Beneath the Silk by Wendy Rosnau Page A

to raise the neighbors wouldn’t have saved you if I had come to kill you. Dead is dead, whether you’re bleeding in comfort—” he eyed her white plush living room carpet “—or facedown in the hall. The money’s the same to a contract killer.”
    Jackson went in search of a frying pan.
    “Why didn’t my father call to tell me you were coming?”
    “Why didn’t you call?”
    “I didn’t want to worry my parents.”
    “Or have to explain the lie to Joe once Daddy climbed out of the grave.”
    “Okay, so maybe that was part of it.”
    “All of it.”
    “Okay, yes. If I had called, then Joey Masado would have found out my father is in law enforcement,”
    “And that’s a bad thing?”
    “If you were a Masado would you want a cop’s daughter leasing space in your building?”
    If what she said was true it meant that Sunni Blais wasn’t a manipulative bitch. He said, “Masado Towers isn’t the only place in the city you could have set up shop.”
    “Expensive lingerie, like expensive accommodations, aren’t a necessity. Both make you feel good, but you can live without them unless there is no reason why you should have to.”
    “So it was all business? The lie was born to get the lease?”
    “They say location is everything. Are you any good?”
    Jackson located the pan and set it on her stove. “Are we talking job stats or my charisma?” He wiggled his dark eyebrows as his gaze locked with her sultry gray eyes—bedroom eyes that suited her lush body and husky voice.
    “You have no charisma. You kiss like a camel. Of course I’m talking about your ability to clean up my mess. The way my luck is going this week, you’re no doubt a loser and the only detective my father could get to fly up here on short notice.”
    “Don’t be shy, Sis, tell me how you really feel.” Jackson spied the coffeemaker, the glass pot full of coffee. After opening four cupboards and studying a set of bone china cups the size of a doll’s tea set, he palmed a toy cup and filled it to the brim. Staring into the tiny cup, he said, “We’re going to have to do something about these. I don’t want to smell my morning coffee, I want to drink it.”
    When he turned to face her once more, her pretty eyes were narrowed, her sexy mouth pinched and emphasizing the damage he’d done to her lower lip. She was right, he’d muddled that kiss. The only explanation, he had was that his decision to play loving brother in the hall had backfired. Touching her hadn’t been part of the plan and neither had Edna, or the kiss.
    “I’m getting dressed.”
    “Helluva good idea. Shiny-penny perfect,” Jackson muttered under his breath, not finding fault, just stating a fact—Sunni Blais would always be the shiniest penny in the pile. He’d pegged her as a perfectionist the moment he laid eyes on her. And the inside of her house verified the fact. It should turn him off cold, but the truth was nothing about Sunni turned him off.
    “What did you say?”
    “I said, I’ll make breakfast. While we eat, we’ll talk.”
    “I don’t have time to talk. I’m supposed to meet Joey Masado at ten. I’m going to need time to figure out what I can say to him to convince him not to throw me and Silks to the wolves.”
    Jackson took one swig of coffee and emptied the silly cup. As he set it on the counter, he said, “From here on out I’m your bodyguard, brother, husband, best friend and priest all wrapped into one. What you’re going to say to Joe, Stud Williams, and anyone else who comes along, will be discussed first with me. And don’t worry about Joe. I’ll smooth things over with him. We’re old friends.”
    Her face suddenly paled. “So, you’re one of those kind of cop.”
    Jackson had been accused more than once of being on the take when he worked for the CPD. Yes, there were plenty of dirty cops in the city, but he wasn’t interested in labels, just doing the job his conscience told him to do. “I don’t play by