Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(4)

“How do you know all of that?” she whispered.

He lifted his head, withdrawing. “I just do.”

There it was. He’d share his body and nothing else with her. She didn’t even know where he lived when he wasn’t on a case. From day one he’d been clear that this wasn’t forever, that he wasn’t interested in a future. Neither was she. He was her first purely physical affair, and that’s why he could mind his own business. “Bully for you.” She shoved past him for the wine waiting on the counter and twisted in the corkscrew with a little more force than was necessary. Why was he changing the game on her?

“Are you seeing somebody else?”

She stilled. Hurt, surprising in its sharpness, cut through her. “No.” Yanking out the cork, she turned to face him. “We said we’d be exclusive for however long we, ah, saw each other.”

He rubbed the scruff on his chin, studying her. “Part of exclusivity means nobody hurts what’s mine.”

She blinked twice at the possessive language. “I think we both know I’m not yours.” What was going on with him? She studied him closer. Lines fanned out from his eyes, and a tenseness lived in his broad shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Without moving, he seemed to withdraw. “Yes. Been on a case.”

“Is it finished?”

“No.” A vein stood out along his tough-guy neck.

Ah. Ryker was a private detective who specialized in finding the hard to find. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Yeah, she’d figured. “Then let’s relax.” She poured two glasses of Cabernet and took a seat, carefully unfolding her napkin. Her toes ached in the sexy shoes, and for the first time, she wondered if all the effort was worth it. “We can have a nice dinner.”

Slowly, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it on his chair, drawing the chair out to sit, his movements controlled and with a hint of something…violent.

Her breath caught, and she filled their plates.

“I like your hair down,” he rumbled, reaching for his napkin.

“Yet I kept it up,” she said primly. They were on even footing. This was casual, and apparently they both needed a quick reminder. Sitting back, she took a deep drink of the potent brew, almost humming when it warmed her stomach.

He lifted his chin, amusement partially banishing the irritation in his eyes. “Have I done something to piss you off?”

Her gaze dropped to the food. “No.” She wasn’t being fair. Her law firm had hired him as a private investigator on a case, and one night after going through files together and drinking way too much beer, they’d ended up in bed for the most fantastic night of her life. He’d made it clear it was just temporary, they were just casual, and she’d agreed with her eyes wide open, meeting up whenever he was back in town. “You haven’t done anything.”

“Then why won’t you tell me who hurt you?”

She sighed, her gaze meeting his. “Because that’s not what we have.”

“Oh?” One eyebrow drew up. “What do we have?”

She snorted and then caught herself, embarrassed. “We have this.” She gestured toward the food. “And sex. That’s all. Food and sex.” He’d never proclaimed to be a knight in shining armor, especially hers, so why all the questions? “My everyday life doesn’t include you. You’re a fantasy who shows up periodically for fun, and then you’re gone. Stop acting like you’re more.”

If the words affected him in any way, he didn’t show it. Instead, he reached for his wine, his gaze holding hers like a lion watching a doe, and drank down the entire glass. Setting it aside, he tossed his napkin on the table. “Are you hungry?”

“Not even a little bit.” She was more out of sorts than she’d thought.

“Good.” He pushed back from the table, stood, and moved toward her. “This is a conversation better had where I can touch you.” Dipping his shoulder, he lifted her in corded arms.

She yelped and grabbed his chest for balance. “What are you doing?” she whispered. How was he so strong? Even for a healthy guy who worked out, his strength was somehow beyond the norm. Fluid and natural.

He turned, grabbed his jacket, and strode for the living room, dropping onto her couch and setting those thick boots on her glass coffee table. The jacket had landed next to him. One arm remained beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders, easily cradling her against his rock-hard chest. His lips snapped over her jugular with just enough force to make her jump.

Then, clearly indulging himself, he tugged the clip from her hair, which cascaded down. Burying his face in the mass of dark curls, he breathed in. “I love your hair.”

She tried to perch primly on his lap and not snuggle right into him. His strength was as much of a draw as his passion. “What conversation did you want to have?”

He leaned back and waited until she’d turned her head to face him. “We agreed to keep this casual.”

“I know.” She played with a loose thread on his dark T-shirt.

“Then you started cooking me dinner.”

She blinked. “I like to cook.”

“Then you started keeping my beer on hand and lighting candles with every meal.”