Beneath the Silk (8 page)

Minutes later, in the hall, Sunni brushed her fingers over her swollen lower lip, squared her shoulders, then assessed the situation in the kitchen. She was half expecting to see flames shooting out of the toaster—it would certainly top off the morning. But there were no flames, and the heavenly aroma of crispy bacon and onions made her stomach growl. Mr. NOPD actually cooked.

He’d removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Sunni stared at his hairy forearms, then at his skilled wrist action as he beat a bowl of eggs. He turned to search the counter for something, and that’s when she caught sight of her dishcloth jammed into the back pocket of his jeans—the left pocket. The right pocket was missing.

He had a nice butt, she decided—nice definition. Not too flat. Not too round. No doubt solid and hard like the chest she’d been crushed against in the hall.

He must have sensed her presence. He said, “Three minutes and we can eat.”

Their eyes locked briefly before Sunni glanced at the already set table. When she spied the tall glasses of orange juice, she rounded the counter and reached for one of them. Her back to him, she took two unladylike gulps of the sweet juice.

“I hope scrambled is okay. Like onions?”

“Scrambled is good, onions
…
they’re okay.” She took another healthy gulp. “Did you learn to cook at Caponelli’s?”

“No. My ma worked a lot. If I wanted to eat something besides peanut butter on bread, I had to learn to cook. It was mostly by trial and error.”

She turned around ready to say something rude, but when she spied the fluffy scrambled eggs, she forgot what she was going to say—they were so light and airy they looked like yellow cotton candy.

“Margo calls me a hungry woman’s fantasy.”

The comment sent an unexpected shiver up Sunni’s spine. Yes, she knew all about a hungry woman s fantasy. But her late-night dreams never seemed to be about food. The thought sparked the memory of pearly white teeth sinking into her lip, then how hard Ace’s granite body had felt.

He held up the eggs. “What do you think?”

Sunni blinked out of her fog, blamed her reckless thoughts on her lack of food and asked, “Who’s Margo?”

“She’s my ex-partner’s wife. She cooks, but not happily. When Ry invites me over, I usually do the cooking. Sit down. I’ll bring the eggs.” Gladly, Sunni thought, and took a chair. He placed the platter of eggs and bacon in the middle of the table, then a stack of toast. Seconds later he covered the chair across from her, his masculine scent greeting her once more.

She eyed the crispy strips, the too-fluffy eggs. She never ate bacon on Monday, but right now she would eat the leg off the chair she was sitting on if she thought it would chase away the dizziness that had suddenly sent her head spinning

The tingling sensation in her lips clinched it, and Sunni touched her swollen lower lip, knowing that she’d just been given another warning that she needed food as quickly as possible.

“Still hurt?”

“What?” She glanced at him, then snatched up a piece of bacon and munched it down in two bits. “No. Yes … I mean, yes, a little.”

“You pulled away.”

“You vampired my lip.”

He was in the process of shoving scrambled eggs onto his plate when his hand stilled and he cocked his bead and grinned at her. “Vampired? Is that a word?”

“I don’t care if it is or not. It’s what you did.” Sunni took two more strips of bacon and then inhaled a piece of toast. She would have refilled her empty juice glass, but she didn’t think she could reach the fridge without falling on her face—her knees felt suddenly weak.

When she focused on him again, he smiled. A sexy smile that showed off his pretty teeth—polished pearls in a sea of dark whiskers. Yes, he had great teeth. Amazing, since he was also a smoker. She knew this because he’d had a cigarette between his lips practically every time she’d seen him over the past four days—except for this morning.

She served herself a mound of eggs. “You didn’t have to do it … bite me.”

“I didn’t plan to.” He shrugged, dug his fork into his eggs. “Hi, Sis, long time no see. After a line like that, it seemed natural for a brother to kiss his sister.” He looked up. “You’re not going to hold it against me, are you? I didn’t enjoy it.”

She knew damn well why his grin had grown, and exactly what she’d felt sandwiched against his hard body. Unless he owned a pet rock, he’d been more than a little amused by the time he had set her down inside her apartment.

“Just another dirty job, right? But then you’re good with down-and-dirty, ah … Ace? Isn’t that what you said?”

“See, you really are as smart as you look.”

Sunni patiently waited for the food to chase away the common symptoms of a diabetic off her schedule.

“Like my cooking, do you?”

Sunni looked down at her empty plate, her mouth a little too full to answer without sharing her eggs. She nodded. Swallowed. “Tell me why my father didn’t call to tell me you were coming. You never did say.”

“After Williams called, and you didn’t, he thought something might be wrong. Suddenly coming in waving a flag didn’t seem too smart. Not until we knew what we were up against.” He popped a piece of bacon into his mouth and chewed. “The other thing need to know, something your father didn’t want me to mention, is that he’s been hospitalized. One of his ulcers is acting up.”

“He’s in the hospital?”

“You knew he had ulcers, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know it’s happened before. It’s not too serious, just inconvenient right now. If you want to call him, go ahead. Only I wasn’t supposed to tell you he was in the hospital. But I figure you’re smart, Sis. Lying seems like a waste of time for both of us. And you’re a big girl, right? Dancing around the truth just wastes time.”

“You’re sure he’s all right?”

“In a week or two he’ll be back at it. I guarantee it.”

Sunni knew her father’s ulcer condition was aggravated by stress. She had to ask. “Did his ulcer flare up after Detective Williams called him?”

“I wish I could say no, but it happened a few hours later.”

“How long have you worked with my father?”

“Three years.”

“But you grew up here?”

“That’s right.”

“Why did you leave?”

“For a change of scenery.”

Sunni didn’t know if he was telling the truth this time—he’d set his jaw—but asking too many personal questions could prompt him to do the same. Yes, she’d heard his little sermon about honesty, but she wasn’t the confessing type. Feeling stronger, no longer weak or dizzy, she stood and took her ditty plate to the sink.

“It’s not a good idea to eat so fast. Bad for the digestive system.
And
if you’re ulcer material like your father, you should watch what you eat.”

What was had was eating over an hour late when your body required a rigid schedule to function like a normal person’s. But Sunni wasn’t about to surrender her secret. “I’m in a hurry. I don’t want to be late for work,” she reasoned.

“Does it matter? Mary opens up, anyway. The store runs whether you’re there or not.”

That he knew her manager’s name or Mary’s capabilities didn’t surprise Sunni. This man had already proved he was resourceful.

“Tell me why Williams is so sure you killed Milo Tandi. What’s supposed to be your motive?”

Sunni began to put the kitchen back in order. “Lover’s quarrel.”

“He thinks you got into an argument after you tied him up?”

“He did present that theory.”

“So you two were playing torture-me-please, got into a quarrel in the middle of your sex-fest, and you blew his head off.”

His visual description was followed by dead silence. Sunni bent over and started to load the dishwasher. “Another idea Detective Williams came up with was that we quarreled in the elevator three days 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 don’t mean … Sis. What about you? Can I believe what you say?”

“About what?”

“You promised me the use of your shower. That offer still stand?”

“How long did you say you were without running water?”

“Four days now. Five if we’re counting today.”

Sunni hesitated, then finally nodded. “Yes, you can use my shower. Down the hall and to your right. Towels are—”

“I’ll find them.”

Sunni watched him saunter out of her kitchen. A minute later she heard him whistle. Knowing why he had been inclined to do so, she squeezed her eyes shut as she imagined him standing in her bathroom, his eyes assessing the naked lovers etched on her shower door. The phantom-lover idea was a bit over the top—another decorating liberty she’d taken.

The walls in the bathroom she’d left white, opting to use color in the fixtures instead. She’d chosen decadent lavender, and used a deep shade of plum slate for the shower and flooring. The etched glass shower door had been custom made—the naked lovers entwined in a carnal embrace inspired by a private fantasy that kept her company most nights.