way.”
“So why the interest in chess now?” He clapped the book shut. “If it were me, I’d hate the game, just for bad associations.”
“I don’t know.” A small smile came to her lips. “A girl likes to know she could win, if she were pressed.”
Was she being pressed? That was the question. Did her ex-husband have her in a corner, or did she wield more power than he thought? She was a woman who reread the classics while she cooked and used her spare minutes to learn chess moves. She was daunting.
“How good are you at chess?” Jack asked.
“Better than I look.” She met his eye with a cool smile. “And better than Evan thinks.”
“So you play for spite?” he asked.
“No, I play to win.” She shrugged. “There’s something about a well-performed strategy that leaves your opponent in the corner. No moves left. Only then realizing what you’ve done to him.”
That was ominous, and it reminded him a little too closely of the people who had been pressured into selling their family homes...they would have realized too late, too.
“It’s getting late,” Liv said after a moment. “I should really get ready for bed.”
“Sure. You don’t need to entertain me. I’m here on a job.”
Liv rose and glanced around. She seemed to spot the slip on the radiator, because she hurried across the room and snatched it up. When she looked back at him, she looked embarrassed.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
“It’s your home,” he replied. “Don’t apologize for anything. I’m not a guest here, Liv.”
She tucked the slip under her arm and headed for a cupboard. She pulled out some sheets, a blanket and a pillowcase.
“I don’t have any more bed pillows,” she said. “But we could cover a throw pillow with this pillow case, and you should be comfortable. I think.” She grimaced. “No one visits me.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Liv licked her lips. “I normally take my shower at night. If you wanted yours first—”
“Liv.” His voice came out as more of a bark than he’d intended, and he softened his tone. “I’m not a guest. Do what you would normally do, okay? I’m fine.”
She pulled a hand through her auburn waves. “Okay. If you insist.”
She disappeared into the bathroom, and a few moments later the water came on with a rattle. Jack distracted himself by making up his bed on the sofa. He made his bed at home with military precision, and he did his best to replicate that job here. The sofa was too short, but he’d make do. He noticed that even the sheets had that soft, floral scent about them.
It was all very diverting from the case that he’d rather be thinking over, as was the sound of the shower through the shut bathroom door. He was a man, after all, and Liv was a very beautiful woman. Her divorce hadn’t dampened any of her natural spunk, and he wished it had. If she were a little less radiant, maybe he could focus better on the work at hand.
Instead, as he spread the blanket on top of the sheet, he was remembering what it felt like to pull her close for the camera. She felt just as good in his arms as he’d imagined back before he’d realized she was tied up in Evan’s mess.
The water in the bathroom turned off, and Jack glanced around the living room, his gaze moving over a bookshelf, an ottoman that had a hinged lid for storage and her closed bedroom door. If she had something to hide, where would it be?
The bathroom door opened, and Liv came out with a billow of steam. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel, and the rest of her ample curves were draped in a white terry cloth robe that she held shut with one hand at her throat.
“Done,” she said, shooting him a smile.
She looked different in her robe—her face clean of makeup and her eyes all the more entrancing without the liner and mascara. She looked younger this way, softer. She was barefoot, and he noted that her toenails were painted hot pink. And he liked it.
“The towels are on the rack in the bathroom,” she said, heading toward her bedroom and opening the door. “If you’re hungry, feel free to raid the fridge. You’re guarding my life—it’s the least I can offer.”
Her lips turned up in a smile and she slipped into her room, then turned back. “Good night, Jack.”
His name on her lips sounded sweet, and he gave her a curt nod because it was all he trusted himself to do. He wasn’t faking to be her boyfriend here in her apartment. Here, he was a cop, and he needed to remind himself of that. Her big, dewy eyes, her lips, the milky whiteness of her skin—none of that was his business here. And for all he knew, she was working it to keep him distracted.
The bedroom door closed with a decisive click and Jack let out a pent-up breath. He was hoping he could sleep at all.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
