“What is it?”
Wolfe stepped into the house, forcing her backward a couple of paces. He closed the door a little too firmly behind him. “Why didn’t you mention you and Dean were seriously at odds at work?”
His anger shot up her nerves. She fought not to answer with the same kind of heat. “We disagreed on occasion, mostly about the way we thought the campaign should be run, but it certainly wasn’t anything that would make me want to kill him.”
“No? That’s not what the tabloids say.” Though she was five foot eight, Jonah towered above her. Few men intimidated her these days but Wolfe was one of them.
“According to what I read, Dean wanted to fire you and you were furious about it. The papers said you’d do anything to keep that from happening. The implication was you’d trade sex to keep your job—or already had.”
Fury swept away caution. “That’s complete and utter bull! I never slept with David. And I sure as hell wouldn’t do it to keep my job.” She opened her mouth to say more, but paused. “I mean...unless something happened last night that I can’t recall.”
Her hand was shaking. She clenched it into a fist to make it stop. “I don’t think I slept with David last night. I wasn’t attracted to him and I would never sleep with a man I didn’t want.”
Some of the tension drained out of those wide shoulders. In the overhead track lighting in her modern apartment, Jonah’s wavy raven-black hair gleamed. She might not have been attracted to David Dean, but just looking at the man in front of her sent her blood pressure up a notch.
“You want something to drink?” April asked. “I entertain people here, hold meetings on occasion. I’ve got just about anything you could want.”
“I don’t drink on the job.”
“Neither do I.” She glanced at the clock at the end of the breakfast bar in the kitchen. “It’s almost eleven p.m. Surely you’re off work by now.”
He relaxed even more and the corner of his mouth edged up. The late evening shadow along his jaw and his long hair made him look dangerous, and even more attractive. “Got any scotch?”
“Of course. It’s in the bar.” He followed her into the living room, over to the wet bar built into the wall. She could feel him behind her, at least six-two, all lean muscle nicely packed together.
“I like your place,” he said as she took down the bottle of Dewar’s and two cut-crystal glasses.
“Thank you. Neat?”
“Please.”
She filled one of the glasses and handed it over, poured some into a glass for herself. “I was drinking chamomile tea, hoping it would help me sleep, but maybe this is a better idea.”
Those intriguing chocolate-brown eyes ran over her. As sure as she was standing in her living room he was thinking of a far better way to help her sleep.
As heat slipped through her body, April didn’t doubt it would work. She hadn’t been to bed with a man in a year. She had simply been too busy, or perhaps she just hadn’t met a man she was attracted to.
If she weren’t trying to prove herself innocent of murder, maybe she would pursue her attraction to Jonah Wolfe.
On the other hand, a man like Jonah probably ran through women at the speed of light. She’d had trouble like that before. She didn’t need it again, no matter how attractive the package.
She led him across the living room and they sat down on the sofa and chairs, dove-gray with black cording, and bright red accent pillows.
Done in a modern décor, contemporary artwork hung on the walls of her Oaklawn town house, nothing expensive, mostly reproductions of paintings done by famous artists. Miros and Picassos, a Chagall, some lithographs and serigraphs she had picked up at boutique galleries over the years.
Jonah sipped his drink. “You’ve had some time to think,” he said. “Any idea why you were passed out naked in Dean’s bed?”
She swallowed as her mind returned to the murder. “Since I can’t remember what happened and assuming I’m not the one who killed him—someone must have drugged me. They must have driven both of us to David’s house, probably in my car, and staged the murder scene. Whoever did it must have taken my gun out of my purse and shot him.”
“The police will be canvassing the neighborhood, trying to find someone who heard something.”
“I hope they do.”
“Who would have known the gun was in your purse?” Those dark eyes searched her face, looking for any indication she was lying. In a way she was glad he wasn’t just taking her word. She wanted the truth and she was beginning to trust that Jonah Wolfe would find it.
“The gun wasn’t a secret,” she said. “In fact, I let it be known I regularly carried a weapon for protection. I figured the more people who knew, the safer I was.”
“I can see the logic.”
