punctuated the sentence with a shrug.
“Are you finished?” Jordan’s back teeth slammed together, forcing his jaw muscles into overdrive.
“Really?” Ian rocked back on his heels and grinned, thoroughly enjoying his friend’s discomfort, Regina noted.
“It beats your current living situation,” Jordan remarked. “Or did you forget your place is now nothing more than a pile of charred books?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Regina’s chin went up, daring him to take another swipe. “Nor have I forgotten you saved my life. But that doesn’t give you the right to belittle it now.”
“Until I’m sure who is after you, you’re staying with me,” Jordan ordered.
“If Miss Menlow needs a place to stay, we have a guest room,” Ian offered, swallowing a laugh. “I can keep her safe here.”
“It’s not funny,” Jordan bit out.
Regina turned to Ian. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary—”
Jordan cut her off. “She’ll stay with me.”
Regina tried again. “Of course, I appreciate the offer but—”
“I’m not going to place your family in harm’s way, Ian.”
Regina placed her hands on her hips. “I can talk for myself, Jordan.”
He snorted. “What do you think is going to happen when your friend finds out the book he grabbed isn’t my father’s journal?”
“I know he’ll try to find me. I’m not stupid. In fact, I graduated top in my class at Princeton.”
“In what?” Ian asked, curious.
“Not covert operations,” Jordan answered, deliberately provoking her. “She has a master’s in English literature. But she never finished her doctorate.”
Regina gasped, enraged. “How do you know?” She narrowed her eyes. “You have a file on me, don’t you?”
“I suspected you of murdering my father, or at least sleeping with him. Of course, I’m going to have a file on you, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she snapped, hating how he turned an endearment into a derogatory pet name.
“Scarface won’t take a chance that the book was not destroyed in the fire.”
“Scarface?” Ian asked, trying to keep up.
Both Regina and Jordan said, “Later,” in unison.
“I know they’re out there now,” she told Jordan. “I won’t be so easy to find.”
“Have you ever gone into hiding before?” Ian asked. He thought about stepping between the couple, until he caught Jordan’s glare. Ian decided he liked his teeth more.
“Of course not.” She dismissed the thought with a frown. “But I’ve read books on the subject. Many written by retired military or government officials. Some even by people who have managed to create new identities.”
Ian’s mouth twitched. “You’ve read books.”
“Seems Miss Menlow gets all her life experiences through books,” Jordan drawled. “Well, almost all.”
A flush crept over her cheeks. “You don’t have to be rude.”
“I’m only beginning, sweetheart.”
Jordan took a step forward, purposely invading Regina’s space, forcing her neck back to see his face.
Startled, Ian stared at his friend. Jordan had never used brute force against someone weaker. It wasn’t in his nature.
Regina slapped her hand against Jordan’s chest, as if it would keep him in place if he decided to charge. “You don’t intimidate me, Jordan.”
“You’re not going anywhere. If I have to tie you down—”
“You just try it.”
Ian almost laughed when Regina actually pushed her sleeves up to her elbows.
Regina didn’t notice Ian’s reaction, her full focus was on the man before her. “I’ve really had it with your bullying.”
“Sweetheart,” he threatened, his tone low and mean. “You haven’t seen anything—”
“Am I interrupting something?” Lara MacAlister asked from the stairway. Her voice was soft enough to make the couple realize they had been shouting.
Ian’s wife seemed to float down the remaining few steps, her long red hair swaying against her shoulders. Class, Regina thought instantly, watching the woman descend in a tailored, emerald green velour robe.
“Not at all. Your timing is impeccable, darling.” Ian met his wife at the base of the steps and draped his arm across her back.
Lara handed him a sweatshirt she’d been carrying and kissed his cheek. “I thought it might be too chilly down here.” She eyed Jordan and Regina, her deep green cat eyes glittering with curiosity. “I guess I was mistaken. Looks like things have been heating up.”
Ian’s gaze caught his wife’s and held it just a second longer than necessary before his mouth slid into an easy smile.
“Darling, I’d like you to meet, Miss Regina Menlow.” Ian pulled the sweatshirt over his head. “She’s Chris Beck’s—”
“Mistress.” Regina shook Lara’s hand, still smarting from the last exchange with Jordan.
“Will you stop saying that?” he snapped.
“You first,” she replied, her eyes narrowing.
Lara frowned. “I must have missed something—”
“I’ll explain it to you later,” Ian said, enjoying his friend’s discomfort. “But if this woman was Chris’s mistress, I’ll change Clara’s diapers for a whole year.”
“Really?” Lara asked, surprised. She looked at Regina. “Sure there isn’t any chance…a kiss on the cheek perhaps? Holding hands?” Lara’s lips tilted into a tired smile. “I really could use the break.”
“Chris loved his wife,” Regina emphasized, then turned to Jordan. “He might not have spoken about her often, but when he did it was with complete respect.”
The blue eyes turned arctic. “Leave my mother out of this,” he ordered before turning to Lara. “Hi ya, Red.”
The woman walked right into his arms and gave him a hug. “It’s been a while, handsome.”
Regina would’ve admired the woman’s courage if it hadn’t been for the jealousy that snaked up her spine.
Or the hurt that stabbed at her chest when Jordan grabbed Lara closer and lifted her into a tighter hug. “Missed you, too.” He kissed her forehead.
“Careful, friend,” Ian warned good-naturedly. “You’re holding more than one there.”
Slowly, Jordan let Lara slip to the ground. “You’re pregnant again?”
“One month.” She patted her flat stomach. “So you can’t do too much damage yet. We just found out today.”
“We were celebrating when the doorbell rang,” Ian added, wryly.
“Then I’m not sorry we interrupted.” Jordan hugged her again. “Congratulations, darling.” Then he reached around Lara and shook Ian’s hand. “You, too, mate.”
“Yes, congratulations,”