by Paula Cox
Her eyes bulged. “You wouldn’t have dared.”
He took a step closer to her, allowing his smile to grow. It felt good to smile. “Oh I would have,” he said, his voice low and husky. “And I would have given that ass of yours a couple of smacks anytime you complained.”
Her face turned bright red. He could nearly feel the heat coming off of it, off of her. And how he wanted to drown in that heat.
But now wasn’t the time.
“I’ll agree to your plan,” he said. “But we have to be careful.”
“Of course,” Liana said, coming back into herself. “We’ll make sure—”
“You and I have to be careful, Liana,” he interrupted. “That’s what I meant.”
She frowned, knitting her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
He longed to reach for her, to pull her against him like he had yesterday. But he stayed firmly planted on his two feet, hands down at his sides. “We can’t let ourselves get distracted by the game. It’s for show, nothing more.”
When she gave a single, firm nod, Cliff could tell she understood exactly what he meant.
Chapter 10
Liana went up to her room right after Ellis and Julian left and stayed there for most of the day. She was confused after her conversation with Cliff in the study. She was still confused about her kiss, too. Liana was just outright confused.
So he didn’t want to get distracted, huh? Did that mean there could be no more kisses? Or just that anything that did happen between them could only be strictly sex? Liana wasn’t sure she could live without kissing Cliff again, but at the same time, she didn't think she wanted just sex from him.
It was difficult because she knew she shouldn’t want him. Not sexually, and definitely not emotionally. But she did. He made her feel safe. He made her feel wanted, even when he was telling her how much of a pain in his ass she was. She loved that they were always honest with one another, even if that meant they complained most of the time.
Cliff came up and knocked on her door around six, announcing that dinner was ready.
Liana said she’d come down in a bit, and that he should just eat without her. She was starving, but she didn’t want to come out until she’d had a bit more time to process everything. When she came down an hour later, she still hadn’t quite figured out her feelings. By that point, she was pretty sure she never would, so what was the point in starving to death?
“Michael’s mother, Sharon, is coming over tomorrow,” Cliff announced from his study. She had been trying to slip by without him noticing.
“Does she know about what’s going on?” Liana asked.
Cliff turned to look at her from where he sat by the fire, sipping what was probably the same vintage scotch as yesterday. The light played with the shadows on his face, making him seem darker and broodier than ever.
“She does. I’ve been keeping her up to date on our progress. She said she wants to talk about something.”
“Sounds ominous.”
He turned back to the fire. “Not much about this situation isn’t ominous.”
Against her better judgment, Liana slipped into the study and sat down next to him. He didn’t look over, but she saw him watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“I was wondering what would bring you down first,” Cliff said, taking a sip of his scotch. “Hunger, thirst, or curiosity.”
“What do I have to be curious about?” Liana asked.
His lip twitched. His version of a small smile. “Darling, what have you ever not been curious about?”
Fair point.
“It was hunger, in the end,” she conceded.
He took another sip. “I’m glad I didn’t place a bet on it. That wouldn’t have been my first choice.”
Liana laughed. “Well I’m glad I surprised you,” she said. “It’ll keep you on your toes. Keep you from getting distracted.”
She didn’t mean to say it, but it was too late now.
Cliff rolled his head to the side against the back of the armchair, eyes studying her. “Liana,” he said. “You always surprise me.”
The words hit Liana like a blast of wind, sending a trail of shivers over her skin. If he wanted her to stop getting distracted, why did Cliff insist on saying such things? Didn’t he know that he was at his most distracting when he was coming out with compliments and innuendo from left field?
“Is there anything left over from your dinner?” Liana asked.
Back to the topic at hand. No distractions.
Cliff, rather than simply replying and getting on with whatever he was up to, stood up from the chair and strode over to her. “I’ll make you something.” He breezed past her without another word, and she ran along after him like a puppy.
“You don’t need to do that,” she insisted. “I’m pretty good at making food. Been doing it my whole life.”
His warm chuckle met her in the kitchen. “I’m sure you’re adequate enough, but I’m bored and I’m concerned you might burn down my house.”
Liana crossed her arms over her chest from the doorway, watching as he opened the fridge door and leaned in. “That’s rude,” she said. “I’m not an idiot.”
He returned from the fridge with a Tupperware container of something red, likely marinara sauce, and placed it on the counter. Then he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a package of spaghetti.
“Maybe I don’t want to eat spaghetti,” Liana said. “You can’t just decide what I’m going to have for dinner because you’re bigger than me.”
“I’m deciding what you want to have for dinner because I know that you love spaghetti,” Cliff replied. “I also know that my mother makes the best sauce in all of New York.”
“How could you possibly know that I love spaghetti?” Liana strode further into the kitchen, watching him through narrowed eyes.
Cliff rolled his eyes, grabbing a pan from where it hung above the island. “Because I pay attention,” he replied. “And because everybody loves spaghetti.”
Liana huffed. “Well, maybe I’m watching my figure and don’t want the carbs.”
“You haven’t eaten all day,” Cliff said, giving her a flat look. “You need the carbs.”
He was right. About everything. She loved spaghetti, and she was starving. Defeated, Liana walked into the kitchen and sat down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She was unwilling to admit that he’d been right, though, so she merely watched him cook and secretly hoped his suit caught on fire from the gas stove.
***
Cliff loved when Liana was forced to accept that he knew best. It was the best part of his day. Having any kind of submission from her, because of how few and far between such moments were, was the sweetest candy a man could hope for. Watching her face as she ate the dish he’d prepared was like winning the candy lottery.
“I still think it was unnecessary for you to cook for me,” Liana said, pushing around the last few threads of pasta on her plate. “I’ve clearly cooked before in this kitchen, and it’s been fine.”
Cliff shrugged, leaning back in his chair. They were in the dining room now. Liana had wanted to sit and eat in the kitchen, but Cliff told her she’d already pushed him too far by eating in her bed the other day.
“I was bored,” Cliff replied. “Like I said.” He smirked. “It’s not easy being so powerful and important. Sometimes it’s nice to take a break.”
And oh, the break he wished he could take right now. He could picture it: him and Liana, somewhere warm and sandy, with no cell phones and nobody there to tell Cliff what to do. He could spend hours, days even, exploring her body. And he wouldn’t face any negative repercussions.
But that wasn’t possible. So he made her pasta instead.
“You’re strange,” Liana said. “You know that right?”
Cliff shrugged. “I could say a few things about you too, Liana.”
She glared, but the way her eyes lit up told him she wanted to know what those things would be. And maybe
someday he would tell her. But not now.
Cliff shoved back from the table. “I’ve got more work to do. I trust you can take your plate to the dishwasher without needing supervision.”
Liana might have stuck her tongue out at him, but Cliff was already out the door. An impressive feat, if he did say so himself, because walking away from her had been like trudging through sand.
***
Mrs. Sinclair came the next morning. It had been a long time since Cliff saw her last. Longer than should have been the case. And he hated that it was the first time he’d seen her since Michael’s death. Lorna deserved better than that.
Lorna was a robust woman in her early sixties. She often wore floral dresses or pantsuits, but today she was wearing a simple black shift and a somber expression. Cliff wondered how long she would be in mourning for. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were for the rest of her life.
“Cliff,” she said with a sad smile as he opened the door. “You’re still so handsome.”
Unlike me, she seemed to want to say. Unlike what Michael’s death has done to me.
She looked like she’d aged ten years since he saw her last. Lorna’s face was ashen, and the lines ran deep. Her eyes, which had always crinkled at the edges in laughter, now seemed to droop down her face like melting candle wax.
“And you’re still so beautiful,” Cliff replied, welcoming her inside. “I am so sorry that I didn’t come to talk to you sooner about Michael. It’s been—”
Lorna put a hand on Cliff's shoulder to cut him off. “I understand,” she said. “You don’t need to say it. Death is hard. I never thought I’d have to bury my son, but I have buried many others. Everyone handles it differently.”
Lorna had always been such a gracious, kind woman. She didn’t deserve any of this.
“Thank you,” Cliff said. He led her into his study, where Liana was already seated on one of the armchairs, waiting for them. He led Lorna to the chair across from Liana and pulled over another chair for himself. The fire waved and shook in the hearth, and Lorna raised her hands toward it and the warmth it brought.
“This is Liana,” Cliff said. “The girl I talked to you about on the phone.”
Lorna’s eyes rose to meet Liana’s. Liana’s face was so different when she was looking at anyone else but Cliff. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, a bad thing, or just a thing. She looked younger, kinder. She didn’t have the same edge to her expressions.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Liana said. “I just wish it was under better circumstances.”
Lorna nodded. “Me too, child. But God always has a plan.” She sighed and turned back to Cliff. “I’m worried that I may have ignored certain warnings that God intended me to catch, though. Which is why I’m here.”
“What do you mean?” Cliff asked, inching forward.
Lorna hadn’t said over the phone why she needed to talk to Cliff, only that it was in regards to Michael’s death. He’d told her about what had been going on since, and she’d become distraught. She was calm now though as she spoke; calm as a slow-moving river.
“In the weeks before Michael’s death,” she said, “he told me he’d been receiving some threats.”
“Death threats?” Cliff asked quietly.
Lorna gave a brief nod.
“I don’t understand,” Cliff said. “He never told me anything, and normally he told me everything.”
Lorna wrung her hands in her lap. “He didn’t think there was any weight behind them. And they were quite specific. He worried they would upset you and cause you to do something stupid.”
Cliff opened his mouth to defend himself but decided better of it. What did it matter now how Cliff would have reacted to Michael’s death threats? Michael had known Cliff quite well. If he suspected Cliff would react a certain way to the threats, he was probably right.
“What do you mean by they were specific?” Cliff asked.
Lorna’s eyes glanced between him and Liana. “They warned Michael to stay away from you, Cliff.”
Cliff’s jaw tensed. So he really was the target here. But why? Why would the killer want to warn people away from him? Surely, if they were trying to hurt Cliff, it would be better to send him threatening messages instead of his friends. It would be better not to give victims the opportunity to save themselves simply by staying away.
“What form did these threats come in?” Cliff asked. “And do you have any idea who might have sent them?”
Lorna’s gray head swiveled. “They were just little notes left in his mailbox. I would show you, but he threw most of them out.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And I don’t have any clue who would want to do a thing. But...” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “The last threat Michael received before the wedding had a phone number. He went to throw it out, but I insisted he let me keep it. I was going to take it to the police, but then I got news of Michael’s death…” She trailed off, holding the note out toward Cliff.
He took it gently from her hand. An angry message was emblazoned on the slip of paper in red pen: STAY AWAY FROM CLIFF. Below it was a phone number. But why?
“Why didn’t you give it to the police after Michael’s death?” Liana asked.
Cliff had all but forgotten she was there.
Lorna became silent, but Cliff answered for her as he studied the piece of paper. “Because Lorna knows that the police are tied up by red tape in ways that I’m not.” He let his hands fall into his lap, spearing Liana with his gaze. “And she knows that her chances of vengeance are much higher with me.”
Liana’s eyes widened with shock, and she clamped her mouth closed. The air seemed even hotter between them.
“Was there anything else?” Cliff asked, redirecting his attention to the older woman.
She simply shook her head. “That’s all I’ve got. That and my guilt.”
He reached for her, dropping a hand on her knee. “This wasn’t your fault, Lorna. How were either of you to know that these threats meant anything?”
She sighed and shook her head. “I know my boy’s in a better place, Cliff. All I’ll say is that I want the bastard who killed him to be sent to the other end.”
***
Liana was shaken by her experience with Lorna Sinclair. She had the appearance and bearing of a calm, domestic woman. Liana would have thought Lorna abhorred all violence if she hadn’t been so clearly gunning for revenge in the case of her slain son. And Liana couldn’t say she blamed her. She didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. She’d never really lost anyone.
But Liana had also been shocked to see how Cliff interacted with Lorna. He was so kind and gentle that she nearly forgot he was the man she’d gotten in screaming matches with several times. It was the same lost, gentle side of him that had surfaced on the night he found the champagne bottle on his doorstep. And it was a side of him she really, really liked.
Not that the other and more common side wasn’t good either. After all, their screaming matches had brought about a fiery and raw sexual tension that made her toes curl. And then there was that kiss they’d shared. But could never share again, apparently.
After Cliff had seen Lorna out, he came back into the study clutching the piece of paper with the phone number on it. He hadn’t let go of it since Lorna gave it to him.
“Be quiet so I can call this number,” Cliff instructed, walking over to his desk and sitting down.
Liana shot out of her chair. “First of all,” she said, “I wasn’t making any noise. Second of all, you cannot call that number right now.”
Cliff looked up at her from his desk, phone already out of his pocket. “And what makes you think this is something you get a say in?” He waved her away. “Go sit back down. The grown-ups are working.”
Liana stormed around the side of his desk. Well, there was the sexual tension she’d been romanticizing only moments before. She was an idiot for having done so.
“Don’t you dare talk down to me like th
at,” Liana growled. “I have every right to have a say in what happens with that phone number, and you know it.”
Cliff leaned back casually, steel eyes studying her. “And what would you suggest we do with the phone number, darling?” He grinned evilly. “Let me guess—it starts with a P and ends in O-L-I-C-E.”
Liana crossed her arms and held firm. “Yes. And I think you letting your ego get in the way of finding Michael’s killer is disgusting.”
Cliff shoved back his chair and stood up, slamming his hands down on the desk as he lowered his face to look straight in Liana’s eyes. The effect was startling. She hated herself for doing so, but Liana was forced to take a step back.