Hot Blooded

behind her?
And most important of all, had he been the one who'd sabotaged what might have
been the most important discovery of her career?
    She moved through the kitchen, where Eva Lynn was mixing some thick, fragrant
batter in a big metal bowl. She smiled hello, her face a younger version of her
mother's flawless complexion, her body more slender and willowy. Like her
mother, she dressed all in white, right to the turban on her head. She didn't
say a word, sensing, perhaps, that Jenny wished to slip in unseen. She just
nodded knowingly and returned her attention to her batter.
    Jenny pushed open the swinging door to the back stairs and took them up to
the second floor. The stairs continued on to the third floor, where Eva Lynn and
Mamma Louisa lived. But Jenny stopped at the second-floor landing, pushed open
the door and stepped into the massive hall, with its black and red velvet
runner, its gold-painted stands, mirrors and vases and its mini-chandeliers
dangling every few yards from the high ceilings. She crept along the hallway to
her room, wiping sweat from her brow. No AC in the hallways. Just the rooms
themselves. The hallways were like saunas, almost as thick with wet heat as the
outdoors.
    She stopped outside the door to her room. It was standing slightly open, and
she was certain she had closed it when she'd left.
    Frowning, Jenny pushed the door gently, opening it a little farther. Dr.
Hinkle sat at the small table in the sitting room portion of her suite,
squinting at the screen of her laptop, which hadn't been left on.
    She stepped inside and cleared her throat.
    He looked up fast, clearly startled. For just an instant, guilt clouded his
pinched face, but it vanished just as quickly. "Have a pleasant expedition?" he
asked, as if he hadn't been doing anything so much as out of the ordinary, much
less dead wrong.
    "What the hell are you doing in my rooms?"
    He lifted his brows. "Going over your notes, supervising your handling of
this project, which is exactly what I was sent here to do, Professor Rose."
    "You could do that without invading my privacy and going through my personal
things."
    "How?" he asked with an innocent shrug that was patently false. "The files
are on the computer, and the computer was in here."
    "I would be happy to provide you with a copy of all my files on diskette or
CD, whichever you prefer: all you have to do is ask. But my room, Dr. Hinkle, is
off-limits."
    "I am the ranking scientist on this mission," he reminded her. "Not to
mention the head of the department."
    "But how long would you be, if I were to call the dean right now and tell him
I caught you sneaking around in my bedroom?" She smiled slowly. "Sexual
harassment is such an ugly term. I'd hate to use it if I didn't have to."
    He lowered the lid on the laptop while rising to his feet. "You win, this
round at least. I'll stay out of your rooms."
    "I think I'll keep them locked from now on, just to make sure."
    "One would almost think you had something to hide, Professor Rose."
    She stepped aside, opening her door wider so he could leave.
    "Why are there password-protected files on your hard drive?"
    She shrugged. "Those are my diaries. I fill those files with romantic
daydreams and other girlish things that wouldn't interest you in the least."
    "Why am I certain you're lying?"
    "Maybe you just have a suspicious mind. At any rate, it's no concern of mine.
I'd like to shower and change clothes now, if you don't mind…"
    "What did you find on your expedition this morning?"
    She met his eyes and kept her gaze steady and strong. "Not a thing."
    He smirked, then turned and left her bedroom. She closed the door, intending
to do exactly what she'd told him she would do, take a shower and rinse away the
sticky heat of the bayou. But as she started across the room, something crunched
under her shoes, making her look down. Mud, dried mud. Cussing silently, she
heeled off her shoes and wished she had taken them off when she'd first come
into the house. Shame on her for tracking up the place like that. She left her
shoes near the door and started across the room again, but more dried mud
crumbled under her socks, and she realized it was scattered in places where her
muddy shoes had never been.
    Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the sitting room, and then the bedroom floor,
seeing bits of it everywhere. That nosy old buzzard had been all through her
rooms. What the hell was he looking