information he had, it put you in a suspicious light.”
Alex froze and stared at him, a new spark igniting within her. “You believe him then?”
“No. I know you weren’t involved with what happened to Mike last night, but you have to admit, John’s theory stirred up some valid questions.”
Alex yanked at the liquid soap. “So you’re suspicious of me now?”
“I certainly have some questions.”
“But you’re suspicious.”
“No.” He took the soap from her and started washing himself. “But I am curious as to why you never mentioned your mother to me. Having an art thief as your mother changes things.”
“An alleged art thief.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire.”
“That’s precisely why I didn’t tell you.” She slammed her hand against the tap, abruptly cutting off the water supply. “My mother’s not something I hide from anyone, but it’s also something I don’t openly display either.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“My mother has nothing to do with this—with us!” she cried, grabbing a towel and vigorously drying herself.
“You should’ve mentioned her to me before we—”
“Had sex?” she cut in. “How would that have changed anything?” Gathering the towel into a ball, she threw it at his chest.
“Stop throwing things at me,” he grumbled, tossing the towel to the floor. “Alexis!” he exclaimed as she stomped to her bedroom.
She should’ve known he’d follow. When he walked into her room, he wore a towel around his waist and a harsh frown.
“This is not the first time my mother’s profession has cast a suspicious eye on me,” she said as she closed the clasp of her bra. It matched the lace panties she wore and she’d chosen red—the color of her mood. “I’ve had the cops knocking at my door countless times, either to ask questions about my involvement or my knowledge of some heist that’s occurred.”
“And were you ever involved?”
She paused, a pair of grey pants in her hands. “Do you seriously have to ask me that?”
“Alex, I barely know you, dammit. Just answer the damn question.”
“No. I’ve never been involved in a heist before.” She met his gaze square on, saw the flash of relief in his eyes. “I don’t steal from other people.”
“Is that how you knew my Renoir was about to be stolen?”
Alex went quiet and pulled on her pants.
“Alex.”
She sighed and looked at him. “Yes.”
“And do you know who’s after the Renoir?”
“No.”
“Alex.”
“I don’t know who the buyer is for your stupid painting.”
“But you know something.”
“No.”
He crossed the room, heat radiating off him with every step he took. “Alexis, every instinct in my body is screaming at me that you’re not being entirely honest with me.”
“This is what I hate!” she exclaimed, throwing out her arms. “I have two worlds—one which I’m very much a part of and play by the rules and one where I’m often sucked into whether I like it or not. On a good day, I’m really good at handling both worlds and switching like a chameleon between them but every now and then my two worlds collide.”
The anger in his eyes began to fade. “You can’t have both worlds, Alex. Surely you’ve figured that out by now.”
“I can’t separate them either, Cole. If I do, then I’m pushing away the only family I have.”
He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. “And what happens when you’re working for a client, staying in their home, protecting them, and your mother or one of her associates decides to come busting in? You know you’d have to make a choice.”
“I haven’t figured it out yet,” she mumbled against his naked chest, “and right now there’s a lot I need to think about.” She looked up at him. “But you need to know I had nothing to do with either robbery.” Or the murder of Mike Willis. Oh, God.
He captured her chin between his finger and his thumb and nodded.
Alex froze and stared at him, a new spark igniting within her. “You believe him then?”
“No. I know you weren’t involved with what happened to Mike last night, but you have to admit, John’s theory stirred up some valid questions.”
Alex yanked at the liquid soap. “So you’re suspicious of me now?”
“I certainly have some questions.”
“But you’re suspicious.”
“No.” He took the soap from her and started washing himself. “But I am curious as to why you never mentioned your mother to me. Having an art thief as your mother changes things.”
“An alleged art thief.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire.”
“That’s precisely why I didn’t tell you.” She slammed her hand against the tap, abruptly cutting off the water supply. “My mother’s not something I hide from anyone, but it’s also something I don’t openly display either.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“My mother has nothing to do with this—with us!” she cried, grabbing a towel and vigorously drying herself.
“You should’ve mentioned her to me before we—”
“Had sex?” she cut in. “How would that have changed anything?” Gathering the towel into a ball, she threw it at his chest.
“Stop throwing things at me,” he grumbled, tossing the towel to the floor. “Alexis!” he exclaimed as she stomped to her bedroom.
She should’ve known he’d follow. When he walked into her room, he wore a towel around his waist and a harsh frown.
“This is not the first time my mother’s profession has cast a suspicious eye on me,” she said as she closed the clasp of her bra. It matched the lace panties she wore and she’d chosen red—the color of her mood. “I’ve had the cops knocking at my door countless times, either to ask questions about my involvement or my knowledge of some heist that’s occurred.”
“And were you ever involved?”
She paused, a pair of grey pants in her hands. “Do you seriously have to ask me that?”
“Alex, I barely know you, dammit. Just answer the damn question.”
“No. I’ve never been involved in a heist before.” She met his gaze square on, saw the flash of relief in his eyes. “I don’t steal from other people.”
“Is that how you knew my Renoir was about to be stolen?”
Alex went quiet and pulled on her pants.
“Alex.”
She sighed and looked at him. “Yes.”
“And do you know who’s after the Renoir?”
“No.”
“Alex.”
“I don’t know who the buyer is for your stupid painting.”
“But you know something.”
“No.”
He crossed the room, heat radiating off him with every step he took. “Alexis, every instinct in my body is screaming at me that you’re not being entirely honest with me.”
“This is what I hate!” she exclaimed, throwing out her arms. “I have two worlds—one which I’m very much a part of and play by the rules and one where I’m often sucked into whether I like it or not. On a good day, I’m really good at handling both worlds and switching like a chameleon between them but every now and then my two worlds collide.”
The anger in his eyes began to fade. “You can’t have both worlds, Alex. Surely you’ve figured that out by now.”
“I can’t separate them either, Cole. If I do, then I’m pushing away the only family I have.”
He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. “And what happens when you’re working for a client, staying in their home, protecting them, and your mother or one of her associates decides to come busting in? You know you’d have to make a choice.”
“I haven’t figured it out yet,” she mumbled against his naked chest, “and right now there’s a lot I need to think about.” She looked up at him. “But you need to know I had nothing to do with either robbery.” Or the murder of Mike Willis. Oh, God.
He captured her chin between his finger and his thumb and nodded.
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