Page 23 of Mr. Risky

To my surprise he had the same case, the wood mellowed and seasoned, the music still pouring out of him like it always had, those dirty, sensual notes he could make that old fiddle play.

But I refused to look at him.

“I heard you were distressed to find your car gone,” Granger said. “Hayden noticed it had a nail stuck in it so we thought it best to take it to the shop. I’m sure it’ll be done in a few days.”

“How did that nail get in there, I wonder?” I asked flatly.

“I have no idea,” Granger said. I could feel him only inches from my back, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling with awareness. “Must have been something on the drive over.”

“Must have been.”

I was more convinced than ever that Granger had tampered with my car. But why? Why was he so insistent I was going to be his mistress?

“I’m tired,” I said, pushing away from the piano. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“That was so good,” Pippa enthused. “Just like old times.”

“Exactly like them,” Granger agreed, but I tightened my lips and refused to look at him.

“I’ll be right back,” Pippa added. “I wish we’d built the guesthouse with a bathroom on the first floor instead of just the second floor. So inconvenient. But then, it was just for the servants, of course. Sorry, Sosie. Of course I don’t mean you.”

“Of course,” I said.

She went up the stairs, still humming.

I heard the flick of a lighter as Granger lit a cigarette, his hand resting in the open window. As if that would somehow keep the guesthouse from smelling like his earthy, aromatic smoke.

“What are you doing?” I snapped.

Granger was leaning back on the sofa with his feet up, his stubbled cheeks hollowing with each drag of his cigarette.

“Put that cigarette out.”

“Why? My wife said it was all right to smoke here,” he countered with a smirk, and I felt fury rising inside me.

“The very least you could do is not smoke inside,” I hissed. “The open window there isn’t going to do shit.”

Granger only smiled, slow and lazy.

“Make me, then.”

Suddenly I couldn’t bear it any longer. His arrogance. The way he’d broken my heart but he wouldn’t let me nurse it in private. He was going to do a fucking dick dance over the remains.

I ripped the cigarette from his lips and plunged it into his soda can.

“Fuck you for even coming here. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

My heart was pounding, but he didn’t even seem affected, one strong arm propped leisurely behind his head.

His T-shirt had ridden up so I could see the deep v-cut of his belly, the jeans that hung low on his hips.

“I don’t want to.”

My fists were clenched and I wanted to smack that smile off his face, but I only kicked out at his feet propped lazily on the coffee table.

“Why don’t you take your beloved wife away. I’m tired of the sight of you both.”

He only cocked his head, his thighs falling open so I could see the outline of his heavy bulge even through the pants.