“No. I didn’t.” Flint wasn’t planning to reveal anymore. Let her do the math and figure things out for herself.
Adriana eyed him with suspicion. “Then why did you lead me to believe you did?”
Robert cleared his throat. “I can see this is one of those issues we’ll need to work on later. Let’s get back to what happened the afternoon you found this woman dead.”
Flint went over the events, leaving nothing out. Maybe Robert would see something he might have missed.
“So, you said you gave Lindsey your gun and told her to lock the door behind you, right?”
Flint nodded. “Right.”
Robert raised a speculative brow. “Then why did she open it to her killer?”
“I don’t know. She probably thought it was me.”
“You say she was terrified. Wouldn’t she have checked through the keyhole first?”
Flint felt hurt by his uncle’s query. Did he think he was lying and killed Lindsey? “What are you saying? Don’t you believe me?”
Of course, I believe you, Flint. I know you could never kill a woman. But the police don’t know that, and they’ll ask these questions. These, and a whole lot of others you’d better have good answers to.”
“How do we find out Hartford’s whereabouts when Lindsey was killed?” Flint thought if anyone would have an answer, Robert would.
“Cell phone records might help. We could trace where any calls came from and see if it was in the area. Does he have a car registered to him? Maybe someone saw him, or his car around your apartment.”
“Unfortunately, Hartford has a lot of men who work for him. He could have been in any one of their vehicles. The man’s smart, Robert. I’d say he made damned sure he wasn’t seen by anyone.”
“Then I’ll need to go down to your neighborhood and ask some questions.” Robert rubbed at his chin. “Questions, I’m sure the cops aren’t asking because they think you killed her. But somebody might have seen something. If they did, I’ll find out what.
Robert winked at Adriana, then brushed his knuckles against her cheek “You’re a pretty little thing. Are you dating anyone?”
“Yes, she is.” Annoyance punched Flint in the gut at his uncle’s amorous intentions toward his girl.
Adriana scowled at Flint.
“Well, you’re dating Doctor Kildare, aren’t you?”
“His name is Dr. Terrell, and I’m getting real sick of your silly little Dr. names and jokes. At least Mike isn’t jumping into bed with every bimbo that comes along, like you.”
“He’s been in your bed, hasn’t he?” Flint knew that he hit below the belt, but Adriana really pissed him off.
Her face paled. “That was cruel, Flint.” She whipped around and bolted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Silence filled the air until Robert spoke. “It’s obvious the two of you are very much in love, but she’ll have a hard time forgiving you for that one.”
Flint turned from the closed door to look at him. “What! I don’t love her.”
Robert grinned. “Right. And I’m gay.”
Flint couldn’t help but smile at his jest. Robert Morgan didn’t have a bisexual bone in his body. How many women had come and gone in the years that he’d lived with him? Too many to count.
Flint had entered Robert’s life permanently when his uncle was twenty. He’d been ten at the time. Robert had been an unexpected bundle of joy for his father’s parents. Even at forty-two, Robert could still get more women than Flint. But then, Flint only wanted one and she was in the bathroom now steaming mad at him.
* * *
Adriana pulled on her jeans, angrier than a hornet and determined to pierce Flint’s hide when she got the chance. How dare he make her look like a whore in front of his uncle? Was that what he really thought of her? Was she one in his eyes?
Humph! Flint was the one with loose morals, not her.
Harnessing her anger, Adriana thought about Robert Morgan. He was nothing like she’d expected. He was far too young. Looked so much like Flint it was eerie. But clearly Robert Morgan was more mature in stature and build, a few gray hairs peppered his temples, but other than that, the man could be Flint’s brother. A very sexy brother who clearly thought she was attractive, and obviously didn’t think her loose the way Flint did.
Adriana yanked her cashmere sweater over her head, then picked up a brush and ran it through her hair, wondering what Flint would do if she came on to his uncle.
A smile curled her lips.
“Well, we’ll just see what you think, Flint Morgan,” she voiced aloud as she fixed her make-up, then headed back to the living room to see if she still had the touch.
She found both men at the table, mugs of steaming coffee in front of them, both looked content to just sit there in silence.
She retrieved a cup, giving both men a long, lingering view of her behind.
She didn’t spend hours on a Stairmaster for nothing. She’d been told, by more than a few, she had the best-looking ass in Colorado, and she planned to use it to lure Robert Morgan. Even it if was just to make Flint jealous.
Flint could take a flying leap for all she cared. She was tired of feeling lonely—tired of being alone when she knew Flint wasn’t spending his nights that way.
“So, Robert, Flint’s told me you were with the DNS up until just a few years ago. Why would a man, obviously so young, decide to leave the agency?” She let her lashes flutter down to conceal her sultry gaze for a moment.
“That’s a good question. I’ve been thinking about that a lot the last few months. Burn out, I guess. I needed some time to do other things. But I’ve been seriously considering coming back, especially now. I know when I was an agent, they never had any that looked like you working there. Are you good at what you do, Adriana?” His gaze ran the length of her.
“I’d like to think so.” She ran her tongue over her parched lips, her attention riveted to every contour of his chest.
Flint snorted. “She’d like to think she’s the best agent they have, but she’s not.”
“Oh, and who would that agent be then, you?” Adriana glared at Flint. “You forget that you just about got yourself killed a few weeks ago. So you’ve lost that status.”
Adriana turned back to Robert, inwardly controlling her anger. Flint had a way of igniting her fury, and she was damn sure he did it on purpose.
“I can think of six agents off hand who have been with the DNS for years that could vie for the position,” Robert commented.
“That’s right, Adriana, you’re fairly new here. You don’t know all our operatives overseas.”
Flint sat at the table, giving her that smug look again. He needed to lose that expression.
“Anyway, Robert. Tell me about yourself?”
Adriana set her cup down, leaned up against the kitchen cabinet and folded her arms over her chest. Surely Robert would bite? All men loved to talk about themselves. That’s how she’d gotten Flint. He’d taken the bait right away, and that’s when she’d reeled him in. Though, he’d managed to get out of her net into Lindsey’s.
“What would you like to know?”
“Have you ever been married?”
Both men looked at one another, then chuckled
“No!” Robert and Flint both answered.
“Why is that so funny? Do you have a problem with commitment?” Adriana seethed at their obvious thoughts on the institution of marriage. Clearly a joke to them.
“Yes, I think I may have a little problem with that,” Robert answered.
Flint snorted. “A little problem? I’d say it’s a big problem.”
“You’re one to talk,” Robert threw back.
Adriana watched the two men argue over who was the most afraid to get ensnared by a woman. She’d be wasting her time on her so-called plan. If she wanted a simple roll in the hay, Flint would suffice.
Adriana shook her head in disgust. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll see you two later.”
&nbs
p; She turned and stormed from the cabin, wondering what Flint’s father had been like. Had he, as well, been afraid of commitment? Were all the Morgan men womanizers?
Taking in a deep, uneven breath, she trailed down the path. Somehow she needed to make sense of all the churning emotions inside her.
Obviously, Morgan men were all the same, and a waste of time for any woman eager for a lasting relationship. Definitely enough for her to steer clear of both.
Did she really need anyone in her life, anyway? Would a relationship with Dr. Kil—
Adriana shook her head. God, now he had her doing it.
Chapter Eleven
Flint inhaled deeply and watched Adriana walk down the path toward the stream.
He couldn’t blame her for being upset with him. He’d been a real jerk, but for some reason he wanted Robert to stay away from her.
Why, he had to wonder? One minute he hated her and couldn’t wait to get away, the next, he wanted to hold her in his arms and never let her go. Even more, he wanted to hear her tell him she loved him. But that was impossible, especially since she had never once said it when they were together.
Robert came up behind Flint and startling him. “Why are you pushing away the woman you love?"
“I told you, I don’t love her. What’s there to love anyway? She’s a nasty, ill-tempered woman with permanent PMS. I’d be nuts to want that?” Flint combed his long fingers through his hair, frustrated with his ever-changing mood. Did men have premenstrual syndrome?
Robert placed his arm over Flint’s shoulder and led him over to the sofa. “Flint, my boy, let me tell you a little story about a girl I once knew. It might take awhile,” he continued when Flint looked confused.
Flint reluctantly sat down. “I’m sure the story’s fascinating, but I’m in no mood for a long, drawn out tale of one of your conquests.”
“It’s no tale, Flint. Her name’s Emily.” The tender way he said her name drew Flint’s complete attention.
* * *
Adriana dragged herself up the steps, intent on packing her things and getting as far from Flint and Robert Morgan as she could. Too keep her heart safe, it was really the only way. Distance seemed the answer to her.
Adriana had a job to do, and with Robert helping Flint, he wouldn’t need her.
She opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks. The aroma in the air instantly made her mouth water. What was cooking? She looked into the kitchen and saw the table set for two with two lit tapered candles, casting a romantic glow over the dimly lit room. Two fluted wine glasses filled with a red wine drew her attention as did the Barry White tune flowing from the entertainment system in the corner.
Adriana was stunned. What in the world was going on? What were Flint and Robert up to now?
The place looked like a seduction scene out of some chick-flick.
“Flint.” She hoped to draw him out of hiding. “What the hell is going on?”
Adriana glanced around again. “Flint Morgan, who’s coming to dinner?”
Flint stepped out of the bedroom dressed in a black cardigan sweater and tailored black trousers. The man wasn’t playing fair. He knew she couldn’t resist him in black.
“Adriana. I thought you’d never get back. How was your walk?”
She narrowed her eyes at his. “Okay, where’s the real Flint Morgan?” This man had to be an imposter.
He smiled. “Cute, Dray. I’ve gotten dinner started. It should be ready soon.”
“Now I know you're not Flint. What have you done with him? Is this one of those body snatcher things, or a Stepford husband switch?”
“Don’t be silly. I’m not your husband. Anyway, dinner’s not much, just a can of beef stew I found in the pantry.”
She pointed to the table. “Why all this?” This new sensitive side of Flint freaked her out. He must have taken a blow to the head while she was gone.
“Why?” he repeated. “Do I have to have a reason?”
“Yes, you do, when it’s completely against your character.” Adriana studied his face. What was Flint up to? Why would he do all this when it was so unlike him? “What do you want, Flint? I know you’re up to something. I just haven’t figured out what yet.”
He ignored her question and walked into the kitchen, stirred the content in the pan, then turned back to face her.
“I owe you my life, Dray. The least I can do is cook you a meal.”
Adriana frowned. This had to be a total crock, but what could she do? Call him a liar?
“Okay, Flint. I’ll go along with your explanation, but I’ve decided to pack my things and go home. You don’t need me here. You have Robert.” Adriana headed toward the bedroom to get her bag.
“I see. So you don’t think you could be any help? Maybe you’re right. But at least stay and have dinner.” Flint turned his attention to the stove.
She eyed him suspiciously, then suddenly remembered she hadn’t seen his uncle’s car out front when she came back from the stream. “Where’s Robert?”
“He went into Goose Lodge for the evening. He said he’d be back later.”
Flint carried the pan to the table and spooned stew onto both plates.
“Come have something to eat, Dray. Then you can decide if you really want to leave tonight, or wait until morning.”
Adriana wasn’t sure what she should do. Should she go now and not be tempted by Flint’s charms, or stay and possibly have him weave his spell over her and end up doing something she’d regret later?
She glanced his way. He grinned, then picked her wine glass up and held it out to her.
She gulped. Did she look like a fool? Why did a Court Jester pop to mind and started laughing at her?
With wariness, she took the glass from him, knowing it would be a mistake, but that was nothing new when it came to Flint.
* * *
With a sense of anticipation, Flint watched her walk toward him.
After Robert’s story about Emily Brand, he knew even the biggest womanizer in the world could be snared. If his uncle had been caught by the love-bug, then he could fess-up to his own feelings for Adriana. And after they were back together, he planned to locate Miss Brand and talk to her about his uncle’s confession. Robert would be angry, but he knew his uncle deserved to be happy, and if this woman could do that, then he intended to find her.
Flint pulled out Adriana’s chair, watching as she eyed him with suspicion. She thought he’d lost his mind, but he wanted her, and he planned to do whatever it took to prove that.
He sat across from her and lifted his wine glass.
“To you, Dray.” He touched his goblet to hers, then placed it to his lips and took a sip. The wine had a full-bodied flavor. Robert was definitely a connoisseur of wines.
Adriana looked please with the taste as well.
He took a bite of his stew, not quite as happy with it, but he was too hungry to care.
“Why did Robert go into Goose Lodge?” She took a bite of her stew.
The truth would be best. There were enough lies between them already.
“To give us some time alone.”
“Why do we need time alone? To kill each other, maybe?”
Flint laughed. They had certainly been at each other’s throats lately, so he could understand her suspicions.
He reached across the table and cupped her hand. “I can remember a time when we did more than fight.”
She pulled her hand away and glared at him. “That was before I caught you in bed with Lindsey. It’s hard to get over something like that. I have my pride, too, Flint. Your little betrayal did irreparable damage to mine.”
Flint held his anger in check. “Why do you have to constantly throw that in my face? I told you I was sorry about Lindsey.”
“No. You never once said you were sorry you slept with Lindsey. As I recall you said, ‘damn what a night that was.’ So, you think I should forgive you?”
Adriana abruptly rose. “I don’t think so.” She turned
and left the table.
Flint was unsure of what to say. Yes, he told her that because he didn’t want to tell her the truth, that he couldn’t remember that night at all. Adriana would have found that even more offensive—a defense mechanism that men used to excuse the infidelity.
“Adriana, I’m sorry you had to see Lindsey and I together. I don’t know what else to say.” Flint hoped his words would appease her in some way.
“I see. So you’re only sorry I caught you, not that you slept with her. Why are you such an ass?” Her jaw clenched. “I can’t believe I ever cared for you.”
She turned her back to him, her eyes on the roaring blaze in the stone fireplace.
“I don’t know why I even try with you.” Flint’s voice raised a decibel. “You’re impossible.”
He sat his wineglass down, then got up and moved closer to her.
The tears in her eyes had Flint wishing he’d been born mute. He couldn’t remember a time he’d seen her so emotional.
“Don’t cry, Dray. I’m sorry about what I said.” Flint tried to wrap his arms around her, but she pulled away.
“Don’t touch me. I don’t ever want you to touch me again.” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks.
“Fine. You don’t want me to touch you, then I won’t. I just have one question.”
She slammed her hands on her hips. “And what is that?” The heat in her gaze could have burnt him to a crisp.
“Can your Dr. Mikey make you feel the way I can in bed?” Flint took in a ragged breath. “Do you scream his name when you climax, or do you scream mine?”
“You think pretty highly of your prowess, don’t you? I should tell you, I faked all those orgasms.”
Flint’s jaw dropped. She had to be lying. No woman had ever had any complaints about his abilities in the bedroom.
She turned to leave, but he had no intention of letting her go without showing her what he thought of her admission.
Grabbing her arm, he swung her around. “You’re not going to tell me that I’m a dud in the bedroom and then leave.”
“What more do you want to know? That I almost fell asleep. That I use to close my eyes and pray you’d hurry up and get it over with? What?”
Her Man Flint Page 7