Bargain Hunting by Rhonda Pollero

that you used your birthday.”
    I felt my cheeks warm with a blush. “Okay.” I made a mental note to change the code. “How did you get in? I locked the house after I came back here to check . . . when I came back here.”
    “The key taped to the palm out back. You’ve really got to learn to be less obvious. So,” he said as he moved close to me. “You came back to check on me?”
    He smelled deliciously male and looked sexy as all get out. He was back to wearing jeans and a faded shirt that did wonders for his already wonderful physique. A single lock of his black hair fell across his forehead and I had to struggle from reaching up to brush it away from his brilliant blue eyes. Truth be told, if he didn’t have a hole in his side from a gunshot, I might have jumped his bones in a heartbeat. I remembered vividly how glorious it felt to be pressed against his muscular frame.
    God, I needed to put some space between us before I did something stupid to a wounded man. “Want some coffee?” I asked as I quickly put the countertop between us.
    “Sure.”
    “Sit down before you fall down.”
    He laughed. “Stop acting like I’m on death’s door. It’s no big deal. I’ve had worse.”
    “Where were you all day?”
    “Here, mostly.”
    “You didn’t answer your phone.”
    “I turned it off. I didn’t want the cops to be able to track the GPS chip to find me.”
    “They can do that?” I asked as I filled the filter with a hazelnut blend.
    Liam returned to the sofa. “Sure. I bought a disposable when I went out. I wrote the number on that piece of paper,” he said as he pointed to a scrap on my counter.
    “Where’s your car?”
    “In a friend’s garage.”
    “How did you get back here?”
    “She dropped me off.”
    She? The joy drained out of my libido. I kept my back to him. “So where did you go today?” God, I sounded like a 1950s housewife.
    “The police station.”
    I twirled around. “You turned yourself in?”
    He rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’m going to find out who killed José.”
    “So, what? You sat in the parking lot waiting to see if a guy wearing an I’M GUILTY banner waltzed in?”
    “It was more like a covert operation.”
    “To find out what, exactly?”
    He shoved his hair off his forehead while I poured the coffee. I joined him in the living room, making a point of keeping as much space as possible between us.
    “Had to find out how my gun ended up at José’s place.”
    “Did you?”
    He frowned. Deep lines formed at the corners of his eyes. “According to the property clerk, José signed the gun out and swore he was returning it to me.”
    “Was he?”
    Liam took a sip of coffee. “Maybe. I went to his house because he called and told me he wanted to talk. First I’ve heard from him in nearly five years.”
    “Around the time Fernàndo was shot?”
    Shock registered on his face for a split second, then it was replaced by irritation. “I see you’ve been doing some research.”
    “You weren’t exactly forthcoming.”
    “I don’t need you digging into my past.”
    “Oh,” I shot back. “You just need me to help you destroy evidence and to harbor your fugitive ass. Sorry I crossed the line.”
    “Technically, I’m not a fugitive,” he corrected. “I’m simply a person of interest.”
    “Whatever.”
    Liam placed his mug on the coffee table—without a coaster—and stood, pacing in the space in front of me. I tried. I really tried not to notice the way his jeans fit snugly to his thighs. Or the way his broad shoulders filled out his shirt. I tried. And failed.
    “I guess you do deserve an explanation,” he said grudgingly.
    “It would be nice.”
    “Deal. If you’ll do me one favor.”
    “You mean another favor, right?”
    He smiled at me and my bones melted. “Point taken. I need one of your girlfriends to rent me a car.”
    “Why can’t I do that?”
    He shook his head, then raked his hair off his forehead. “You and I have a