Page 95 of Nothing More

She glared at him. “We’re notdating.”

“That’s a shame.” He shrugged and turned back toward the French doors. “Either way, you won’t have to smuggle him in or invite him to come through the door. He’s already here.”

Her stomach flipped. “He’swhat? When?” Her nails snarled in her hair in her rush to tidy it. “Stoplaughing at me, Ian!”

She gave herself a stern inner talking-to, as she crossed the terrace. She’d seen him only hours ago, and besides, she was right: they weren’t dating. Two hot and heavy nights weren’t enough to turn her into a silly schoolgirl.

Theyweren’t.

But convincing her pulse to slow wasn’t working. And then she stepped into the flat’s gleaming kitchen, and it leaped, because, well…damn.

She’d spent weeks dressing him up in suits. Velvets, silks, brocades, the finest of imported wools, in every color, with a wide array of subtle patterns and bold, fresh lines. She’d dressed him up like a doll, his forever-sullen expression telling her what he thought of that.

She’d seen him dressed up.

She wasn’t sure, therefore, why the sight of him in a cheap suit with his hair falling down from its previously slicked-back state struck her so forcefully. She halted just inside the door and stared at him a moment, willing her face smooth, hoping she didn’t look as foolish and starstruck as she felt. She wanted to blame it on the suit, but it was a simple, black, off-the-rack number, untailored, and not all that flattering; it didn’t show off the narrowness of his hips or the lean muscle of his thighs.

No, it wasn’t the suit. It was his face. The freshness of it, the way he looked like he’d had a full night’s sleep for once, the way he looked younger, his brows less beetled, his mouth softer, and…shiny? Yes, faintly shiny, and plump, the way it looked after they’d been snogging.

As quickly as it had arrived, her rush of excitement drained back out.

He was wearing makeup. Tenny had all but slathered the poor man in makeup.

Speaking of her brother…a glance proved that Tenny had likewise altered his appearance. She could grant that he was good at it. Only someone who knew what he and Toly normally looked like could have told they’d been contoured, and bronzed, and, in Toly’s case, had his brows softened with concealer.

As though he could read her thoughts, Tenny grinned, pleased with himself, when she met his gaze.

Raven propped her hands on her hips. Gave him a look.

His grin broadened.

“If you have a keycard,” she said, dryly, “I ought to revoke it.”

He whipped it out from his pocket, held it up between two taunting fingers, like a cigarette. “You didn’t give it to me, so you can’t revoke anything.”

Ian passed smoothly behind him and plucked the card away; walked around him, smiling at his startled expression, and offered it back. “Behave, you,” he said. “Not everyone finds your theatrics as charming as I do.”

Tenny made a face.

So did Reese, she noticed, shifting his weight from his place leaned up against the front of the dishwasher. She wondered if Tenny provoked that subtly-shown bit of jealousy on purpose.

“Tell us what you’ve learned,” Ian said, with an inviting gesture, and moved to join Raven.

Tenny shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the counter, growing serious. “She’s a nasty old bitch.”

Raven said, “Yes, well, I already knew that.”

His gaze sharpened, displeased at the snark.You aren’t the only one of Devin’s brood in this room, she thought, offering him a lifted brow in challenge.Learn to deal with the competition.

Before he could say anything else, Toly chimed in: “She’s convinced it was the maid, and I don’t think she’s wrong. Antonina was at least involved. And her boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Raven and Ian asked together.

Tenny shot his “detective partner” a disgruntled look for the interruption, then turned back to them. “Yes. A Russian fellow, tattooed. Nikolai something. Mrs. Newsome wasn’t a fan.” To Toly: “It was a damn good thing you didn’t speak. She’d have thrown us out on our ears like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Or called Interpol, maybe.” In a stage whisper: “She wasn’t a fan of immigrants.”

Toly scowled, which sent crinkles spreading across the makeup on his cheeks. (Cute.) “I’m not on Interpol’s wanted list.”

“That youknow of.”