Sleeping Beauty Suspect

“I didn’t run, I left. There’s a difference. Don’t worry, I’ll pay my bill.”

He ignored that. “You were at the scene of an arson.”

“So was your brother.”

“Hey!” Flynn waved an arm between them. “Let’s calm down here.”

“This is official business, Flynn. Stay out of it.”

“Not likely. Whitney is my guest. Either put on your manners or hit the door.”

“I’m not kidding, Flynn.”

“Neither am I.”

The brothers glared at each other. They were evenly matched in size and weight and she suspected temperament as well. She allowed another cough to take hold. It was enough to divert the tension.

“You should be in the hospital,” Flynn’s brother told her again.

“And you shouldn’t barge into your brother’s home,” she admonished, “but here we both are.”

His startled expression mirrored Flynn’s.

“She took the words right out of my mouth,” Flynn told his brother with a slow smile. “And Mom would give you hell for acting this way.”

The cop sent a scowl at his brother. “Mom sent me here to check on you.”

“I already talked to her.”

“You thought that would be enough?”

“No. I knew she’d send you over eventually. You want some sherbet?” he asked, limping to the kitchen and pulling a carton from the freezer.

Flynn’s brother continued to glare at him over the island. “What flavor?”

“Rainbow.” Flynn reached for bowls.

“Okay.”

Their mercurial mood shift left her gaping. Whitney forced her mouth closed. It was as if they hadn’t been at each other’s throats only a second ago. Flynn winked at her and turned back to dish out the sherbet.

“Nice limp,” Flynn’s brother noted. “Think it’ll buy you any sympathy?”

“Not from a coldhearted bastard like you.”

He grinned unrepentantly. “Sally says you pulled a muscle.”

“Feels like more than one,” Flynn agreed.

“That’s what you get when you play hero.”

“You should know.”

Flynn’s brother turned back to Whitney. “Since my baby brother has no manners to speak of let’s start over. I’m Lucan O’Shay. And you are—?”

“Not interested,” Flynn told him as he set a bowl in front of her. “Eat it. It’ll help your throat.”

“Flynn, this is police business,” Lucan protested.

Flynn’s expression hardened. “Is there a warrant out for her?”

“No, of course no—”

“Then we’re two brothers sharing a dish of sherbet with a friend.”

“My name is Whitney Charles,” she told Lucan to forestall the new explosion building between them. “And I’m not stashed anywhere. Your brother and I were having dinner together before you barged in.”

Flynn grinned. “What she said.”

Obviously enjoying Lucan’s discomfort, Flynn set a large dish in front of his brother and one at his own place. After a second Lucan stood, turned his chair around, picked up his spoon and sat at the table correctly.

“Anyone want coffee before I sit?”

Whitney shook her head.

“Got any beer?” Lucan asked.

“With sherbet?” She cringed at the thought.

Flynn grinned. “That puts him off-duty,” he explained as he returned to the refrigerator for a cold bottle.

“I don’t understand you people.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Flynn assured her. “We’re harmless.”

“He’s a cop,” she pointed out dryly.

“Okay, mostly harmless.”

“Right. Harmless.”

Flynn winked at her as he set the bottle of beer on the table without a glass. Lucan thanked him, removed the cap and took a swig.

“Okay. I’m off duty. So why don’t you explain why I’m sitting here with the most sought-after woman in the county having a beer when I should be taking a formal statement from her.”

“Because you’re my brother and you love me.”

“Go soak your head.”