The Art Of Deception, Book Two, Stolen Hearts series, Romantic Suspense by Kate Kelly Read Free Book Online

into the small of his back.
    He’d only take the one gun. Not that he needed it. Not for a refrigerator full of food. But the food wasn’t what had upset him. He grabbed his badge and clipped it to the waistband of his faded jeans.
    The fear he’d heard in Sophie’s voice had gone straight to his gut, as if they had this hotline of communication between them. Without giving it conscious thought, he must have decided she was fearless, because the tremble in her voice had shaken him. He had to see her, if only for a few minutes. Just to make sure she was all right.
    Thirty minutes later, Gage pulled into a parking spot half a block from Sophie’s apartment. He must be nuts to drive halfway across town because someone had bought Sophie food. Maybe he should phone her before going up. She’d likely called everyone she knew by now and asked them over. They were probably eating the food that had mysteriously appeared. Then it would be gone, and so would her problem, whatever that problem was.
    Gage got out of his truck and locked the door. He was acting as if he were a kid on a first date. Should I, shouldn’t I? Fifteen minutes. In and out. That’s all it would take.
    Hot, blinding need slapped up against him as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Fifteen minutes. In and out. Cripes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked toward Sophie’s apartment. He was turning into the kind of dirty old man who leered at the slightest suggestion. Tomorrow, he had to get on the phone and start calling some of his old girlfriends.
    The street door that opened to the stairs of Sophie’s apartment didn’t have a lock on it. Gage’s mouth tightened. He’d noticed that yesterday, but he’d thought the stairs led only to her studio, not to her apartment as well.
    And, he hadn’t known that she.... Hadn’t known what, chump? That a slip of a woman with messy hair and big brown eyes would fascinate him? He didn’t need this. Especially after the air hostess episode.
    He slammed the street door shut, trotted up the first flight of stairs and stopped outside her apartment door. Fifteen minutes. Maybe ten. He’d listen to what Sophie had to say, then reassure her and leave.
    He knocked on the door and waited. Nothing. A chill snaked down his spine. He knocked again, harder this time. What if she’d been right? What if the groceries had signaled a greater danger than a friend stopping by to make a charitable donation?He tried the door handle, but it was locked. She could have gone out. Seven o’clock on a Sunday night. Plenty of people went to dinner at this hour. He pounded on the door with his fist and shouted her name, the chill now crackling through his body.
    Maybe she was working on that ugly landscape upstairs in her studio. He’d made it a quarter of a way up the next flight of stairs when her apartment door opened. He turned, and when he saw the pinched expression on her face soften into surprised pleasure, he made himself take the stairs slowly back to the landing.
    He needed a second to catch his breath, to tamp down the relief that swamped him. And the delight. Sophie honest-to-God looked happy to see him.
    Who wouldn’t be happy to see a cop if their apartment had been broken into?
    “You should keep the door to the street locked." That wiped the pleasure from her face.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked, keeping the door half closed.
    Good question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. “You sounded worried. I had to go out to drop the kid off anyway.”
    “Your son?” She opened the door a little wider.
    He clenched his teeth as he tried to ignore the flickers of heat that licked at him. Sophie had a white bath towel wrapped around her slender body. Nothing more.
    “You shouldn’t answer the door wearing only a towel." He edged the words out through clamped lips.
    “I was taking a shower, and I thought I heard someone shout my name. I didn’t know.... Look, you’d better come in." She