He’d also been in contact with the police chief, and so far Evan wasn’t doing anything suspicious. He was lying low, which was frustrating. They needed some contact between Evan and Liv, but so far they weren’t having any luck.
Jack shut the album and put it aside. There was one last album at the bottom—a pearled white cover. He lifted it out, and as he suspected, it was a wedding album. He opened the cover and browsed through the first pages. Liv had been just as beautiful on her wedding day as she was now—curvy, rounded, glittering. She wore a ball gown that nipped in at her waist, and a diamond tiara glittered in her auburn updo. She looked stunning.
Evan was more subdued in the photos. Always a drink his hand and a lopsided grin on his face. Liv seemed to be the “together” one in that relationship, and Jack had to wonder if Evan ever realized how good he’d had it.
“She kept the wedding album...” he murmured aloud. How many divorced women held on to their wedding albums? He had no idea, and it wasn’t like she’d had it on display or something. It was in the bottom of a box. Nevertheless...did Liv still harbor feelings for her ex-husband? People sometimes did stupid things to try to win back an ex.
Jack felt a little twinge of jealousy at that thought, and he quickly tamped it down. She was a suspect—he’d better keep that clear in his head. And for strictly investigative purposes, he had to wonder how much contact the exes still had—how many of their interests were still joined. Liv had delivered documents to one of the victims swindled by Evan postdivorce. She was still involved—the question was, how deeply?
Was Liv just sitting on this property, faking more personal interest in the store than she really had, until it was time to liquidate? Evan had betrayed her, but perhaps he still owed her something after that betrayal, something that would make keeping her mouth shut worthwhile. Money?
Jack glanced around the apartment. It all looked very...settled. Knickknacks, books, a lot of attention put into home decor. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t up and move. Maybe she was willing to wait awhile for a bigger payoff.
He clapped the album shut and stacked all of the albums back into the ottoman in the same order he’d taken them out.
When Liv had left to have coffee with her cousin this morning, he’d agreed to hang back with the intention of searching her apartment. It was a great opportunity, and he couldn’t let it go.
Jack put the lid back onto the ottoman and took one last look around the room. Liv’s bedroom door was shut. He’d left her bedroom for last. He checked his watch. She’d been gone for forty minutes. Coffee took longer than that. Besides, he had a cop keeping an eye on the coffee place—Officer McDonald. He’d text Jack as soon as Liv left.
He opened the bedroom door and glanced inside. The curtains were open, spilling late-morning light across an unmade bed.
“Liv, you’re messy,” he muttered to himself as he gave the room a once-over. But sometimes messes could be useful when doing a quick search. Unless people were neat freaks, they tended to leave things out without realizing it.
Jack went to the window and looked out onto the street below. The bedroom window faced the same direction as the storefront, and he looked across the street at a woman pushing a stroller. The toddler threw a bottle onto the sidewalk, and she stopped to pick it up, then continued on. He turned back to the bedroom.
There was a vanity table with a few bottles of makeup sitting on top next to a box of what looked like more makeup. A laundry hamper sat in one corner next to a full-length oval mirror on a stand. The sleigh bed was wooden and polished to a sheen. Thick mattresses made for a high bed, and it looked...comfortable. After a night on that lumpy sofa, these were the things he noticed.
Jack slid an arm between the mattresses, feeling toward the center of the bed. He moved quickly around it and did the same on the other side. He lifted blankets and sheets, checked under the pile of pillows, and tried to ignore the fact that the piles of covers smelled sweet and feminine—recently laundered.
The bedside table had a few books stacked up. He glanced down the spines—a couple of mysteries, a book of Wordsworth poetry and Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. Apparently, Dickens wasn’t only “kitchen reading.”
Just behind the stack of reading material, he spotted a journal.
“There we go...” He felt a tickle of guilt. This was private—personal. This was the kind of invasion of privacy that a man didn’t pull with a friend, and being undercover could confuse those lines in his emotions. But he had a job to do—he picked up the journal and flipped through the pages. It went back only a few months. As he scanned the entries, he noticed that she talked a lot about her store.
Today, I had to deal with the contractors. I’m a woman, so they figure they can push me around. I need those shelves done by the twelfth. I hate not being taken seriously. But everyone complains about their contractors, don’t they? There are days I wish I had a cop husband to throw at them still. Just for ten minutes. Then I’d give him back.
Jack chuckled. Obviously, the contractors had finished because he’d seen the end result downstairs. But whether she’d used honey or vinegar to make that happen, he didn’t have the time to find out. He flipped to the center of the book.
I got another letter. It was all theatrical—letters cut out of magazines and glued on paper. Is this Tanya’s warped sense of humor?
No, it had been Jack’s work, actually. Theatrical...well, she should try putting together a threatening letter that wasn’t too upsetting but still did the trick! It was harder than people thought.
He flipped forward to the most recent page, written last night by the date at the top.
Jack is on the couch out there. I don’t know about him. He’s hiding something. But then, I tend to think that about all cops since Evan. Jack’s all official and rocklike. I don’t mean as in Dwayne Johnson, either, although Jack is built to about the same proportions. He doesn’t open up without some real prying. He’s all professional—as he should be—but I hate that. I feel like I need to defend myself for some reason.
I have a man in my apartment. That’s a first for this place! That’s a first since Evan... And if only he could be a little less attractive. I need someone nerdy and spindly. Maybe even married, too, and with a wallet full of pictures of his bucktoothed kids. But Jack—he’s all testosterone, and I’m responding to him against my better instincts. He always was the brooding, über-male type. That much hasn’t changed. And apparently, I’m still the kind of girl who goes for that. When will I learn?
That was where she left off, and he smiled to himself. All testosterone, was he? He’d been described in worse ways. And if he was keeping her off-balance, that could be considered an asset to this investigation.
Except, he wasn’t feeling that rush of male satisfaction because of the investigation—he was liking the fact that she was attracted to him. Was he allowed to enjoy that a little bit?
“No,” he growled to himself. Of course he wasn’t! He was here to prove her connection to a case and get as much evidence against her and her ex-husband as possible. He had a job to do, and he’d better keep focused.
He heard a voice in the hallway—Liv’s—then a key slid into the lock. Jack’s heart hammered hard, and he dropped the journal back where he found it and took two long strides to the bedroom door. He was just pulling the door shut behind him as the front door opened.
Liv didn’t look up at first, her attention on juggling her keys and a to-go coffee cup. A cell phone was pinched between her cheek and her black woolen wrap. When her gaze flickered up toward him, she stopped short.
“Mom? I’ve got to get going, okay? Tell Dad I said hi.”
She hung up the phone and nudged the door shut behind her.
“Hey,” Jack said, forcing what he hoped was an easy smile.
“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning slightly.
&
nbsp; “I was taking a look around the perimeter,” he said with a shrug. “Just checking out the security of the place.”
“Were you in my room?”
He shot her a conciliatory smile. “Very briefly.”
She sighed. “That’s my personal space. I’d really appreciate it if you stayed out of there.”
“And I will.”
Liv put her cup and phone down, her keys clattering to the floor. She stooped to pick them up.
“I’m not always that messy,” she said, her cheeks growing pink.
“Yes, you are,” he said with a short laugh, and she shot him an icy glare. So there it was—he’d finally knocked her off-balance.
“How would you know?” she retorted.
“I’m a cop. I’m trained to look at details. I’m not saying I gave it too much attention, but your bedroom has the look of a room that stays in that state pretty much all the time.”
“Just stay out.”
“You bet.”
Liv heaved a sigh and headed into the kitchen, disappearing from view, and he suppressed a sigh of his own. That was a near miss. Why hadn’t McDonald texted him? He looked down at his phone. Nothing. Luckily, Liv was distracted enough by her own embarrassment around the state of her bedroom not to question him further, and he was glad for that. But the words from her journal were still burning through his mind. Was that the way she saw him? He’d been attracted to her for years, and he’d never thought that she’d given him a second look...but one misstep here could land him in some very dangerous territory. This case was his chance to prove himself to the Internal Affairs department—and there was an opening available. He could make a big difference in Denver. He could finally start making the projects a safer place for the kids growing up there by weeding out the dirty cops and pressing charges against those who planted evidence.
“So how was your coffee with your cousin?” Jack said, ambling over to the kitchen.
When he came around the dividing wall, he saw Liv putting together a sandwich on fluffy white bread.
“Fine.” She unscrewed a jar of mayo and plunged a butter knife into its depth with a loud clink of metal against glass.
“You seem...upset,” he volunteered. “Did something happen, or are you still annoyed with me?”
Liv looked up at him. “Tanya deleted the photo of you and me.”
“Yeah?”
“I told her.”
“What?” he barked. “What did you tell her?”
“Who you are and why you’re here. She’s my cousin and my oldest friend. I’m not lying to her.”
Jack pressed his lips together, trying to control his rising anger. “I thought we agreed—”
“Her lips are sealed. She won’t tell anyone. But if I lied to her, it would have affected our relationship, and Tanya is one of the people I value most.”
Jack’s mind was already spinning toward damage control. The last thing he needed was Evan getting a premature heads-up.
“And your mother on the phone?” he demanded.
“She’s in California. What’s the harm in her knowing the truth? I can’t balance that much lying.”
“So your mother’s lips are sealed, too,” he clarified.
“Yes.” Liv lifted her chin in an expression of mild defiance.
“Fine.” What else could he say? He’d hoped to keep this contained for a little while longer, but all it meant was that he’d have to work fast and stay focused.
“My mother and my cousin are nothing to worry about,” Liv said. “Trust me.”
Trust her. That was the very last thing he could do!
CHAPTER SIX
JACK LOOKED TIRED the next morning—more so than he had been recently. Liv eyed him across the breakfast table sympathetically.
“The couch is agony, isn’t it?” she asked.
“It’s fine. I keep telling you I’m not a guest.”
He kept saying it, but it was hard to wrap her emotions around. When someone was staying in her personal space, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for his comfort.
“Did you sleep last night?” she asked, taking a gulp of her tea and one last piece of toast.
“Uh...not a lot,” he admitted. He looked at her for a moment, as if deciding if he’d say more, then he added, “I was thinking about your relationship with Tanya...and about Berto.”
She swallowed her bite of toast. “Where is Berto now?”
“Prison—he broke parole.”
“For a good reason, at least?” she asked hesitantly.
Jack shook his head. “Nope. The thing is, once he was arrested that first time, something in him changed. There are some guys who can reform. There are others who were broken too early.”
“How old was he when he was arrested again?” she asked quietly.
“Fourteen. That’s a formative age. He just...gave up.” Jack cleared his throat. “I don’t want to talk about him, though.”
“I think you need to,” she countered. “Obviously, you still care about him. You were close once, and losing someone in any way—you have to grieve it.”
“I’ve had plenty of time for that,” he replied with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been twenty years.”
“Time means nothing if you haven’t dealt with it,” she replied. “Talking is healthy, Jack.”
Jack met her gaze for a moment, and she could see all those conflicting emotions in his dark eyes, but then he pushed back his chair and stood up.
“You’re opening the store today,” he said. “Let’s focus on that.”
And while Liv was excited for today, she could feel that rock-solid cop side of the man battling with his very real emotions. He was another cop trying to hold it all in, and she’d been married to that before. A woman had no hope of beating through those walls, even if the man needed it.
Liv finished breakfast, and they headed downstairs, where Liv took a final look around her shop—at the neatly organized shelves packed with books, the clean corkboard waiting for local announcements and advertisements, the cash register primed and ready to go.
Jack found a stool and arranged it by the window, where he got a view of the street, but his gaze was locked on her. It felt strange to be sharing this moment with a relative stranger.
“Well, here goes...” Liv had a flutter in her stomach as she unlocked the front door and flipped the sign around to Open. The sidewalk was empty, so no one came dashing inside to part with their money, but she was open all the same.
“Congratulations,” Jack said.
“Thank you.” She shot him a smile, and for a split second, that stony expression of his cracked and he smiled back.
“This is a dream realized for me,” she said. “How about you—are you where you wanted to be when you were a kid?”
“Me?” Jack laughed softly. “Yeah, almost.”
“What’s missing?” she asked.
Jack shot her a rueful smile but didn’t answer, and it was just as well because Liv’s cell phone began to ring. She dug it out of her purse and glanced down at the number. Her stomach sank and she rubbed a hand over her eyes, considering.
“Who is it?” Jack asked.
“Evan,” she muttered.
She didn’t want to pick up. Whatever Evan wanted, it could wait. But before she could stop him, Jack reached over and picked up the call, hitting the speakerphone button. Then he shot her an expectant look. Apparently, Jack wanted to listen in on this conversation.
“Hi, Evan,” Liv said, trying to force her voice to sound natural.
“Good morning.” Evan sounded jovial, to say the least. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, but busy. What can I do for you?”
“Is your store swamped with customers?” he asked, suddenly hesitant. How
did he know about her opening day? Liv looked up at Jack, eyes wide.
“Um—” She swallowed. “What do you need, Evan?”
“I’ll take that as a no,” her ex-husband replied drily. “Well, congratulations, anyway.”
“How did you know I was opening today?”
“I marked it on my calendar when we talked last. I care.”
“Great.” But it did soften her a little bit.
“We still help each other out even if we didn’t work out romantically, don’t we?” he asked.
This was suddenly getting more personal than she cared to share with Jack—bodyguard or not. Liv took the phone off Speaker and turned away from Jack slightly so that she could at least feel like she had a little privacy. “Didn’t work out romantically? You sound like we had a few dates! Good grief, Evan—we were married for a decade!”
“I know, I know...” Evan’s tone softened further. “I’m just saying, I think we could be on better terms than we are.”
“And what use is that?” she retorted. “We don’t have any kids, and there is no reason to stay in touch. You have your life and I have mine. Period.”
“I care,” Evan repeated softly, and he sounded so much like the old Evan that her heart gave a squeeze. “Besides, I still owe you those first-edition books my grandmother left to you, don’t I?”
Liv’s heart skipped a beat. They were worth a lot of money, those books. Technically, they were hers, but they were connected to Evan’s family history, not hers. “And you’ll part with them now?”
“It’s only fair.”
“A lot of things were fair, and yet you trampled those boundaries,” she quipped.
“Oh, stop it,” Evan said with a sigh. “Grandma left them to you, and granted, she’d thought they were staying in the family. But still...considering your love of books, I think it’s only right that you should still have them. Besides, if you took me to court, you’d win.”
“And how does your wife feel about that?” she asked primly.
“About court?” Evan asked innocently. “She’s not keen on it.”
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