Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Carol Ericson (bill gates best books TXT) 📕

up her spine, and Kyra gritted her teeth. None of them cared. They were driven by some evil inside them. They couldn’t be human. Too bad their outer appearance didn’t reflect their inner demons for everyone to see and avoid.

“Are you all right?” Jake pointed at her untouched food. “You probably didn’t come to visit Quinn to talk about this case. Sorry I ruined your dinner.”

Kyra glanced at Quinn from beneath her lashes. “Don’t worry about me. This is my work, too.”

Jake’s lips twisted into a smile, and a flash of heat claimed Kyra’s body. That bone he’d thrown her before about her rapport with the Lindquists had been designed to get Quinn on his side. Jake needed Quinn. He didn’t think he needed her or her skills at all. He had no idea.

“Jake’s right. Eat your food.” Quinn wiped his napkin across his face. “You never did tell me what brought you over here, Kyra. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company and fish and chips from the King’s Head?”

She dug into her food. “Just wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself. You know how the air quality aggravates your breathing, and there’s a fire near Malibu Canyon.”

“Has that been getting worse?” Jake crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto his empty plate. Easing back, he rested his ankle on his knee, extending his arms across the back of the love seat, his hand dipping toward her shoulder, a little too close for comfort. “When I left work, it sounded like the fire department had that under control.”

She shook her head. “The winds have been whipping up in the canyons, and the dry brush from the minimal rainfall last winter is fueling the fire. I could smell it when I got out of the car.”

“I sat on my deck earlier today reading and didn’t notice it.” Quinn lifted his hunched shoulders. “But thanks for checking on me.”

Jake slid her a glance from the corner of his eye, still wondering at the relationship between her and Quinn. He wasn’t LAPD’s hotshot detective and first pick for this task force for nothing.

Toying with the last of the fries on her plate, Kyra said, “I knew Charlotte, Quinn’s wife. Uh, we got friendly when she needed a therapist’s perspective for a certain character.”

“I’ll have to pick up one of her books. I’m sure your wife must’ve gotten a lot of ideas from you, sir.” Jake hunched forward and lifted his plate. “Are you finished?”

“I am.” She stacked her plate on top of Quinn’s and handed them both to Jake.

As Jake carried the dishes to the kitchen, Quinn called after him. “Do you want another beer, Jake?”

“I’m good. I have to drive back to my place in Hollywood. Can I get you another?”

Before Quinn could answer in the affirmative, Kyra held up her hand to him. “Think long and hard about that answer.”

“You’re a tyrant. Are you channeling Charlotte?” Quinn finished the last sip of his beer. “I guess that’s a no for me, Jake.”

Jake set the dishes in the sink and rinsed them off. “Should I put these in the dishwasher?”

Kyra raised her eyebrows at his domesticity although she’d heard through the grapevine that he was single. As a bachelor, he’d know his way around a kitchen. She just never imagined Jake McAllister doing anything as pedestrian as the dishes—and the past few days, she’d been imagining Jake McAllister doing a lot of things.

“Yes, dishwasher. Are you done with your beer?” Her hand hovered over his bottle.

“Done.”

She picked up the bottle and a few mouthfuls sloshed at the bottom. A lot of cops hit the booze to deal with the stress. Jake must have other outlets...or none at all if she were to believe all the stories about him. If you didn’t have a way to cope with the anxiety of the job, it had a nasty habit of building up and exploding.

She reached across the table to collect Quinn’s empty. The retired detective had had his own issues with alcohol, but Charlotte had straightened him out.

Quinn encircled her wrist with his arthritic fingers and whispered, “Are you all right?”

She gave him a quick nod and rose with all three bottles clutched to her chest. She joined Jake in the kitchen, where she got a prime view of his backside in his work slacks as he bent over the dishwasher, putting the plates in the slots on the bottom rack. When he straightened to his full height, he almost backed into her.

“Oops.” She held the bottles over her head. “I was just going to put these in the recycling bin.”

“I’ll do it. You know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen?” He reached up to take the bottles from her hands, moving close enough so that they almost stood chest to chest.

She blinked as she kept her hold on the bottles. “We’re not cooking.”

He jerked back and when she released the beer, one bottle fell to the floor where it bounced once.

“What the hell is going on in there? That kitchen is too small for the two of you to be dancing around. If he wants to help, let him help, Kyra. You don’t have to control everything.”

Jake cracked a smile for a brief second before he picked up the bottle. “Sounds like Quinn knows you well.”

“But you don’t.” She leveled a finger at him and flounced out of the kitchen on shaky legs. She wasn’t mad at Jake, or Quinn, for that matter, but when Jake had smiled—even though it had been at her expense—something flickered in her heart and she wanted to stomp it out before Jake took up any more space in her brain.

She sat on the arm of Quinn’s chair, no longer willing to share the love seat with Jake. When he returned to the living room, he snagged his shoulder holster from a table near the door.

“I didn’t mean to stay so long and disrupt your visit...and eat