Almost a Lady by Heidi Betts Page B

couldn't shake the feeling that Charlie's death had something to do with his last assignment. When she'd commented on his jumpiness, hadn't he told her that it was just a case he was working on? Why wouldn't Robert tell her what Charlie had been investigating? Surely he realized that the murder likely happened because Charlie stirred up a hornet's nest, got close enough to make someone nervous.
    Robert had never been one to hold back, especially where an agent was concerned. So what made this time different? Who would have such a secret that they were willing to kill to keep it?
    And who was Gideon?
    She hopped off the bed to look for the peach slippers she'd earlier discarded in such a fit of temper. She found the left one and tossed it over her shoulder, continuing her search. She spotted the right slipper resting on its heel in the corner of the room. Pulling up the piece of fabric that lined the bottom, she freed the square of paper hidden at the toe.
    She set it with the photos on the bed. Even with everything spread out in front of her, she still couldn't see any clues as to who murdered Charlie, or why.
    A noise in the front room caught her attention. She cocked her head to listen more closely. The ping of glass touching glass sounded again.
    Sweeping the papers and pictures beneath a pillow, Willow quietly slid open the top drawer of the bedside table and reached for her revolver. Fingers curled tightly around the butt of the gun, she crept forward, senses honed to pick up on the first sign of danger.
    She paused at the sitting room entrance, listening. Silence. She turned the knob and eased the door open a fraction of an inch. Then another. Her eyes scanned the room.
    Brandt Donovan stood in front of the sideboard, sipping a glass of brandy as if he belonged there.
    She lowered the revolver, releasing a huff of ire. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.
    "Having a drink.” He held up his glass as proof while his eyes perused the length of her body, covered only in the thin red robe, and moved back to her face. “Can I fix you something?"
    She tossed her pistol behind her onto the bed. “You can pour me a sherry,” she said, “and then you can drag your mangy carcass out of my room."
    He poured sparkling golden liquid into a crystal tumbler and handed it to her. “You left the office before I had the chance to ask where you were staying."
    She took a long swallow of the sherry. “I see you found me anyway."
    One side of his mouth turned up. “Robert told me."
    "Remind me to thank him later,” she muttered. Maybe an office full of rotten cabbage would be an appropriate gesture of gratitude.
    "He seemed to think it might be a good idea to wait a day or two before dropping in, to give you time to cool off.” He shrugged. “I told him that was nonsense. We're partners now."
    Brandt stepped forward until there was only a hairs-breadth of space between them. Until Willow had to lean her head back to keep from breaking eye contact.
    "Partners don't cool off,” he continued.
    His voice ran like warm molasses down her spine. She quickly shook off the comforting feeling.
    "They stay close.” He slipped an arm around her waist. His body pressed against her intimately. “And they stay hot. Very hot."
    For a moment, she remained in his arms. Then, as his face lowered toward hers, she broke free.
    "You stay hot,” she said, moving to the bar to refill her glass. “I'll stay cool, and just maybe we'll be able to manage a lukewarm relationship.” She fixed him with an icy stare. “A business relationship, that is."
    "Of course.” Carelessly, he moved across the room, taking a seat on the sofa, his feet propped upon the table before him. “I hope you don't think I was insinuating any other kind,” he said before emptying his glass.
    "I think you were trying to insinuate yourself into my bed,” she told him with a brazen tilt of her chin. She delighted in the sudden pink that tinged his high cheekbones. “I