White Heat by Cherry Adair

Author:Cherry Adair [Adair, Cherry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, General, Romantic Suspense Fiction, Suspense, Terrorism, Political Science, Political Freedom & Security, Counterterrorist Organizations
ISBN: 9780345476456
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2006-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

An easel stood in the center of the room. She walked over to look at the stretched canvas. The impasto, the paint layer, was thick and raised from the surface. “The paint’s smudged. Is this the room where she died?”

“Yeah.” Max was crouched down looking through a stack of files in the bottom drawer of a bright red lacquered metal file cabinet. “How do you know?”

“She must’ve been working when she fell. The paint’s wet. Someone righted the easel and painting. You can see the fingerprints on the edge here where they held it on either side to pick it up off the floor. Something brushed against the high points of the wet paint, leaving a faint imprint.” She looked down at the stone floor. “The brush fell and then bounced here and here. See the orange splatter?”

“Nice catch. Let’s just hope those prints belong to the killer and not the sister, who found the body, or the EMTs.”

“Her sister picked this up.”

Max lifted a brow. “And you know this how?”

“Small hands. But I think if her sister came here to visit her and found her dead, after she called for help, and after she tried everything to save her, she would have spent the time waiting for medical help tidying up.”

Max raised a brow. “Her sister is lying dead on the floor, and she straightens up the room?”

Emily nodded. “Jacoba was concerned about appearances. She liked people knowing she was orderly. Her sister gave her order before the EMTs arrived.”

“Damn. That’s good. Logical.”

“Talking about good—” The painting was neither a restoration piece, nor a copy. “This is . . . interesting.”

Not to speak ill of the dead, but the painting was dreadful.

Head tilted, Max glanced at the painting. “Jesus. What’s it supposed to be?”

“An orange dog?” A very strange looking, five-eyed orange dog with only two legs. And either a super long penis, or a strangely shaped tail growing out of its front. The background was a slightly deeper shade of blotchy orange with a murky brown line running down the middle.

He smiled. “I think it’s a sofa with an antenna.”

“No, look. These are ears. Hmm maybe they’re cushions—”

Max’s slid his arms around her from behind and she jumped a little because she’d thought he was on the far side of the room. He moved as stealthily as a ghost. “What are you doing?”

He turned her in his arms. “If you have to ask,” he murmured against her mouth. “Then I’m not doing it right.”

Eleven

SHE TOOK ADVANTAGE OF HIS OPEN MOUTH AND PULLED HIS head down, taking his mouth like he’d taken hers when they’d made love. Like she owned it. Like she owned him. For a moment she pretended that she did. She teased him with her tongue, and when he groaned deeply, she felt heady with her own power. He stood perfectly still for a moment, letting her take the lead, then tightened his arms around her waist and pulled her harder against him.

His lips were warm

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