Beneath the Silk
earlier, and that I went to meet Milo that night intent on killing him. Premeditated murder. He seemed to like that idea best.”
    “Do you know how your scarves got into that apartment?”
    The words were spoken too close. Sunni jerked upright and turned quickly, nearly colliding into his broad chest. Scrambling for something to say, she settled for “More coffee?”
    He took a step back and gazed at the empty china cup that looked ridiculously tiny in his big hand, then at the coffeemaker. Then her. “Do you have a straw? Maybe I could suck it out of the pot.”
    Sunni didn’t want to like this man or his dry humor, but she couldn’t keep from smiling. “I didn’t realize those cups were that small when I bought them.”
    His eyes swept her body, and as she leaned against the counter, she decided to return the favor. Jackson Ward looked like his Sicilian mother in many ways—his prominent nose, his dark hair, dark complexion. But his electric green eyes didn’t fit the mold. He had beautiful teeth. A rugged strong jaw.
    Full lips.
    Actually, she’d lied about him kissing like a camel—if you could call what they’d shared an actual kiss. His lips had been warm and softer than she’d expected them to be.
    The open vee of his shirt guaranteed that his chest was hairy, possibly clear to his waist. He’d eaten left-handed. His nails were clean and trimmed short. He’d used his napkin.
    And all this meant what?
    “Hey, Sis,” he waved his hand in front of her eyes, “I asked you how you think your scarves got into that apartment?”
    Back on track, Sunni said, “I can’t. My apartment has never been broken into.”
    “You sure about that?”
    “Yes. I would know.”
    “Would you? You have a lot of … scarves?”
    “Yes.”
    “So a few missing wouldn’t be obvious?”
    “I suppose not.”
    “You identified the scarves. Why?”
    “Because they were mine. They have my initial on them. They’re one-of-a-kinds.”
    He drained his coffee cup in a single gulp, then shoved away from the counter and turned his cup upside down on the top rack of the dishwasher. “Who would know that?”
    Sunni stared at the cup for a couple of seconds. “I don’t know.”
    He cleared the table quickly, then began rinsing the dishes one by one and arranging them in the dishwasher. “Think.”
    “My employees, I suppose.”
    “Ever leave your scarves at the store? In your office?”
    “Yes, I suppose I have.”
    “How about your keys to this apartment? Who has one?”
    “Edna has a key.”
    “Only Edna?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you have an employee file on each of the women who work for you?”
    “Yes. But none of them would be capable of stealing.”
    He stopped to look at her. “What about Elizabeth Carpenter? You said she worked for you, then quit. Sounds like she might have set you up to meet Milo that night at the Shedd.”
    Sunni hadn’t thought about that. “You think so?”
    “I’ll check her out today.” He glanced at his watch. “I should check on Mac, too.”
    “Is Mac your dog?”
    “My partner.”
    “The dog with mange is your partner?”
    “Mange?”
    “He’s missing hair,” she said, pointing out the obvious.
    “Those are battle scars.”
    He rinsed out the sink, wiped it down with a paper towel and tossed it in the garbage. He must have taken her kitchen apart while she’d been in her bedroom to know where everything went, she thought.
    Suddenly he stepped forward, close enough for Sunni to get another solid whiff of his masculine scent. “Better put some ice on that.” He reached up and touched her lower lip, his thumb carefully brushing over the puffy area where his teeth had split the skin. “Hurt much?”
    “It looks worse than it feels,” she admitted.
    He dropped his hand. “Want to get even? Bite me back?”
    Sunni stared at his mouth as if considering his offer. “And you’d just stand there and take it?”
    “I would suffer through it, yeah. I don’t say anything I

Similar Books

To Hell and Back

Leigha Taylor

One Sweet Day

Kristin Miller

Cool School

John Marsden

The Book of Bones

Natasha Narayan

Unlike a Virgin

Lucy-Anne Holmes