The Beach Alibi by Alison Kent

Author:Alison Kent [Kent, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romantic Suspense
ISBN: 9780758206749
Google: FA7UTSkYC44C
Amazon: 0758206747
Barnesnoble: 0758206747
Goodreads: 570215
Publisher: Brava
Published: 2004-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

Emma tossed her bag on the entry table in what served as her apartment's foyer, kicked off her shoes as she walked through the living room, and welcomed the cool tile on her stockinged feet once she reached the kitchen.

She heard the catch of the front door echo behind her and braced herself for the inevitable. She had no idea what had happened out there in the street, but this evening would be coming to a quick end if Mr. Strong-and-Silent didn't get with the program.

Whether he liked it or not, she'd left her need-to-know basis behind the moment she'd sat in his lap and opened herself to him body and soul. What she feared was that he was stuck on the body part and hadn't snapped to the fact that making love wasn't a case of taking one for the team.

She'd made love with him because she'd known from the moment of walking into Hank's office and finding Kelly John there she would not be waking up in the morning to the same life she'd lived for the past five years.

It was time to find out exactly what she'd gotten herself into. And where she was headed after tonight, since there was no going back.

She poured filtered water and measured chocolate truffle decaf into the coffeemaker's basket, listening for Kelly John, assuming he'd join her once he took care of business.

A business that had seemed a novelty when she'd signed up for a crash course earlier tonight. A business she now realized wasn't a business at all.

It was his life.

It wasn't play-acting, or an on-again, off-again adventure to seize. Kelly John's blood pulsed red with danger. He breathed it in the way she breathed in air.

The realization humbled her. That he took on so much, sacrificed so much, with no compensation or praise? Her throat ached at the thought.

The coffeemaker started in with its hissing and steaming and gurgling. She breathed in the brew's sweetly earthy aroma and swore again that, decaf or not, coffee was the nectar of the gods.

With a cup in hand, she could face anything. Even the man behind her now, filling the room with his bulk and an equally large wave of tension sending nerves to flutter between her legs in tender anticipation.

"Smells good," he said, sounding as sincere as most efforts at making pleasantries.

"It'll probably smell better once you splash it with Kahlua." She turned and leaned back against the countertop, her hands at her sides and curled over the edge. "Unless you prefer not to drink on the job?"

He grunted, crossed his arms, faced her. "I'm pretty sure I didn't kill that bottle of wine at dinner alone."

"True. But with whatever it is that's come up now"and she hated how he'd pushed her into the building while he handled his issue with the driver of the cab-"I thought you might need more of your wits about you."

"Whatever it is that's come up now has been taken care of."

No. She wasn't going to let him off that easy.

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