Rave reviews for the novels of
Carly Phillips

CROSS MY HEART

“Who doesn’t love a reunion of long-lost loves? Add a diabolical villain, as Carly Phillips does, and you have everything you need for a beach read.”

—Columbus Dispatch

“Smart, engrossing and totally addictive! Cross My Heart is a definite must-have in this season’s beach bag.”

—www.FreshFiction.com

SUMMER LOVIN’

“Phillips’s light touch assures a happy ending to this diverting beach read.”

—Publishers Weekly

“A funny and touching family drama.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“A fun, yet emotional story. A story that will keep you hooked with its kooky, yet charming characters.”

—Romance Reviews Today

What’s steamier than a New York City summer? Carly Phillips’s Hot series!

HOT ITEM

“Saving her best for last, Phillips wraps up her jocular Hot Zone trilogy….”

—Publishers Weekly

“Phillips has penned a charming, fast-paced contemporary romp-through-the-sheets.”

—Booklist

“Hot Item is a winner.”

—Romance Reviews Today

HOT NUMBER

“A veteran romance author who climbed to star status in Harlequin’s Temptation line, Phillips is certain to capture a new bank of fans with the fresh venue and stylish dialogue featured in this perky series.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Hot Number is a fun, sexy read. For everyone who has ever wished to turn the head of a guy, this book definitely allows you that fantasy while giving you a satisfying love story. Ms. Phillips has proven herself more than capable of delivering stories that touch your heart and your funnybone.”

—In the Library Reviews

“In the follow-up to last year’s Hot Stuff, Phillips once again dives into the high pressure world of sports. Micki and Damian each have quite a few issues to resolve, which adds spice to an already volatile mixture.”

—Jill M. Smith, Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)

“Carly Phillips hits a home run with the fun, yet touching Hot Number.”

—Jennifer Bishop, Romance Reviews Today

HOT STUFF

“This breezy book will likely score a touchdown with readers looking for sexy thrills and instant gratification.”

—Publishers Weekly

“This first book in The Hot Zone trilogy shines with Phillips’ trademark sizzle and sensuality. She delivers strong, appealing characters while exploring the dynamics of families—what brings them together and what draws them apart. The ending emotionally satisfies and gives readers a tantalizing peek at the romantic quandaries awaiting the rest of the family.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)

“Hot Stuff is a surefire hit.”

—Jennifer Bishop, Romance Reviews Today

Carly Phillips
Simply Sensual

SIMPLY sensual

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

BEN CALLAHAN FROWNED at the bone china cup on the sterling serving tray in front of him. Unable to fit one of his large fingers through the handle, he tried instead to hold the delicate cup with his whole hand. He’d have chucked the idea of attempting to grasp the cup, if not for his elderly hostess. Emma Montgomery had declared it was teatime, and from what Ben had seen, he wouldn’t be getting any information out of her until he’d shared in her daily ritual.

He’d never understand the wealthy, nor did he care to try. He’d had a good deal of experience with the breed, none of it leaving a positive impression. His mother had scrubbed floors for a living and he’d seen firsthand how poorly the help was treated. He’d whisked his mother away from menial labor and verbal abuse as soon as he was old enough to support them both.

It was ironic, really. Most of the clients he’d accumulated as a private investigator had money to burn. Ben didn’t mind taking their cash. It paid not only his bills, but the extra money covered the cost of the independent living community where he’d placed his mother. He considered it payback for her years of service.

The elderly woman seated across from him was a potential client. She’d been referred to him by an acquaintance in her social set, one he remembered from the time he’d worked for her last year. So far Emma Montgomery, his hostess, had been refreshing, both charming and persistent at the same time.

While other clients tried to whittle away at his expenses and final take, despite their ability to afford his reasonable fee, Emma Montgomery had paid his airfare and expenses from New York City to Hampshire, Massachusetts, to discuss her reasons for wanting to hire him. As further enticement, she’d named a hefty sum he’d never seen before on a single case, and promised him free rein with expenses, no questions asked. All before she’d explained why she needed his services.

Ben was not only intrigued, but inclined to accept. The money she’d promised would enable him to have his mother moved from independent living to assisted care. With her eyesight rapidly deteriorating, she couldn’t live alone and this case might make the upgraded care possible. If it meant putting up with idiosyncrasies like teatime, he’d force himself to endure.

He met his hostess’s gaze. Piercing brown eyes regarded him from over the rim of her cup. I’m waiting, she seemed to be saying. There was nothing he could do but raise the cup and take a sip.

The minute the hot liquid passed his lips, she said, “My granddaughter needs a sitter. Do you have any interest in the job?”

He swallowed fast, burning his tongue and nearly losing his precarious hold on the fine china. No way he’d heard her correctly. She was offering all that good money for him to play baby-sitter? He shook his head. “Excuse me?”

“Perhaps I didn’t phrase that quite right. I think maybe keeper is the correct word.” She tapped the side of her head, without messing the perfect bun in her gray hair. “Yes, that’s right. My granddaughter is in the process of finding herself and she needs a keeper.”

He placed the cup onto the saucer before he could do serious damage. “I think you’ve been misinformed, Mrs. Montgomery.” Good money or not, Ben drew the line at baby-sitting.

“Call me Emma.” Her smile grew wider.

“Emma. I’m a private investigator. I don’t baby-sit wayward children. Just how old is your granddaughter anyway?”

Emma reached onto the table beside the couch, holding a photo in her hand. She turned the picture toward him.

The woman staring back at him was no child. Honey-blond hair, warm brown eyes and a face as delicate as the china he’d recently held stared back at him. A rush of desire hit Ben hard and a shot of adrenaline jump-started his heart.

“She’s almost thirty and quite a beauty, isn’t she?” Emma asked, pride lilting her voice.

He met the older woman’s gaze and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “She’s…something all right.” A golden princess.

In his profession Ben was used to observing people and photographs. He was used to forming opinions and going with gut instinct. He was rarely mistaken in his impressions and never blindsided by a pretty face. And he’d always been able to remain detached. Until now.

This woman was beautiful enough to affect his senses and sensual enough to rev up his libido. Her eyes reflected a wealth of emotion and hidden secrets—secrets he yearned to uncover. The assignment he’d been about to throw away had suddenly become one he couldn’t resist and a distinct sense of unease slithered through him.

“Grace moved to New York City a few years ago,” Emma said. “She’s always lived off the trust her parents set up for her as a child. No steady job, no steady man.” She said the last with enforced meaning before she appraised Ben from his work boots to his unkempt hair.

He shook his head as if he could rid himself of her penetrating stare. “And what’s going on with Grace that’s prompted you to contact me now?”

“She’s stopped withdrawing money from her trust and decided it’s time to live on her own.”

“I’d think that was an admirable move,” Ben said, having more respect for the new Grace than the one who had lived off her family money for years.

“Well, of course it is. It’s how I raised her, after all—To be her own person. It worked, to an extent. She got out of Hampshire and away from her controlling father, Edgar, who is my son. We call him the judge.” She laughed but the sound contained no joy. “He has no idea what family means. Though I admit, with my grandson, Logan’s, recent marriage and new baby, he’s learning. But Grace isn’t around to see it.”

Sensing she’d gotten off track, Ben tried to steer her back to what she wanted from him. “So you want Grace back home?”

Emma shook her head. “Not if she’s safe and happy in New York. That’s all I care about, you see. But I can’t get information out of her because she’s clammed up on me.” The older woman zipped her fingers across her lips. “All she’ll say is that she’s fine and I shouldn’t worry.” Emma snorted, telling Ben what she thought of her granddaughter’s silence. “How can I not worry, the way she travels with a camera around her neck, paying more attention to her photographs than her surroundings?”

“She’s an adult,” Ben felt compelled to remind Emma.

“Women like her are attacked every day in New York City. She swears she’s taken a self-defense class, as if that’s enough to soothe me. I’m certain she’s holding out. Ever since my brush with death, she thinks she’s protecting me. She doesn’t realize it’s more stressful on the heart, being kept in the dark.”

Ben nodded in understanding. His own father had died of a heart attack when Ben had been eight. He remembered him as a good man with a heart of gold. Too bad that heart had also been weak and he’d died driving home from his job as a department store manager, leaving no insurance and little money in the bank. His mother had been forced to extreme measures to make ends meet, and she’d turned to the only experience she had—housekeeping, only this time she worked in other people’s homes.

“Make no mistake, Mr. Callahan. I’m glad Grace is finally ready to tackle the world on her own.” Emma’s voice brought him back to the present. “It’ll give her a chance to sow those wild oats her father made her suppress, but at the same time, that kind of sudden freedom frightens me. Even nearing thirty Grace has been sheltered too long. And I know her. Now that she’s made a stand, her pride won’t let her call on me or her brother if she runs into trouble. I need to know she’s okay.” Emma placed a frail hand on his arm.

“Call me Ben,” he said, wondering if Emma was right—if Grace had a penchant for getting into trouble, and if so, what kind.

No way he could deny Emma the peace of mind she sought. Her obvious love for her granddaughter, along with his financial need, sealed his agreement.

She smiled. “I’ve taken a few liberties under the assumption you’d take this case.”

Ben was used to presumptuous clients, but he could only imagine what this woman had decided for him. “What liberties would those be, Mrs….” He caught the quick shake of her head and corrected the formality. “What liberties, Emma?”

“Grace lives in Murray Hill, in a one-bedroom off Third Avenue. After a long talk with the landlord, I managed to secure you the apartment across the hall. It seems his brother lives there and he’s out of the country on business for the next month.” Her white smile widened. “Wouldn’t it be nice of his good friend Ben Callahan to apartment-sit for him?” She reached for something on the sofa table behind her and dangled a set of keys in front of his eyes.

Ben shook his head. “How convenient.” He thought he’d been prepared for anything. He’d been wrong. “I’m sure you realize I already have a place to live, Emma.”

She rolled her eyes as if he were slow. “Of course you do.” Without warning, the older woman grabbed for his hand again, and her eyes met his in a silent plea, one he had a hard time ignoring. His gut clenched as he silently acknowledged he was in trouble.

“I need to know Grace is safe, satisfied and fulfilled before I pass on. And you can only do that if you get close enough to see for yourself. I’ve heard you’re the best, Ben.”

He knew he was being worked shamelessly, and even so, he couldn’t look away. Worse, her motives seemed so honest and pure, he couldn’t bring himself to turn her down. What would it hurt if he got to know the granddaughter to assure the grandmother everything was okay? He could give the older woman peace of mind and finance his mother’s care at the same time. A win-win situation, even if it meant putting up with the older woman’s meddling.

“Well?” Emma asked.

He glanced at the photo once more. Detachment? Hell, he’d been sucker-punched by a picture. Heaven only knew what his reaction would be to Grace Montgomery in the flesh.

Emma patted his knee. “That’s okay. All men react like that the first time they see her.”

Was that supposed to make him feel better?

“I suppose you realize now why she needs someone to look out for her, especially since she’s on her own and more vulnerable than before.”

Ben had his doubts Grace was as naive as Emma painted her. After all, she’d been living in the city and even with money to burn, she’d have learned to be cautious and careful. Still, he understood and felt the older woman’s concern.

Ben let out a groan. With little effort, he’d become invested in both Emma and her granddaughter. More than he should be with a client. Enough to warn him away from this case.

He stared into those compelling brown eyes and knew he couldn’t walk away. Emma’s obvious love and concern for Grace was one reason, his financial needs another. But there was yet another, more elemental reason not to opt out, his personal misgivings be damned. If he bailed, Emma would find another private investigator to get up close and personal with her granddaughter.

At a glance, Ben knew he couldn’t trust himself around Grace. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to let someone else take the job, either.

ADRENALINE PUMPED THROUGH Grace’s system, a natural reaction to the afternoon spent capturing pictures that filled her soul. Unlike her temporary job at a photo studio specializing in portrait shots, her time at the park held the key to her future and she reveled in every minute. Even a routine stop at the corner grocery store hadn’t dulled the sense of excitement she found doing what she loved, and if her instincts were on target, she’d captured exactly the right shots.

She juggled the bags filled with necessities while attempting to pull the apartment key out of her poncho pocket. There was so much flowing material she could barely find the opening. She understood now why the tailor had balked against sewing a pocket into the cape, but she hadn’t wanted to give up the garment in favor of her more sensible denim jacket. Given to her by her beloved grandmother, the poncho had once allowed her to hide her camera from the rest of the family who hadn’t understood her artistic obsession any more than they’d understood her.

She had escaped to another state and a huge city to be on her own, experience life and discover the real Grace Montgomery. Her likes, her whims, her future. Ironically the move alone hadn’t accomplished her goal. She’d ended up living off her trust, continuing to emulate her family because, subconsciously, she’d sought the approval she would never receive. It had taken her brother, Logan, and his recent wedding to the most real, down-to-earth woman Grace had ever met to shake Grace up and make her realize she wanted what Logan had: a life of her own choosing.

Once again, irony played a role. Though Grace had divorced herself from the snooty country club set back home, she’d kept in touch with her closest friends. Cara Hill, a woman Grace both liked and respected worked tirelessly for CHANCES, a charity that benefited underprivileged children. She was putting together a brochure and had purchased a huge layout in a high-circulation magazine aimed at enlightening the wealthy about the problems faced by people outside their social circle.

Raising substantial cash was the goal and Cara was taking a chance on an unknown photographer—on Grace—to capture that real world and the children who inhabited it. Grace refused to disappoint her. The experience could lead to more jobs and ultimately a photography career that paid the bills and left her fulfilled at the end of the day.

She felt the cold, metal key between her fingers at the same time the first brown bag toppled out of her arms and crashed to the floor. She glanced down at the white plastic bag and groaned. “It would have to be the eggs.”

“Another dinner party shot to hell?” A lazy masculine drawl sounded from behind her.

Instinct told her the sexy voice belonged to her new neighbor. Instinct and the curling warmth in her belly. She closed her eyes and held the feeling close. It matched the one she felt whenever she caught a glimpse of him out her window. The first time he’d been unloading a black Mustang packed tight with clothing and accessories. Her neighbor, Paul Biggs, an investment banker, was away on business and the super had mentioned she’d be having a new neighbor living across the hall.

He’d turned out to be a sexy new neighbor, in tight jeans and a faded blue T-shirt that clung to an incredibly sculpted body. Grace came from a world where men were soft and manicured. A specimen like him was just one of the treats of living far from home, and she’d enjoyed watching him from a distance.

Steeling herself for their first meeting, she set the rest of the bags on the floor. She turned, and although she’d glimpsed him through her window before and even snapped a few photos with her camera, she discovered nothing compared to seeing him in the flesh.

He stood across from her, one shoulder propped against the chipped wall. Once white, the dingy paint now held a gray tinge, and still her neighbor’s jet-black hair stood out in stark contrast. Tousled from an apparent jaunt outdoors, his dark hair reached his shoulders and begged for a woman’s touch.

Her touch. She swallowed hard and wondered where that notion had come from? She’d never been tempted to stroke a man’s hair before but nothing about him was like anything she’d ever encountered. He oozed raw sexiness and called to something primal and elemental inside her. Something she hadn’t known existed—until now.

He was pure male testosterone in a package that said, “Don’t mess with me.” And she was suddenly struck with how much fun it could be to do just that.

“Looks like you could use a hand. I’m Ben Callahan, your new neighbor.” His voice brought her out of her musings.

She realized she’d been staring and extended her hand. “Grace Montgomery.”

“I meant a helping hand.” He laughed, a seductive rumble that set her already raw nerve endings on fire.

Before embarrassment at her too-formal behavior could take over, he stepped forward and placed his large, warm palm inside hers. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Heat arced between them, sizzling and hot. Ben cleared his throat, then quickly released her hand, leaving Grace to wonder if he was as unsettled by the sensations as she.

He quickly composed himself and she wished she could do the same.

“Can I help you with those packages?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. I can handle them.” But she couldn’t handle him or her reaction to him as easily.

“Well, my mother taught me never to let a lady struggle, and besides,” he said with a slow grin, “I like helping beautiful women.” Without waiting for her response, he stepped around the groceries, bent down and collected her bags.

She turned toward the door, key in hand. Aware of his heat and strength behind her, she put the key into the lock and let them into her apartment.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Just put them on the kitchen counter.” She pointed to the small pass-through that led to her working kitchen.

He deposited the bags, broken eggs included, onto the butcher-block countertop and turned. “So was I right? Did you ruin another dinner party by dropping the groceries?”

Obviously he was referring to last night’s parade of women who’d come to her apartment. Once Grace realized her job for CHANCES also enabled her to capture fabulous candid shots of children, she’d begun making copies—and the parents came by once a week for coffee and free photos. Considering her privileged upbringing—that she hadn’t worked for or deserved—it was the least she could do.

Although Grace hadn’t realized Ben was monitoring the comings and goings from her place, as an expression of his interest, it would do nicely.

She shook her head. “No dinner party, now or then. Nothing more planned than an evening in front of the TV. And last night wasn’t as big a bash as you seem to think.”

“I thought I might have missed out on a good party.” Curiosity lit his features as he met and held her gaze.

Warmth trickled through her veins. “Nope. Just a few friends over. Would it soothe your ego if I said your invitation got lost in the mail?” She grinned, unable to help the smile he inspired.

He laughed. “No, but it would help if you threw a welcome-to-the-building party in my honor.”

“I…uh, think that could be arranged.” Her boldness surprised her.

As much as she enjoyed their easy banter, this meeting had thrown her badly. She inhaled deeply. His musky scent seduced and aroused—and would now linger in her apartment long after he was gone. Her life, which just yesterday had been filled with routine and concern about making it on her own, now had spark and zing. Inspiration, she thought, glancing at the man in the fitted T-shirt.

He was everything that intrigued her in the opposite sex, nothing like the kind of men who’d asked her out back home—the suit-and-tie, suck-up to Judge Montgomery type of man, who had turned her ice-cold. And though she’d been just another anonymous female in New York City, she hadn’t given much thought to dating since her move. Not after the last couple of setups courtesy of her friends had turned into boring disasters.

Nothing about Ben was boring. She took in his rugged good looks, his sexy, bad-boy posture and attitude. There wasn’t a thing about him, from his alluring scent to his heated touch, she didn’t enjoy. Why not make use of her discovery?

Professionally Grace had already begun the starting steps toward a life of her own. On a more personal level, she’d become so used to turning down dates in favor of her own company, her femininity and wiles were rusty from disuse. But thanks to Ben Callahan that was about to change.

Whether he knew it or not, he had just become the second step on her road to self-knowledge.

She leaned toward him, a whisper away from temptation. “So what did you have in mind?”

A lazy smile lifted one side of his mouth and caused her to realize she’d backed herself into a corner. A very attractive corner.

“I’d like to get to know you, Grace.”

She smiled. “Sounds good to me.” She liked his boldness. She’d had her fill of too polite men who wined and dined but weren’t honest about their intentions. Ben let her know up-front who he was and what he wanted.

He’d implied he was available. Though Grace wanted to be bold and daring, all this was too new. She wasn’t ready to reveal that she desired to get to know him, too, but she had every intention of satisfying his request.

His aura of confidence appealed to the part of her that wanted to feel the same, and time with this man could teach her a lesson or two in self-esteem. He brought out a newer, bolder side of herself she wanted to experience again. Not to mention that the man was a feast for the senses and a boon to her sensual awakening. The knowledge set her heart jumping and myriad intimate possibilities raced through her mind. Her breath caught in a noticeable hitch.

She licked her dry lips and watched, fascinated, as his eyes followed the movement. Without warning, his gaze darted from hers and he turned away.

His sudden retreat was unexpected and hard to understand, but she let out a slow exhale of relief. The reprieve would give her a chance to catch her breath.

Hands in his back pockets and posture erect, no indication of interest or flirting in sight, he walked past her and glanced around her small apartment. “One bedroom?”

“Yes.”

His hand swept over the living area, replete with Oriental rugs and porcelain decorative pieces. “Beautiful place.”

“Thanks.” She’d decorated the apartment in the days when she’d still been living off her trust, before she’d figured out how to realize her dreams or even what they were. Though she wanted this man to see more to Grace than the trappings of wealth, she wasn’t about to get into explanations now, not when she knew so little about him.

She turned back to her kitchen. “I really should unpack the groceries.”

“Grace?”

She glanced his way.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Other than the fact that his hot-cold act confused her? But if his feelings were rampaging as quickly as hers, she could begin to understand. “Nothing’s wrong. Just lost in thought. It was nice meeting you, Ben.”

“Likewise.” He hesitated, then reached out and stroked a hand down her cheek. Another sudden change toward her. His fingertip lingered, his touch a sizzling combination of heat and electricity.

His eyes widened and he withdrew once more, confusion and regret sparking his gaze, leaving her to wonder again if he was as thrown by their first meeting as she.

“See you around, Gracie.”

She inclined her head. “Bye.”

He walked out of her apartment with a sexy stride she couldn’t help but admire. The door slammed shut behind him and Grace hugged her arms tight around her chest, amazed at the feelings and sensations he inspired.

Ben brought out the side of her she’d suppressed while trying to live by her father’s rigid rules. The only time she’d snuck out of the house to meet friends at a local bar, she’d lived to regret it. Her father had embarrassed her badly. He’d called every parent, gotten her friends grounded for weeks, and no one had spoken to Grace for an equally long time.

The judge had accomplished his goal. She’d never rebelled again. But in her sexy neighbor Grace saw the opportunity to do just that with no painful consequences.

When she’d decided to branch out on her own, she’d desired change in her life. She hadn’t known it would come in the form of her sexy, intriguing neighbor, Ben Callahan.

But she intended to take full advantage.

CHAPTER TWO

I’D LIKE TO GET TO KNOW YOU, Grace.

Ben smacked his hand against the wall. What the hell had he been thinking, speaking with his gut and not his brain? He’d spent the past five days watching her from a distance, yet he’d underestimated the impact she’d have on him upon meeting her in person. He’d meant to be friendly and begin to gain her trust.

Instead he’d been blown away. Her cocoa-brown eyes had danced with light and life and he’d been captivated on the spot. Adrenaline had kicked in the second he’d heard her soft voice, and surrounded by her fragrant scent of vanilla, his body had come alive. He’d backed off, but not soon enough. Even a cold shower hadn’t lessened the effect of Grace Montgomery.

Small consolation but at least he’d made substantial progress on the assignment, and in less than a week’s time. When Emma called for her daily report—in about five minutes, he noted, glancing at his watch—he’d be able to tell her he’d met her granddaughter.

Ben paced the floor of the apartment. No need for the older woman to know he’d been enchanted and completely caught off guard. The picture hadn’t done Grace justice and Ben knew for certain if he wasn’t careful, he’d fall hard and fast for Emma Montgomery’s free-spirited granddaughter—a woman far out of his league and the subject of his investigation to boot.

Perhaps because of his father’s careless ways, Ben’s work ethic was strong. He worked hard, provided for his mother, saved for the future when he could, and made certain his clients were happy enough with his services to secure a referral for future cases. His work ethic did not include playing around with a client’s granddaughter.

He had to focus on his job and, in fact, he’d made quite a bit of headway. He had Grace’s routine down pat. Not only did he know she had a full-time job at a photography studio uptown, but he knew she spent her lunch hour and weekends frequenting a park that bordered a seedy neighborhood.

Ben knew all about neighborhoods where trouble lurked. He’d grown up in one and knew just how tempting a woman like Grace could be to a guy from the wrong side of the tracks. Hell, he knew how she tempted him now.

He had no problem putting Emma at ease about how Grace was earning money to survive, but he’d hold off before revealing the rest. Ben needed to do some more digging into other areas of Grace’s life to find out why she was hanging around questionable parts of town, camera in hand. The faster he got the information, the faster he could get the hell out…before his rapidly beating heart was broken by a woman who’d undoubtedly grow bored with her new life.

She might be living on her own, and he admired the attempt, but sooner or later, Grace Montgomery would miss the family she’d left behind and desire the easier lifestyle she’d grown up with. The expensive decor of her apartment proved she hadn’t completely left the life behind.

Ben didn’t begrudge her that life. He just had no intention of being a casualty when the novelty of making it on her own wore off.

GRACE STEPPED OUT of the dark subway station. The freedom she felt walking into the fresh air, camera in hand, the breeze warm on her arms and the sun hot on her face, was liberating. She passed by the boarded-up building that once held a restaurant, waved to a bunch of neighborhood kids she saw on her daily trips to the park and rounded the corner leading to the playground she loved.

As usual during lunch hour, the basketball courts were crowded with kids and she paused in front of the wrought-iron gate. Clutching the cold metal in her hands, she peered through the open spaces and watched the games from the sidelines. The smack of the ball against the blacktop mingled with the low strains of male voices. With most of the players in white T-shirts, Grace was hard-pressed to tell them apart…until she caught sight of the guy in gray.

She couldn’t mistake the jet-black hair hitting his shoulders as he ran or the physique she’d memorized the day he’d moved in. But it was the distinctive sound of his voice over the dull roar of the other players that sealed her certainty. She didn’t know what Ben Callahan was doing down here, and she intended to find out. But not until she’d captured this moment on film.

She hadn’t seen him for a week and she had no intention of letting the opportunity to feast on his good looks and masculinity pass her by. She flipped off the lens cap and raised the camera to eye level. At the same moment, play on the court stopped, the guys hitting the benches to take a break—except for Ben and a lone player who remained by the hoop. Though Grace stood in the shade of the buildings’ shadows, Ben stood bracketed by sunlight.

Her week of deprivation was at an end and she paused to revel in the sight.

He wiped a hand over his forehead to remove the sweat and grime from the game—a typically masculine move, but there was nothing typical about Ben. His sexy mannerisms, his powerful stance, the muscles in his legs visible thanks to his nylon shorts, set him apart from the other men in the world. And Grace appreciated it all as she began to capture his movements on film.

His body language mimicked those around them. He spoke to the kids as if he knew their language, as if he were accepted. Yet she’d never seen him here before. Grace wondered who he was and why he’d shown up now. Did he know the neighborhood residents because he worked in the area or did he have family down here? she wondered.

But first…with the easy adjustment of her zoom lens, she zeroed in. With each click of the shutter, she became one with Ben, and as she seized his every nuance, every undercurrent on film, she began to feel. Her heart raced as if she’d run the court and her pulse pounded in time to the dribble of the ball smacking the ground.

As he gestured and moved, explaining something to the youth beside him, she couldn’t draw her gaze from the ripple of muscle in his arms and the strength in his calves and thighs. Thanks to the sun’s strong rays and his hard play, damp stains darkened his T-shirt. She snapped the shutter automatically, not missing a beat, but her body continued a rampage of its own. Her back grew damp and her shirt stuck to her skin, while a fine sheen of perspiration dotted her face. She lowered the camera and inhaled deep, drawing an unsteady breath.

Grace had been searching for clues to what kind of woman lay inside the polite female created by her judge father and well-bred mother. Now she knew seething sensuality lay dormant inside her, just waiting to be unleashed. And Ben was the man to take her on the next part of her journey of self-discovery.

Everything he made her feel was honest and real, so opposite to the artificial world she’d grown up in—a world where people hid their feelings, married for show, cared little for their children, and worst of all repressed their sexuality—unless they were cheating on a spouse. Except for her brother Logan, who’d defied the family political tradition and had also married for love, the Montgomery world was a phony one.

The opposite of the real world Ben inhabited.

She could only imagine the strength and beauty of the photos she’d just taken—photos for her personal album, not a stepping stone in her career.

Another glance at the court, and she saw Ben once more, hand on the kid’s shoulder, apparently explaining the finer points of the game. Not many men cared enough to work with the kids in this neighborhood, kids who needed guidance. Grace admired not just Ben’s physique but the obvious goodness he possessed inside.

She headed around the gate and came up behind him. “Hey there, neighbor.”

“Grace?” He turned toward her, surprise in his voice, disbelief in his gaze.

“The one and only.” She sprinted onto the court to join him.

He tossed the ball to the young boy. “Get to work on those jump shots. I’ll be with you in a second.” He pivoted back to her. “What are you doing here?”

Was that anger she heard in his tone? She raised an eyebrow in question. “Well, hello to you, too. And I could ask you the same thing. It just so happens I’m a regular around here. How about you?”

“What’s with the camera?” he asked without bothering to answer her question.

She lifted her prized piece of equipment before letting it fall back around her neck. “I’m working. What’s your excuse? Because if you don’t mind my saying so, it seems awfully coincidental that we’d both end up in the same neighborhood.”

He met her gaze, which was a good sign that he wasn’t hiding anything, but she didn’t know him well enough to read him…yet.

“Don’t get yourself worked up, Gracie.” His voice softened and she couldn’t help melting like ice cream on the hot sidewalk. “I was just concerned to find you hanging in a neighborhood like this.” His arm swept the air around him.

She figured that was as much of an apology as she would get from the man. “Well, I admit it’s not as fine as most, but the people here are real.” Considering concern was behind his attitude, she didn’t mind explaining. “And they deserve the same little joys in life the rest of us have.”

She waved the camera. “That’s what these pictures are for, to help raise money on behalf of the kids in this neighborhood—and the mothers love them. Pictures of their kids are the least I can give back.” She silently cursed the insecurity she hadn’t meant to reveal.

He stepped forward. “And why is that?” His soft voice wrapped around her like a warm caress. “Is your background more privileged than most?”

“How’d you guess?” she asked, suddenly wary. Because they’d met once and she’d never revealed her background to her neighbor. Of course her apartment decor reeked of wealth, but his tone held more than a hint of certainty that he knew her well.

He lifted her chin with his hand, holding her face up to daylight. Heat having nothing to do with the sun skittered across her skin. “That cultured voice is a dead giveaway. And besides those sculpted cheekbones speak for themselves.”

So he’d pegged her from day one. But to Ben, she didn’t want to be the spoiled rich girl, she wanted to be just Grace. And she believed she still had that chance.

She inhaled deep. The air held Ben’s raw scent and if Grace thought she’d been swept away by the sight of him before, she was on fire now. “What makes you such a good judge of people?”

“In my line of work, being observant is second nature.”

She shot him a questioning look.

“Private investigator,” he explained.

His occupation surprised her, but she appreciated the insight. “Is that what you’re doing down here? Working on a case?”

She glanced over her shoulder, hoping the kid Ben had been coaching wasn’t the subject of some undercover investigation that would get him in trouble. Drugs, the illegal sale of fake merchandise—she saw too many kids in danger and hoped the money from CHANCES would help kids like these. Not only would it open the door to her career, but she’d ease the guilt she felt for having so much when others had so little.

“Now, Grace, are you avoiding the question about your background?” He not-so-subtly turned the subject back to her.

She grinned. Apparently, with their interest in each other running high, neither one was willing to give without receiving in return. “No, Mr. Private Investigator. Let’s just say I’m leveling the playing field. You answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

He fingered the camera strap between his thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t know this was a game, but I’ll play. Since I’m new to the building, I asked the landlord which areas to avoid and he mentioned this neighborhood. High crime, drug trafficking…kids in need.” He pointed to the game of basketball that had resumed behind them. “So here I am.”

She’d found this neighborhood in much the same way, but she was a permanent resident. Ben was a temporary neighbor, which made his actions that much more generous and giving.

She wondered again what was behind his presence here. “Why, Ben, I’d never have suspected you had an altruistic streak.”

He laughed. “I don’t go around advertising it, but I grew up in a place like this. Whenever I go in to a new neighborhood, I like to go back to my roots. Like you, I give back in return.”

Her chest constricted at the admission. So not only was the man of her dreams sexy, but he had a heart.

“No welching. It’s your turn. Is your background more privileged than most? Is that why you feel the need to hit these areas without backup?”

She laughed. “I don’t think I need backup. Who’d be interested enough to bother with me?”

“Don’t underestimate your worth, Grace.”

She shivered, realizing he’d struck her one weakness with deadly accuracy. Though she hadn’t meant to imply she wasn’t worthy of interest, it was her greatest fear. That her worth lay only in her money and family name.

“I meant who’d give me a second look? I’m dressed in rags.” She pointed to her ripped jeans and paint-splattered T-shirt. “No makeup, no jewelry to attract attention.” She shrugged, hoping she’d covered any hint of insecurity she might have revealed.

“Just a fancy camera worth good money in a pawn shop, for starters. Then there’s those cheekbones I mentioned earlier.” His finger slipped down her face, whisper-soft but with enough electricity to light this neighborhood in a blackout.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you believe that, but…”

“I know that.” She grasped his finger in her hand. The desire to feel the rough glide of his skin over her aching breasts was overwhelming. Somehow she found the ability to speak. “I appreciate the concern but I really need to get going. I want to shoot a few pictures before I have to get back to work.”

He stepped backward and the distance gave her breathing room. “You owe me some answers, Gracie.”

She laughed, grateful to be off the hook for now. “That’s okay. I’m not going far.”

Before he could answer, she turned and headed for the playground. Little did Ben know, she wasn’t kidding.

He was the key to her sensual self-discovery and she planned to get very close to him, very soon.

BEN SHOOK HIS HEAD, watching as her behind swayed gracefully in tight denim. Her name suited her perfectly, Ben thought. Which was why Grace had no business being in this neighborhood.

Hell, he didn’t like being back in an exact replica of his old stomping grounds. With little money growing up, the basketball courts had been his escape. The harder he’d pounded the ball, the more he’d thought he would forget that he’d be coming home to an empty apartment. No father, a mother who was working too hard, and neighbors screaming at each other on both sides of the paper-thin walls.

He related to the kids he’d met this morning when he’d stationed himself here to wait for Grace. If Ben could get one in particular, Leon, to keep his focus on the game and not the streets, the kid could get a scholarship and make his way out of the slums. Ben’s time here would be well spent, not to mention that helping the guys was a distraction from Grace—who still hadn’t given him a strong enough reason for hanging out in a place like this. He admired her desire to give back. He respected her for the effort. But he’d hate to see her good deeds rewarded by trouble.

And why did he care? Ben let out a groan. This was exactly what he didn’t want—to get involved in her life. His job was to find the facts for his client. Instead he was thinking about Grace too much, words like admiration and respect coming to mind as he did.

No sense in denying the truth. Far from the detachment he’d promised himself, he was beginning to care. Being around Grace could put his heart at risk and he didn’t like it worth a damn.

Better he focus on the facts of the case—he’d gotten the answers Emma had sought, in record time. He knew Grace’s professional occupation and how she filled her free time. He could see for himself she was indeed happy as Emma wanted for her granddaughter. If her choice in locations wasn’t prime, well, she was a smart woman and an adult—she could take care of herself.

Distance, he reminded himself and turned back to the court. Leon threw him the ball, catching him off guard. Ben began a steady dribble, echoing the word detachment each time the ball smacked the blacktop. He went for a layup at the same moment a feminine, familiar shriek pierced the air, sounding over the raucous voices of the guys in the game.

His gut clenched hard. Ball forgotten, he ran toward the sound of Grace’s voice. She was sprawled on the ground where she’d obviously been pushed, and a tall kid in a red sleeveless, hooded sweatshirt pulled on the camera strap around her neck. His strength nearly lifted her off the ground, while Grace, looking petite and out of her league, refused to hand over her precious possession.

“Hey!” At the sound of Ben’s shout, the youth released the strap, causing Grace to fall backward against the pavement. Given a choice between running after the attacker or seeing to the victim, Ben chose Grace.

He knelt down beside her. “You okay?” Long strands of blond hair fell over her face and he brushed them aside with one hand. Ignoring the sensation of silk beneath his fingertips wasn’t easy.

She offered him a smile he had no doubt was forced. “I’m fine as long as you don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

“I don’t have to. You already did.” He held out a hand to help her up.

She placed her palm inside his, wincing as her skin slid against his coarser flesh. Grabbing her wrist, he gently turned her hand over to reveal angry red scrapes on her palm. “Other one?”

She flipped over her right hand. Similar abrasions covered her skin. “It’s nothing some antiseptic won’t take care of.”

“Agreed.” But his insides didn’t feel as calm as his voice. A queasy feeling settled in his stomach at the sight of the bruises, and an uneasiness pricked at him when he thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been around to scare off her attacker.

She swiped at her eyes. So she wasn’t as brave as she wanted him to believe. Good. In that case he wouldn’t have to worry about her returning here when he was gone. He pushed aside the added grief that thought caused in his gut.

He helped her rise to her feet without putting pressure on her hands. “You weren’t going to hand over the camera, were you?”

“Of course not! That camera cost a bundle. I couldn’t afford to replace it and, besides, he’s not entitled to take what doesn’t belong to him.”

He laughed at the innocent proclamation along with the determined clench of her jaw. “And just how did you plan to stop him?”

“If he’d gotten the camera, I’d have tripped him before he got two feet away. But you saved me the hassle. And besides, I held on to the camera, didn’t I?”

The little minx sounded proud of herself.

“He could have snapped your neck.”

“But he didn’t. See?” She whipped a fall of blond hair off one shoulder, exposing delicate white skin.

But Ben wasn’t fooled and he pulled back on the camera strap, cringing as he saw the damage. “Your neck doesn’t look much better than your hands, Gracie. Ever think of taking a self-defense class?”

“I haven’t had a chance, but I’ll make time—soon.”

Obviously she’d lied to her grandmother about having taken those classes. What else had she lied to Emma about and what else was she doing in this neighborhood?

“Thanks for the help, Ben.” Her shoulders slumped and much of the earlier bravado went with it as a tremor shook her slender frame. Taking him off guard, she turned and walked away.

“Hey.”

“Is for horses,” she called over her shoulder.

Two long strides and he caught up with her. Though he admired her independent streak, he was too worried about her to leave her alone. Hell, he wanted to be with her after what had just happened. Though he was asking for trouble, taking care of Grace came first.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked alongside her. He sensed her need to keep moving, to not think about being attacked. She was probably in shock and he understood. But the numbness would wear off and he planned to be there when the impact set in.

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

“Subway.”

He shook his head. No way he’d let her go alone. The first few times he’d followed her, he’d ducked into a crowded subway car and tailed her at a discreet distance. Today, wanting things to appear coincidental, he’d taken his car.

“Subway’s not safe.”

She stopped in her tracks and turned toward him. Glazed but determined eyes looked up at him. “It’s been safe enough for as long as I’ve been coming here.”

“So was the neighborhood until today. Let me drive you home. My car is around the corner.”

Gratitude flickered in her eyes, but she shook her head. “No, thanks. I can get home myself.”

“I’m sure you can.” Unable to help himself, he reached out and touched her cheek and she turned her face into his open palm, until he cradled her face in his hand.

She was so soft. Her skin, her voice…but not what was inside. Emma knew her granddaughter well. Grace was tough. And as much as she might want to give in, she wouldn’t let herself lean on him.

He admired her strength, even if right now, he wanted to conquer it. “There’s nothing wrong with accepting help every once in a while.”

She smiled. “I know that.”

“Then lean on me now.” He treated her to his most charming grin. “And I promise I’ll let you ditch me later.” And he hoped to hell she did toss him out. Because Ben wasn’t sure he had what it would take to drag himself away from her.

CHAPTER THREE

GRACE HANDED BEN the keys and let him unlock the door to her apartment. She was too tired to do it herself and, besides, her hands stung worse than when she’d fallen off her bike as a kid. She wasn’t ready to think through today’s ordeal—or the threat the punk had made to her before Ben ran him off.

Stay out of this neighborhood, or else.

She squared her shoulders. Just because he’d scared her to death didn’t mean she’d listen to threats. Grace came from a family of strong people who did what they wanted, the rest of the world be damned. And though she rarely cited her family as having virtues, this time, she was prepared to emulate that one trait. After she took care of her cuts and bruises and after she got rid of Ben. His strong presence made it too easy to want to lean on him. Too easy to succumb and lose the thread of independence she’d begun to weave.

He stepped inside and held the door open for her to do the same. She walked past him. He wasn’t dressed for the office, his hair was mussed and hadn’t seen a barber’s scissors in quite a while. Still, he was the most appealing sight she’d ever laid eyes on.

Independence be damned, the man was right. Leaning on him wouldn’t be so bad. In fact she’d probably enjoy it and heaven knew being around Ben made the threat of danger seem less real.

“You can put the keys and camera on the shelf.” She pointed to the etched glass shelf “floating” from the wall.

He stepped around her. The keys made an unnaturally loud sound as they clattered onto the glass. “You need to take care of those hands.”

She nodded.

“Where’s the antiseptic?” he asked.

Someone else taking care of her was a novel experience, which was probably what made it so appealing. Except for her grandmother, no one in her family ever made her feel loved for herself. Her mother tried, but thanks to her father’s bullying, she’d always fallen short. But for her brother, Logan, no male in her family had ever made her feel warm or cared for. In fact, her father, with his impossibly high standards and demands, diminished her self-worth and made her more insecure than any child ought to be.

But Ben had held her the entire walk to his car, making her feel safe and cherished. After seeing him with the kids at the park and viewing his unwavering concern for her now, she knew more than sexual attraction drew her to him.

She tipped her head upward and met his concerned gaze. He caused her to feel a whole host of emotions. None platonic. All solid and good.

“Grace? The antiseptic.”

She gave herself a shake. “In the kitchen. The cabinet to the left of the microwave.” She followed him the short distance and waited in her small walk-in kitchen while he sorted through the cabinet and came up with a light antiseptic to clean her cuts, an antibiotic cream and bandages.

He took the box off the shelf and held it up for inspection. “Barney?”

Grace felt a heated flush creep up her face. “I knew I ought to keep something in the house just in case, and well…that’s all they had.”

He laughed, his features softening, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. She raised her hand and touched a finger to the enticing crease. His skin was hot and rough with razor stubble.

He sucked in a startled breath and she dropped her hand. “Don’t play with fire, Gracie. Unless you want…”

“To get burned?” She met his heavy-lidded gaze. “I admit to liking the idea. I always had to be the good girl. I never crossed the street without an adult and I never played with matches. I’m tired of being good. I want to play with fire.” She wanted to play with him.

Though she’d never been so bold before, something about Ben made her feel free…to be herself, Grace realized. And it felt good.

His hands came to rest on her hips. Large palms and hot skin.

Before she realized his intent, he lifted her up and placed her on the kitchen counter. “First we see to your hands and neck.”

Grace smiled. Let him tend to her injuries first. She’d get a chance to question him more about who he was and where he’d come from. The pull between them wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Turn your hands palms up.” Ben desperately needed the distraction of caring for her injuries before he forgot them in favor of her enticing yet innocent proposition.

She did as he asked. He washed his hands at the sink, then returned to her side and saturated a cotton ball. With care he wiped down her dirt-streaked hands, cleaning the scrapes. Except for the first time when she sucked in a pain-filled breath, she didn’t utter a word of complaint and let him work.

“You’re good at this. Get much practice?”

He recognized her attempt to distract herself from what must sting like the devil, but he also recognized a feminine ploy to extract information.

Still she was so guileless in her attempt, he couldn’t help but indulge her. “No younger siblings to take care of if that’s what you’re asking.” He reached for a fresh piece of cotton to pat down her hand and then opened the antibiotic cream.

Using his thumbs, he gently rubbed the center of her palms, massaging the ointment into her pale but soft skin—skin marred only by the bruises inflicted when she’d hit the sidewalk. The urge to lift her hand to his lips and ease her pain was strong.

The urge to comfort warred with the more primal desire to wrap her in his arms and protect her from harm. And it had nothing to do with the case.

Damn, but Grace Montgomery was trouble.

“How about children?” she asked.

At the blunt, out-of-the-blue question, his finger pressed against her hand too hard and she let out a gasp. “Sorry. Jeez, Grace, if you want to know something, just come out and ask.” He glanced up at her sheepish expression.

An embarrassed but endearing smile worked its way onto her lips. “You caught me, I guess.”

He laughed. “Let’s just say your investigating skills need some brushing up.”

She shrugged. “Good thing you’re just the man to teach me.” She paused. “Unless there’s a wife, child or girlfriend I don’t know about?” Curiosity and hope mingled in her warm brown eyes.

“No wife and child, no girlfriend and no exes with kids, either. But I meant brushing up on more discreet ways of getting information.” He peeled open the ridiculous-looking bandages with the purple dinosaur and patched her hands as best he could. “I’ll make a drugstore run later and pick up something better to cover those hands, at least until they’re feeling better.”

She glanced down at his handiwork. “You don’t need to make a special trip. I can live with Barney until tomorrow.”

He ignored her protest. If a drugstore trip was the only way he could escape he’d take it in a heartbeat. He ignored the devilish voice in his head reminding him of what other items could be found at a drugstore should the need arise, and he refocused on her injuries. “Okay, now for your neck.”

She winced at the thought of him repeating the procedure on the burn left by the heavy camera strap rubbing against her skin.

“I think we can forget the antiseptic and just go with the cream.”

She exhaled a sigh of relief. “Sounds good.”

“Let’s see.”

As she brushed long strands of hair off the side of her neck, she made room for him to take a look—by spreading her legs and letting him step inside. Surrounded by her feminine heat and intoxicating scent, Ben realized he was in trouble.

Fingertips covered with ointment, he touched her neck as gently as possible. A tremor shook her body, and her thighs clamped shut, enclosing him in her warmth. An echoing shudder overtook him.

He had to clear his throat in order to speak and, even then, his voice came out a hoarse whisper. “Can we skip the bandages, too?”

She turned her head and her face was a tempting millimeter from his, her lips within kissing distance. His mind demanded he walk away. His body refused to listen to reason. He opened his mouth to speak, to prevent the inevitable, when she took advantage of his indecision and touched her lips to his.

Hot. Sweet. Demanding. Giving. The swirl of emotions flowed inside him as urgently as her tongue swept inside his mouth. Her hands gripped his forearms, heedless of the scrapes on her palms, and her nails dug into his skin.

Good judgment be damned, Ben thought and answered her silent plea, sealing his lips over hers. She moaned and he swallowed the sound, threading his fingers into her hair. The strands felt like fine silk beneath his fingertips, a stark contrast to the hardness building inside him.

A shred of sanity remained—the part of him that knew he ought to stop now, before things went any further. He grabbed her wrist, calling for her attention.

She tilted her head back. Eyes glazed with desire, she met and held his gaze—until the ringing of the telephone shocked him back into reality.

He tried to push back, but Grace’s legs held him tight. “Let the machine get it.” Her soft stare never left his and her labored breathing matched the beat of his heart.

Three short rings later he heard Grace’s husky voice directing callers to leave a message, followed by a beep and a too-familiar voice.

One guaranteed to instill guilt. “Hello, Grace. It’s been too long since I’ve heard your voice. I want to know how you’re getting along in the big, lonely city. Met anyone interesting lately? You know I wouldn’t mind a great-grandchild from you before I pass on. And if that’s too much to ask, how about a little information about your life instead? After all, the woman who raised you ought to…” A beep cut Emma’s voice off, indicating the older woman had run out of time.

But not wind. Ben had a hunch she’d still be rambling if the machine hadn’t taken care of the problem. Somehow he managed to stifle a combination laugh at Emma and self-directed groan. He wasn’t supposed to know Grace’s grandmother—any more than he was supposed to be kissing Grace.

The grip on his waist loosened and he took advantage. He stepped back into the safety zone, out from between her legs and out of her reach.

She gestured toward the telephone. “I’m sorry.” Her voice didn’t sound much steadier than he felt at the moment. “Emma, my grandmother, has impeccable timing, even long distance.”

“She sounds like quite a character.”

“Oh, she is. But a lovable one, and she worries about me.”

“What was it she started to say? She raised you?”

Grace nodded. “She was the only adult in the house who cared about me and my brother—about how we felt, not how we appeared to the outside world. I adore her.” Warmth and kindness softened her voice.

Her relationship with Emma seemed to parallel Ben and his mother’s and he could understand her strong feelings for the woman who’d raised and cared for her. “Then I’d say you were lucky to have her around.”

Grace laughed wryly. “You can’t possibly feel that way now.”

Considering Emma had placed him firmly back in reality, reminding him of his job and what his relationship with Grace was supposed to be, Ben most definitely appreciated her call.

“But she has good reason to worry, wouldn’t you say?” He turned the conversation back to Emma’s message.

Grace’s gaze darted from his. “Until today, not really,” she said, lightly.

Her soft laugh didn’t fool him. This afternoon’s attack had shaken her up more than she was willing to admit. Why else had she sought to release her adrenaline with that heart-stopping kiss?

“Why don’t you just stop by every once in a while and reassure her?” Ben asked, to keep conversation flowing. But he hated lying to her, even by implication.

“She lives in Boston.”

“Ah. You’re a New Englander. That explains the accent.”

“Hampshire, Massachusetts, born and raised. But I really don’t want to talk about me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then what would you like to talk about? And don’t say that kiss because it never should have happened.” No matter how great it was, he silently added. Women tended to dislike being told they were a mistake. But for Ben, being honest with Grace was the only way to avoid finding himself in this predicament again.

“Oh, really?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Care to tell me why not?” Unfortunately she didn’t seem the least bit upset about his comment.

“I took advantage of your injuries.”

A smile curved her lips. “I’d say I took advantage of you. But instead of quibbling, why don’t I just tell you what I want to talk about?”

Without waiting for a response, she jumped right in. “I want to talk about you.” Using her hands to brace herself, she hopped off the counter, then winced.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “I just have to remember to watch myself for the next few days.”

“At least you have the weekend. Unless you have someplace you have to be, like work?”

“I work at a portrait studio uptown, but I’m off Saturday and they’re closed Sunday…which reminds me. I need to call and let them know why I never showed up after lunch.”

“Go ahead.” He gestured to the phone. While she made her call, a wave of relief washed over him. He wouldn’t have to follow her around and watch her back for the next two days because she’d take care of herself at home. He’d have a reprieve.

“The owner was very understanding.” She hung up the receiver. “I’ll rest up today but I’m working on a freelance project in my spare time, so I can’t afford to sit around and pamper myself because of a few scratches.”

He was curious about the project she’d mentioned but more concerned about her safety. He narrowed his gaze. “You’re not planning on heading back to the park, are you?”

Her shoulders stiffened and she lifted her chin a determined notch. Not a good indication that he’d get his wish on this. And definitely not a sign she was pleased with his interference, either.

She let out a slow exhale. “Any reason why I shouldn’t go back there?”

“Other than the obvious?” Much as he’d love to back off and respect her independence, he couldn’t.

“No punk kid is going to run me off. I come from stronger stock than that and I don’t respond to threats.”

“Threats? Threats? What haven’t you told me, Grace?”

She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again, clamping her jaw tight. Apparently she’d decided not to let him in on whatever he’d missed back at the park. If she thought keeping secrets would deter him, she was wrong.

“Grace?”

She bit down on her lower lip. The same lip he’d kissed, and sucked into his mouth minutes earlier. He stifled a groan and concentrated on what was important: her safety.

She shook her head. “You’re doing it again, you know. Changing the subject.”

“If you ask me, you’re doing the same thing.”

She grinned. “But we’re talking about you.” She stepped closer. “And you’re avoiding the fact that I had a question of my own. I want to know about you.”

He shook his head in exasperation. Emma was right. Grace needed a keeper. Like it or not, he’d have to stick close at least until he knew more about the threats she’d mentioned, and until he discovered what was behind today’s attack. Suddenly it didn’t seem as random as he’d originally thought.

He spread his palms wide and played along, treating her to an easy grin. “Ask away. I’m an open book.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind telling me how long you’re staying across the hall?”

He lifted her chin and looked into those brown eyes. “I wouldn’t mind at all, if I didn’t think you had an ulterior motive. What’s up, Gracie?”

She stepped closer, until he could inhale her scent and practically taste her glistening lips. “I just want to know how long I have to seduce you.”

SEDUCE HIM. Grace had uttered those words with such complete certainty that even twenty-four hours later Ben was still aroused. The hell of it was, he didn’t think he could deny her if faced with an all-out assault. One he felt certain would come. Grace now knew she had three weeks to act—or not act, if he had his way.

After her proclamation, he’d answered her question and made a quick exit. She should have taken the hint. But her soft laughter had followed behind him, telling him she didn’t consider his hasty retreat a defeat. Considering the feelings rioting inside him, she had every reason to feel victorious.

If it were just her sexuality he had to deal with, Ben felt certain he could easily maintain his professional distance. Instead he found himself faced with a beautiful woman he also respected and admired. Walking away from her trust fund when it would have been easier to give in and live easy, spending her days at the park to give back to society—he’d yet to discover what that meant, but he sensed great import behind her words. She was generous, caring and gutsy. And though he’d withdrawn last night, he didn’t know if he’d have the strength to do it again.

What Grace didn’t know or understand were the reasons for that withdrawal. So far she hadn’t asked. But she would. And he couldn’t give the simplest explanation without revealing he was being paid to investigate her and he wouldn’t betray a client’s trust without permission. Emma’s trust had to come before his personal feelings, never mind the money he’d see from this case.

But he never wanted to face Grace’s wrath should she ever discover he’d deceived her. He felt guilty enough as it was and guilt was an emotion alien to him when dealing with the subject of an investigation—another clear sign Ben was in too deep.

He hooked a hose up to the building’s outside spigot and dragged it over to his car. The high-rise boasted not only a doorman, but a circular driveway with plenty of room to spare. The super, being a car fanatic himself, hadn’t minded Ben’s request to hand-wash his old Mustang outside the building. He needed the distraction even more than his car needed cleaning.

He squeezed the sprayer on the hose and began watering down his car. As he bent for the bucket of soapy water, an uncomfortable sensation of being watched pricked at him. He shook off the feeling, knowing he was surrounded by high-rise apartment buildings and windows galore.

Impossible, Ben thought. But the longer he stayed there, the stronger the feeling grew.

CHAPTER FOUR

GRACE LOWERED THE CAMERA and placed it down on her dresser. A light sheen of perspiration tickled the back of her neck and blood was pumping fast and furious through her system—a result of both watching Ben and worrying about the day to come. She stretched, arching her back and feeling her sore muscles from yesterday’s struggle with her attacker. She shivered at the reminder and decided some raw courage was in order.

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