Silk Confessions by Joanne Rock Read Free Book Online

well-versed in sweeping women right off them.

CHAPTER FOUR
    W ES STUMBLED over his own feet the next morning, bleary-eyed and fuzzyheaded after too little sleep. Blindly he fought his way through the maze of gym equipment that accounted for the sum total of his living room furnishings. Despite his best efforts, he stubbed his toe on a dumbbell and unleashed a string of curses that brought his St. Bernard, Kong, running from the bedroom with a woof.
    “All clear,” Wes shouted to the dog whose protective instincts would have made Miss Independent Boucher break out in hives.
    She’d practically hyperventilated the night before when Wes suggested he spend the night at her place for safety reasons. Suddenly, she’d developed all sorts of plans for beefing up the security around her apartment, insisting she’d be fine without his help. He’d tried to convince her to go back to her family’s place where she apparently stayed during the week, but she’d been stub born on that count, too.
    Damned independent woman. Thinking of her there alone had cost him plenty of shut-eye.
    He’d stayed up half the night thinking about her, after checking and re-checking every lock in her apartment. Her door had shown no visible signs of tampering, but the only way into the third floor space had been through the front entrance or the door to the fire escape, which had a dead bolt whose lock was collecting dust. Wes hadtalked to her superintendent along with the old woman who lived a few doors down and had been home during the break-in. Neither of them had heard or seen anything unusual.
    After forcing himself to leave her building, he’d gone back to the precinct to go over his case file on the murder and enter an incident report about Tempest’s intruder. But late-night brainstorming with Vanessa hadn’t helped them figure out the connections between their murder investigation and Tempest or MatingGame.
    At least they’d eliminated Tempest as a murder suspect since she had an ironclad alibi for the victim’s time of death. A lady photographer caught her date with a local coffee shop owner on film for a tabloid column, and Wes ended up with the distinct displeasure of con firming with the guy that he and Tempest had taken in a movie together that night. Too bad no amount of the man’s assurances that they were just friends did a damn thing to improve Wes’s mood. Obviously, he shouldn’t care who she dated, but it irritated him to picture her with the artsy-fartsy coffee shop guy who managed to weave Kafka references into conversation on two separate occasions.
    And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Wes now discovered he’d lost his taste for coffee.
    Reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of some bogus energy drink, he chugged a few swigs and started thinking through his day. First and foremost was making a phone call to authorities in Mexico for some more information on Tempest’s father. Not that he didn’t trust foreign cops—he just didn’t trust any cop outside his own precinct.
    A suspicious nature came with the badge. And Wes had all the more reason to be careful with Tempest since his instincts couldn’t be trusted where she was concerned. Heplanned to check her out ten ways to Sun day so the next time he showed up on her doorstep, he wouldn’t have to hold himself back from the attraction that had gnawed at him ever since he’d first walked into her apartment.
    Because the next time she leaned and stretched or wriggled those oh-so-fine curves of hers in his direction, he had every intention of showing her how appreciative he could be.
     
    T EMPEST DIDN’T APPRECIATE the stomach-clenching fear her intruder had instilled in her.
    She might have given in to her worries and spent the weekend at the Boucher family home if it hadn’t been for Eloise. Her dog had slept by her all night, ready to keep away any returning criminals or stray bogeymen who threatened her safe haven. Too bad her faithful ca nine wasn’t