Bodyguard/Husband by Mallory Kane Read Free Book Online

Debi never cooks. It’s remotely possible there’s bread for toast.”
    He flexed his shoulder and neck. He hadn’t managed to cadge more than three hours of sleep in the past twenty-four. “Want me to see what I can find?”
    “Sure, but don’t get your hopes up. You’ll probably take your life in your hands opening the refrigerator.”
    He stepped behind the counter into the small space of her kitchen. She’d taken off her shoes, and he noticed that she wasn’t as tall as he’d thought. Her head came up to his chin, she was not that much taller than the women he usually dated. But there was a strength, an assurance in the way she carried herself that made her seem larger than she was.
    He considered his thoughts as he opened her refrigerator and peered inside. The words his brain had conjured to describe her were not words he normally associated with women. Still, they fit her, and intrigued him.
    Her refrigerator held the usual staples of a person who lived alone, plus the obvious signs of a messy houseguest. Besides the basic condiments and soft drinks and bottled water, there were stained Chinese takeout boxes, a half-eaten pizza and packets of soy sauce strewn over the shelves.
    Grabbing a package of single-wrapped American cheese and a squeeze-bottle of margarine, he nudged the door closed with his hip. He’d have preferred an imported sharp cheddar and real butter. It was obvious he’d be doing the grocery shopping while he was here.
    “Where’s that bread?”
    Holly was staring into a cabinet. She closed it and opened another one. “Hmm?”
    “Bread.”
    “Oh. Left side of the freezer, toward the back. There should be half a loaf.”
    He found the package of sliced sourdough bread exactly where she had said it would be. Within a few minutes he had produced two plates of spiced, melted cheese over toast triangles.
    “Here we go. Pour the coffee.” He took the plates to the table and sat down.
    Holly still seemed distracted when she sat. Then she looked at the plate for the first time. “What is this?”
    “Welsh rarebit.” Jack stuck a forkful into his mouth.
    “Well, I’m impressed. Not only can you cook, you can make something out of nothing.”
    He shrugged. “I like to eat and I’ve lived alone for a long time.”

    She nodded absently as she pushed back from the table and went over to peer inside the dishwasher she’d just finished loading. Then she propped her fists on her hips and frowned as her gaze swept the kitchen.
    Jack eyed her. “What’s wrong?”
    “You didn’t hear broken glass rattling in that garbage bag you put out, did you?”
    “Nope. Why? D’you lose something?”
    Holly came back and sat down, her eyes troubled. “I can’t find my favorite cup. It was the last piece I had of my mother’s good china. I hope Debi didn’t break it and hide the evidence.”
    Jack’s pulse sped up. Her favorite cup was missing? Was it an accident? Or was the stalker collecting mementos?

Chapter Three
    Jack ate his rarebit, pretending casual interest as he mentally went over everything he’d seen since he first entered Holly’s house. There were no signs of a break-in. And as meticulous as she was, she would have noticed anything out of place.
    Holly pushed her hair back, and Jack saw a faint glimmer of tears in her eyes. “Maybe I just misplaced it. I hope so. I loved that cup.”
    He tightened his grip on his mug, resisting the urge to touch the corner of her eye and catch the tear that clung there. What the hell was the matter with him? He’d never in his life thought about stopping a woman’s tear with his finger. He’d never felt the slightest attraction to an assignment. He must really be tired. He concentrated on the missing cup. It could be a vital clue.
    “Did everybody know how much that cup meant to you?”
    “Everybody?” Her gaze turned sharp. “What are you saying? You think someone took it?”
    He drank the last of his coffee, cursing silently. She was