He approached and her heart did an annoying ka-thunk-a-thunk. It wasn’t as though she expected them to get married and have lots of babies, but she did like checking him out.

He made her feel like a sixteen-year-old high schooler — geeky and pimply and drooling over the out-of-her-league football quarterback.

Eden was closing in on thirty now. She wasn’t pimply anymore. However, the geeky thing was still up for debate. Gorgeous guys had a tendency to make her completely and embarrassingly tongue-tied.

“Is the psychic here yet, Santos?” he asked.

Hello? Had she suddenly become invisible?

Santos nodded at her. “This is Eden Riley.”

That finally earned her a glance, but there was zero warmth or humor behind it. “Then let’s get this over with.”

Obviously, she thought wryly, he’s already fallen madly in love with me, but is having a hard time showing it.

“Sounds super,” Eden said, forcing enthusiasm past her nervousness. “Lead the way, Detective.”

The sour-faced look that comment received from him confirmed it was official: She was still a geek.

She followed him to the average-looking house. The front door had some of that police-line-do-not-cross tape on it. He ripped it away and entered the front hallway that led to a small kitchen.

“Here’s how this is going to go. The suspect vacated this location about six days ago. Our leads as to where he went have come up dry. The sergeant seems to think you might be able to”—he glanced at her—“work some mojo and tell us where he’s hiding.”

Eden raised her eyebrows. “Mojo?”

He waved his hand in a flippant manner. “Whatever it is you think you can do. Hocus-pocus. Mojo. You know.”

He was lucky he was so hot or she might be annoyed by his rude and dismissive attitude. “For the record, Detective, I didn’t ask to be here. It was requested of me.” She cleared her throat. “If you’d prefer, I can take my, uh… mojo somewhere else.”