Adrienne Giordano - The Detective

“It’s not fair,” Jenna said. “That’s why I knew you couldn’t walk away from this. Family is too important to you.”

What the hell did that mean? “You played me?”

She grinned. “Only a little.”

His little sister, the conniver. And a damned good investigator. “At least you admit it. After today, we’re in this together. You, me and decorator Lexi.”

Chapter Five

Dawn broke just as Lexi finished sketching the Williamses’ kitchen. She stood at the center island, random sheets of discarded sketches strewn around her. Half the night she’d stewed over the color of the kitchen walls until finally, unable to visualize the finished product—something that rarely happened anymore—she’d dragged herself out of bed, grabbed her sketching tools and drove to the house.

Here she’d be able to create a sketch and add the color variations until she found the perfect combination. When all else failed, her artistic ability, her skill in re-creating a room by hand drawing it, always came through. Unfortunately for her, this time it happened at 4:00 a.m. when she’d had next to no sleep. But if sleep wouldn’t come, she’d do what she always did and work.

And with the lost time due to the Hennings & Solomon people—Brodey Hayward specifically—she needed to get moving on this project or risk blowing that forty-five-day deadline.

She glanced at the window above the sink, where morning sun peeped through the wooden blinds. Streaks of burnt orange splashed across the countertop in neat little rows, their perfection beautiful and uniform. Using pencils and charcoal, she shaded the area around the window, then added a touch of tangerine. Instantly the drawing came to life. Excitement bloomed in the pit of her stomach and launched upward as her fingers flew across the sketch, then switching colors, shading, switching colors again and filling in accents. All of it combining to create a visual of a room that would be homey, bright and warm.

Finally, after an hour of discarding sketches, she’d hit on it and now, with the sun rising, she moved faster, trying to capture every nuance, every shadow, every angle, before the light changed.

The long, shrill tone of the alarm sounded—door opening—and Lexi shot upright, pencil still in hand. Someone was here. She’d locked the door, hadn’t she? Sometimes she forgot that little task, but even she wouldn’t be foolish enough to walk into a strange house at four in the morning and not lock the door.

The buhm-buhm of her heart kicked up, a slow-moving panic spreading through her body. Had she locked that damned door?

A second later Brodey stepped into the doorway, his head snapping back at the sight of her. He wore black track pants and a heavy sweatshirt. No jacket in this cold? The man was insane. His sling was gone and he held a manila envelope in his left hand.

Lexi blew out a hard breath and tossed her pencil on the counter. “Goodness’ sake, Brodey. You scared me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

His gaze traveled over her cashmere sweater, worn jeans and loafers, then came back up, lingering on her face, making her cheeks fire. My goodness, the man had a way. Had she known she’d be seeing anyone, particularly the intriguing detective, she’d have dressed more appropriately. But at 4:00 a.m. that thought hadn’t crossed her mind.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “The colors for the kitchen were driving me mad. Where’s your sling?”

“You’re here by yourself ?”

“Of course.”

“Anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous for a woman to be driving around a city alone in the middle of the night?”

Prior to her panic a minute ago, she hadn’t even questioned it. Maybe she should have. But that was the trusting part of her. The part that didn’t include the male species and wanted to see pretty things instead of danger. She wasn’t a complete lunatic and understood the world to be a dangerous place, but when it came to her creative process, certain things, like possible danger, couldn’t get in her way. “I live ten minutes from here.”

“A lot can happen in ten minutes.”

Time to get back to work. Arguing with stubborn people never accomplished much. This, she knew. She resumed drawing a roman shade on the kitchen window. Tangerine would work beautifully.

Brodey wandered to the island, where her discarded sketches smothered the top. Immediately, she snatched them up, but he set his hand on one, tilted his head one way, then the other. “You drew these?”

“Yes, but they’re my discards.”

“They’re pretty good to be discards.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but trust me, they’re discards.”

He pointed at the almost-complete sketch on her pad. “That one looks great.”

“Thank you. I was stuck on which colors to use. Sometimes when I put it on paper it helps me work it out. When the sun lit this room—” she swooped one hand “—it was spectacular. I think I need bursts of tangerine in here.”

“Uh, okay.”

Lexi laughed. “You didn’t tell me where your sling was.”

“Home. It annoys me. I’ve been trying to do a few hours each day without it.”

“Maybe you should check with your doctor about that?”

“Nah.”

As suspected. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those know-it-all stubborn males.”

He gave her one of his cocky grins where one side of his mouth quirked, and she immediately wanted to draw it. “Don’t call me stubborn.”

Once again, that smile, a little devilish, a little charming and a whole lot irresistible, turned her liquid. It had been months since she’d had even a remote interest in a man. Finding your so-called soul mate sprawled across his desk with another woman tended to do that to a girl. Made her a little less inclined to trust males in general and a whole lot more inclined to demand absolute honesty. No secrets. At all.

And now, tough guy Brodey Hayward had released her smothered sexual desire. On the bright side, at least she wasn’t a dead loss and still felt something . Even if it was only lust. “What are you doing here so early?”

He held up the envelope. “My dad got me copies of crime-scene notes. I wasn’t sure if you worked on Saturdays, but figured I’d get here early and get out of your way. Who knew you’d be here at the crack of dawn?”

“You rolled out of bed this early so you didn’t mess up my schedule?”

He shrugged. “You compromised with me yesterday. I owed you one.”

All that female desire inside her whipped into a frenzy and she damn near needed a cold shower. “Please tell me you’re single because I could kiss you smack on the lips.”

“I am most definitely single.”

She snorted, then waved him off. So much for her hoping to make him blush. Huh. How she loved a man participating in a little verbal swordplay. “Brodey Hayward, I think I like you.” She gestured to the laundry room. “I don’t need to be in there yet, so help yourself. I can work around you for an hour or so.”

He held up the file. “Thanks. I read the detective’s notes, but I need to see the room. Something isn’t right.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have the photos yet. Can’t picture the scene. If I set it up, it’ll make sense. Want to be my dead body?”

Ew. “Are you kidding?”

“Actually, I’m not. I brought tape, but it’ll help if I could see an actual body. All I need is for you to lie on the floor.”

She glanced at the sketch desperately waiting for her attention.

He held up his hand. “It’ll take five minutes. Promise.”

“Five minutes?”

“That’s all. I need a visual.”

A visual. Considering her early-dawn sketching, she could relate. “Fine. But only because I understand about visuals.”