Christmas Cover-up. Cassie Miles

      “Great idea.” Her anger was replaced by another strong emotion as she took a step toward him. “Thank you, Cody. For everything.”

      Now was the time for him to back away. But her gaze pulled him closer. She reached up and placed her hand on his shoulder and pulled him toward her for a kiss.

      Unexpected. The soft pressure of her lips punched through his nervous system like a hard right jab to the chin. She knocked him out.

      Her contented moan resonated inside him. The tips of her breasts grazed his chest as she arched toward him on tiptoe.

      Then, she stepped back. When she raised her glass to sip her drink, the ice cubes rattled. Her hand shook, but her eyes were bold. Her cheeks were flushed with a rosy pink.

      A tense silence swirled around them. If he didn’t figure out what to say, he’d be tempted to carry her off to his bed. “Are you hungry?”

      “Starved.” In that single word was a burst of relief. She went into action, opening and closing kitchen cabinets. “I’ll whip something up. After all I’ve put you through today, you deserve dinner.”

      He wanted more than food. The taste of her lingered and aroused him. But he didn’t want to mislead her. He liked her too much.

      As she rummaged through his refrigerator, the phone rang and Cody picked up. It was Danny.

      “I heard what happened at Rue’s house,” he said.

      And he had probably also heard that she’d gone home with him. “Do you want to talk to her?”

      “I called for you, Cody.”

      He carried the phone into the other room. “Go on.”

      “First off,” Danny said, “I want to thank you for taking care of Rue. She’s a great kid.”

      Not exactly. Rue was a grown woman who didn’t need or want her former stepfather hovering over her. “Is there something else you wanted to tell me, Danny?”

      “The chief of police has been keeping me informed on their investigation. There’s something you should know.”

      “Yes, sir?”

      “After Bob was shot, the killer dropped his weapon. He just left it there for us to find.”

      Cody had no idea why Danny was telling him this. He wasn’t an investigator and he didn’t handle murder cases. He practiced corporate law. In his negotiations, the only blood that was spilled was symbolic.

      Danny continued, “The forensic people have run ballistics tests on the gun.”

      “Already?”

      “Top-priority case.”

      Of course, it would be. Danny Mason was the newly elected mayor of Denver. Cody waited for him to continue.

      “The gun,” Danny said. “It was the same weapon used twenty years ago to murder your father.”