Page 22 of Romance Is Dead

“He could be telling the truth.” Teddy looked skeptical, frowning from his seat on my hotel room couch as he popped a Tums into his mouth. “He’s not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

My hand paused halfway through the blanket row I was crocheting, the stitch slipping off the hook.

“Are you kidding me? You’re giving Brent, the one single-handedly responsible for you needing to spend the last hour curled up by the toilet, the benefit of the doubt?

” After fleeing The Bar, I’d rushed to my room and texted Teddy in his room, letting him know we needed to regroup.

Ten minutes of recounting my conversation with Brent later, this was not the reaction I’d been expecting.

Teddy shrugged, crunching on the chalky tablet. “He doesn’t strike me as the criminal mastermind type. More of the sleazy dirtbag type.”

That I couldn’t completely argue with.

“Exactly. A sleazy dirtbag that got axed from a movie for what sounded an awful lot like sexual assault. And Trevor was the one who got him fired.”

“True.”

“Plus, we found his sweatshirt in the attic, so we know he was up there. Plus, the motive.”

“So, what, do we think he’s the murderer?”

I bit my lip. “I’m not sure. But he’s definitely suspicious.”

“And what now?”

“We need harder evidence. We know he’s lying and being shady, but that doesn’t mean he’s the killer.

We know he was in the attic, where he could have watched Trevor leave the props trailer before following him.

But we don’t know for sure that he was in the attic that particular night.

We need something that would specifically pin him to Trevor on the night he was killed. ”

“Or . . .”

“What?”

“Maybe you’re fixating on Brent too much.”

“Excuse me? I told you, he — ”

Teddy held up his hand. “I’m just saying, are you sure your past isn’t influencing your theory here? Maybe you’re still a little salty he broke up with you?”

I gaped at him. “Absolutely not. I was the one who broke things off with him.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. In fact, I’m going to update the suspects list.” I retrieved it from where I’d stashed it on top of the microwave. Next to Brent’s name, I jotted “has motive, Trevor got him fired.” Then, I took the liberty of crossing out Mara’s name at the bottom.

“Hey! I saw that.” Teddy came up behind me, looping one arm around my waist as he grappled for the list with the other. Succeeding in snatching the paper out of my hand, he dashed back to the couch as he tried to scribble out his own name.

“I don’t think so.” I dove for the list, straddling Teddy’s lap as I yanked it out of his hand before he could cross himself out. “You still haven’t given an alibi for before you came to my trailer.”

“You know. . .” Teddy’s hands settled on my hips. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“Sounds like something someone guilty would say.”

Out of breath, we stared at each other, our faces inches apart.

Teddy ran his thumb under the hem of my shirt, rubbing the skin above my hip bone.

It was a small gesture, intimate. Too intimate.

Rattled, I hopped off his lap and reached for the list, now lying crumpled and half scribbled over on the floor.

“I still think we should try talking to Brent again. See if he offers up any more information.” I moved to the opposite end of the sofa, putting as much space between us as possible. “Maybe you can take the lead on that, though. He gives me the creeps.”

Looking momentarily thrown by my swift departure, Teddy recovered quickly. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Oh, really? You guys looked awfully cozy earlier tonight.”

My cheeks burned. “I was trying to get information out of him.”

“Sure you were. Listen, I make bad decisions when I’m horny, too.” Teddy was smiling gleefully now, his hands folded behind his head as he leaned back against the couch. Any illusions I’d had of him being jealous quickly fled my mind — he was having way too much fun teasing me.

“I’m not horny! Now or then or ever.”

“Ever? Jigsaw, please. There’s nothing wrong with being horny. I get horny all the time.”

Obscene images flickered in my mind: Teddy, sweat beading at his brow. Teddy, breathing hard as he moved above me. Teddy, gripping his —

“Well, I’m not. And we’re not here to talk about horniness, anyway — mine, yours, or anyone else’s.” I stood and grabbed a copy of the script that happened to be nearby, desperate to change the subject. “We should start rehearsing.”

Teddy cocked an eyebrow. “Rehearse? Now? It’s awfully late.”

I glanced at the clock. He was right — it was after midnight. “Yes, well. We still need to prepare.”

“Fine.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head, his white tee riding up a few inches to reveal his abs. “If you insist.”

We both flipped to the correct page of the script with the scene between Teddy’s and Chloe’s characters. In it, he confronts her after Brent’s unfortunate demise via boat propeller. He suspects she knows something about how to banish the witch, and he tries to seduce her to get the information.

Once we were ready, I cleared my throat in my best Natasha impression. “Action!”

Immediately slipping into character, Teddy narrowed his eyes. “I thought I’d find you here.” He took a step toward me. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to be in here all alone?”

“What’s it to you? Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?”

“My girlfriend?”

“Yes!” I said indignantly. “I saw you two on the boat! Before the awful thing that happened. I saw what you two were doing.”

“And? What did you think?” Teddy took another step closer.

“Nothing. I didn’t think anything about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I made my voice wobble — this was where Chloe’s character started to lose her resolve.

“What if I told you I was thinking about you. . . when I was with her?”

At this point, Teddy was supposed to back Chloe’s character against the wall, using his sex appeal to pry for information.

He advanced toward me slowly, his eyes burning into mine, gently guiding me backward until I was pressed against the hard wall.

He wasn’t touching me, but his face was mere inches away.

Oh no. My body was humming again, that thing it did whenever Teddy was too close.

I swore I could feel his hand hovering somewhere near my hip, and my mind was running wild, imagining him running his fingers along the waistband of my jeans, slipping them down until he reached the top of my underwear, further still until —

“Line?” Teddy whispered.

“Uh.” I glanced down at the script, scanning frantically for my line. “‘I would tell you that you were lying.’”

“I’m not. I was picturing you the entire time I was with her.” His voice fell to a whisper as he leaned closer. “Pretending it was you, wishing it was you.”

“Oh?” I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips, and the word came out as barely a squeak.

“Maybe it can be?” His voice was raspy, his lips so close I could feel his breath on my mouth.

“What are you suggesting?” I was supposed to say it coquettishly but it came out flat — I couldn’t manage anything else.

I couldn’t tell if we were acting anymore, and I waited for him to say the next line, praying we could get this scene over with.

Next, Teddy’s character was supposed to push Chloe for information.

But instead of saying his line, Teddy pressed his hips into mine — gently, just enough that I could feel the jut of his hipbones — and reached up a hand to curve gently around my neck.

“You and me,” he said. “Here. Now.”

The oxygen evaporated from my lungs. That definitely wasn’t in the script, and therefore I had no idea how to respond.

Another day, I would have assumed he’d forgotten his lines.

But he was right: he was getting better.

And something about the way he was looking at me — intensely, burning, intentional — made me think he knew exactly what he was doing.

My heart hammered in my chest, so hard he surely could feel it.

I waited for a clue, any hint about what he wanted me to do. But he only waited.

“And then what?” I finally whispered.

“And then.” He slipped his hand higher until his fingers wound through the hair at the base of my neck.

He tightened his grip at the roots and tugged ever so carefully, enough to apply delicious pressure and tilt my head backward.

The movement sent a jolt of electricity straight from my scalp to between my legs. “I make you scream my name.”

For perhaps the first time in my life, I was speechless.

If I’d felt desire shooting our scene in the boathouse, I was filled with pure, unbridled lust now.

His face was close, so close, and when his eyes dropped to my lips, I wasn’t sure I could hold myself back from kissing him.

And there had been a tiny hitch in his voice, a slight pant to his breathing that made me feel like I wasn’t the only one feeling the energy crackling dangerously between us.

And then, Teddy broke out into a grin.

“Not horny, huh?” Teddy smiled as he let go of my hair and backed away, leaving me fighting to slow my heart rate against the wall. “I don’t know, Quinn, you seem a little hard up.”

Any feelings I’d had moments ago fled, replaced like a bucket of cold water by embarrassment and irritation.

“It’s called acting, asshole.” I ran a hand through my hair, shaking it out where he’d messed it up. “I know I’m supposed to be teaching you how, because you’re so hopeless, but I figured you’d at least understand the concept by now.”

“Sure, sure.” Still smiling, he stretched his arms over his head, clearly pleased with himself. “Happens to the best of us, you know.”

“Well, you were right before, it is late. It’s time for you to go.” I shooed him toward the door.

He went willingly, still chuckling as he went. “It’s not something you should be ashamed of.”