did indeed attack Kylie with a bat, he could easily do it again.

In a matter of minutes, he was on his cell, outlining the case to Assistant District Attorney Rebecca Morgan. “I’ve got means, motive, opportunity. His shirt links him to the probable weapon. His alibi is weak. Drunk and alone.”

“Are there other suspects?”

“Not at the moment. I’m waiting on some test results on the shirt that could add to the case.”

“For now, though, you do realize that this case is circumstantial,” she said.

“My gut tells me he’s one of the guys.”

“Your gut carries a lot of weight with this office, but I’d need more to make a strong case.”

“My plan is to get a confession.”

“So just bring him in for questioning.”

“My partner questioned him already and didn’t get anything. I need him in cuffs and intimidated if I’m going to get anywhere with him.”

“Okay. I’ll get a warrant issued, and we’ll see what happens. We can present the case to the grand jury, and if they don’t bite, kick it.”

“Done. Thanks, Rebecca.”

“Good luck.”

Disconnecting the call, Chase pushed the speed dial button for Sam.

“Hawkins,” Sam answered.

“How soon can you meet me?”

“Half an hour, forty minutes. What’s up?”

“I just talked to the prosecutors’ office. It’s time to make an arrest.”

“Who are we arresting?”

“Quinn McKay.”