Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“So? What do you think of the gallery?” Lucien asked.
“It’s nice,” I said, looking for Cord, hovering close to the front door so I wouldn’t miss him.
“I wish I could ask you to dance,” he said, smiling at me.
“Well, that would be odd in the middle of an art gallery.”
He was staring at me.
“Lucien?”
“I’m sorry. You just look so much like Turi.”
“You didn’t tell me that when we talked.”
He nodded. “I should have.”
It hit me then that waiting for Breckin’s little sister to find an old yearbook was a waste of time. Surely Lucien was a quicker source. “Lucien.”
“Yes?”
“Would you happen to have a picture of Turi?”
“I do. I always keep it with me.”
Of course he did. “May I see it, please?”
He pulled his wallet from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Inside, tucked in the compartment right behind his driver’s license, was what must have been a senior-class picture of Turi Carrera.
The tuxedo jacket Turi was wearing was terrible: dark royal blue with a black collar. Underneath, the pale-blue ruffled shirt was even worse, but the teenager himself was very handsome. He actually bore more of a resemblance to my brother Alex than to me, but even that was merely superficial, just as I’d assumed. He had dark eyes and brows, strong features broader than mine, and thick black hair. Had he allowed himself to become a man, he would have been gorgeous. He was one of those guys you knew would get better with age. The awkward duckling would have become a swan. It was quite a compliment to be compared to him, but the similarities were fleeting.
“He had a nice face,” I said gently, smiling at Lucien as I returned the picture.
“Yes, he did.”
I cleared my throat. “But I’m not him, no matter how much you might like that.”
He furrowed his brows. “No, I know.”
“I just want you to be sure you see me and not him.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“Okay.” I squeezed his shoulder.
Lucien turned sideways then and put his arm around me, clutching my waist. I was going to say something, but Cord did it for me, appearing out of thin air.
“Move your arm,” he warned coldly.
Lucien stepped back. “I apologize, Inspector. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Cord nodded, but he took hold of my wrist and drew me close, turning me into his larger frame. I put a hand on his abdomen and leaned my head into his shoulder.
He rubbed his chin in my hair as Lucien excused himself.
“You scared him,” I whispered, inhaling deeply, drinking in the smell of soap and a trace of rain and musk.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he grumbled. “He should never think that touching you is okay.”
“This possessive side of you is kind of hot,” I teased. “But with me, you never have to worry.”
“I know,” he said softly, his voice husky.
Looking up at him, I saw his jaw muscles flex. “So, what did you have to go over with the chief?”
“I just wanted to make sure he vetted everyone who’ll be working with him for the next couple of days. There is other crime going on, even in this tiny little burb, so he’s bringing in outside help.”
“I see.”
“So, have you seen any good art?”
“Nothing I feel the need to take home.”
“I’ll walk around with you.”
I took his hand and led the way, accepting a glass of champagne now that he was here. “First one of the night, you know.”
“’Cause you didn’t want to get tipsy without me?”
“That’s right.”
“But now it’s okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging, “because you’ll look out for me.”
“Yes, I will,” Cord growled, taking a step forward so I had to tilt my head back to see his face. His gaze was locked on mine, and the intensity of the look made me squirm. “Always.”
“That a promise?” I asked, smiling crazily up at him.
“Yes, it is.”
He put his arms around me then, one on the small of my back above my tailbone and the other around my shoulders. He pressed me gently to him, and I put my hands on his chest. We stayed like that in our cocoon of two for a few moments until he walked me around one of the movable walls in the gallery and up against an exposed-brick one that was just as solid as he was.
“You’re shitty at protecting Breckin and Celia,” I accused.
“True,” he admitted, taking a deep breath and then dropping his mouth to my ear. I felt him wedge his leg between mine, and his breath on my skin caused goose bumps over every inch of my body. “But I don’t care.”
“Cord,” I said, and then I looked up.
He bent and kissed me until I was vibrating under him, clutching at his dress shirt, trying to get closer to him.
“We need to go.”
“Yes,” I said, rubbing against him.