Player - A Deadliest Lies Novel - Michele Mannon Page 0,5

I open a kitchen cabinet in search of a dish towel and find several neatly folded in a pile. Surprise, surprise, there’s not a single one cockeyed. Curiosity rising, I open the refrigerator to make a quick assessment of what’s inside.

You can tell a lot by what people eat. Protein and greens, he’s health conscious. Leftovers and tin-foiled wrapped slices of pizza, he’s careful with his money. Store bought, prepackaged or to go foods, and he follows a busy schedule. Uncovered containers of foods, no longer identifiable, and he’s gross on top of careless.

I open the refrigerator, fully expecting to find the latter. A man like him could give a rat’s ass about a tidy fridge.

But I’m wrong.

His refrigerator is nearly empty. A neat stack of plain yogurt sits in the door. Bottles of Guinness are lined up like soldiers across the bottom rack. And there’s one plastic container with a rubber band fastened around its lid to hold it in place. Store bought . . . or homemade food?

I place the glasses on the counter then carefully remove the rubber band and pry off the lid.

It’s some type of chicken dish with rice in a brown sauce. I dip my finger inside and bring it to my lips for a taste. Curry?

Where in Mexico City do they sell curry?

“Looks like I snared a rabbit.”

I freeze, guilty finger midair. He reappeared so quietly I didn’t hear him approach. “I was . . . um . . . hungry.”

“So you poke your finger inside my supper?” He shakes his head. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“Fine,” I say, deciding on a different tactic. “I wasn’t hungry but curious about what kind of brown sauce this was.” I turn my attention to recovering the curry and placing it back inside the refrigerator.

“And what kind is it?”

I blink. “Um . . .”

“Where’s the bottle of Jamie?”

“On the coffee table, where you left it.” I pause. “Why?”

“It empty?”

“No.”

A broad smile spreads across his face. “So, you’re not twisted?”

“Twisted?”

“Drunk off yer ass. Bolloxed.”

Is he upset I stuck my finger in his curry? I bite my lip, deciding on the best way to handle this.

“You going to be asking me next for my recipe?”

I seize the chance to change the topic. “This is homemade curry chicken?”

He offers me a smug smile full of challenge. Testing me, I’m certain of it.

“You cook?”

“I do. In and out of the kitchen.”

Our eyes connect, his baby blues glimmering with mischief.

I want to make a smart-ass comment, something to the effect of him out there hunting for food rather than inside a kitchen. But time is ticking and this banter between us is getting me nowhere.

“Is that right?” I breathe. Think of this as feeding a goose your brand of Pop-Tart. Tempt him with the treat, get him to quack, then fall back before getting bit.

I step forward with a little swing in my hips. Savoring the exact moment his smile slips. It’s the same moment I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and draw myself into his warm body.

“I lied,” I murmur.

I wait. One second. Two.

“About?” he asks in an equally low tone.

“Not being hungry. Matter of fact, I’m famished.” I raise my chin and look him square in the eyes. “Good thing you can cook, in and out of the bedroom.”

He stares at me hard. Warning bells ring, and every fiber of my being tells me I’m in danger. That this man isn’t what he seems. That it’d be foolish to underestimate him.

I search his deep blue depths for answers. What I come away with is a deep, albeit surprising, stirring within. Hells bells, what am I doing? Brushing my confusion aside, I come up on my tippy-toes then sweep in for a kiss.

Let the seduction begin.

Finn

She moves soft lips over mine, growing more aggressive when I don’t reciprocate.

I’m less surprised she’s gone in for a snog than puzzled why she’d take things beyond the fine line we’ve been dodging all night. Whatever she wants, she’s claiming it.

I can play this a few ways. Be the sweet-talking shyster like my fellow mercenary, Jaxson. Not give a shite and go in for the kill like Declan would do. Sass my way through this Kylie Smith-like. Go Diego on her pretty ass, in an all-out explosive way, overwhelming her with emotion.

I can manipulate the shit out of the stubborn beour. Have her eating out of my hands without her even knowing it, like my boss, the Bastard Hayden, expertly does