Undercover Heat Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Will you eat it if I do?”
    “If you do what?”
    “Make the sides.”
    He gave her a funny look that she did not understand. And then he shrugged again. “Sure. Food is food.”
    The man was just one big conundrum.
    After they returned to the house and carried the groceries into the kitchen, Quinn remarked, “Our friendly neighbor paid us a visit.”
    “Huh?”
    He nodded at a red folder lying on the counter. “I purposely left that folder out and the patio door unlocked. She helped herself.”
    Kyra flipped open the folder. It contained the fake financial statements Nico had made for them to lure their perp into bringing them on as clients.
    “How do you know she was here?”
    “I can tell the folder was moved.”
    She glanced around at the still sparsely furnished home. “I don’t like the idea that someone’s been wandering around my house.”
    He laughed. “It isn’t your house, Kyra. And I doubt very much she went any farther than that red folder. We set up those financials so she wouldn’t be able to resist. Now that she knows how much money she stands to steal, she’ll move quickly, mark my words.”
    “I hope so,” she muttered, more to herself than to Quinn. She glanced at the wall of windows overlooking the backyard. She would really like to close this case and move on with her life. Where and how she intended to move on were both still giant unknowns, but at least she would finally be able to do so.
    • • •
    She liked his steak and the wine he chose to go with it. And yeah, the salad she’d made wasn’t half bad, for salad. They ate on the deck, and once again Kyra had become uncomfortable as they pretended to be a happily married couple, enjoying their first dinner in their new home.
    Her fork had clattered onto her plate no less than three times, for no obvious reason. She raked her fingers through her hair so often, most of the tendrils had come loose from the ponytail at the base of her neck.
    “Why are you so nervous?” he asked as they sat around the patio table after the food was gone, enjoying an after-dinner glass of wine.
    “I’m not nervous.” Now, that was a lie.
    “Sure, you are,” he countered. He leaned forward. “Is it me? Or is it the perp?”
    Her gaze strayed to the yard butting up against their own, where Whitney Bianca lived. They hadn’t seen her all evening. Quinn figured she was inside, in front of her computer, running the numbers and trying to figure out how quickly she could secure them as clients.
    “So it’s Bianca, then.”
    She didn’t respond.
    “Why does she make you nervous? Because she got away? Trust me, babe, we won’t let that happen a second time.”
    Kyra leaned back in her chair and sipped wine. He liked the way she looked. Her hair mussed, sloppy, and still windblown, since he’d demanded they drive with all the windows rolled down in her car earlier. She wore a basic T-shirt and a pair of khaki pants and no lipstick, and he found himself mesmerized as he watched her lift the glass to her lips.
    Kissable lips
. The impromptu kiss out on the deck—purely for their neighbor’s benefit, of course—had proven as much. Even though she had been shell-shocked and had hardly responded, it had still been a damned tempting kiss. Enough so that he vaguely wanted to do it again.
    Not good
. He shifted in his seat, suddenly irritated with how tight his pants felt, especially in the crotch area. This was a job, Kyra was a fellow agent, and he wasn’t in the market to hook up with a woman who reminded him of a slightly tougher version of his mother. Not even for one night. It wouldn’t be worth it in the long run.
    For one thing, this gig had no definite end date, and he knew damn well that Kyra would be uptight as hell the next morning—if he were even able to talk her into his bed in the first place. For another, he had no doubt he would get fucked up in the head if he slept with someone like Kyra. He felt like he was barely holding on to