Finger Prints by Barbara Delinsky Read Free Book Online

Don’t forget, I’ve got a few years on you.” He took a deep breath. “I’m parked right out in front. I’ll be waiting downstairs in twenty minutes.”
    Tom tried to argue, but the phone was dead. Muttering something mercifully unintelligible, he rammed the receiver home. Then he looked down at the warm body in his bed. “He’s done it again, babe.” He sighed, feeling the last of his own passion fade as he lay back to stare at the mirrored image overhead.
    The young woman snuggled closer. “Who was that?”
    “My brother. You know, the guy who moved out tonight?”
    “What’s his problem?”
    “He needs me.”
    “So do I.” She slid one leg over his thigh.
    Yeah , Tom thought, arching a brow, but you’ll forget me tomorrow . Tossing back the sheet, he rose.
    “Hey, you’re not leaving me like this, are you?” came the sulky voice from behind.
    “I’ll be back.”
    “But, Tom—”
    “I’ll be back.” Heading for his clothes, he crossed the black shag carpet to an oversize leather chair. It too was black, as was fully half of the room’s decor. The other half was white. He’d thought it sleek and masculine when he’d done it up three years before. Ryan had thought it tacky from the start. But then, what did Ryan know, he thought angrily as he thrust first one leg then the other into his jeans.
    What did Ryan know? A hell of a lot. Though absent-minded enough to lock his keys in his car on a regular basis, Ryan had always been the responsible one, the one with a solid career, the one with a wife and home…well, once. Tugging his sweater on over his head, Tom took his brother’s side on that one. Alyssa had been a bitch, anyway. Spoiled and demanding. Not that she wasn’t half right in her accusation that Ryan was wedded to his work. He was. He was dedicated. And a whiz when it came to the law. He’d certainly come through for him on that score.
    “Tom…?” This time it was a whining complaint.
    He stuffed his feet into his boots, then knelt to rescue the denim from their clutches. “Yeah, babe?”
    “Come on, Tom. He’ll wait a few more minutes.”
    “You don’t know my brother.” And I do owe him . Running his fingers through his thick blond hair, he headed at a clip toward the door.
    “And if I’m not here when you get back…?” was the taunt.
    Tom paused once on the threshold to cast an arrogant glance back. “Then it’ll be your loss, babe.”
     
     
     
    Ryan turned back to Carly, who’d all the while stood silently by the kitchen door. “Sorry about that.” He thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked decidedly sheepish. “I guess you’re not the only one I’ve inconvenienced.”
    “Can your friend help?” she asked softly, her wariness now held in abeyance. The half of the conversation she’d heard had been utterly believable. Either he was a superb actor, or he had told the truth about his dilemma. Not to mention the fact that Sam remained where he was, sprawled casually on the sofa, apparently unconcerned.
    “He’ll help. Well—” he took a step toward the door, then cast another glance at Sam “—I’m sorry to have bothered you. With any luck my phone will be in on Monday.” He reached the door when Sam finally came to life.
    “Can I give you a hand with something?” he asked, rising from the living room to stand behind Carly.
    Ryan raised an open palm. “Thanks, but no. I’ve disturbed you enough.” His gaze dropped once more to Carly’s face. “Have a good night.”
    As suddenly as he’d come, he was gone. Sam closed the door, then turned to lean back against it and stare pointedly at Carly. “You didn’t know they were moving?” he asked in subtle accusation.
    “The Amidons? How would I know a thing like that?”
    “Don’t you ever talk to your neighbors? You can’t be that much of a hermit. For Pete’s sake, we’ve checked them all out and they’re safe.”
    She deftly reversed the argument. “Why weren’t you on