"I just forgot to close it," she lied, though her voice lacked conviction.
Julian chuckled softly, a masculine sound laced with subtle mockery. He stood up and walked slowly around the table until he was standing directly behind her chair. Claire could feel a chilling yet thrilling aura radiating from his body.
"You know, Claire, you are a terrible detective," he whispered right beside her ear.
She closed her eyes, feeling his warm breath against her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Her focus, once centered on her trap questions, completely shattered. She gripped the tablecloth with sweaty palms.
"I am not playing detective," she protested, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Julian placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them gently. The gesture was undeniably possessive.
