“Hmm?” What did he say? Snap out of it! “Oh, to hear what happened.”
Royal blue eyes considered her for several long moments. Professor Xavier’s telepathy powers would come in handy right about now. Then, not only would she know what had happened at her apartment, but she’d know the thoughts running rampant in his head at her ogling his assets.
“Look, coffee this late will keep me up,” he finally said, “but if you don’t mind grabbing me a juice, I’ll be right out.”
“Yeah, sure, of course. I’m sorry.”
She gave him a weak smile and left the bathroom. Something was definitely wrong. He was acting different. And not in a good way. It must be bad news, she thought as she took a bottle of juice out of the fridge and cracked open the lid. As she wracked her brain as to what the bad news could be, Kat tipped the plastic bottle to her lips, sipped…and spit it into the sink.
“Blech!” She held it up and shuddered just reading the label. “Cranberry.”
“Good for the kidneys,” he said, coming up behind her and relieving her of his juice.
“Cranberry juice is so…” She turned to face him, her sentence trailing off at the sight of him as he killed the whole bottle, his throat stretched, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. “…delicious.”
His black shorts rode so low on his hips as to almost have no point in being worn at all. It didn’t matter that she’d seen him naked twice no more than five minutes earlier. Somehow this was sexier, with the deep V-cut of his obliques disappearing beneath the elastic waistband, torturing her with thoughts of where those muscles would lead her fingers if she traced them to their ends.
Irish tossed the bottle in the garbage and leaned back on the counter. “If it’s so delicious, why’d you spit it out?”
“Hmm?” Oh my God, you’re like a broken idiotic record around him unless he’s fully clothed. Smooth, Kat, real smooth. “Oh, no, I meant disgusting. Too tart for my taste, I guess.” Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “We still talking about juice?”
She shook her head, the errant sections of hair that had fallen from her messy up-do over the harrowing evening swaying on her cheeks and neck. “The news.”
“Not at all,” he said. “They backed off. They’re gonna wait until Marx gets out and take it up with him.”
“Are you serious? You mean I’m free?”
“You won’t have to worry about them anymore.”
The perpetual fear she’d lived with for so many months finally melted away, leaving her feeling almost weightless. “Irish, that’s great news!” She paused in her celebration to study his solemn face. Her brows drew together with her uncertainty. “Irish? What’s wrong?”
“I asked you if there was anything I needed to know about the situation before I went there. You said I knew everything.”
“You did.”
“Really? So the fact that you and your ex worked for Sicoli, what, just slipped your mind? Still,” he said in a low voice, “I never figured you for a drug pusher.”
“A drug pusher? I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about! Lenny gambled with Sicoli’s money and lost it. That’s why they were after us.”
“But that was only part of the story, wasn’t it, Kat? The part you left out was that the twenty Gs he gambled and lost came from you selling Sicoli’s meth.”
She stared, jaw slack and eyes wide, dumbfounded by his accusation. As he pushed off the counter and crossed the room, she continued to plead her case. “This is insane. Those guys probably just said that stuff so you wouldn’t help me or something.”
Picking up his riding jacket, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. As he walked back toward her, she met him halfway at the kitchen table. “I’ve never worked for Sicoli, and I’ve never had anything to do with drugs.”
“Drop the act, Kat.”
He opened the paper and slapped it down on the table between them, his blue eyes cold. With reluctance, she lowered her gaze. The paper was a contract for employment with the Sicoli Syndicate and at the bottom, right below Lenny’s, was her signature.
“That dirty, rotten bastard,” she forced through a clenched jaw. “He must have forged my signature. If I ever see him again, I’m going to kill him.”
“Why would he forge your signature for something like that?”