Hard to Resist
Samantha Hunter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Copyright

SAMANTHA HUNTER lives in Syracuse, New York, where she writes full-time. When she’s not plotting her next story, Sam likes to work in her garden, quilt, cook, read and spend time with her husband and their dogs. You can check out what’s new, enter contests, or drop her a note at her website, www.samanthahunter.com.

For all my friends at Love Is an Exploding Cigar, who make every day, even tough writing days, fun.

Chapter 1

“I THINK WE REALLY might have found the twelve sexiest men in America,” Lacey Graham’s assistant, Jackie, sighed as they took in the photographic buffet of gorgeous men before them on the project board. The final selections for the “Sexiest American Heroes” calendar had been made the week before. As photographer for the project, these gorgeous guys were all now in Lacey’s capable hands.

Lacey stood back, one arm wrapped across her middle with her other elbow balancing on it, her chin resting in her fingers as she assessed the blowups of the hunks with a cool, experienced eye.

Too many blondes in a row in March, April and May—she’d switch April with August. Since they were in October now, she’d reversed the schedule, starting with Mr. December, who was set to arrive tomorrow, and November a few days later. She wanted to take them one at a time, calling them back at a later date for group cover shots.

She and Jackie had been juggling these promo shots all day, most of which were not professionally done but were good enough for roughs. Actually, it was impressive how incredible these men looked in the bad lighting and overly bright PR poses. Her hands itched to get to work, to get them in the right setting, good light.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a collection of perfect men all in one place.” Jackie sighed. “I want them all, and not necessarily one at a time.”

Lacey chuckled. “Down, girl. Don’t you have a steady boyfriend?”

“Well, sure, but I can window-shop, can’t I? K.C. is my guy, and he knows it, but frankly, he’s not above checking out some beautiful woman when she walks by and turnaround is fair play. So if you had to choose…?” Jackie prompted Lacey mischievously.

Lacey shook her head, not interested. She looked at the men on the board in the only way she could, as professional modeling subjects and that was all. She rubbed her right forearm, knowing it was healed, but a shadow of an ache lingered anyway. Her last lover had not taken her attempts to break up very well, leaving her with a broken forearm as a parting gift, along with an assortment of bruises and a nasty laceration that had taken several stitches. Broken hearts were something you could get over most of the time, but having someone break your arm wasn’t easily forgotten.

Swallowing deeply, she studied the board, fighting the sick feeling in her stomach that she got whenever she thought about being with a man. It would pass. She’d get back in the game at some point. When she was ready and not before, not even for guys like the ones lined up in front of her. Until then, she’d keep to herself and focus on her work. That was what mattered.

No one here knew her secret.

Jackie didn’t know and no one was going to know about what had happened with Scott, her ex. On the advice of the doctor who treated her arm, Lacey had made one visit to an abuse counselor when she’d arrived in the city. Once she saw the haunted expressions of the women sitting in the lobby, she’d walked back out. That wasn’t her. She’d handle it on her own.

What Scott had done to her had been a onetime thing, a huge, incredibly stupid mistake. But Lacey hadn’t waited around for more and wouldn’t allow it to happen again. She wasn’t like the women who were trapped or who wouldn’t leave.

Still, the memory pinched at her as much as the residual ache in her arm. On a certain level, she was irritated with herself for not being able to enjoy the beauty of the men as she once would have done. Like Jackie said, there was nothing wrong with looking.

There was no doubt that the array of males she’d be working with were prime fantasy material. She also knew she shouldn’t change her perception of all men because of one bad apple. She knew that—in her head.

Her heart, however, was still playing “keep away,” and so was her body. She’d made a few small forays into a normal dating life—tried to go out to clubs with friends—but it hadn’t worked out. The thought of a man touching her, even to dance…well…not yet.

“I’m a professional. I don’t have a favorite,” she said primly, breaking the spell of her thoughts.

Jackie wasn’t buying it. “Ha. Give me a break. Check out Mr. November and tell me he’s not absolutely perfect.”

Lacey glanced up, relenting just slightly. “No one is perfect.”

“Cynic.”

“Groupie.”

They grinned at each other, and Lacey relented a little. “It is hard to resist an honest-to-goodness cowboy.”

“Not a cowboy, a Texas Ranger,” Jackie corrected with flourish. “Rough, rugged, and they always get their man.”

“Isn’t that the Mounties?”

“Whatever. I bet they always get their girl, too.”

Lacey studied the man staring out from the Ranger’s PR photo and smiled. “He’s got good eyes. Dark hair, dark eyes. That straight jawline could be on a statue at the Met, but he’s so serious. All the rest are smiling.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like having his picture taken.”

“We’ll have to change that right quick,” Lacey said in a mock Western accent, slipping out of her serious self for a moment, though she couldn’t joke about the facts in front of her.

“This guy is the real deal. Look at his bio. Very single, career cop, has more awards and recognitions than I can count. He was nominated for the calendar by his community after he stopped a school shooter single-handedly. He found the guy targeting a local migrant school before the shooting happened. Tracked him through the Texas desert for five days and brought him back. Alive.”

“Wow,” Jackie breathed the word, fanning her face, and Lacey had to agree. Wow indeed.

Lacey couldn’t help but be impressed with the stories of the twelve men on her wall. They were good men. Men who put their lives on the line to help others. The one thing all of the calendar candidates had in common was that they’d pitched in to help during the weeks of 9/11, one of the criteria for the application.

The Bliss calendar this year was going to be a smash, a celebration of the best of the best. It was also going to be a very visible leap for Lacey into the world of commercial photography. It could push her to the top. That was what she was counting on, anyway.

Lacey had given up several other opportunities to land the deal. The women’s magazine equivalent of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, the Bliss project was the chance of a lifetime.

She wasn’t going to let the past get the best of her.

Eyeing Mr. November again, she allowed herself to imagine the possibilities, just for a second.

“His eyes are good,” Jackie agreed, “but I can’t wait to see him with his shirt off. I bet he has great abs, naturally defined, not gym-machine generated.”

Lacey agreed. “I love the slope of the croup…”

“The…what?” Jackie frowned at her as if she was nuts.

Lacey laughed. “Sorry. My parents raised horses back in Nevada, and sometimes I can’t help thinking about people’s bodies in equine terms. Especially men.”

“I’ll bet he’s hung like a—”

“Jackie!” Lacey admonished, laughing. “We’re not taking those kinds of pictures.”

“Hey, gotta show some skin for Bliss. But what’s the slope of the—What was it again?”

“Croup. On a horse, it’s the curve that follows the hip to the tip of the tail—right about here on our handsome model,” she said, leaning in to trace the masculine line from hip over his hindquarters.

“Oh. Yeah. I love that part,” Jackie said approvingly. “Very important for good thrust, yes?”

Lacey choked on a shocked laugh, pulling her hand back as she realized she hadn’t withdrawn her finger from the photograph yet, her cheeks catching fire. Maybe she wasn’t quite as detached as she thought she was.

“Yes, I suppose it would be. Thanks for the visual. I guess Mr. December should be here tomorrow, right?”

Jackie snapped to attention. “Oh, crap, I meant to tell you—I had to change up the first two appointments. November is coming in first because December’s wife went into labor, so he won’t be in for a week or so.”

“Oh, well, good for them. We should send something, congratulations, flowers, whatever,” Lacey commented absently, still studying the pictures.

“Already done.”

“You’re the best.”

“So, Mr. Luscious should be arriving at LaGuardia around 10:00 a.m.—I’ll meet him, of course.” Jackie grinned like a cat swallowing a whole flock of canaries. “And then after lunch you’ll meet him for an afternoon planning session, some studio time, and get out on the shoot day after tomorrow. He’s single. No babies to worry about, thank the heavens.”

“Sounds good. Thanks so much for all of your help. I’ve never had a full-time assistant before. I could get used to it.”

“Hit a bull’s-eye with this job, and you’ll need one to keep up with all the projects that will be coming your way,” Jackie said sincerely, patting Lacey’s arm. “Oh, I have to go. I’m meeting Kenny at the rib place he’s been insisting on going to. You want to come along? He’s into photography, too, and was hoping to talk shop with you at some point.”

“Really? I didn’t know that—what’s he do?”

Jackie shrugged. “He’s been doing all kinds of things for a while. He had a small gallery show, and he’s been picking up some brochure work, catalogs, that kind of thing.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.”

“He’s really good—I could show you some of his stuff sometime.”

Lacey smiled, but always felt awkward in situations where up-and-coming photographers wanted to make contact, but it was how the game was played, and Jackie was her assistant.

“Sure—but you go ahead for dinner. I have work to finish up here. Thanks, though.”

“Okay, I’ll have your hunk here for you safe and sound tomorrow.”

“Don’t take a bite out of him before you get here.”

Jackie stuck her tongue out. “Spoilsport.”

Lacey grinned, then was left alone to quietly study the men. They were all amazing, although Jackie was right. November stood out. Maybe slightly older than the others, he had more presence, more…something. Manliness, charisma…Those steady brown eyes might have been staring down a suspect as much as a camera as he peered out from the picture. Dangerous. Not to be messed with.

Would he look at her that way? Did his eyes soften when he was with a lover? Naked, tangled in silky sheets, skin to skin? Was he still all hard edges and intense eyes then?

A shiver skidded over her skin. She didn’t need to be around any man with the capacity to be dangerous. Still, she wondered what it would take to make him smile. Reaching out to draw her finger along his outline again, she stopped when her fingers met his lips.

Maybe Mr. November could remind her how good being with a real man could be, not some jerk who got off on hurting women. They would be working alone for several days, moving around the city. Almost nothing was as intimate to Lacey as staring down the barrel of her lens at someone, closing in, finding the shot.

It was New York City. Anything could happen.

SLOPE OF HIS CROUP, HUH? Would she be asking to check his teeth or feeling him up for spavins and thorough-pins and other physical faults before they were done? Jarod Wyatt shook his head, mostly amused. The idea of her feeling him up wasn’t an entirely unappealing one, and at least she knew something about horses. He hadn’t expected that from a city girl.

He stood in the dark corner of the Bliss studio, fascinated by the conversations he’d overheard, and more so with the woman who couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him—or off his picture, anyway.

The smaller, dark-haired girl with the lusty sense of humor walked out the back, leaving the blonde—the photographer—standing alone in perfect silhouette against the white wall. She was lanky and somewhat coltish in build, but she moved gracefully. Her fingers were long and thin like the rest of her, though beneath the khakis and black T-shirt, he could see she had her share of curves.

Jarod had only been to New York once before, on the day after the bombings. The empty spot on the skyline still kicked him in the chest because he’d stood in the middle of it for several days and those were memories he wasn’t likely to ever forget. He wasn’t sure what he expected to feel coming back. Mostly it was good to see the city had recovered, that it was busy and teeming with life, the way it should be.

On the approach, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the spot where the Towers used to be, but he noted driving in that there was so much life here, nothing could ever completely erase it. New York was a place unique unto itself, and if he wasn’t here for such a ridiculous reason, he might enjoy the visit. He loved the scrub desert and wide-open spaces of Texas. His home was a part of his soul. Still, he enjoyed getting away every now and then, just like anyone else. Cities had their advantages.

He’d also been told there was a decent place that did Texas barbecue better than he could find in his home state. He didn’t want to believe it, but he had the address in his PDA and hoped to find out for himself.

Feeling a little like a Peeping Tom, he figured he should make himself known. He’d stayed to the back when he’d walked in, not wanting to interrupt, but now there wasn’t any reason to lurk, except that he was enjoying the view.

Clearing his throat gently to signal his presence, he stepped forward from the hallway where he’d been standing. She whipped around, obviously startled, and he froze. Her posture signaled fright to him. Not a jump or a gasp of broken concentration, but her big eyes landed on him with a look that he’d seen far too often. Fear. Momentary panic.

He put his hands up, calming, showing he was no threat.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am. I’m Lt. Jarod Wyatt, Texas Rangers, El Paso division—November, as you have me up on your board there,” he said with a healthy dose of Texas charm and sincere chagrin. The picture reminded him why he was here, and it made his eyes roll every time he thought about it.

“You’re not due until tomorrow,” she said starkly, sounding a bit choked, as if trying to breathe correctly. Was she always this jumpy? She’d mentioned Nevada. Maybe she wasn’t a city girl as he’d assumed.

“I took an early flight. Thought I’d stop by and check the place out. The door was open, and a secretary pushed me in this direction,” he explained with just a hint of apology, then held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I guess you’re the photographer?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you assume that?”

Whoops. He didn’t want to let her know he’d been skulking in the corner for the past fifteen minutes. From the glare in her eyes, he wasn’t sure that would go over too well.

Lacey Graham was a prickly number. Pretty as could be, though, he thought, taking in fine, almost porcelain features. Her eyes snapped dark green, and her mouth formed a perfectly pink rosebud, bare of any lipstick. Just what he preferred.

“Well, ma’am, it doesn’t take much to figure out. You’re here, in the studio, checking out the pictures on this big board, and speaking matter-of-factly, I heard you and your assistant talking when I first came in. Didn’t want to interrupt,” he offered by way of explanation and was glad to see her shoulders relax, her frame softening as she nodded.

“Sorry. It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, especially after hours. I’m Lacey Graham, but I guess you already knew that.”

Her hand was small in his, but strong. She had a firm grip, which triggered a small dart of unexpected arousal that he firmly pushed to the back of his mind.

“So this is the calendar spread, huh?” he said, scrutinizing the wall, trying to ignore his own picture among the others. He recognized one or two of the other guys, men he respected, and it helped him to not feel quite so cheesy about doing this. Not that he’d had much choice in the matter.

“Yep. These are just the PR shots we’re using to play with. It will all change when we have the actual photos we choose for the final, but this gives me some idea what I want to do with each model.”

“All due respect, but I’m not a model, and I’m betting none of these other guys are either.”

He saw the corners of her lips twitch. “With all due respect back, Lieutenant, you are a model for the next week. It’ll be fun, don’t worry.”

He frowned. “A week? I thought we’d spend a day taking pictures and I’d be on my way?”

She shook her head. “It will take more than that. We’re shooting around the city, so I had to arrange for permissions to use various locations for each model. Some we have to get to at crazy times of day, they have to clear them out for a few hours, and that needs planning. Then I’d like to do some unposed, candid shots. The letter we sent stated the time requirements clearly.”

He took a breath, shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t going to admit he’d been in a bitch of a mood about having been ordered to do this in the first place, and when the letter had come in the mail he’d ditched it, thinking he’d get out of the whole deal. His superiors had made him realize differently. Even law enforcement cared about public image these days. Far too much, in his view.

“I guess I figured it wouldn’t take that long,” he said, wincing slightly at the idea of this taking up so much time. “It’s just a few pictures.”

She laughed then, and he was struck by the sound, how lively and natural it was. He had a feeling she used it a lot.

“It’s much more than that. We need to cover a lot of ground, and I want to cover all four seasons from all models, since I may change my mind as to who gets placed where in the final analysis. This is a big deal, Lieutenant. I want this calendar to be a wild success.”

“Good for your career, huh?”

Her posture stiffened again, and she tipped up her chin, nodding shortly. “Absolutely. Probably won’t hurt yours any, either.”

He didn’t answer that. This had nothing to do with his career, but he wasn’t going to get into a pissing match with the pretty lady.

“We’ll be doing a group shot at the end at Ground Zero. You’ll have to come back up for that, probably. Any problems there?”

“I guess not. Should there be?”

“Some of the guys weren’t sure they could go back, to the site, I mean.”

“I’m fine. Unless I happen to be out in the scrub chasing down felons, getting back here for a day shouldn’t be difficult. As long as it’s only a day,” he warned. His supervisors had told him to do whatever the magazine needed, and this didn’t come off his vacation time, so he found it hard to argue.

She peered up at him through thick lashes. “You hungry, Lieutenant?”

“Call me Jarod. And, yeah, I could go for something. ”

“If you want, I know some good places. Let me close up here, and we can have our initial consult over some pizza or whatever you prefer. My treat.”

His blood warmed more than it should, but there was no way he was turning down her invitation. He was curious about this beautiful photographer. No doubt she was smart. She was cagey, too, and she also had no qualms about meeting him eye to eye. She had a well-used laugh. All in all, an intriguing package.

“Sure, sounds good. I have to check in at my hotel, though.”

“Where’d you book?”

“The Affinia. Not far from here.”

“You’ll like it. I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour, then?”

He reached up, tipped his hat. Her eyes followed his gesture so closely, as if she was already mentally taking him apart frame by frame. It was disconcerting.

“See you in an hour.”

Chapter 2

LACEY COULDN’T QUITE stifle the riff of excitement that hastened her movements as she rushed back to her loft and jumped in the shower to get ready to meet Lieutenant Wyatt in thirty minutes.

She’d nearly had a coronary when he’d walked up behind her in the studio. The man moved like a big cat. She hadn’t heard a step on the hard acrylic floors, but how long had he been there? How much had he heard of Jackie’s conversation with her? She shrugged. She’d said nothing that she felt ashamed of…well, there was the thrusting thing…but Jackie had come up with that one.

Lt. Jarod Wyatt was astounding in real life. The picture had muted the overall effect of absolutely radiant masculinity. She’d completely forgotten everything else—who she was, where she was—when he’d reached up, tipped the brim of his hat and smiled at her…

Oh, my.

She wasn’t prone to fluttering around men, but Jarod Wyatt was fully deserving of it. He was stunning in person.

He also touched something deeper, a chord of comfort and familiarity. It seemed odd, having just met him, but he reminded her of the men she’d grown up with in Nevada. Big, capable men who put a premium on being gentlemanly, and who could be gentle. Like her dad, her uncles and cousins. Lacey had known plenty of good men, and only one bad, so she counted herself fortunate.

There was a sense of polish about Jarod Wyatt, too, though. He’d gone to college, for one thing. She knew from his profile that he had a master’s in criminology, and he had some background in forensics. It was probably why they’d pulled him in on 9/11, beyond the sheer need for manpower. He wasn’t just any cowboy cop.

It was why she’d asked him to dinner. That, and because she wanted to look at him more, to study him the way an artist would study any subject. He would be pure joy to photograph. Her mind was already placing him in poses, in settings.

A few of which were X-rated and included her bedroom.

She smiled, reaching for a towel and wiping down briskly. God, it was good to feel this way, if only for a moment. To look forward to a man’s company again, even though it was only business over pizza. Maybe this was a good sign.

Grabbing black, formfitting pants, she tugged on a pair of heels and a hot-pink T-shirt with a colorful, fringed vest, assessing herself in the mirror.

If she were honest, she knew it was an outfit meant to draw a man’s eye. A particular man’s eye in this case. She nibbled her lip, suddenly apprehensive. So he was a good-looking guy—she should still be careful. Was it smart to have agreed to meet him, a stranger, for dinner? What did she really know about him, after all?

She shook off the doubts and their chilling effect. It was just business, some pizza and conversation. She’d wear this same outfit if anyone had suggested meeting her for dinner that evening. A lot of her clothes were colorful and funky and often drew attention. She wasn’t going to second-guess it. This was who she was.

The phone rang, and she contemplated not bothering with it. She had to meet Jarod, and contrary to popular wisdom about keeping men waiting, Lacey was never late. She was obsessively punctual, in fact.

Making sure she had her wallet, she dug around to transfer her stuff to a smaller purse as she answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Lacey?”

“Yes?”

“This is Gena, from Legal Aid in L.A.?”

She froze in place. Legal Aid had handled her case back in Los Angeles, since she couldn’t afford a high-priced lawyer. Her family would have paid, but she didn’t want them to know what happened. She told them she’d changed her name for business reasons, to maintain privacy from her work. She hated lying to them, but it was better than having them worry about her.

“Hi, Gena, what’s up?” She tried to sound casual, cheerful, but it felt as if her stomach was in her throat.

“Listen, there’s no need to worry, I want to emphasize that first. You should know that Scott Myers was released from his sentence to finish his probation on house arrest. He’s out of prison, but he’s still in California, and he won’t be able to leave a predetermined schedule of home and work for fourteen more months.”

“No,” was all Lacey could breathe before Gena continued.

“Please, don’t worry. He’s wearing a personal monitoring device. He won’t be able to find you, and probably won’t bother, given his profile, the steps you’ve taken and your history. Still, if he attempts to contact you in any way, your restraining order is still in force, even under your new name, so let us know, okay? I don’t want to upset you, but we like to make sure you know what’s going on.”

Lacey’s breathing seemed cut off and she swallowed, her previous cheer evaporating as she found the air to mumble an answer before she hung up.

Scott was free.

He shouldn’t have been released for another eighteen months, she recalled. The night he left Lacey unconscious on her kitchen floor he’d gone to a local bar and started a fight there, causing several thousand dollars of damage and other injuries. Luckily, the combined charges had sent him away for a while.

Lacey breathed deeply, calming herself. She had to listen to Gena, who wouldn’t bullshit her. Scott wouldn’t come after her. Still, when he’d left her lying there, broken and bruised, he’d made it clear he thought she was dead. His only comment upon finding out she wasn’t was relief that he wouldn’t be charged with murder.

She was far away now, new city, new name. The calendar project didn’t really put her in the public eye—she was behind the scenes. Bliss wouldn’t give out her personal details. She was safe, she reassured herself, standing frozen with the phone in her hand for several minutes.

Eyeing the door, the dark city streets that she usually loved so much suddenly seemed ominous. Anxiety gripped her at the thought of going out. With a stranger, no less.

What had she been thinking? Hadn’t she learned anything from her previous mistakes?

She had no idea who Jarod Wyatt was, and just because he had an impressive official record, that didn’t mean squat. Plenty of cops, firemen, doctors—all kinds of men—were closet crazies. More dangerous because of their outward appearance, because they had power and liked to use it. That’s how it had been with Scott. Witty, handsome, successful…with all of that violence hiding under the surface.

She put her purse down, started to take her vest off, but stopped, pausing in the center of her living room.

This was important, her heart told her. She had a big choice to make.

Was she going to hide in her apartment and her studio for the rest of her life?

No. She didn’t want to be that person.

The fear was just an emotional response, a good response, so the counselor at the hospital had reassured her. It would keep her alert and keep her safe, but she couldn’t let it run her life. Good fear, bad fear. She had to remember the difference.

Jarod Wyatt was a man she’d be working with closely, and she couldn’t let her personal demons get in the way of her success on this job. His record was impeccable, and she’d been alone with him earlier and hadn’t felt the least bit afraid. She’d been excited about seeing him tonight—maybe a little too excited—so now she knew to throttle that back so she didn’t give the wrong impression. But she would still go.

She’d meet him in a populated, well-lit place for some pizza, talk work and welcome him to the city. Enjoy having his company for a few hours. She’d be friendly, professional and keep clear boundaries. Then she’d come home and put this all out of her mind.

She needed to keep things in perspective—it wasn’t as if Jarod had asked her out, and he hadn’t indicated anything other than casual friendliness. He was just a guy, another model.

No big deal.

JAROD STEPPED OUT of the elevator of the very nicely appointed hotel and smiled at a group of older women who watched him walk by. He smiled at them and touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. The group seemed to get a kick out of it.

He saw the beacon of Lacey’s fuchsia shirt immediately as she stood poised by the entrance, looking around furtively. A glance at his watch told him he was five minutes early, and she’d obviously changed her clothes, so she couldn’t have been waiting long. After his surprise appearance earlier, he approached carefully, making sure she had ample time to see him. She turned, smiling falsely, overbrightly.

Did she regret making plans with him?

He was perfectly happy to explore the city on his own, but he also looked forward to some company, someone to share the sights with for an evening. She’d seemed interested and friendly at the studio. He wondered what had changed.

“Hi there,” he said casually, looking out at the streets bustling with early-evening traffic. The noises were muted here in the lobby. Though he could spend long days and nights in the desert enjoying nothing but the silence of the sand and the stars, he found the energy of the city stimulating, as well.

Or maybe it was the woman standing just a foot away, in spite of the tension stiffening her very nicely built form. Something about her had his blood circulating with a low, warm hum through his system, but he wasn’t sure she was having the same reaction.

“You okay?” he found himself asking.

“Sure. Why do you ask?”

“You seem…strung a little tight.”

She frowned, and shrugged. “Just distracted. Busy day, a lot on my mind.”

The message underneath the cool reply really said “mind your own business” and wasn’t lost on him. If this was going to be the mode of conversation, he was in for a long evening.

“How about a drink first? I could use something to warm up. Chilly out there tonight.”

“I think it’s going to be an early winter this year.”

“You said you wanted to shoot seasonal photos—how is that possible when it’s already October?” he asked as they walked to the bar. She hadn’t said yes or no to the idea of a drink, but he wasn’t lying about wanting one. She didn’t object as they headed in that direction.

“Mostly we’ll use props, how you’re dressed, that kind of thing. Then the postproduction guys can work their magic, too. The photo will be mostly you and not so much background. So for a July shot you might wear trunks, and we’ll work it that it looks summery.”

“Even if I’m freezing my ass off in reality?”

“Yeah.” She smiled then, and laughed. “Welcome to the cruel world of modeling.”

He ordered a whiskey, neat, and asked her if she wanted anything, surprised when she ordered the same. His eyebrows lifted as they tilted their glasses toward each other and she swallowed hers in one throw, closing her eyes as if she’d needed it more than he did. He hadn’t realized how pale she was until the warmth from the whiskey infused her skin with a pink glow.

Something had happened between the time he’d left and now, but he didn’t feel free to inquire. He was a stranger, a visitor that she was nice enough to spend some time with because they had to work together. That was it.

Maybe not, maybe more, whispered the hum in his body. He ignored it. He wasn’t opposed to having some fun with a willing woman while he was here, but he wasn’t about to complicate matters with the prickly photog—unless she offered an invitation—but she wasn’t being too inviting at the moment.

So why was he enjoying the view of the very feminine swell beneath the stylish top, taking advantage while her eyes were closed?

“You want to get some pizza? I know a place that has the best in the city,” she said, opening her eyes just as he looked back up. Almost caught staring, he thought, feeling about seventeen.

Her green eyes were luminous, maybe in part from the whiskey, but she was a natural beauty, indeed. He waited before answering, questioning whether this was a good idea, but he’d already agreed. Jarod wasn’t in the habit of backing out on a woman when he promised to spend an evening with her.

“Pizza? That sounds good. Must be a hundred pizza places here, but you know the best one, huh?”

He winced internally. Small talk was not his strength.

She grinned, seeming more relaxed. “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. It’s an amazing experience that will shift your entire perspective on what the dish means. The place is a hole-in-the-wall that tourists never find, so you’re in for a treat. We’ll pick up a bottle of vino on the way because they don’t serve drinks. You have to bring your own.”

“I like a lady with a plan,” he agreed, glad she seemed to be loosening up.

“If you want to go up the Empire State Building at night, we could do that, too, after dinner—we’ll be shooting up there. You afraid of heights?”

He shook his head as they walked out into the cool evening. “No. Heights aren’t a problem. But you don’t have to take me sightseeing. I figured this was a business dinner.”

Her cheeks became warmer, and he realized his statement didn’t quite come out the way he meant it.

“I meant—”

“No, no, you’re right—this is a business dinner,” she said easily, but didn’t meet his eyes.

How could things be so weird and awkward, hot and cold, with a woman he’d just met two hours ago? Jarod was usually good with women. He enjoyed them as friends and lovers, and never had such tension or foot-in-mouth disease before. This one had him tripping over himself, and it wasn’t a great experience.

They popped into a liquor store where Lacey seemed to be on a first-name basis with the owner and he handed her a Chianti that he knew she liked. Jarod insisted on paying.

“Fine, but the pie is on me,” she said, and while it wasn’t his habit to let women pay for a date, he agreed. It was her city, her pizza place, her expense account, he figured.

They walked a few blocks and turned in through a glass door painted white in order to be opaque into a deep, narrow room that was brightly lit, but nothing fancy. Small, round plastic tables hugged a stark white wall that featured signed pictures of various New Yorkers, many famous, others he didn’t know.

“Interesting spot. I would never have guessed from the street this was even here.”

“Best-kept secret.”

She must be right as they had to navigate the narrow space between the counter and the tables to the far end to find an open table. The place was packed, and the rich aromas and sizzling pies he spotted on people’s tables had his mouth watering.

Locating an empty table, they sat in plastic chairs that he hoped were sturdy as he settled his large frame into one. The napkins were paper, from a metal dispenser next to a small vase with some fake flowers. He wasn’t a fancy guy, but he had to assume all of the money and talent in the place went into the food, not the decor.

“So this is your favorite place, huh?”

“Isn’t it great?” She was all smiles again. If he were prone to it, her mercurial changes would make him seasick, she seemed to shift back and forth so often.

“I found it completely by accident. I was just passing by one night and someone opened the door. The smell of the sauce and spices had me making a U-turn to come in and see where it was coming from. It’s bare bones, but cozy. Warm. And the owners are really nice people.”

“Probably a gold mine, as well. Can’t be much overhead,” he commented.

“I bet you’re right. Locals call it the Pizza Room, though I don’t think it actually has an official name. If you get takeout, it’s just a plain brown box, no logo. They don’t do delivery and aren’t in the directory.”

He grinned, liking the simplicity of it. Lack of marketing was probably the best marketing of all in a world drowning in logos.

“I’m glad you decided to show me one of the city’s secrets,” he said, meaning it. This was much more his speed than some froufrou bistro or someplace where food arrived under silver domes.

“How hungry are you? One pie or two?”

“Are you going to eat?”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. “What? Of course I’m going to eat. Why do you think I’m here?”

“I meant, you’re so thin, and given your profession, I thought you might be an ‘eat salad and smell the real food’ type.”

She looked as if she couldn’t believe his brashness, and then burst out laughing. At least he hadn’t upset her.

“Ranger, I can put it away. Don’t underestimate me there. I am blessed with what my father used to call a hummingbird’s metabolism—small animal, eats a lot. No animal has a faster metabolism. I can probably eat damned near my own weight in this pizza.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded and gave the waitress their order—two pies—after grabbing a few plastic cups from the counter for their wine and a conversation about the owner’s new grandchildren.

“You seem to know everyone—I always thought New Yorkers were cold and distant.”

“C’ mon, you’ve been here before, so you know different. But anyway, I’m not a native. It’s a big city, and it has its share of attitude, but I’ve found the people here to be some of the friendliest I’ve ever met. It’s huge and intimidating, but you find your own corner and settle in. I’ve known small towns a lot less friendly.”

He had to admit that was true. “Where do you come from originally?”

“Nevada. My parents owned a ranch there.”

“Seriously?” He sounded surprised, even though he’d heard her reveal that fact earlier. She seemed tickled by his feigned reaction.

“Yep. Grew up with the desert, rattlesnakes, horses and cattle—probably not unlike you, huh?”

“I actually didn’t grow up on a ranch. Just a small house outside Corpus Christi. I didn’t learn to ride until I took a summer job on a local cattle ranch and got hooked.”

“I thought everyone in Texas was born in a saddle,” she said, obviously teasing.

“My father was a good horseman, but he was all cop.”

“Law enforcement runs in the family?”

“Yep. My sister is a Federal Marshall, Dad’s a lifelong Ranger, though he’ll be set to retire next year. He’s not taking that well.”

“Your file said you were in the El Paso Division?”

“Yeah. I was transferred a few years ago. Dad is still over in Corpus Christi. My sister is based in Dallas, but she’s constantly traveling.”

“That’s a lot. How does your mother handle it?”

“She didn’t. She took off when I was about thirteen after putting up with it for as long as she could. I can’t blame her, not entirely.”

“Really?”

“The job is tough, comes with a lot of risks, makes having a family hard, just like any cop’s life does. My mother couldn’t take the stress. It happens.”

“I suppose. I’m sorry to hear it, though. Are you still in touch?”

“You writing an exposé or taking pictures?” he snapped back, and noticed too late that he shouldn’t have. She’d just hit a nerve.

He’d always felt responsible for his parents’ breakup, though as an adult he knew it wasn’t true. Still, it was hard for him as a boy to ignore that his mother had taken off shortly after he’d said he wanted to be a Ranger, just like his father. Hard to convince a kid it wasn’t his fault, even though his dad had tried.

“It helps me take better pictures if I get to know you,” she said evenly, but her eyes didn’t meet his.

“Apologies, Lacey. Sore spot. Shouldn’t take it out on you,” he said, and she looked up again, her eyes forgiving him. “But, no, we lost contact with her a few years after she left. She stayed in touch for a while, but I guess her new life took her elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry about that. And I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I know.”

Thankfully their pizzas arrived, taking up all of the space on the table and capturing their attention for a good while.

“Wow, this is amazing,” he said, his senses in heaven between the pizza and the wine. “I mean, my God…what do they do? I could eat only this for the rest of my days,” he crooned, meaning it.

“Told ya.” She smiled, as she kept her promise and put away her share of pizza. He couldn’t figure out where she fit it all.

“So, you want to talk about work?” he reminded her as they poured more wine. She wasn’t tipsy by any means, but she was more relaxed and he liked it. The glow she had was real now, and the buzz of attraction in his head became a little louder. She was fun, and good company when she wasn’t acting like something was about to bite her. Whatever cloud had been hanging over her earlier seemed to have lifted.

“That’s what we’ve been doing. I like to get to know subjects before I shoot them, so I can put you into places, settings, poses that are going to really show the real you, not arrange you in some contrived position.”

“I see. That’s interesting.” He was unsure of what else to say, slightly uncomfortable at being analyzed in this manner. He’d thought they were just having a good time. He sighed. “I’m not quite sure how all this model, photographer stuff works. It’s a first, and hopefully a last, for me.”

She grinned. “Maybe you’ll get hooked. You could get catalog ads, newspaper, maybe even hit the catwalks,” she teased. She was playful, something he liked in a woman, and in a bed partner. How playful would his pretty photographer be in the sack? He watched her lick some sauce from her fingers and thought about those long, thin fingers wrapping around him.

He had to stop or he wouldn’t be able to stand up safely, and grabbed his drink and took a long swallow.

“I said it’s time to go, dammit. I gotta get to work,” a rough voice growled, interrupting them. The jovial conversation in the place dulled to a murmur. Everyone looked toward a tall twentysomething guy who stood and grabbed the woman with him by the wrist, pulling her up. She tugged her arm loose, telling him she wanted to stay and pack the rest of the pizza for takeout.

There were several beer bottles on his side of the table and his words were slurred as he objected again. It was obvious he’d had too much to drink.

When the guy lifted his hand toward her, Lacey went very still. Jarod, on the other hand, moved so quickly the guy didn’t seem to realize he was there until he’d grabbed the man’s arms and pinned them behind his back before he managed to deliver the blow.

“This is a nice place, and we’re all enjoying a nice meal. You, however, are not behaving nicely,” Jarod said in a voice that was dead calm.

“Let me go, you moth—”

“Uh-uh.” Jarod yanked harder on the guy’s arms, choking off the curse. “There are kids in here. Watch your words.”

“Let him go,” the girlfriend demanded, her hands on her hips as she stared at Jarod as if he were the enemy.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

While the guy had gone still, the woman didn’t seem to be intimidated by Jarod at all, and walked up as close as she could get to him.

“Why don’t you mind your own damned business? Let him go so we can get out of here.”

“He looked like he was about to slap you. You sure about me letting him go?” Jarod asked.

She glared at him as if he were nuts. “Don’t I look sure? He don’t mean no harm. He just gets worked up.” She blew off Jarod’s concern with a dirty look that brooked no argument.

Others sat down and Jarod let the guy’s arms go, putting his hands up, backing off. When the thug turned on him with fiery eyes and appeared as if he might try throwing a punch, Jarod didn’t move a muscle, but just stared. Something in his posture made the kid think twice. He and his girlfriend charged out the door, cursing. They left their pizza behind.

Jarod returned to the table, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable. I kept him from possibly hitting her and she defends him.”

He sat down, eyes landing on Lacey. It was clear that something had changed. She was white as a sheet. Her irises were open and dark—a classic fight-or-flight response.

“Hey, you okay?”

She nodded, but when she put her fork down, her hand was shaking. Jarod reached across the table, put his hand over hers. It was ice-cold, he noticed, before she snatched it back.

“Want to talk about it? I can be a good listener.”

That woke her up, and she blinked, as if coming alive. “No, I don’t. I should get home,” she stated flatly, and he felt properly put in his place. Thing was, he’d been put in his place plenty of times, and he pretty much knew when he didn’t want to stay there.

“I’ll walk you to your apartment,” he offered, throwing down a few dollars to cover the bill.

“No!” she objected too strongly, and when she glanced at him he could swear she was afraid of him. Where had that come from?

“I just want to make sure you’re safe, is all.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just tired and have a bad headache, from the wine,” she explained, standing and walking rapidly toward the door. When they got outside, she took several deep breaths and seemed to steady. He wasn’t quite sure what to do or say.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding more normal, though she examined the narrow street, up and down, as if she were expecting someone. “I guess I was a bit thrown by that episode. I’m not great with confrontation. It was good of you to step in, though.”

“It’s my job.”

“Not here.”

“Doesn’t matter where I am. It’s still my job.”

She focused on his face, and studied him for a few long moments with those perfect green eyes.

He knew he wanted her. He didn’t know how he’d manage it, but he was going to make it happen.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you back?”

She paused, but then nodded.

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”

It hit him then that she didn’t want him knowing where she lived. She was afraid of him—or afraid of men, in general.

There were only a few good reasons women had for this kind of reaction, and thinking about any of them made Jarod’s blood boil. The lady had some serious fear, and he knew he had to find out why. Then he’d make sure she had no reason to fear anything, least of all him.

“Fair enough, then,” he said, knowing when to give in and when not to. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow for that appointment, and you can let me know more of what’s expected of me?”

“Yes. Thanks,” she said, though he wasn’t exactly sure what she was thanking him for. He just nodded.

She walked off without another word, and he veered off in the direction of his hotel—at first.

Within a minute he looped back, caught sight of that hot-pink shirt and didn’t take his eyes away from her the rest of the way. He kept his distance and watched. She checked her surroundings constantly, as if the devil himself were after her.

Jarod stayed with her until he saw her turn into a building. He waited, saw a light come on, didn’t see her come out. Walking up closer, he noted the address, the spot, and committed it to memory. Only then did he walk back through the dark street to his own place, quietly planning to find out what had Lacey Graham so spooked.

Chapter 3

JAROD SAT IN THE SUNLIGHT of the large hotel window, the city sprawled out below him while he perused the Net, making good use of the wireless connection that came with the room. He enjoyed touching base with law enforcement colleagues on various boards and Web sites, and he was taking an online course in further forensics study.

He didn’t particularly want to become a forensics expert. He was more interested in chasing down perps directly, rather than investigating the mess they left behind; still, he found the material interesting.

Mostly.

Today, no matter how intently his eyes traveled over the words on the screen, his mind kept returning to the image of Lacey’s green eyes. He loved her eyes, and the way she pushed her hands through her short blond hair every five minutes. She had hair like corn silk, soft-looking in spite of the blunt edges of the style she wore. He flexed his fingers unconsciously, thinking about touching it. The ring of his cell phone jostled him out of his fantasy, and he recognized the number as his captain’s.

“Hey, Cap.”

“Jarod. How are things in the big city?”

“Noisy. Busy. Damned good pizza, though.”

Tom chuckled. Jarod liked him. He was a good man, no-nonsense, and had as much tolerance for political bullshit as Jarod did.

“Thought you might be out somewhere with twenty half-naked women draped over you for this calendar thing,” Tom said lightly, razzing him. There would be no end to that when he got home.

“Nope, no women, just eleven other guys, unfortunately, except for the photographer, and she’s pretty tough.”

“Would have to be to deal with the likes of you.” Tom laughed again. “Anyway, I’m calling about Darren Hill.”

“What about him?”

“He jumped bail last night, thought you’d want to know.”

Jarod cursed. Darren Hill was the worst of the worst, selling everything he could get his hands on to pay for drugs, including his six-year-old daughter. Jarod had intervened, and the girl had escaped serious harm in the nick of time, taken away and placed in a foster home. No one knew if she’d been born on American soil or not, but Hill claimed she was. Meanwhile, the mother was long gone. Poor kid. Jarod still felt a twist when he thought about it. Still, she had a real chance now, placed with a good family in Houston. Hopefully they would keep her permanently.

Jarod had a feeling they needed to be looking for the mother’s body, unfortunately. Hill was scum.

“How the hell did he even make bail?”

“It was set high, but his drug-dealing friends must have come up with the cash.”

“Great. That’s just great.” Jarod narrowed his eyes, peering out through the window. “Any idea which way he headed?”

“Pretty sure he wouldn’t go back over the border—he wouldn’t take that chance. And he has a bone to pick with you taking away the kid. We wouldn’t want to ignore that.”

“Oh, yeah, he was a really devoted father.”

“It’s about the power and control. You know that. You damaged his rep. He might be looking for revenge. ”

“Yeah, well, he can bring it on. I’ll get the first flight back.”

“No, you’re out there until this calendar thing is finished—brass made no bones about that.”

“Dammit, Tom, if Hill’s looking for me, the easiest way for me to bring him in is to be there, not here.”

“It’s being handled, Jarod. Stay there, and enjoy being out of the line of fire for a bit.”

“Tom—”

“Jarod, you know I don’t care about this PR crap any more than you do, but the brass does care and you’re supposed to be doing this. So do it.”

“Aren’t you the brass?”

“You know what I mean. We’ll find Darren. The place does tend to run without you, you know,” Tom added jokingly, and Jarod blew out a breath.

“Fine. Keep me up-to-date on what’s happening?”

“You bet. By the way, you put any more thought toward taking that captain’s position that’s opening up? You’re the perfect candidate. You’d have no problem getting through the interviews. I’d be happy to write you a rec.”

Something nasty squeezed at Jarod’s temples, and he told Tom the truth. “All due respect, and believe me, being asked to fill your shoes is an honor, but I don’t know if I want that, Tom. I like where I am now. Too much paperwork comes with being a captain.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Tom agreed, laughing good-naturedly. “Still, there are more guys who can do your job, and not many as well suited as you are to this chair. You’re a natural leader, Jarod. And captains are still hands-on much of the time. Better pay, too. Maybe a chance of living a little longer,” Tom joked, having been in the captain’s seat for ten years before recently being promoted to assistant chief.

Jarod knew Tom wanted him to take the spot, and it was getting harder to resist. “I’ll think some more on it.”

“Think faster. This has to be decided sooner than later.”

“Will do.”

They hung up, and Jarod rubbed his eyes, feeling tired. A restless night’s sleep had done him no favors. He was going to have to make some decisions. His father wouldn’t be happy if he turned down the promotion, yet it just didn’t feel right. He should be excited, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t. He liked what he did, and had never really thought about climbing the political ladder. He just wasn’t ambitious that way.

Shaking his head, he set the thoughts aside and sat back down at his computer, distracting himself by typing Lacey’s name into the search engine.

His conscience pricked at him a bit, but what of it? He was going to be working with the woman, and he was curious.

Surprisingly, he didn’t find much. Wouldn’t a person in her line of work have more Internet presence? Promotions, articles, displays of their work, a Web page? She did have a Web page connected to Bliss, but it was basic info, a few samples of her previous work—impressive—but most notably, no pictures of herself. Wasn’t that odd, for a photographer?

He shrugged. Maybe he was off base. However, following an instinct, he accessed a database used by law enforcement to do background checks and paused before typing in her name. He had no call to do this, no professional reason.

No, his reasons were personal. The lady had been seriously stressed about something. Jarod didn’t think for a minute that she was a criminal, but she was hiding something; he could smell it. And he wanted to know why she was so afraid, and of what.

He wouldn’t dig too deep, only see if anything curious came up. Then he’d leave it at that. There was a fine line between curiosity and concern, and invasion of privacy.

He didn’t know if he was relieved or not to find that on the surface query nothing came up. Not even a speeding ticket or a court date. However, Lacey Brown had changed her name to her mother’s maiden name, Graham, upon arriving in New York City. She’d renewed all of her official IDs, license, Social Security, etcetera, all at once.

When she’d come here, she’d reinvented herself—it piqued Jarod’s attention as to why. It could be as simple as her not liking her last name for starting a new career, or perhaps she’d been married, and returned to her mother’s name when she’d left the relationship.

Lacey Brown. He couldn’t see where that was such an objectionable name—why wouldn’t she want her father’s name? She’d sounded happy with her childhood from what Jarod could tell when he’d heard her talking about growing up on the ranch in Nevada, and so why the switch?

Some people did business by adopting a business name, a DBA, “doing business as” but Lacey had changed her entire identity, officially. When someone took such a drastic step, there was usually a big reason why.

The need to know was balanced by the need to stick to professional ethics. He’d already crossed the line slightly, and he wouldn’t pry any further, regardless of the temptation. Closing the database and the computer before he gave in to his baser impulses, he sat quietly, wondering.

Other than criminal activity, the other obvious option was that she was hiding or running away from something or someone who scared her. It brought him to simmering anger to think about that, and he almost opened the database again, wanting to know. If Lacey was afraid of something, he could help. What would he find if he checked into Lacey Brown’s past?

If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him, he reminded himself sternly. He had no compelling reason to pry into her business. None at all.

Standing up, he headed for the shower, needing to get out of the room. He was meeting with Lacey in two hours, and he was looking forward to it a little more than he should be.

IN GOOD TIME Lacey finished two of her interview consultations, one with a member of their own FDNY and another with a member of the California Highway Patrol. Things were moving ahead and a spirit of excitement was only dimmed by the black cloud of knowing Scott was out of jail. She’d barely slept all night, paranoid and stressed, and feeling like an idiot for how she’d acted with the Ranger in the pizza place.

She glanced at Jackie, who was across the studio, but it was hopeless. Jackie was far too busy flirting with one of New York’s best to notice Lacey. Lacey frowned—Jackie was a free spirit and probably just used to playing the game at work, but it was hard to believe she was in much of a relationship if she was acting like that…

And look at me, little Miss Critical, who hasn’t been near a man in months, Lacey chastised herself.

To say she was feeling out of sorts was an understatement, her day full of surprises so far. The execs from Bliss had wanted her to walk them through the current setup, and though she’d tried to explain that it could change once she had all the early photos in, they had seemed happy, if not thrilled, with the early work.

Her stomach turned; she needed them to be thrilled, ecstatic even, but Lacey was sure that the female exec in Marketing, Nina, would never like anything she did completely. There was an innate animosity there that Lacey didn’t understand, but it happened sometimes. Personalities clashed for whatever reason.

Lacey was determined to do better than her best, and wow them no matter what.

It wasn’t going to be a smooth morning by the looks of things. Jackie was busy and had messed up a few scheduling details. Assisting Lacey wasn’t her only duty at the magazine, so Lacey tried to be understanding. Now there was a very annoyed California Highway Patrol officer demanding to know why his appointment had changed—again.

Lacey tried to placate him, but she just couldn’t fit him in at the moment, and needed to push his shoot back until she was done with Jarod. The patrol officer wasn’t happy about it. The guy was not Mr. Sunshine, and Lacey couldn’t blame him for being irritated, but there was nothing else to be done.

Jarod was due here any second, and she needed time to prepare. She wanted to start by taking some studio shots of Jarod, to get a feel for him, so to speak. She’d thought about that in more ways than one the evening before, until the incident in the café had thrown her.

She couldn’t help it, but seeing someone manhandled just brought back flashes of Scott. Seeing Jarod step in had been both exciting and frightening. She didn’t know what to think of it.

Left to handle it all on her own for the time being, Lacey turned back to the disgruntled highway patrol officer and offered a friendly smile, hoping it would dim his temper. It did, maybe too well. She realized while she’d been looking toward Jackie, the guy’s eyes hadn’t moved from her chest.

Great. Like she needed this.

“Listen, Officer Bridges, if you go talk to my assistant—”

“She looks busy,” he said, not even glancing at Jackie. He stepped closer, turned on a little charm of his own. “I’d rather talk to you. Maybe we could have dinner, work this out, find some time to squeeze me in. I’m not opposed to a private session, you know?”

The suggestive way he said the words and leaned in made Lacey reflexively pull back, his intimidating closeness unwelcome. Her back was, however, literally against the wall, and he planted a big hand just a few inches to the right of her head.

Panic was reflexive.

She tried to keep her cool in spite of her racing heart, but wanted to draw the line at his suggestive tone and mannerisms. She was in a public place, and in no danger. “Back off, please.”

He grinned. “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart. Surely you and I can work something out that’s good for both of us? I came all the way across the country to be here…can’t we make it worth my while?”

She weighed her options quickly, and decided she wouldn’t stand much chance of pushing him away, his chest was massive. She started to duck under his arm, when a cool voice stopped her mid duck.

“The lady said back off. I suggest you listen.”

She looked underneath the officer’s massive arm to see a pair of well-fitted jeans…and cowboy boots.

Straightening, she met Jarod’s eyes, and was shocked that the warm brown of his gaze could turn so cold.

“Why don’t you get in line, Tex,” the California officer said dismissively over his shoulder.

Lacey found herself suddenly standing alone, free from the arm that had been by her head. The next thing she knew, two large and extremely agitated men were facing off with each other just six feet in front of her nose, seething at each other like large, angry bulls. She moved quickly, keeping her distance, her heart pounding, and she made it to Jackie’s side.

“Call security,” she said, her voice tight. She noted with relief the fireman who’d been talking to Jackie heading toward the two men with calming gestures.

“That won’t be necessary,” Jarod said, overhearing her, and acknowledging the fireman. “Everything is under control, and Chippie here is just leaving.”

The young Californian started to object, but took in the measure of the Texas Ranger and fireman standing before him and broke eye contact first. He cursed, pointing a finger in Lacey’s direction.

“Fine, I’m outta here and not coming back to this hole of a city. You can find someone else for this stupid calendar,” he said, spitting and sending red-faced looks toward all of them as he stormed out. “You had me too late in the lineup anyway. Don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

Jackie’s voice broke through Lacey’s haze, but her eyes remained glued to the men.

“Hey, what’s up? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Lacey blinked a few times, and realized everyone was staring at her now, not the men. Awareness kicked in.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically.

“You don’t seem fine. That guy really got to you, huh?”

“He was just being stupid,” she said, her throat feeling dry.

“Well, Mr. November took care of him just fine, with a little help from Mr. April, who, by the way, is perfectly single and lives here in New York,” Jackie said playfully. Lacey barely heard, her eyes still on Jarod as he spoke with the firefighter.

“They make quite a pair, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Mr. November sure seems interested in impressing you—he looked like he wanted to wallop that guy.”

Which is exactly what bothered Lacey. She liked Jarod, as much as she knew about him, but he had an aggressive streak and wasn’t the type of guy to hold back. This was New York, not the Wild West.

“You should ask him out,” Jackie added.

“I can’t date these guys, Jackie. It’s not professional. At least until their shoot is done. The magazine must have some kind of policy about that.”

“For regular staff, yes, but not regarding contract and freelance employees, which includes you and those two gorgeous hunks over there. So it’s fair game.”

“I need to get November into the studio for some inside shots,” Lacey said, dropping the subject and focusing on work again.

“Hey, do you want to tell me what has you so freaked out, Lace?” Jackie inquired.

Frowning more deeply, Lacey studied her lens as she polished it. “I’m just tired and stressed. I need this to go perfectly. We’re off to a bumpy start and we need to get this under control.”

Jackie’s expression soured, and Lacey regretted sounding so harsh.

“No problem. I’ll get back on it.”

Lacey closed her eyes.

“Jackie, wait. I’m sorry. I just hate getting rattled when I really need to concentrate. This calendar is my big break, and I want it to be perfect,” she explained.

“I get it, and I’m sorry, too. I’ve been enjoying the fringe benefits too much. But Ken’s been such a crank lately, it’s a relief to come to work, you know?”

Lacey wasn’t sure if Jackie wanted to say more about her troubles with her boyfriend, but now wasn’t the time, and she wasn’t exactly someone to hand out romantic advice anyway.

“I hope it works out,” she offered and lifted her camera, studying the serious profiles, angular features, and sharp eyes of the two men. She snapped a few quick shots of them as they talked. Candid shots, when people weren’t posing or looking, had always been her favorites to take. A moment captured in time that often showed the truth about the person being photographed.

“Well, you have no shortage of material to work with, that’s for sure. Just let me know what you need to make it happen.” Jackie slipped back into her professional role, and Lacey felt her shoulders relax.

“I’m moving to studio one—could you tell Jarod to join me in about ten minutes? I’ll be ready for him then.”

“Sure. You got it,” Jackie said, though Lacey could feel her assistant staring as she left the room.

She needed the few minutes of quiet before being around anyone again, to get her bearings, to distance herself from her churning stomach and riled nerves. The cop wouldn’t have hurt her, he was just being obnoxious. Lacey had come across worse in her dating life, and had usually laughed it off. This time, she hadn’t. Was it always going to be this way?

No. She wouldn’t allow it. It was simply the after-effect of the news about Scott. And it had to stop. Now.

Taking a deep breath, she cleared her mind and stepped backward, finding herself up against a solid wall of muscle.

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