Had to be, I thought, looking around this room. Apparently Jagger pulled his thoughts to the present sooner than I did because he stepped forward and knelt near the chair. Whoa. Be still my heart and hormones. I swallowed, mentally chastised myself, relived kissing ER Dano for a few nanoseconds (reminding myself we had a date, a real date, in two days), and bent down next to Jagger. My joints would kill me if I stayed this way too long, so I joined him on the floor, totally ignoring how our shoulders touched or our knees brushed one another’s. Totally. “Anything?” I whispered. He seemed engrossed in a paper that he’d taken off the top of the pile. It appeared as if it had been thrown into the chair without being tucked inside one of the many folders. “TLC carried dead bodies,” Jagger said. My forehead wrinkled.
