The laundry room in Building C had seen its share of domestic drama—bleach stains on the concrete, the Great Dryer Fire of 2019, and Mrs. Henderson’s legendary collection of ceramic cats watching from the windowsill like judgmental guardians. Tonight, the cats were about to get a show.
Jace Hap Lowe had been folding his whites when he found them.
Black lace. Delicate. Expensive in a way that suggested the owner valued what they covered. He held them up by the waistband, letting the fabric sway like a flag of surrender he wasn’t ready to wave.
“Damn.” The Oklahoma drawl came out thick in his baritone. “I’d sure like to see these on whoever they belong to.”
The scrape of metal against concrete announced her before she spoke.
Evie stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and mortification. She wore yoga pants and an oversized Navy sweatshirt that had seen better decades, her dark hair piled in a messy bun that somehow looked intentional. Jace clocked her the way he’d clock a contact on a screen—bearing, range, the bare ankles under the yoga pants, the sweatshirt sliding off one shoulder to show a bra strap the exact black of the lace in his hand.
“I was wondering where those went.” Her voice held steady despite the heat creeping up her neck. “I was hoping they’d just magically reappear in my drawer, but I see you’ve been conducting your own investigation.”
She pushed off the frame and stepped closer, eyes fixed on the lingerie dangling from his fingers. “Find anything else interesting in there, sailor?”
Jace didn’t drop the fabric. “Sailor?” His low chuckle rolled warm and rich between them. “Honey, I work with sonar and submarines—I’m more the ‘stare at screens and argue with physicists’ type. Though I have been known to navigate choppy waters.”
He straightened from the folding table, still holding the evidence aloft, eyes crinkling at the corners. “As for my investigation... I’d say the evidence is compelling. Real compelling. Lace, delicate construction, distinctly feminine provenance.”
He stepped closer, voice dropping to that baritone rumble that seemed to vibrate in her chest. “Though I gotta admit, the field research phase is proving more interesting than I anticipated.”
He extended his free hand. “Figure it’s past time we did this proper. Jace. And you are... the rightful owner, I presume? Or should I file this under ‘mysteries of the deep’?”
Her gaze dropped to his outstretched hand, then back up. A slow smile broke through her composure. She took his hand, giving it a firm shake while her other hand remained on her hip.
“Evie. And yes, the rightful owner. The one who apparently needs to pay more attention when sorting delicates.”
She let go, but his thumb brushed her knuckles a second too long. She didn’t pull away.
Her eyes flicked to the lingerie still dangling between his fingers. Her smile widened. “Well, Jace, the sonar-man, it seems you’ve found my ‘acoustic signature.’”
She took a small step back, leaning casually against the nearest washing machine. The machine hummed to life behind her, a low thrum that seemed to travel through the floor. “Though I have to say, most people just return lost property. You seem to be conducting a full-on interrogation.”
“Acoustic signature.” Jace let out a low whistle. “Oh, that’s good. See, now I’m wondering what other frequencies you’re tuned to.”
He stepped forward, closing the space she’d opened. “’Cause I got equipment sensitive enough to pick up vibrations most folks miss.”
He twirled the delicate fabric around one finger, his gaze traveling slow and deliberate from her eyes to her lips to the pulse hammering at her throat.
“Interrogation?” A chuckle, warm and wicked. “Darlin’, if I was interrogating you, you’d know it. This here—” He lifted the panties slightly, letting them catch the fluorescent light. “—this is just preliminary reconnaissance. Gathering intelligence.”
He leaned in. “Though I gotta say, the data so far suggests some real... resonance between us.”
His eyes dropped to her lips, then back up, unhurried. Hungry.
“You want ’em back, Evie?” His mouth hovered a breath from hers. “Come take ’em.”