Page 58 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
Brandon removes the photo from my grasp to appraise it. “He is, too. Good call, Izzy,” he comments, his tone proud.
I smile at his praise, but can’t tear my gaze away from the final surveillance photo sitting in the manila folder. It’s time-stamped three hours after the picture Brandon is holding. It shows Isaac and his female companion standing next to the open back door of his Mercedes-Benz.
They are kissing.
CHAPTER26
Two weeks later…
“Wow, Isabelle, swanky residence.” An impressive whistle sounds from Brandon’s lips.
Smiling, I lean over and press a chaste kiss to his cheek before gesturing for him to enter. A grin curls my lips when he hands me a floral bouquet of irises and baby’s breath.
“Thank you.” I offer to take his coat.
Once I have his black woolen jacket on a hanger in the coatroom, I enter my compact but well-designed kitchen to search for a vase for the flowers. Brandon shadows closely behind me with his eager eyes darting around my apartment. I’ve lived here the past nine weeks, but this is the first time I’ve invited him inside. I like my privacy in general, but I appreciate it more since I’ve started working with the FBI. Privacy is a very undervalued commodity in the world of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
I giggle when Brandon walks into my kitchen and inhales a vast, impressive whiff through his nostrils.
“It smells delicious in here.” His hand rubs circles on his t-shirt-covered stomach. “It smells just like my grandma’s kitchen used to smell.”
He sucks in another gulp of air.
“Mariana meatballs?”
Grinning, I nod.
“Hold on.” He holds his index finger into the air, requesting a minute before taking another unbashful sniff. His moan is one that should only come out of a man’s mouth when he’s in ecstasy. “Oh, for the love of God, please tell me that’s homemade peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies?”
My lips curve into a full-toothed grin.
“They’re due out of the oven any minute,” I answer just as the oven dings.
Brandon doesn’t respond, he merely growls, and his mouth salivates. After removing two trays of cookies from the oven, I spend the next five minutes slapping Brandon’s hands away.
“They need to cool and harden,” I reprimand. “And you’ll spoil your dinner if you eat them now.”
Rolling my eyes at his pleading gaze, I submit and hand him the still-warm tray of cookies. I swear he demolishes the first cookie so fast, his taste buds didn’t get a chance to sample their scrumptious flavors.
“Would you like a glass of milk with your cookies?” I question since he’s acting like a boy who’s never eaten homemade cookies before.
“Yes, please.” He sprays crumbs over my countertop.
I smile, glad he’s enjoying the treats Harlow made for him. I lack any real domestic skills. I can cook a mean batch of Mariana meatballs and spaghetti bolognese, but that’s about the limit of my culinary skills.
Harlow remembered Brandon telling her months ago how much he loved his grandma’s peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies, so she made me a double batch and brought them over this afternoon. All I had to do was place them on a tray and bake them in the oven for twelve minutes, and presto, fresh-baked cookies.
For the first week, I hesitated every time Brandon tried to schedule the date I’d agreed to before I went away for the weekend, but after a week of endless surveillance photos of Isaac surfacing from his clubs with a vast range of blonde beauties on his arm, I decided to uphold my original offer.
I can’t believe I was so stupid to think I could fall in love with a man like Isaac Holt. He couldn’t even go a night without a female companion warming his bed. I guess that’s why he shared his bed with me. He is probably one of those guys who can’t sleep unless they’re next to a warm body.
“Brandon, can I ask you something?” I move to the fridge to get the glass of milk I offered.
“Anything,” he replies without hesitation.
“Do you think Isaac Holt is a criminal?”
Even irately angry at Isaac, he’s still in the forefront of my mind.Why can’t I just forget about him?
