White Heat by Cherry Adair Read Free Book Online

interested.
    “I suspect that his death and your intruder are somehow linked,” Max said evenly, shoving his seat back a little more to accommodate his long legs. “Tell me what you know about his day- to-day life in the months before he died.”
    Emily frowned, tucking one leg under her, and turning in her seat to face him. “What an odd thing to say. Why would you think Daniel’s suicide had anything to do with this morning? You might not have gotten my messages in a timely fashion, but it’s been almost a month since your father died.”
    “It wasn’t suicide. And your friend back there didn’t drop in for a social call. He was there to kill you.”
    “Ki – My God, Max! Scare the crap out of me, why don’t you? That’s a hell of a stretch. I’m an artist. There might be someone who doesn’t like my technique, but I doubt they’d want to kill me for it.”
    “Someone killed the old man. You two were close. And less than a month later, someone breaks into your house and deposits a vial of an unknown substance in your bedroom. I don’t believe in coincidence.”
    “There are all sorts of different reasons,” Emily pointed out. “How about this scenario? That guy showed up at my place to wait for you. No, really. Think about it. I’ve lived in my palazzo for more than ten years without anyone ever breaking in. Then suddenly, on the same night—ten minutes before you show up—he arrives.
    “You have a gun. He has a gun. You know how to restrain a guy and knock him out, he knows how to throw some pretty impressive punches, too.”
    Max made a growling noise, which Emily wisely ignored. She adjusted the controls so the warm air blew on her feet. “Or not. I really don’t know what that guy was up to in my house, but as hard as it is for us both to believe, as awful as it is to imagine, your father threw himself from the balcony outside his tower studio.” Dramatic and theatrical and typical of Daniel. “He left a note.”
    “If he were going to kill himself he would have used pills. Not a gunshot, which tends to be messy as hell, and not by jumping off a third-floor balcony to splat on the driveway below and be seen by a bunch of servants and house guests, which is messier still. “Trust me,” he said wryly. “He didn’t jump.”
    Emily reached over and almost touched his arm. He’d pushed up the long sleeves of his black T-shirt, baring strong forearms dusted with crisp dark hair. Her mouth went dry. She could almost feel the heat of his skin, almost feel the dark hair tickling her palm. Her body listed toward him as though he were a magnet, and she a sliver of metal.
    Danger, oh Lord. Danger.
    She redirected her hand, adjusting one of the air vents instead. Then straightened out in her seat, still looking at him, but not quite as engaged. The car felt extremely small and confined, and she was enveloped by the delicious and familiar smell of him that seemed to permeate her very pores and fill her brain with wicked and unwanted memories. Pheromones, nothing but pheromones. Whatever the hell it was made her want to rub her body against his like a purring cat.
    “But that’s what be did:’ she said gently, understanding his disbelief because she’d felt it, too, when she’d heard the news.
    Max shook his head. “A, he was too vain a man to end up splattered on the driveway. B, the trajectory was wrong. If he’d jumped, he’d’ve landed closer to the building. He was thrown.”
For someone who’d barely known his father, Max seemed to know Daniel pretty well. He was right. Daniel had been extremely vain. He’d been a striking-looking man even at seventy plus. And had kept his hair the same rich, dark brown color as Max’s. Daniel had also had a face-lift when he’d turned sixty, and several other minor he’d called them—over the past few years. “Are you sure?”
    “I have someone doing a tox screen and checking his body for suspicious marks. I’ll know more in a couple of