Josh was proving every bit as tempting as she’d imagined

He stood close, one hand on either side of Lexi, bracketing her against the door. The dominant position made her think about lying beneath him in her bed, his arms levering him above her body as he made love to her.

At that moment she looked up at him, only to find his gaze focused on her mouth.

He made a hungry sound that rumbled right through her in the moment before his mouth met hers. She shivered at the wet heat of the kiss, and twisted her way closer to the hard wall of his chest.

Josh’s hands moved to hold her against him. He stroked his way down her spine, sealing her body to his. His arousal nudged her belly, making her want to drag him inside and indulge herself in him.

Suddenly he pried himself away.

“Honey, I need to know if this is what you want.”

Lexi wriggled against him shamelessly, wanting more of this feeling. “Don’t make me break out the handcuffs again, Detective. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

Dear Reader,

New York police detective Josh Winger has never been so relentlessly pursued, but then again, he’s never had fashion critic Lexi Mansfield on his tail before. He needs to remain anonymous to protect his drug-smuggling investigation, yet Lexi seems determined to drag him into the spotlight. When the outrageous beauty clicks a pair of handcuffs on him at a ritzy buy-a-celebrity’s-freedom fund-raiser, Josh doesn’t know whether to put up a fight…or encourage her.

I had so much fun writing Lexi and Josh’s story. These characters first appeared in my Blaze novel #26, Silk, Lace & Videotape last February, and they captured my imagination from the moment they stepped on the scene. I hope you enjoy their rocky—and very steamy—road to love.

Visit me at www.JoanneRock.com to learn more about future releases or to let me know what you think of Lexi and Josh. I’d love to hear from you!

Happy reading!

Joanne Rock

P.S. Don’t forget to check out tryblaze.com!

In Hot Pursuit
Joanne Rock

To my father and favorite storyteller, Cornelius Goes. If I can weave a tale half as entertaining as the ones you’ve been telling me all my life, I count myself fortunate indeed. To my mother, Louise, thank you for the unwavering support and for showing me how to move through life with quiet strength and grace.

I am grateful to you both for the model of

your marriage—a wonderful testament

to happily-ever-afters.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

1

“STEP ASIDE, LADIES. Jailer coming through.” Dangling handcuffs from her manicured fingers, Lexi Mansfield swept past the other socialites thronging the ladies’ room mirror in the trendy Manhattan bar.

She didn’t need to see her reflection to confirm she looked as good as her hodgepodge of features would allow. She’d blown two paychecks to ensure New York’s best hair and makeup people maximized her questionable beauty assets for tonight’s fund-raiser.

A girl couldn’t go into battle unarmed, after all.

She stuffed her handcuffs into her purse for safekeeping until her jailer stint for tonight’s Buy a Celebrity’s Freedom event kicked in. She would have served as MC tonight, if not for the rampant gossip currently making the rounds about her. Being demoted to jailer might be a step down, but Lexi was determined to wrest all the fun she could out of the handcuffs.

Behind her, a compact snapped close and a pair of high heels clicked double time on the ceramic tile. “Hold up, Lex,” Lexi’s girlfriend Amanda called.

Lexi forced herself to stop, even though she couldn’t wait to leave the smothered giggles and gossipy whispers of the powder room behind. She knew all too well that she was the hot topic of the night, and the knowledge ate away at her stomach far more than did the two glasses of merlot—although the smoke and hair spray fumes didn’t help much, either.

No doubt the ladies’ room rumor mill couldn’t wait for Lexi to scram so they could continue their discussion of the day’s scandal. Lexi Mansfield—one of New York’s leading fashion reviewers and most popular magazine columnists—had been shredded to ribbons in a scathing letter to the editor written by an up-and-coming designer.

The designer in question, Simone Bertrand, had been Lexi’s nemesis since boarding school. A trust-fund baby with more boobs than brains, Simone had the morals of a tomcat, but her scads of money usually covered up the fact.

Amanda smoothed a hand over a nonexistent stray lock of light brown hair and frowned at Lexi. “You are dangerous tonight. I about twisted my heel to catch up with you.”

Lexi couldn’t help a twinge of envy for her gorgeous friend, a ringer for a young Grace Kelly, except for the darker hair. Despite Lexi’s designer duds and expensive makeup job, she paled in comparison to Amanda’s born beauty.

“Amanda, I appreciate what you’re doing, but you don’t need to baby-sit me. I’m a big girl, I can handle the gossip hounds.” Lexi opened the bathroom door to greet the pulsing bass of a pop dance tune.

Amanda pushed the door shut again and grabbed Lexi by the elbow. Lexi squealed, but allowed her friend to tug her back into the restroom toward the semi-quiet corner by a condom-dispensing machine.

Lexi snorted at the picture of the ecstatic-looking couple plastered on the front of the dispenser. It had been far too long since Lexi had needed condoms for a damn thing.

“Why do I get the feeling you want me to leave?” Amanda huffed, crossing her arms over her blue taffeta gown. “Don’t tell me you’d rather face the vultures by yourself.”

Lexi shrugged. “Maybe I’d be better off facing them on my own, so people can say what they want about the letter and get it over with.” The charity they were raising money for tonight—Shelter the Homeless—was one of Lexi’s pet projects. She wouldn’t leave until she’d done her job.

Amanda studied her for a moment. “Are you sure?”

What was the worst people could say? I agree with Simone’s letter to the editor and I think you are a blot on the concept of style, too? I second Simone’s observation that you have all the magnetism of a houseplant? Besides, Simone’s public attack might be embarrassing, but it didn’t scare Lexi half as much as the anonymous threatening notes she had been receiving for the past month.

She didn’t breathe a word of those letters to anyone, however. Lexi had grown accustomed to fending for herself a long time ago.

Lexi nodded. “I’m sure. I’ve made my entrance. I’ve scoped out my territory. I’m ready to take them on.”

“I don’t know, Lex.” Amanda glanced uncertainly over one shoulder toward the crowd of cackling social divas spritzing hair spray and layering on lipstick. “They look like they can’t wait to get their talons into you. Want me to wait until the Buy a Celebrity’s Freedom event begins? Once you start your gig locking up the celebs, you should be okay.”

Lexi still fumed to think she would be stuck filling the makeshift jail cell with wealthy patrons. She should be the MC tonight, but after the scathing letter, the charity had asked her to let someone else take center stage.

“If they get too rough before then, I’ll just latch on to someone else.” Lexi eyed the stud on the condom machine and wondered if maybe tonight she’d live on the wild side and find herself another protector—one who wore a tux instead of blue taffeta. “Besides, how can I feel like I have more magnetism than a houseplant when I’m walking around next to the Revlon girl?” She shoved Amanda toward the door. “Get lost, girlfriend. You’ve got better ways to spend your Saturday night.”

Amanda flashed a wicked grin. “Duke did say something about waiting up for me.”

“See?” Lexi brushed away an escapee spiral of hair from her face and winked. “You’re supposed to be packing for your getaway, anyway. What time do you leave tomorrow?”

“Nine. I can’t believe he’s taking me on a motorcycle trip. I’ve never done anything so exciting in my whole life.”

“Call me a city girl, but I don’t know if three days perched on a motorcycle seat is my idea of fun.” Lexi grinned, the first smile she’d managed since waking to find the derisive letter to the editor in the very magazine she’d given the past five years of her life to. “Go home, Amanda. I can take it from here.”

Amanda nodded as she adjusted Lexi’s borrowed diamond collar. “You’re right. You look ready to kick some gossipmonger hind-end.”

Lexi laughed, tugging open the rest room door. “I dressed to kill for a reason, honey.” She withdrew her silver handcuffs from her purse and slid one end over her wrist. “Besides, maybe I can squeeze a small amount of satisfaction from my detractors by playing the dominatrix.”

“No brutality, Lex,” Amanda warned. “And if you find yourself in any provocative situations with those cuffs, I highly recommend capturing it on videotape.”

Lexi laughed, knowing she’d never have anywhere near the kind of sizzling adventures Amanda had stumbled into a few months ago with Duke Rawlins.

“I’ll leave the video to you. I’m just going to have fun being Lexi, Mistress of the Night.”

After they exchanged a quick hug near the bar, however, Lexi’s smile faded as she watched Amanda disappear in the cloakroom.

Leaving Lexi alone to fend for herself.

In a room stuffed full of people who couldn’t wait to see her crumble.

Lexi clutched the polished mahogany bar and took deep breaths to ward off the feeling she’d just made a colossal mistake by excusing her bodyguard. The fashion world elite adored Amanda, the socially untouchable daughter of one of New York’s most influential designers. Lexi was a scrapper, a New Jersey transplant to Long Island’s upper-crust North Shore and eventually Manhattan’s fashion world. Although devoid of blue blood, she possessed a sharp eye and wit for commenting on style. And tonight, she was fair game for this crowd.

Lexi was thankful that Simone Bertrand had not attended this function. But then, Simone resented spending a cent on anyone but herself. Lexi knew the author of the other letters could be here tonight, however, and the thought gave her pause.

The notes had urged her to change topics in her column—or she’d be sorry. But Lexi often covered three or four different topics each week, and she could never be sure which topic in particular the note-writer referenced.

Not that it would have shut Lexi up.

Her need to speak her mind was as essential as breathing. She’d been hushed far too many times as a child. She didn’t let anybody muzzle her these days.

As the band switched from a pop disco beat to a swing set, Lexi struggled to gather her bearings. Peering around the two-tiered disco that had closed its doors to the public for the fund-raiser, Lexi spied no friendly faces in the crowd. The elegant sea of tuxes and silk seemed to have closed ranks against her. She hadn’t felt like such an outsider since childhood, peeking into her parents’ book-lined study and wishing she could be a part of their academic discussions.

Ignoring the urge to bolt and return to the security of her apartment full of nonjudgmental pets, Lexi reminded herself she was here for a good cause. The Shelter the Homeless organization had always been dear to her heart, and she ran frequent reminders of their activities as footnotes in her fashion column.

Bracing herself for a night of mingling with the masses and imprisoning anyone she thought might bring in a big donation, Lexi approached the small platform and podium to immerse herself in her duties. She could inspect the makeshift jail cell—sort of a sixties-style go-go booth—that would house her captives. This would be more fun than an auction. Lexi merely had to handcuff celebrities and toss them in the cell, while the MC coerced the crowd into making a donation to free the jailbird.

The jailer job was a definite step down from hosting the event, but she’d be damned if she would walk out of here tonight before last call. At least everyone would see her on stage, head held high, rather than cowering in the corner sucking down Fuzzy Navels.

Determined to parlay her frustration into her role as the bad girl cop, Lexi sauntered off into the crowd in search of her first victim.

AN HOUR LATER, Lexi realized she was not only far removed from her dominatrix fantasy, but also was enduring far more snide remarks than she’d ever anticipated.

In the course of rounding up various fashion industry stars, she’d heard several versions of “here comes the houseplant,” two backhanded comments that she looked lovely in her “usual, nonmagnetic style,” and one outright slam that she had finally received her comeuppance for playing goddess of the fashion world.

Lexi retreated to the bar and ordered a cosmopolitan—pretty much a martini, but the pink color made it look innocent. Wavering between tears and fury, she swayed to the Latin beats the band had switched to, trying not to glance at her watch. She didn’t want to know how many more hours she had to endure the lions’ den.

Public humiliation she could deal with. But did her social circle really view her as the most unattractive woman in Manhattan? Sure, they veiled their insults by attacking her fashion stance. But the whispers she’d heard all night had been directed at her—her gaudy look, her tacky clothes, her attempts to fit into a world that didn’t seem to have room for her.

Lexi peered down at her sequined dress, knowing it epitomized refinement. Could she help it that her tiny frame didn’t fill it out the way Amanda’s would? Was it such a crime that she didn’t care to butcher her Romanesque nose with a surgeon’s knife so she could meet some prepackaged, Stepford ideal of beauty?

Maybe she could feel a little more self-righteous about her sense of style and personal magnetism if she’d actually attracted a man in the past few years. She’d told herself she had no love life because she dedicated her time to her job. What if lack of time had nothing to do with it? What if she couldn’t lure a man to her bed for all the lingerie in the Victoria’s Secret catalog?

The notion scared her to her peau de soie covered toes.

An image of the stud on the condom dispenser flashed in her mind. What if she went in search of a man here, tonight?

She glanced around the disco at the guys in perfect tuxes, the ones who didn’t dance too much so as not to mess up their hair. How could she ever find a man among the Ken look-alike dolls who—

Her gaze stopped abruptly on a slightly rumpled dinner jacket at the back of the room. Her eyes followed the dark fabric upward to glimpse a white shirt and a long tie—not a standard bow tie—that wavered between gray and silver.

A waiter passed in front of the man, a tray of drinks hiding the stranger’s face from view. Lexi set her drink aside and leaned forward to get a better look. As the tray passed, she spied a profile to set a girl’s pulse to racing.

Dark hair brushed his collar, too short to be a rock star’s hair, but definitely longer than the cropped perfection of every other man in the room. Great cheekbones. A nose that definitely hadn’t bowed down to the gods of plastic surgery. And a diamond stud earring winking in one lobe.

Hello.

Blood pulsed through her veins in time with the sultry Latin rhythm that dominated the disco. Maybe the stress of the day conspired to make her a little more on edge tonight, but she’d never before experienced lust quite so keenly just looking at a man.

An idea took shape in her head—a crazy, insane plan to act on this feeling. Lexi slid off her bar stool before she lost her nerve to approach the sexy stranger.

She downed half the cosmopolitan to fuel her steps in the direction of her quarry. The pair of handcuffs around her wrist would provide a definite conversational icebreaker.

Lexi had just figured out a surefire way to put her personal magnetism to the test.

JOSH WINGER didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know someone followed him. After all, he’d been chased by the best—bad asses with guns, knives and garrotes for weapons rather than six-inch spikes and a killer flash of thigh.

The sultry brunette in black sequins had stalked him through the trendy Manhattan bar for the past ten minutes. Relentlessly, she pursued him—through a narrow, zebra-printed corridor, down a staircase lit in pink neon.

Damn.

Any other day, Josh would have welcomed attention from a knockout like the one hot on his trail. Tonight, however, he needed to remain detached, anonymous. He’d attended the after-hours gathering of New York’s fashion elite for work, not pleasure.

Josh didn’t waste any time at the subterranean bar. As soon as he hit the lower level, he sprinted along the side of the room to a second set of stairs and bolted back up them to the main floor. With any luck, the sequined siren would get distracted downstairs, and Josh would be able to get back to business.

The thought of work didn’t interest him quite as much as it usually did, however. Maybe because he’d caught the brunette’s eye earlier, and the look she’d shot him still sizzled through his veins. Despite the woman’s designer dress and perfect makeup, Josh had the feeling she was the kind of woman who could heat up a room with nothing more than a breathy whisper….

Not that he was thinking along those lines on the job.

He needed to keep his professional ear to the ground tonight and observe the players in the fashion world. For two months, he and his partner had been tracking smuggling activity in the Garment District to no avail. But tonight, he’d slipped past the doorman at a swanky fund-raiser attended by most of the smuggling suspects on Josh’s list.

One way or another, he would bring down the thugs causing trouble in the Garment District. Not only were the bastards slipping drugs and weapons into the city, but they were using underage gangsters to run half their dirty business. Josh had already tangled with one juvenile offender last month in an encounter that had nearly cost a fellow officer’s life. While Josh had wasted time trying to talk the kid out of his crime, the wayward teen got off a shot that seriously injured Josh’s backup. Josh blamed himself for the shooting—and so did the press when the story was splashed all over the front page.

Now Josh hungered to find the ringleader of the smuggling operation, to squash the wave of crime that had plagued his precinct and the special task force he was assigned to. If that meant working on his case after-hours, Josh didn’t mind a bit. This job meant everything to him.

He scanned the crowd one more time, searching for any familiar faces.

His partner’s new socialite fiancée had told Josh about the event. He’d searched for Amanda Matthews—soon-to-be Rawlins—in the crowd, but she’d obviously left before he arrived. On the other hand, maybe his partner, Duke, hadn’t allowed his gorgeous future bride to stray as far as six blocks from their brownstone. The two of them seemed to be joined at the hip—a condition Josh had no intention of ever suffering.

Josh surveyed the dance floor from an old balcony left over from the bar’s days as a theater. Later, the seats would be packed with couples too drunk to find a hotel room, but for now the shadowy corner gave him a perfect window on the glittering assembly below.

For a moment, he caught himself wishing he’d glimpse black sequins. He had to admit that the attention from the brunette had been more than a little flattering. He’d never been the kind of man women sought out first, which probably had something to do with the fact that he resembled a criminal more than he did a cop.

A waitress, in thigh-high boots and a dress that looked like an X-rated toga, sidled over, effortlessly balancing a tray of empty glasses with one hand. The getup might have turned his head if he hadn’t just spotted a small jail cell off to one side of the dance floor.

A jail cell?

“Get you a drink?” the waitress asked, leaning close to be heard over the steady thrum of the music’s bass line.

He shook his head and tore his gaze from the lower level long enough to smile at her. “No drink, but maybe you can tell me what the cage is for.” He peeled a crisp bill off the roll in his pocket and stuffed it in the waitress’s tip glass.

She shrugged, the small action shifting her tiny toga enough to flash him white satin panties. An observation he made on a strictly professional basis. He was more in the mood for black sequins, anyhow.

The blonde waitress adjusted her tray. “Some prop for the private party. It doesn’t belong to the club.” She sent him a wicked grin. “Looks sort of kinky, huh?”

Images of the brunette in a cage didn’t do much for him, until he mentally inserted himself inside the cage along with her.

“Definitely.” He turned back to the view on the dance floor, just in time to make eye contact with his pursuer.

Even from this distance, her dark eyes broadcast a message for him alone. A smile played at her crimson lips, as if she enjoyed their game.

Heat surged through him. He admired her persistence. An odd sense of pride in her tracking abilities mixed with growing frustration. He couldn’t very well do his job tonight if he had to keep eluding this woman. Maybe he needed to confront her and tell her he wasn’t interested in her game.

Too bad his body was very interested.

Josh had the sinking feeling that if he got within five feet of the fashion princess, he’d be lured in like a damn fish.

Reluctantly, he left his observation deck before his stalker caught up with him. He wasn’t a cop worth his badge if he couldn’t give a society babe the slip, right? She was probably drunk to boot, given that she had chosen to pursue him over the wealth of highbrow guys milling around the bar tonight.

Josh sped back down the pink neon stairs and ducked into the hallway by the phone booths and cloakroom. As soon as he shook the woman on his tail, he would seat himself at the bar and salvage what he could of the night by soaking in the party gossip.

For now, he envisioned his pursuer climbing the stairs in her slinky black gown, and he ticked off enough time for her to reach the balcony he’d just vacated. Thinking she must be safely on the opposite side of the bar by now, Josh stepped from the dark hallway.

And nearly collided with a whirlwind of black sequins.

He obviously hadn’t given his pursuer enough credit, because there she stood with a satisfied gleam in her dark eyes.

Her black hair shimmered in the low light of the bar. Although most of it rested on her head in an intricate knot, one long wayward tendril slipped free to point a path toward her cleavage. Cleavage out-lined by a square neckline that exposed just enough pale skin to tease the hell out of him. The collar of diamonds around her throat was too sexy to even contemplate in a public place.

He instantly shifted his gaze to her face.

She arched a brow and smiled up at him. Even with her high heels, she barely reached his chin. “Excuse me. Guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Her knowing look belied her innocent words.

He couldn’t help but smile back at her. She practically preened over her small victory.

“Seems to me you were right on target.”

She shrugged a careless shoulder and waved an airy hand, gestures that loosely conveyed consent to his words. Josh wondered if she always spoke so eloquently with her body. Her sequins danced and winked, giving her the illusion of perpetual motion.

“Maybe you’re right,” she admitted, treating him to an obvious once-over. “I just hope the reward proves to be as much fun as the chase.”

Name the place, honey. The temperature between them soared a few more degrees.

The woman was a firecracker.

Josh’s smuggling investigation faded into the background for one perilous moment. His work suddenly seemed as distant as the zebra-printed walls and the pulsing Latin music. This tiny woman had a bigger presence than salsa or smugglers.

But Josh wouldn’t allow himself to lose focus.

Before he could respond, the woman offered a cheeky grin and a formal handshake.

“I’m Lexi Mansfield.”

Josh suspected it would be dangerous to touch her, but how could he ignore such an innocuous overture? Hesitating only briefly, he closed his fingers around Lexi’s long, jeweled fingers.

“Josh Winger, at your service.”

She squeezed his hand back, her grip surprisingly strong for such a little thing.

“I certainly hope so, Mr. Winger.”

Distracted by the wicked twinkle in her brown eyes and the exotic scent of her, Josh didn’t notice the handcuffs until cold metal clamped around his wrist.

With a deft click of the mechanism worthy of a veteran vice detective, Josh’s stalker chained herself to him.

So much for his skills as an undercover cop.

He was about to be brought low by a kinky dominatrix with killer cleavage and a lethal attitude. Lexi Mansfield had just blown his cover—and fueled all his fantasies—by handcuffing him into a naughty scenario guaranteed to attract attention.

2

LEXI’S SENSE OF ADVENTURE fled when Josh stared back at her with hard, cold eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” He jerked the handcuffs enough to pull her forward slightly.

Luckily, her sense of indignation helped her stand her ground. “No rough stuff, mister.” She held up her end of the handcuffs and jangled the links between them. “I’m at the other end of these, remember.”

He looked like she’d just sentenced him to twenty-to-life. What was the big deal? She’d hauled at least ten other people to the jail cell tonight, and nobody else had caused such a fuss. If anything, they’d been more interested in giving Lexi the cold shoulder than worrying about their jail time.

Josh Winger angled his big body between her and the dance floor, shielding their conversation from any wayward eyes. “What I want to know is why I’m on this end.” He hissed the words between clenched teeth. “You got some kind of fetish?”

Lexi blinked up at him, realizing the man seemed to have no clue what fund-raiser he’d bought a ticket for tonight.

“No, Mr. Winger, I don’t. I happen to be the jail mistress for the Buy a Celebrity’s Freedom event tonight. Care to come with me quietly?”

He stared at her for an interminable moment, weighing her words and sizing up her person. Lexi resisted the urge to stand up straighter. She’d followed this man because she wanted to meet him, maybe lure him into a one-night stand to somehow soothe her stinging self-esteem.

Now, she realized she’d obviously forgotten how to flirt. Josh Winger remained oblivious to all her best provocation.

Finally, his gaze returned to hers, his gray eyes seeing too deeply inside her. “I can’t guarantee I’ll come with you quietly, Lexi—” Was it her imagination, or did the phrase take on new meaning when it fell from his lips? “I think it depends on just how far you want to go.”

A wave of heat took a slow ride over her flesh, awakening every last nerve ending to the draw of the stud sporting one earring. His words melted the backbone she’d fought hard for all night, leaving her swaying on her high heels, and suddenly more than a little wary.

“Um.” She fought her way out of the sensual fog to concentrate on her answer. Forget flirting. This man could out-flirt her with his hands—well, handcuffed. She’d be lucky to deposit him in the jail cell without spontaneously combusting first. “I just need to put you in the cell over there.”

She pointed toward the edge of the dance floor—anything to distract him so she could pull herself together. Maybe she’d think more clearly when they weren’t handcuffed. Then she could decide whether she wanted to proceed with her plan to test out her personal magnetism.

Josh’s gaze didn’t follow her finger. Instead, he kept his focus directly on her.

Her sequins tread dangerously close to his dinner jacket with each breath she took. The heat of his body penetrated her lightweight gown, giving her the sense they’d already touched somehow.

What would it be like to spend a night with a man like this? Would she dare?

“Do you know who I am, Lexi?”

Too sexy for his own good?

“No.”

“I’m a police detective. Tenth precinct. It’s usually me who locks the people behind bars, so you caught me a little off guard here tonight.”

She nodded, trying to make sense of his words. “I’m sure many of tonight’s partygoers will vie to spring you from captivity, Detective. You won’t have to sit behind bars for very long.” Lexi had no doubt this man would start a catfight as women lined up to ransom him. She’d told herself that had been a small facet of her reason for pursuing him.

He shook his head, causing a lock of hair to fall forward on his forehead, making her hand itch to smooth it.

“You don’t understand. I’m not going into the jail cell.”

Lexi straightened. “You have to. Party rules.”

She saw a flash of frustration in his eyes, followed by something hotter and more complex.

He reached for her with his free hand, his fingers settling on the bare skin of her arm. His touch was light but scorching, trailing down her shoulder to pause a hair’s breadth from her breast.

Lexi didn’t breath for fear she’d close the gap.

He leaned fractionally closer. “I’m a cop, you know. I have some experience with these.” He jangled the handcuffs that bound them together.

The image that brought to mind was definitely X-rated. Surely she misunderstood. “Are you saying you know how to escape?”

He blinked slowly, a smile twitching his lips. “Is that what you think I’m saying?”

She had to take a breath or else she’d start hyper-ventilating. She gulped in smoke-filled air, her expanding chest promptly brushing along the heel of Josh’s hand. Her skin tightened, her breasts puckered in immediate response. Thankfully, her sequins and her starchy strapless bra kept her reactions well hidden.

“I think you’d better explain yourself so we don’t misunderstand each other,” she managed to say.

He leaned so close that his rough cheek grazed her smooth skin; his lips hovered beside her ear. Other than that, his body didn’t touch hers, merely stood at the ready if she wanted to reach out and test those hard masculine planes.

“I’m suggesting we ditch this shindig and explore the possibilities of being chained together in a more private setting.”

Her knees liquefied. Her blood simmered at his words. She had thought if a man paid attention to her tonight it would soothe the wound to her spirit.

She’d been wrong.

Nothing about Josh’s provocative proposal soothed her. She’d never been more on edge, more restless, in her life.

He backed up an inch as if to gauge her reaction. His gray eyes locked on her, his face lit by a blue strobe light from the dance floor.

“I can’t leave now.” Oh, how she wanted to. She’d never been propositioned with anything remotely close to this. If she didn’t have any personal magnetism, this man was doing a damn good job of making her feel like she did. An electric charge zinged between them—major sexual attraction.

“Why not?”

She struggled to remember why not. “I have a commitment to the Shelter the Homeless organization.” If she didn’t do her job to raise money for them, who would? The rest of the partygoers seemed too busy gossiping about her to be of any help.

He peered back at her, silently informing her that her answer hadn’t told him what he wanted to know.

Nervousness seized her. She rocked back and forth on her heels to burn off the excess energy pinging through her body. “In fact, I’ve left the jail cell empty for far too long. If I don’t start filling it with prisoners, we’ll never raise enough money for the homeless.”

When he didn’t move, she tugged lightly on his handcuffs. “So, would you mind?”

His jaw flexed and tightened.

Lexi suspected major teeth clenching took place to warrant such intricate muscle play. Even the diamond stud in his ear shifted in response.

She wondered what it would be like to smooth her fingers over the jaw, trail her tongue over the fiery white diamond.

“No.” His terse answer called her from her fantasies.

Irritation replaced a small fraction of the lust frazzling her nerves. “What do you mean, no? You bought a ticket to this event, mister, you can damn well participate in the charitable aspect of the party.”

Was Detective Winger one of those guys who never opened his wallet for anything but his own entertainment?

“That’s not it. I—”

Before he had a chance to finish his thought, a clipboard nudged between them, followed by a polo shirt decorated with a charity name tag. Event organizer Wendy Garret grinned up at Josh, eyes filled with feminine admiration, and inserted herself in their conversation. A thirty-something political activist with long ties to tonight’s charity, Wendy had begged Lexi to champion the event in her column.

“I see you’ve found your next jailbird, Lex. Good work.” The event coordinator’s eyes never left Josh.

Lexi managed a smile, struggling to shake off the peculiar feelings Josh had inspired. “Yes, I was just going to lock him up.”

Wendy handed Lexi an extra set of cuffs. “Give him to me, and you go find our next victim. We need to turn things over a little faster tonight if we want to meet our goals.”

Josh glared at them both. “Look, I’m no celebrity. No one is going to pay ransom for a guy like me.”

Lexi clicked off her end of Josh’s cuffs and handed them to Wendy. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be that simple to oust Josh from her thoughts, however. She’d be thinking about his offer for a long time to come.

“You sorely underestimate yourself,” Lexi muttered under her breath. Already, she was debating springing him from that cell herself so they could go back to the fascinating conversation they’d been having about the merits of being locked together.

In those moments with Josh, it hadn’t mattered what the rest of the world thought about her. She’d only been able to think about him.

Wendy was already steering Josh toward the stage, a pink blush on her scrubbed cheeks. “Celebrity status doesn’t matter. The women bid like crazy on the men. They’re much more competitive about this. It’s great for us.”

Lexi watched them go, telling herself she would not sympathize with a man who wouldn’t play his role to help charity. Still, she lingered there, staring at Josh’s squared shoulders as he stalked toward the jail cell.

Who was she kidding? She’d gladly chain herself to Josh Winger, Scrooge or not.

He’d made it clear he wanted her, something no other man had ever managed to articulate. Sure, she could tick off a couple of one-night stands she’d indulged in, just to experience sex for herself. But she’d been the aggressor then, and she’d run like an Olympic sprinter the morning after, to be sure those men never saw her again.

This man wanted her.

Too bad she’d only had to handcuff him to secure the admission.

Ignoring the ego-deflating realization, Lexi now found it easy to shut out the gossip-filled club.

She knew her sexy quarry would be long gone by the time she finished her stint as jailer tonight, and oddly, that knowledge stung more than the shredding of her reputation.

IMPRISONED by a five-foot dominatrix—a hell of a way to start undercover police work.

Of course, this job was no longer undercover. All of New York’s fashion bigwigs would know him on sight after tonight.

Josh gnashed his teeth a few more times for good measure, knowing he’d blow a gasket if he didn’t get out of the jail cell soon. Who would have thought he’d be staring out from the wrong side of prison bars tonight?

No doubt it would probably help his chances of escape if he smiled at some of the coiffed and manicured socialites who peered into his cage, but he was too angry with himself to work up the energy.

He should have just told Lexi Mansfield he wished to remain anonymous, instead of whispering seductive suggestions in her ear to distract her from her purpose. He’d been the one who ended up preoccupied, while she had remained committed to her charitable cause. What had he been thinking of, to proposition her when he had work to do?

Josh wasn’t the type of guy who allowed himself to get distracted. The one time he’d lost focus on a job had resulted in a death he’d regret the rest of his days and a scandal that rocked the city. Josh knew better now.

He ran his life with rigid control. He made choices with careful deliberation. And he sure as hell didn’t spend his Saturday nights behind bars.

Damn.

Glaring out into the crowd, he searched for Lexi. She’d already brought four other “prisoners” to jail, all of whom had been released. Josh had inadvertently scared off all the women who’d been interested in ransoming him, probably because he’d been snarling in his frustration at blowing his objectives tonight.

The only person who didn’t seem intimidated by his scowl was Lexi. The feisty jail keeper made sure to send him a wink every time she delivered a new hostage to captivity, unruffled by Josh’s surly mien.

He caught sight of her sashaying his way again, this time with a guy big enough to be a linebacker in tow. The strobe lights flashed over the silver handcuffs between them, a winking reminder that Lexi had probably flirted her way into bondage with half the men in the bar tonight.

The thought made him gnash his teeth all over again. Why should he give a rip that Lexi liked playing love-slave games?

She reached the cell door and inserted an oversize key into the padlock. “Still here, Detective?” she called, quirking a brow in his direction. “You could have raised a small fortune for us with that sexy bod of yours if you hadn’t glowered at every woman who dared to look at you,” she chided. “Want me to send you over another whiskey to help loosen you up?”

She waved her new prisoner into the cell and removed the guy’s cuffs.

Josh fought the urge to throttle the big lug. Why did he have to stand half an inch from Lexi? “The whiskey isn’t what I need.”

The linebacker folded his arms over his chest and frowned down at their jailer. “I thought you told me you didn’t talk to the captives, Lex. How come you talk to this guy?”

That caught Josh’s attention. Did Lexi treat the other male captives differently than she’d treated him? Maybe he didn’t feel so throttle-happy, after all.

Lexi looked sheepish for all of an instant, casting a wary glance at Josh before she answered. “Your wife would call me out if I so much as breathed the same air as you, Alec, and you know it. New brides can be very protective.”

The linebacker grinned the goofy guy-in-love grin Josh had seen on his partner’s face too many times the past month. “Shoot, Lexi, Nina likes you just fine.”

Lexi twirled the handcuffs around her finger, watching the silver rings spin under the flashes of colored light. Did the woman ever sit still? She was a riot of nervous energy even when her feet stopped moving. Maybe that’s why Josh couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her and her sequins tonight.

Yeah, right.

On instinct, Josh reached out and snatched the handcuffs off her finger, halting her motion for a moment. Lexi’s startled gaze moved over him, her mouth forming a surprised “O” with her lips.

Josh had an image of her in his bed, her body still beneath him in the moment before a climax hit her. She would look just like this.

Too soon, she resumed her flurry of movement, yanking her handcuffs back and spinning on one high heel.

“I’ll thank you not to steal those, Mr. High-and-Mighty Detective.” She stuck her tongue out at him as she secured the lock on the cell door. “You’ll have to find your own handcuffs to play with.”

The sight of that small, pink tongue would torment him the rest of the night. “But where will I find my own captive?” Josh could hear Alec the linebacker chuckling in the background.

Lexi flipped her hands out, palms up, in an exaggerated shrug. “Since you blew your chances with all the ladies here tonight, it looks like you’re stuck being my prisoner.”

He crooked his finger at her, beckoning her closer.

She hesitated for a moment, then boldly stepped forward. Josh had the feeling this woman wouldn’t back down easily.

She waited just outside the cell bars, her black sequins close enough to touch. She tapped her foot on the dark commercial carpet, unable to stand still for a minute.

Josh reached one finger through the bars to trail down her bare arm. He watched, fascinated, as a path of chill bumps appeared in his wake.

“I don’t mind being your prisoner, honey, but couldn’t we play this out somewhere else? Like your place, maybe?” He kept his voice low enough that only she could hear. What did it matter if he let himself get a little distracted by Lexi now? He sure as hell wasn’t going to gain anything for his investigation from inside this cell.

Maybe she thought about it. She stilled for a moment and watched him with a predatory interest that made him want to rattle the damn cage.

Then she folded her arms over her chest and stepped back. “Sorry, I don’t fraternize with the inmates. Especially not the ones who refuse to play the game.”

“Lex, I’m ready to play whatever games you have in mind.”

He couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but he thought he actually made her blush.

“I don’t need you to play those kinds of games, wise guy. I needed you to turn that sexy charm on any one of the umpteen hot and bothered ladies who filed past your cell tonight. You couldn’t have done your part to help the homeless?”

Words escaped him. She looked seriously offended.

“Sorry, Lexi.” He couldn’t exactly explain to her his reasons. At least, not now. How had the dominatrix gone from turning him on, to making him feel like the world’s biggest heel in ten seconds flat? “Let me ransom myself to make up for it, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

She frowned. “Too many drinks made me cuff you in the first place. Why don’t you just cool your heels for a little longer and maybe I’ll ransom you, if you can remember not to snarl at anyone else.”

He smoothed his tie and straightened his lapels. “I’m working for time off with good behavior, honey, and I’ll pay you back for your trouble.”

A ghost of a smile played around her lips. Josh found himself eager to see that saucy grin again.

“I’ll be sure to collect, Winger.”

She sauntered off with a definite swing to her sequined hips.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who noticed, because his cell mate emitted a long, low whistle.

Josh bristled. “The wiggle was meant for my eyes, Jack.”

The linebacker shook his head, grinning. “It’s Alec. And sorry, man, but I’m not blind.”

“Don’t you have a wife around here somewhere?” Josh wondered if he could keep his word about not snarling.

“Yep. She’s probably too busy dishing about Lexi to come bust me out of here, though.”

Josh frowned. “What do you mean?” Lexi might be a little flirtatious, but she didn’t exactly seem like the home-wrecking type.

“You know, all that garbage they said about Lex in her magazine today. The women can’t get enough of it.” Alec shrugged his big shoulders and pulled a face.

Protective instincts roared to life. “A magazine article about Lexi?” Josh knew how it felt to have his personal life splashed all over the headlines—most of it untrue. Had Lexi been subjected to that?

“She’s not your girl?”

“Not yet.” The words sprang forth before Josh had the chance to consciously form them. He definitely wasn’t in the market for a relationship. Then again, he couldn’t picture not seeing Lexi again. “But we seem to have…hit it off.”

“You know that fashion magazine she reviews for?” Alec slumped against the cell bars.

Josh didn’t, but he nodded. He didn’t want to seem like some joker hitting on Lexi without knowing a damn thing about her.

“Well, the magazine ran a letter to the editor today that trashed Lexi’s column and suggested she’s out of date, out of style, whatever.” Alec shook his head. “A bunch of catfight-type stuff. The women are gossiping about it a mile a minute, all gunning for Lexi. It’s all I’ve heard all damn night.”

“Catfight stuff—but not anything serious, right?” The cop in him snapped to alert as Josh realized he might be in over his head in the fashion world. The waters were murky for him, and now that his partner and his socialite fiancée were taking off for a motorcycle trip this weekend, Josh would be losing his only insider information for a few days.

“Nah. The woman who wrote the letter isn’t even here tonight. Besides, this isn’t exactly the sort of crowd to take potshots in a dark alley. They do their mud-slinging right in the public eye.”

Before Josh could thank the man, Alec sprang to his feet and smoothed his hair back, his gaze focused outside the cage.

Josh turned to see a scowling blonde barreling toward them, her snappy walk at odds with her elegant white gown. No doubt, Nina had arrived.

Josh mulled over Alec’s words as the man’s wife ransomed him and the couple left together. As the crowd in the bar thinned out and the dance floor began to clear, Josh wondered if Lexi had attended the fund-raiser with anyone or was here by herself.

Like it or not, he wouldn’t allow her to leave the bar by herself. No matter what Alec said about the fashion world slinging their mud in public, Josh didn’t like the idea of Lexi being the target of mean-spirited comments. No telling when professional jealousy could get out of hand.

An image of Tonya Harding flashed through his mind, along with the Texas cheerleader’s mom. Lexi could be at risk, for all he knew.

He’d just make sure she got home okay, then he would leave.

Unless, of course, he could lure out the other side of Lexi—the sequined spitfire who had handcuffed him earlier.

Josh had the feeling that if he tangled with her again, he wouldn’t leave until they’d uncovered every erotic possibility of handcuffs.

3

SHE COULDN’T put it off any longer.

Last call had come and gone. Wendy sat at the bar, reviewing the final bill with the property manager. The house lights would probably switch on at any moment.

Lexi had to free her last captive.

Her gaze skittered over to the jail cell where Detective Winger sat on the cage’s lone bench. His jacket was draped over the seat beside him, his white shirt stretching over shoulders that delineated mouth-watering muscles. His elbows were propped on his knees, and his silver-gray tie fell forward, the knot loosened long ago.

Lexi didn’t need to see his eyes to know the tie matched their color. She’d caught his hungry stare enough times tonight to remember the precise shade.

Squeezing the key to the cell padlock in her fist, she debated her approach. She’d flirted outrageously with Josh all night. Did he expect to cash in on that flirtation? Or would he flag a cab and disappear?

Lexi wasn’t sure which idea bothered her more.

She desperately wanted to test her feminine wiles on this man—to assuage the fear that she was as outdated and boring as the scathing letter to her editor had claimed.

But if she went home with him, she needed to make it clear she was in charge. She didn’t need a man in her life to mess up the comfortable niche she had finally managed to carve for herself. Lexi had struggled for her independence, her self-reliance. As long as Josh understood that, as long as he let her take the lead, everything would be fine.

Lexi hitched up her sequined bodice, fluffed the few tendrils of hair around her face, and approached the jail cell.

Her steps faltered when Josh stood. He topped her by nearly a foot. The reminder of that height, those big shoulders, did funny things to her insides.

He scooped up his jacket and slid it on again. “Am I free to go?”

Lexi swallowed in a fruitless attempt to cure her suddenly dry mouth. “You’re getting your time off for good behavior.” She unlocked the cell door and stood back to allow him out. “I haven’t seen you snarl in at least an hour.”

He didn’t step past her, however. He stopped right in front of her and startled her with his direct gaze. “I can be well behaved if the situation calls for it.”

She felt the blush starting, and resisted the urge to fan herself. The man wreaked havoc on her internal cooling system.

And amazingly, rendered her speechless.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted Josh to be well behaved or not, but the idea that he would be “good” if she wanted him to, left her mute for an agonizing moment.

He reached for her. But instead of pulling him toward her for the kiss she sorely wanted, he gently tugged one of the fallen tendrils from her upswept hair. Slowly, he wound the long strand around his finger.

He studied her with restless gray eyes. “How are you getting home?”

The question jarred her out of her reverie. She didn’t know how to respond to his blunt question, especially since she’d rather hoped to go home with him. Still, she didn’t want to look too eager.

“I can walk from here.”

She lived just around the corner, but her place was off-limits. The two times she had worked up the courage to proposition a man—the only one-nighters she’d ever had—she’d made sure they went to his place.

Josh frowned. “You can’t walk.”

Lexi bristled. Josh might be gorgeous, but he was not in charge here. “Of course I can walk. I live nearby.”

He steered her forward with a gentle hand at her waist and looked as if he hadn’t heard her. “Where’s your coat? I’ll take you home.”

She stopped in her tracks. “I don’t think so.”

“I’d try to talk you into coming home with me, but my apartment is in the middle of being repainted. We can’t go there.”

Heat bothered her cheeks. “Of course not. I didn’t mean to suggest we would. I’ll be fine heading home on my own.”

His mouth set in a straight, hard line. For the first time, Lexi noticed a scar on his cheekbone, a thin white line that seemed more prominent when he scowled.

“Lexi, I’m a cop. You’re a half-dressed woman ready to roam the streets of New York at two in the morning. Sorry, but I’m pulling rank here.”

She felt her jaw slacken and promptly snapped it shut. “You, sir, are obviously blind. Don’t you dare suggest that wearing a Bill Blass original is anything less than being completely and flawlessly dressed.” She’d sooner crawl home than allow anyone to cast one more aspersion on her character today. She’d deflected jibes and gossip this evening like a damn mud flap.

Josh scrubbed a hand over his chest before sliding his palm down the length of his silk tie. “You took a lot of crap here tonight?”

She stilled. “What would you know about that?”

“Alec told me about the magazine piece.”

Great. Now the stud of her dreams felt sorry for her. “A letter to the editor by some disgruntled designer is not the end of the world.” Or so she told herself. Repeatedly.

He shrugged. “I don’t keep up with the fashion magazines, I guess. But I don’t like the idea of you taking off by yourself after being the target of so much slander here tonight.”

Slander. Yes, she rather liked the ring of that. She sniffed. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you walked me home.”

“Great.” He headed toward the cloakroom. “What does your coat look like?”

“Black pashmina.”

His brow furrowed, but he ducked into the room and out of sight.

Damn. Now she wouldn’t be able to seduce him. There would be no night in Josh’s arms to chase away the cold loneliness she’d felt all day because she would not let him in her apartment…would she?

Of course not. What would all her pets think? They wouldn’t want to share their mama with some strange man. And she’d always promised herself not to spoil the sanctuary of her home by allowing a man inside. It had been different to sleep in someone else’s bed. Impersonal. Easy to distance herself the next day.

But Josh would be a difficult man to walk away from, in the first place. She sure as heck couldn’t let him into the private world where the real Lexi lived.

“Is it a black blanket?” he called from the cloakroom. He stepped out with her pashmina in hand, a frustrated glower on his face.

“That’s me.” Laughing, she walked to the bar and tugged her purse from a shelf the bartender had allowed her to use.

Josh closed the distance between them in a flash. “Why didn’t you say so?”

His gruff manners soothed her as he wrapped the cashmere shawl around her and tugged the ends tightly shut.

“How the hell do you wear this thing?”

Smothering a giggle, she flung one end over her shoulder in demonstration.

Josh muttered an oath under his breath and tried to tuck the other end under her arm. Having secured every loose corner of the shawl, he nodded. “There. Don’t move.”

“How am I going to walk home?”

He grinned. “Guess I’ll have to carry you.”

Warmth pooled low in her belly at the thought of her body tucked up against his. Part of her longed to assume her flirtatious guise and maneuver more sexy talk with him. But some of her daring had faded along with the buzz from that last cosmopolitan. Even worse, she liked Josh more by the minute—a fact that rendered a one-night stand less appealing. A torrid night with Josh practically guaranteed she’d never see him again.

She shook loose his handiwork and rewrapped the shawl. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

He snorted. “Let’s look at who’s coming up with the good ideas here tonight. You think it’s a good idea to traipse around New York alone at 2:00 a.m. I think it’s a good idea for us to leave together. You think it’s a good idea to put me in jail. I think it’s a good idea for us to explore the possibilities of being—”

She hurried to cut him off. “I get the picture.” She definitely didn’t need reminders of his earlier provocative suggestion. Handcuffs had never seemed so appealing. But she needed to put some distance between her and Josh before he got the wrong idea. No matter how much her hormones argued the fact, she could not sleep with Josh in her apartment. “But I’m not conceding the point. I still think my ideas have been very sensible.”

Sensible. The word resounded in Josh’s mind, at odds with everything he thought about Lexi Mansfield. “Is that what you want, Lexi? Sensible?”

She deftly unfastened the diamond collar around her throat and slid it into a tiny purse she carried. “See that? Sensible. I may occasionally carry handcuffs and go manhunting on the posh New York club scene, Josh, but I’m not crazy enough to wear Harry Winston out in public.”

Josh stared at the long, smooth column of bare neck the diamonds had just vacated. She suddenly looked less like his five-foot dominatrix and more like a vulnerable woman.

“I never suggested you were crazy.” Josh curled his arm around her back and ushered her toward the door. Lexi flung good-nights and smiles at the few remaining people they passed on their way out. He hoped the high color in her cheeks had something to do with his touch.

As he held the door for her, she looked up at him and paused. “Are you sure?”

“A little wild maybe, but definitely not crazy.”

She nodded as if satisfied and walked out onto Columbus Circle, the black blanket fluttering in her wake.

Josh followed close behind, surveying the activity on the street. They were near Lincoln Center in a great neighborhood, but Central Park loomed to one side—and who knew what might leap out of the bushes at this time of night.

“Do you really live right around the corner, or were you just hoping I’d let you go home alone?”

She fidgeted on her high heels and pointed. “West Sixty-second Street. You can almost see the blue awning from here.”

He squinted. The buildings in this neighborhood all had doormen and good security, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get jumped from an alleyway. “I guess we can walk. But you really should take cabs at night if you’re by yourself.”

“And pay five bucks to go two blocks? No, thank you.” She set the pace as her high heels clicked down the pavement.

Josh smiled to himself as he noticed she took two steps to his one, her slim dress limiting her stride to a sexy little walk.

He fell into step beside her, fighting the urge to sling a protective arm around her.

Would she mind? She’d definitely backed off the flirting ever since he’d insisted he would walk her home. Had he misread her signals? After Lexi’s prolonged pursuit at the club and her teasing overtures with the handcuffs, Josh had been pretty certain she would be amenable to spending the night with him. Now he wasn’t so sure.

He would walk away if she wanted him to, of course. But he didn’t relish the idea. He’d had hours in the jail cell to resign himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any work done on his investigation tonight. His work for the night had been compromised, but not his overall case. Once he’d come to terms with a night off, he’d gladly spent the rest of the time indulging in erotic fantasies about Lexi.

He had another block and a half to sway the odds in his favor, and he didn’t plan to waste them lecturing her about street safety.

The night air was crisp and clear. A few fall leaves barely clung to the trees planted at precise intervals along the street. A light breeze caught stray strands of Lexi’s hair.

Josh racked his brain for the right approach. He didn’t usually have to work at this—the women in his past had made it known they were available. He’d thought Lexi was like that, too, but she was turning out to be more complicated than he’d expected.

Didn’t matter.

He wanted her more than he could remember wanting any other woman.

He brushed his hand over her shoulder. “You warm enough in that thing?”

She slanted him a sideways glance. “Plenty warm.”

“You ever share your blankets?” He tugged one corner of her shawl and crossed his fingers.

She stared straight ahead. “No.”

Her heels clicked down the street, ticking off his remaining time to seduce her. The odds seemed to be going up in her favor with every step she took.

Click.

Click.

Click.

“So Alec told me you write reviews for a magazine.” He might as well find out a little about her. He didn’t see how any great Casanova move would salvage his night with the dominatrix, anyway.

Oddly enough, he wanted to learn more about her even though he knew she’d be sending him home soon.

“It’s New York Fashion magazine. I’ve been writing the style column for five years, now.” She unearthed her hands from the mass of black cashmere and huffed warm breath on them.

Josh watched the steam rise from her folded palms, plagued by a vague sense that he’d seen her somewhere before tonight. She had a familiar smile….

She peered over at him, pausing just before they reached her awning. “Just how much did Alec tell you about me?”

Josh took her hands in his and tugged her to the side of the street. He must be wrong thinking she looked like someone he’d met before. “He told me the women were giving you a hard time tonight.”

He wrapped his hands around hers, then pulled their knot of fingers toward his lips. Mirroring her actions of a moment before, he huffed a slow, heated breath over her cool skin.

“I can manage myself,” Lexi said, her voice halting just a little. She didn’t pull away. “I mean, a lot of those people at the party were designers or else they work with a design house. Because I critique their work, I’m sure at one point or another over the past few years I’ve offended almost everyone.”

Her eyes were huge in the dim light from a street lamp. Josh wanted nothing so much as to wrap her cashmere blanket around both of them and pull her to him. He could envision every nuance of her sequined curves and he longed to test the knowledge of his eyes with his hands. Would she feel as good as she looked?

“That doesn’t make it okay for them to gang up on you tonight. It had to be awkward for you.” He settled for curving one hand along her jaw and brushing the soft silk of her cheek with his thumb.

“A little.” She half sighed the words, giving Josh the impression her thoughts lay elsewhere. Lexi’s eyes closed for a moment, then flew open again.

Josh wanted to shout over that small victory.

She took a small step away, her hands still tangled with one of his. “I’d better get going.”

“Let me just walk you to your door.” He kept one of her hands in his and wrapped his other arm lightly around her waist.

“I don’t think you need to—”

Josh nodded at the doorman and hustled her inside her building. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.”

She pushed the elevator button and turned to stare up at him. “Who’s going to keep me safe from you?”

“You want me to put the cuffs back on?”

A blush stained her cheeks. She twisted one of her rings in a relentless circle around her finger. “Um. No. That’s okay.”

The elevator slid open and Lexi stepped inside.

Josh waited at the doors. “I mean it, Lex. You shouldn’t get into an elevator with a guy you don’t trust.” He pulled out his badge and flashed it at her. “You know, you never verified that I really am a cop.”

With a nervous glance toward the doorman, Lexi reached out and pulled Josh forward by his tie. “I trust you,” she hissed.

The door swished shut behind them.

“I wouldn’t have let you walk me home if I thought you were the kind of guy to leave me for dead,” she assured him.

“Well, that’s a hell of an endorsement.” It’s not like he was going to try to talk her into anything.

But he sensed a kiss in their future, damn it, and he hadn’t wanted to indulge in that particular experience in full view of Sixty-second Street.

Lexi heard the grumbling note in his voice and wondered if she’d offended him. She hadn’t meant to.

Strangely, she did trust him. If he had meant to hurt her, he wouldn’t have knuckled under to her flirtatious handcuff job at the bar. He’d cooled his heels in her jail cell for hours, and still wanted to walk her home.

It was herself she didn’t trust.

Josh’s big, solid presence had her pulse racing and her fingers itching to touch him. When he’d taken her hands in his and breathed over her skin, she’d nearly shot right out of her shoes.

Her mind had fast-forwarded to all sorts of scenarios that involved Josh’s breath on her flesh. She wanted to taste him, breathe him, explore every inch of that muscular body…but she wouldn’t.

Not here. Not on her home turf.

It would give the whole encounter way too much significance. She’d never be able to sleep in her bed again with the same sense of peace. She’d never be able to feel like the queen of her own palace again. There would be a man’s shadow cast over her kingdom, a fear that maybe the world she’d built for herself wasn’t enough.

And she would not allow that to happen.

When the elevator doors opened on the twelfth floor, Lexi stepped out, willing her heart to slow down a few notches.

“I’m this way,” she said, digging her keys out of her purse. She wondered if her four-legged babies would hear her coming down the hall or if they were all fast asleep.

She stopped at the door of her apartment, not hearing any telltale barks. Maybe she’d be able to visit with Josh for a minute, to at least smooth things over with him, as long as her pets seemed settled.

“Thanks for the escort,” she said, her gaze bouncing all over the deserted hallway, lighting anywhere but on him.

“My pleasure.”

He stood close enough to remind her of his potent effect, but not so close that she felt crowded.

She twirled one fringed end of her shawl and searched for a way to end things on a light note. “I mean, I’m not afraid to make the walk by myself, but I’ll admit it’s sort of cool to trek around the city with my own bodyguard.”

His gray eyes narrowed. A silver light glittered in their depths. “Maybe you ought to put your body in my hands a little more often.”

Lexi backed up a step, his soft words a deft blow to her defenses. She felt an answering simmer in her veins, a heat that bubbled just below the surface. “That might be a bit of a risk.”

He edged closer, stealing her breath along with her thoughts. He placed one hand on either side of her, bracketing her against her apartment door. The dominant position made Lexi think about lying beneath him in her bed, his arms levering him above her body as he made love to her.

“Honey, you just let me take all the risks. I’m here to take care of your body, remember?”

She breathed his scent—smoke and scotch from the bar, but some sort of soapy scent, too—and fought for her balance. She hadn’t been this close to a man for nearly two years.

And being close to this particular man was a test of self-discipline Lexi wasn’t sure she could pass.

She’d picked him out at the bar because he had a reckless sort of look, a hint of danger that had appealed to her daring mood.

Only she wasn’t feeling so daring now. And in spite of that badge, Josh Winger was proving every bit as dangerous as she’d imagined.

“Josh?” All she had to do was tell him good-night. She steeled herself to send him away, to end the heat wave on the twelfth floor.

Too bad she looked up to find his gaze focused on her mouth.

“Hmm?” His answer sounded as distracted as she felt.

She swallowed, battling the urge to just close her eyes. No words came.

She licked her lips in a renewed effort to speak. Too late, she realized her mistake.

The strangled noise he made in his throat wavered between a growl and a groan, a hungry sound that rumbled right through her in the moment before his mouth met hers.

Her lips parted on a welcoming sigh, her little moan of delight sounding foreign to her ears.

Hints of a five-o’clock shadow gone rogue scraped her chin and cheeks. His tongue teased over hers in a stroke of warm velvet. The fire she’d been playing with ever since she’d spotted him leapt out of control—inside her body and out.

The whiskey taste of him drugged her until his hungry mouth went questing down her throat. She shivered at the wet heat of the kiss, and wriggled her way closer to the hard wall of his chest.

Josh’s hands fell away from the door to hold her against him. He stroked his way down her spine, sealing her body to his with each new inch of sequined territory. His arousal nudged her belly and fed her imagination, making her want to drag him inside and indulge herself in him.

She thought about dropping her purse and her keys so she could run her hands all over him, soak in the feel of him through her fingertips.

Before she had a chance, he pried himself away.

Lexi blinked, confused.

“Honey, I need to know if this is what you want.”

She didn’t have to ask what “this” was. “This” currently strained against her, sizzling her from the outside in.

Somewhere in the passion fog of her brain, she heard a dog bark. For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to run inside to greet her pets.

She wanted this man, this feeling, this renewed sense of daring to last all night long. She’d figure out how to handle the backlash tomorrow, when her hormones weren’t conspiring against her.

Right now, all she could think of was finishing the game she’d started in the bar.

Lexi wriggled against him shamelessly. “Don’t make me break out the handcuffs again, Detective. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

4

HANDCUFFS and a sex goddess. The fates had granted Josh all his best fantasies in one feisty package called Lexi Mansfield.

Lust surged through him with renewed force. Lexi had just given him the green light.

He withdrew her apartment keys from her fingers, eager to proceed inside before she changed her mind. Women like Lexi didn’t come along every day, at least not in the world Josh lived in. His usual dates were women he’d met at the gym, women who wanted the same things from a relationship he did—physical release and a simple good time. Josh had no complaints about those relationships, but he wasn’t about to let anything mess up his chance to play bondage games with a spitfire dominatrix.

He’d barely pushed his way inside Lexi’s apartment when a pack of wild dogs rushed him. The restrained barks he’d heard a few moments ago turned into a chorus of raucous canine yipping and howling. Josh couldn’t see the animals in Lexi’s darkened foyer, but he could hear the snapping jaws, glimpse the flashes of white teeth around his knees.

“That’s enough, guys,” Lexi admonished, somehow managing to shoo the brood down a short hallway. “You can play in the guest room while Mama has company.”

As the barking died down, Josh became aware of a bird chirping in the background. The hum of a fish tank circulator provided a soft white noise, drawing his eye toward a small aquarium and the lone source of light in the room. One pink fish swam around bright cliffs of coral in its home on the kitchen counter.

Distracted by the menagerie, Josh failed to notice Lexi’s return until she was a few feet in front of him. He couldn’t distinguish all the particulars, but he could tell she’d ditched her high heels somewhere along the way. Not only had she grown quieter, but also she’d lost a few inches. Josh guessed if he pulled her close her head would just reach his shoulder.

“Sorry about that.”

Wariness threaded through her words. Hesitation. Second thoughts.

“Not a problem.” He stepped closer, looking for ways to gain lost ground. He had a hunch that if he struck out with Lexi tonight, there wouldn’t be any second chance. Her house full of pets had him thinking she wasn’t the sort of woman who lived on the edge very often.

Normally when he brought a woman home from the gym or the boxing club, he would simply initiate a carnal wrestling match that would leave them both breathless and more than satisfied. But he got the impression Lexi was the kind of woman who wouldn’t appreciate the erotic possibilities of a half nelson.

“The animals miss me when I go out.” She traced her toe along one of the floorboards in the foyer, her body backlit by the blue glow of the fish tank. “They’re excited to see me.”

“I can hardly blame them.” Josh nudged aside the folds of her black shawl to trace one finger along the delicate ridge of her collarbone. “Just standing next to you makes me feel like howling.”

Her heartbeat pounded just below the heel of his hand.

“Don’t tell me I’m going to have to lock you up in the guest bedroom, too.”

He smoothed his hand over her shoulder and allowed his fingers to skim along her back. “I think I could better serve you if you’d lock me up in your bedroom.”

She couldn’t hide her answering shiver. Josh felt it right through his fingertips. Nevertheless, she shook her head resolutely.

“Sorry. I’ve seen how much you resent captivity. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

Josh heard the underlying message, despite the haze of lust that had him in a chokehold. He paused his fingertip exploration of her back, unwilling to use sensual means to get his own way tonight.

“Lexi, are you uncomfortable with me being here?” He wanted this woman more than he’d wanted anything in recent memory. Make that long-term memory. But he wanted her at full speed, all or nothing, as hungry for him as he was for her. He searched her face for some clue to her real feelings.

Damn it, but she looked familiar to him. Still, he would remember having met a woman like Lexi. He had to be mistaken.

The fish tank burbled softly, while he waited. The chirping bird in the background provided an obnoxiously happy accompaniment.

“You want to know the truth?” Finally, she tossed her shawl aside and planted jeweled fists on her hips.

In his mind’s eye he saw her donning boxing gloves, preparing for the round in which she would deliver the knockout blow—the “go home” speech.

“Nothing but the truth,” he returned, realizing he meant it. He didn’t want a sugarcoated speech from this woman. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you want.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, then slowly settled back into place as her gaze narrowed.

“Then, I’ll tell you exactly what I want, Josh Winger.” She spun on her bare heel and stalked into the living room. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the subdued light of the fish tank he could see her toenails were painted bright blue.

“I want a man to take me seriously for once.” She folded her arms over her compact body, a body visibly thrumming with an emotion he couldn’t fully identify. “For that matter, I would settle for anyone taking me seriously for once.”

“Well—”

Before he could respond, she burst into motion again, stomping around her living room sofa to pose by her coffee table. “I mean, look at me. Why can’t anyone appreciate the fashion sense I impart to all of New York? I know how to be tasteful and refined.” She pointed a finger in his direction and then started a slow trek back to him. “The point is, I don’t allow myself to fall into a rut of the refined but boring clothes that we’ve seen done to death for the past decade.”

He was so far out of his element he might as well have been swimming in the tank with the damn fish.

“I think you really look great—”

“I am willing to take risks, and that’s what no one seems to understand.” In the course of her emphatic speech, a few more locks of hair slipped free of the knot on top of her head. He was trying to follow what she was saying, damn it, but thoughts of unpinning that hair and seeing how much of her body it would cover was more than a little distracting.

“I might mix a few over-the-top colors, and I admit that my go-go boots with the Gucci cocktail dress was a definite mistake, but the point is, I push the boundaries.” By now, she stood toe to toe with him. “I am willing to try something different in order to create something unique and beautiful.”

She gazed up at him, eyes so dark they looked like a doll’s—all one color, with no hint of where the pupil ended and the iris began.

Clearly, the time had arrived for him to speak.

“I am definitely willing to try something different,” he said, trying to steer the conversation back toward bedrooms and handcuffs.

By the defeated slope of her shoulders he sensed that wasn’t the right thing to do.

Damn.

He scratched his head in the vain hope of stimulating a few coherent thoughts, and took a final stab at it. “But I understand what you’re saying. About taking risks, I mean.”

Her hip cocked to one side as she shifted her weight. The stance broadcast her skepticism more loudly than if she’d rolled her eyes, but at least she was listening.

“Like tonight, for example. I took a risk by not running to the tuxedo shop for the monkey suit I was supposed to have worn. The dinner jacket was a risk, as was the earring. But I’m not the kind of guy who makes concessions easily.”

He hoped that was a smile playing along the line of her mouth.

“But, like you, I know when to play it safe, too. I knew enough to grab the shiny silver tie out of my closet instead of the red-striped one. Shiny silver says I can bow to convention when I need to, right?”

Lexi laughed. Was this guy for real? Any other man would have run screaming for her door at the first mention of fashion. Then again, there was nothing ordinary about Josh Winger. She stepped closer to trail her fingers down the tie in question.

“Maybe we do have a few things in common,” she admitted, enjoying the way her fingernails rasped against the crisp cotton of his shirt. “But as much as I would like for something to happen between us tonight, I’m still not sure.”

She’d broken every rule of smart dating by letting a guy she barely knew inside her apartment and then telling him no. But she trusted Josh on a gut level, and she had always been the kind of woman to let her instincts guide her.

“What do you need to make you feel sure?”

His words were surprisingly gentle, coming from a man who looked like he could have been cast as a mobster in a shoot-’em-up flick.

“I felt more ready to be with you when I thought things could remain sort of impersonal.” She knew she had to stop touching him, had to take a step back from his big, sexy body. But the planes of his chest fascinated her, called to her, wouldn’t let her stop the fingertip massage of all those male muscles.

“You’re afraid of getting too personal?”

There was a hoarse edge to his voice that made her wonder if her touch affected him as much as it did her.

She nodded, not trusting her own voice.

He gripped her wrists in his palms, lightly restraining her. “That feels phenomenal, but I can’t think straight when you touch me like that.”

Feminine pride curled through her, even though he seemed to have no idea he’d just paid her a compliment. She whispered a mental “in your face” to all her detractors tonight.

Houseplant be damned. She must have some magnetism left somewhere, to be able to distract this man.

Josh closed his eyes while keeping her wrists imprisoned. He tilted his head back, just a little, exposing to her view the thick cords of muscle in his neck.

Then he looked down, his eyelids snapping open. “I’ve got it.”

Gray eyes locked on to hers, startling her out of her contemplation. “You do?” She wondered if he was going to let go of her wrists. Part of her didn’t want him to.

“Anonymous sex.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe several.

When it started again, it pumped erratically, awkwardly.

“Excuse me?”

Josh relinquished his hold on her wrists, allowing her arms to drop to her sides. Nothing resided between them now except a sizzling two inches of air.

“You don’t want to make it personal, so we’ll make it anonymous.” His gray eyes glittered down at her, looming nearer as he closed the distance between them. “No lights.” His mouth brushed hers with a featherlight sweep of his lips. “No conversation.” He kissed his way across her jaw to whisper in her ear. “Just you and me—” he trailed his finger down her shoulder to her elbow “—tangled in your sheets until dawn.”

Lexi didn’t know when her eyes had drifted shut, but she found herself fantasizing about that simple touch winding its way down her belly, or maybe her thighs.

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