Page 12 of Queen of Diamonds
He knew he was skirting a line where Kinsey was concerned, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. The first thing he should have done was report to Nate that someone was asking questions about him and his brothers. Although her questions seemed innocent enough, even wanting to know about the previous owners, who’d been undercover when they operated out of the bar, was cause for suspicion.
Yet he just couldn’t see her as a bad guy.And if you’re wrong, Stevens?At best he’d get a stern lecture from Nate, and at worst he’d lose his job. And even knowing that, he still couldn’t bring himself to put her on the FBI’s radar. Maybe it was stupid reasoning, but he’d smiled over a memory of his little girl shortly after having lunch with Kinsey, and now the two were connected in his mind. Until and unless he learned otherwise, he’d consider her innocent of having ulterior motives.
As he was leaving the restaurant, pizza box in hand, a woman approached the door, and he paused to hold it open for her. A blonde, blue-eyed little girl walked beside her. Rand’s breath caught in his throat, and grief sank its claws into his heart. Somehow he managed to nod at the woman when she thanked him instead of letting the door hit her in the face as he made his escape.
Kinsey showered, then slipped on a pair of shorts and a scooped-neck T-shirt. She was having second thoughts about inviting Rand over, but he’d sounded down, and she’d made the offer before thinking better of it. For one thing she was crazy attracted to him, but a biker bar owner wasn’t long-term boyfriend material.
All through college she’d concentrated on school, spending her free time working or studying. She’d had a boyfriend in high school, a really nice guy who’d been as clumsy as her the first time they’d made love the night of their senior prom.
After graduation they’d gone their separate ways, her to the University of Miami, and Rick to the University of Central Florida in Orlando. Up until eight months ago they’d still hooked up when their schedules permitted. Although she knew their relationship was slowly fizzling out, she hadn’t had the time or energy for dating. She liked Rick, and he was easy in that he wasn’t around to need constant attention from her. Seeing him when they could make it happen was convenient, but then he had fallen in love with a girl in one of his classes. She was happy for him, but she missed the intimacy of being with a man.
She was also ready for a relationship, one that had the potential to go somewhere. As an only child with a mother who frequently worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, Kinsey had often been lonely. So many times she’d wished for a brother or sister to play with. Long ago she’d decided she wanted a big family when she grew up. A home filled with the love between wife and husband and the laughter of children—at least three, but four would be a nice round number.
The doorbell rang, and taking a deep breath, she opened the door to the man with whom she might or might not play tonight. “Ah, that smells so good,” she said, getting a whiff of the pizza.
“I aim to please,” Rand responded.
Oh, he pleased her all right, in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine. One sight of him in a shirt that did a beautiful job of accentuating what looked like a rock-hard chest and broad shoulders and she made her decision. Bring on the playtime.
“Come on in.” She led him to the kitchen, which took about six steps. Her apartment was small, the building old. It was well maintained, though, and she loved the high ceilings and crown molding.
“One pizza, no olives or anchovies, as promised,” he said, setting the box on the counter. “And I thought you might like a glass of wine to go with it.”
She eyed the bottle and almost choked. “Um, that’s a hundred-dollar bottle of wine.” She glanced at him to see a slight blush on his cheeks, which was darn cute.
“I didn’t expect you to know that.”
“I told you I belong to a wine club. Just so happens this was a featured wine a few months ago. Is it from your bar?” she asked as she took two wineglasses from the cabinet.
“No, from home. And you only need one glass. I don’t drink.”
She paused with the goblets in her hands and stared at him. “You’re giving me an expensive bottle of wine from your own collection and you don’t drink? And on top of that, you own a bar.”
He shrugged. “That about sums it up.”
“You get more interesting by the minute, Rand Stevens.” She grinned. “A real conundrum. So why don’t you drink? Are you an alcoholic?” Her friends said she was sometimes too blunt, but she figured that if someone didn’t want to answer any of her questions, all they had to do was say so.
“Not exactly.” He opened a drawer and peered into it. She liked that he made himself at home. “Where’s your bottle opener?”
She reached past him to open the next drawer over, brushing her arm over his. Touching him hadn’t been intentional, but the skin-to-skin contact sent a tingle up her arm. Oh yeah, he was definitely doing it for her. She glanced up at him as she handed him the opener to see him looking at her with eyes that seemed to be burning.
He took the corkscrew from her, letting his fingers slide over hers. “Thank you for saving me from a boring night of staring at my TV.” His eyes shifted away. “And some other things.”
“My good deed for the day.” Although she doubted that he spent his nights staring at his TV. All the man had to do was crook his finger at a woman and she’d come running to him. But he seemed off tonight. His last sentence had been said almost in a whisper, as if he were talking to himself. She had the passing thought that he could use a hug, but she let that go. For the moment, anyway.
After he opened the wine bottle, he poured a small amount into the glass, then handed it to her. “Taste.”
She brought the goblet to her nose and sniffed, then sipped a little into her mouth, rolling it around on her tongue. “Mmm.” She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. “Full-bodied but firm, a hint of oak and berry and notes of tea leaf, and a little on the earthy side. Extremely good.”
“I continue to be impressed.” He took the glass from her and filled it to the halfway point. “We probably need to heat up the pizza. It took a little longer to get here than I expected.”
She turned on the oven. “Does it bother you to be around alcohol?”
“It used to but not any longer.” He leaned against her kitchen counter. “To answer your earlier question, after my divorce I decided it would be a good idea to drown my sorrows in booze, dirty martinis being my favorite embalming fluid.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Olives. Sorry, but I can’t be friends with an olive lover.”
“Then I’m heartbroken.” He put his hand to his chest, over his heart, and blinked puppy dog eyes at her.
