The Suicide Club

“I’m willing to have you change my mind.”

“I’m not willing to try. You’re wrong. Sooner or later you’ll figure that out without any help from me.”

As exit lines went, it wasn’t particularly powerful. Nolan didn’t argue, tilting his head as if acknowledging the possibility. The quirk she’d noticed before at the corner of his lips occurred again and was once more controlled.

“If you change your mind, you have my card.”

It was the perfect opening to respond with something rude. Deny that she’d ever change her mind. Defend her kids.

She did neither. The attraction was strong enough that she couldn’t be sure that if he kept on, he wouldn’t wear her down. She wasn’t going to give him a chance.

She’d learned early in her professional life not to make a threat unless she was willing to carry it out and that the fewer words she said in any situation, the fewer she would have to eat if things didn’t work out as she’d anticipated.

With Jace Nolan, she had a feeling that things not going as she’d anticipated was a distinct possibility.

Three

Think we can go ahead and shut down?”

Shannon’s question caused Lindsey to look up at the scoreboard. It was nearing the end of the third quarter, which was the traditional closing time for the booth. Tonight only a handful of tickets had been sold since the half. They’d already counted up the money in both cash boxes, keeping only a few dollars out to make change.

“I don’t see why not.” The score was lopsided enough that people were beginning to eddy out of the stadium toward the parking lot. That movement was unlikely to reverse.

“Me, neither. If Coach doesn’t like it, he can get somebody else next week.”

Although the faculty members who manned the booth and the gates each game were paid minimum wage, this was mostly volunteer labor. Those who normally worked were mostly hometown products who perhaps felt a stronger loyalty to the program as a result.

The aspirin Lindsey had taken and the cooler night air had banished her headache, but not her tiredness. And although she’d been raised to finish whatever task she started, closing a few minutes early wasn’t going to break the bank.

“How much?”

The question brought her head around. Jace Nolan was standing in front of her window, opened wallet in hand.

At her hesitation, Shannon replied, “We don’t charge after the third quarter.”

Jace looked at the scoreboard and then back to Shannon. “Consider it a contribution. I’d just as soon not wait.”

“I didn’t mean you had to wait. You can just go in.”

“You sure?”

“This isn’t that much of a game.”

Shannon was obviously in flirt mode. Despite her initial dislike of the detective, Lindsey had admitted he was an attractive man. Why should she be surprised her friend had reached that same conclusion?

“So what do you do when you close?”

For the first time since he’d questioned the price of admission, the focus of those dark eyes was on Lindsey. Since it was clear to which of them the question had been addressed, Shannon kept her mouth shut, leaving it up to her to answer.

“We turn in the money and go home.”

“Not interested in watching the coup de grâce?”

“Not tonight.”

Shannon’s sneaker-clad foot made contact with the side of Lindsey’s ankle. Although she, too, might have been attracted to Jace, Shannon was smart enough to have picked up on the obvious undercurrent between them. The kick had clearly said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

An attractive man. A single woman on the wrong side of thirty stuck in a town this size. An invitation.

To Shannon—and to anyone else in Lindsey’s situation—that should spell “yes,” rather than such a definite “no.”

“You go on,” Shannon urged her before turning to smile at Jace. “I’ll take the money up to the press box.”

“If you aren’t interested in the game,” he said, again speaking directly to Lindsey, “maybe we could get something to eat. It’s been a long day, without any chance to grab dinner.”

For her, too. She’d spent the couple of hours between the end of school and her duties at the game lying down while she waited for the aspirin to work its magic. Because of her headache, she hadn’t eaten much lunch.

Apparently Shannon sensed the weakening of her resolve. “Friday night special at The Cove is hard to beat.”

“The Cove?” Jace’s gaze swung back to her.

“Out on the highway,” Shannon said helpfully. “One of our better restaurants. Who am I kidding? It’s the only decent food within thirty miles. And Lindsey’s favorite.”

“I appreciate the information. Ms. Sloan?”

Avoiding Shannon’s eyes, she met Jace’s instead. They were amused. And slightly challenging.

“I’m not dressed for The Cove.”

“On a ballgame night?” Shannon asked. “Honey, you’ll fit right in.” Her tone implied, And you damn well know it.

“You look fine to me,” Jace said.

The dialogue—the entire scenario—was so hokey, it was humiliating. And becoming more so by the second.

“Look—”

“Dinner,” Jace said. “No tour guiding involved.”

A reference to their conversation outside the gym this afternoon. At least Shannon had sense enough to keep her mouth shut, despite her almost palpable curiosity.

“Then…dinner.”

Why the hell had she agreed? Had she lost her mind? The man wanted to prove that one of her students was a criminal.

And if that were true? Wouldn’t she—and everyone else in this town—want to know?

“You sure you don’t mind closing up by yourself, Ms…?”