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the men were scared shitless of Taber and the few women who’d been there seemed just as infatuated with him as she was.
    Not that he responded.
    She learned a lot about him in the hour it took for him to question everyone. She watched from behind the bar, fascinated by his every gesture and what it said about him. When he got annoyed, usually when one of the drunks tried to joke around with him, Taber would let out a single deep breath and clasp his hands behind his back.
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    When he was trying to discourage one of the amorous women, he would cross his arms across his chest and raise his eyebrow. A small part of her was pleased that he hadn’t done that with her.
    Soon there was no one left in the bar but the two of them. Lance had called earlier to tell her that Donaldson had cleared him and he had returned to his quarters to sleep off his fast-approaching hangover. The bar would be closed until they finished their investigation, so that meant she’d have at least a few days off to rest.
    But what the hell was she going to do with a murder on board and her unexpected fascination for a man she couldn’t have?
    A fascination that was quickly becoming an obsession.
    “It seems you’ve run out of suspects,” she said and smiled at him after the last person left. “Not a very productive night for you.”
    “You’re wrong with that assumption. I’ve eliminated all people at the site of the crime and have gathered information on both Mr. Keaton and several parties of interest.”
    Something in the way he said the last part made Fallon put the glass down she’d been cleaning and look at him. Taber was standing as he had when they’d first met, hands behind his back, legs spread wide. But something was different. He seemed more relaxed somehow. Fallon tilted her head toward the bar.
    “It’s really late on ship. I doubt you’ll find anyone else to question until the morning. Would you like a drink?”
    When he didn’t answer right away, she took that as silent permission to go ahead.
    Grabbing a glass, she flipped it up in the air, spinning it high before she caught it easily in her other hand. She grinned and set it down lightly on the bar.
    “As this is your first time in The Cockpit, you get our house special—The Afterburner.”
    Fallon had learned how to tend bar from her uncle back on Earth. She’d spent years as a kid flipping bottles of water in the air until she learned how to do it with style and accuracy. She enjoyed the fun and challenge, the showmanship of the activity. Grabbing each bottle in turn, she put on her practiced flying bottle routine for her one and only customer. Occasionally, she would look up at him and smile but found the eye contact to be a distraction. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin the show with a stupid accident.
    When she was done, Fallon slid the half-full glass across the bar toward Taber and place her hands on her hips, waiting.
    “Impressive.” The single word rolled off his lips like a seductive caress.
    “But you haven’t tried it yet. And you’ll break my heart if you don’t take at least a sip.”
    She held her smile in place until he reached out and gripped the glass in his massive hand. Then she held her breath as he lifted the glass to his full lips and took a 24

     
    sip. Her heart was pounding as she waited for the verdict to cross his face. When he didn’t move for a moment, Fallon thought she was going to burst from not knowing.
    “Well?”
    “Potent.”
    “I hope that means you like it.”
    “I do.”
    And then he tipped the glass back and finished the contents in a single swallow.
    The Afterburner was a powerful drink, but after the way he swallowed what most people would have coughed up, she doubted it had much of an impact on Taber. He held the glass a moment longer than she’d expected before setting it down and letting his gaze find hers once again.
    “Until we find whoever murdered Mr. Keaton, I’m going to ask that you don’t walk