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There is no way Dove had a connection to the dead man.
His heart gave a lurch.But what if there is?
* * * * *
A messy house was not something Dove could live with, and since her sister Rain started living with her, the place had beenanythingbut tidy.
She shot a glance from the dirty dishes piled in the sink to the stack of Rain’s laundry taking over the small kitchen table. A cereal box sat open on the counter, along with a splash of puddled milk beside it.
Dove ran a palm over her face to dispel the annoyance building inside her.
A cluttered home meant a cluttered mind. How could sheeverthink straight and formulate a plan with all this junk sitting around and chores undone?
She was neat and orderly—it was a trait she took pride in and one that helped her climb to her position with the FBI.
Her former position, that was. Now she was the out-of-work sister of a slob.
As she set about filling the dishwasher, she silently seethed that her sister wasn’t out here doing a chore she despised just as much as Dove did. Of course her irritation was valid. First of all, she’d wrongly enabled her sister for her entire life. Now she expected Rain to clean up after herself?
The second big issue was missing a certain man in her life with a painful ache. Even though she wasn’t ever quite sure where she stood with him, that didn’t stop her from wanting him then or now.
“Rain!”
Her sister didn’t immediately answer nor did she appear in the kitchen. Dove called her a second time.
When her sister bounced into the room, Dove groaned.
Now she hated her even more.
Why did she look fresh and pretty, without a care in the world, while Dove had aged at least a decade over the past six weeks they’d been living together? Her lover wouldn’t want her even if being together were still a possibility.
“What’s up?” Rain asked. “I was listening to a podcast on beauty standards for women.” Rain directed a shoulder-length layer of hair behind her ear, which showed off the delicate diamond studs she wore in her lobes.
Dove pushed out a heavy sigh. “Can you remember to pick up your laundry? Or fold it?”
Rain lifted two perfect brows that sloped in twin arches seen only on magazine covers. “And do what with it?”
“Put it away.”
She widened her eyes, which only enhanced the look of her long lashes. “Where do you suggest I put my clothes?”
Dove held on to her patience. She really tried anyway. But she’d been cooped up in her apartment for weeks with nobody but her baby sister for company.
I signed up for this. I. Signed. Up. For. This.
She reminded herself to pull enough air into her lungs to answer. “In the closet,” she told Rain.
“You mean the closet I’ve been sleeping in for a month and a half?”
“Yes.”
“Your walk-in closet that’s already filled with your clothes and amassiveshoe collection?”
“Rain.” Her tone came with an edge. She tried to keep her cool, but she wasn’t sleeping well. Or sleeping at all.
“If you let me sleep on your couch, then my clothes would fit in the closet and my stuff wouldn’t be all over the apartment. Which offends your sensitive soul.”
She folded her arms. “That sounds like a stab, Rain. I do not have a sensitive soul. I am a hard, cold woman…who happens to require more order around her. And you know why you can’t sleep on my couch. The house will look disrupted. Someone could walk in and see you.”
