Fortunes of the Dead by Lynn Hightower

the possibility of going before the grand jury, but right now that’s just talk. They don’t have enough to make a case. And now the ATF is doing an about-face, and asking me to lay off Edgers for a while.”
    â€œHuh.” I noticed floating particles in my wineglass. No wonder Joel never liked to drink after me. True love only took you so far.
    Joel refilled my glass. “Could be this guy’s coming in from out of town just to make it abundantly clear that nobody is protecting anybody, and that the investigation is completely aboveboard. Which wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
    â€œBut that’s not what you think is up?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you okay with it?”
    â€œAssuming I have a choice?” Joel sorted through his noodles, found a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth. “I’m not going to bring my investigation to a standstill, but I’ll cooperate when I can.”
    â€œSpoken like a guy who grew up in the Watergate years.”
    Joel’s lips tugged to one side. I had amused him.
    He caught my eye, and raised one brow. There is something very sexy about the way he does this, and I know exactly what he is thinking. He took my chopsticks and the Pad Thai cartons, moved the wineglasses out of range, and deposited Maynard in front of the fireplace. Then he smiled and settled close beside me on the blanket.
    â€œAnd how are you?” he asked. He put his arms around me, and kissed me. His tongue tasted like wine.
    â€œI missed you today.”
    Joel moved a hand up under my black sweatshirt. “I missed you, too.”
    With a quick flick of his wrist, Joel executed the singularly male maneuver that disengages a bra in the space of a second.
    He kissed my ear. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
    â€œUm-hmm.”
    â€œAnd this?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow about that?” He was smiling, watching my face. “Better without the clothes, don’t you think?”
    I did, but I was too breathless to say so.
    â€œLet me help you with that.”
    Joel has a way of getting a woman out of a pair of tight jeans that is impressive unless I dwell on how this method was developed. I was cold without my sweatshirt and blue jeans, and he pulled the blanket up around my shoulders. I noticed the firelight reflected in the wood floors, the living room dark save the flicker of flame. It was as simple as that, a certain man pulling a blanket up over my shoulders because he worried that I was cold. Happiness, I mean.
    Joel held me close to his chest, running his fingers up and down the inside of my thighs, kissing the side of my neck, sucking my lower lip into his mouth. I closed my eyes and relaxed against him and was acutely aware when his muscles tensed, and he went very still. I opened my eyes. Joel’s face was a fingertip away from mine and he was looking at me in a way that was more speculative than loverlike.
    â€œWhat?” I asked him.
    â€œWhat you just said, a little while ago. When we were talking about the possibility that Cheryl’s murder has something more to it than an intern being seduced and discarded. You said the family viewpoint would support that angle.”
    He settled away from me, lying on his side. I pulled back from him, propped myself against the wall and wadded my sweatshirt onto my lap.
    â€œYeah, that’s what I said. I’ve spoken to Paul Brady and saw his daughter, Miranda, today. They want to finance their own investigation. I think the main point is to ease their mind, so that they know they did everything they could. Get an independent opinion about what happened to Cheryl.”
    â€œAnd you turned them down.” Joel was so still as he watched, as if my decision answered a question he didn’t want to ask.
    â€œI took the case.”
    He looked away from me and exhaled sharply. Then he stood up and reached for his pants and shirt, dressing methodically,