Cross the Line: A Gabriella Cross Paranormal Romance Book 2 Read Free Page A

long enough about my sister’s case. I’m glad to see they’re doing something about it.”
    Gabby closed the door and invited him to follow. At the kitchen island she pulled out a chair for him. Riggs took off his suit jacket and laid it over the chair, giving Gabby a hint of what was underneath. Well-defined shoulders filled out a baby-blue shirt, one that complemented his eyes.
    “Mmm,” he said and smelled the air. “Spaghetti?”
    “Spaghetti and garlic bread,” said Gabby, finding it all too easy to hold his gaze. “Can I get you a drink?”
    She moved to the cabinet and produced a wineglass, if for no other reason than to calm her nerves. She found herself quite comfortable around him, which in turn made her uncomfortable at the same time. Gabby thought that she must be crazy.
    “No, no,” said Riggs. “I don’t drink on the clock. And on those rare occasions, I prefer bourbon.”
    “I’ve got a Glenfarclas forty-year in the cellar,” said Gabby.
    Riggs’s eyes widened, and he lost his steely demeanor for but a moment. “Forty-year?” he said, unbelieving. “I daresay that I do not justify the popping of such a top.”
    “Of course you do. You are here in an attempt to bring justice to my sister’s killer. I insist.”
    “Well then, if you insist,” he said with a grin that stole her heart.
    Gabby went down to the cellar and found the old whiskey. She took a moment to steady herself there among the rows of wine and liquor bottles. There had to be a thousand in all. She had often marveled at the collection, wondering how long it would take someone to drink it all.
    Riggs was as vanilla as they came. Gabby had figured that out upon shaking his hand. Still, he had cast a spell over her, one that she was surprised to feel.
    Returning with the bottle, she found Riggs in the living room, looking at the many pictures on the wall. Some were of Maggy and Gabby at various ages, others included their father, and there was also one of the whole family, taken when Gabby was just a baby.
    Noticing her, Riggs pointed to one of the pictures. He looked to have been laughing. “Is this you?”
    Gabby got closer—close enough to catch another hint of his scent. “Oh that one,” she said, shaking her head with a laugh. The picture was one of her favorites. In it, she was two years old and Maggy was twenty. They were both dressed up for Halloween, Maggy as a sexy version of Little Bo Peep, and Gabby as one of her sheep. Maggy had even decked out a stroller with frilly lace and blue fabric, matching her scandalous costume. “Yeah, that’s me alright.”
    “You both have your mother’s eyes,” said Riggs, still studying the pictures.
    “Maggy more so I think,” said Gabby. “She was also blessed with my mother’s body.”
    Riggs glanced over at her. The closeness was delicious. “And you weren’t?” he said with that edible grin.
    Gabby offered him a coy smile and walked away to the island, knowing that he was still standing there, eyes glued to her ass.
    “Would you like to do the honors?” she asked from the island.
    “Don’t mind if I do.”
    He walked to the island and took a moment to read the front and back of the bottle as Gabby retrieved two short glasses from the cabinet and watched him study the bottle. There was a sternness to his scrutiny, and a keen awareness as well.
    “Forty years old,” he said, shaking his head in admiration. “I don’t think I’ve ever drank something older than myself.”
    Gabby had been wondering about his age. His admission of the bottle being older put him under forty, but Gabby guessed it was only by a few years. She had a thing for older men lately, and in the case of the late Victor, MUCH older men. Younger guys were not yet the men they would become, and Gabby had learned that sometimes they got worse with age, which was the case of her soon-to-be ex-husband, Derek.
    “Maggy was a collector,” said Gabby. “There are about a thousand bottles in the