Charlotte woke with a start

She wasn’t sure where she was, but it smelled nice. And it was warm. And solid. Sexy, almost. She snuggled in closer, feeling safe and—Wait.

She sat up sharply in the bed, looking around the strange room. Glancing down, she saw the source of the warm comfort she’d awakened to. EJ.

Her hand flew to her chest—only to find it stalled halfway. He’d cuffed her, the other link attached to his wrist. She knew without feeling that she was naked beneath the covers—her silky dress was long gone.

“Are you okay?” EJ murmured.

“I’m naked.” The bald statement escaped before she could think. “And I’m in handcuffs.”

“I didn’t want to take any chances you’d run off again.”

She looked at him, his eyes sleepy but filled with concern for her. He held out his hand and she took it, the metal of the cuffs clinking together.

“C’mere, darling. Let me hold you for a while.”

Her heart beat faster, and she kept the blanket hitched up as she scooted closer to him. Images of making love flashed in front of her eyes. It felt like a dream, but her body was dampening in response to the memory and his nearness….

Dear Reader,

It’s both exciting and a little sad to have finished writing Flirtation, the third and final book in my HOTWIRES miniseries. But writing EJ and Charlotte’s story was such a pleasure and so much fun that I didn’t have much time to be sad, really.

I was intrigued with EJ from the moment he appeared on the page for the first time in book one, Fascination. I hope I did him justice now, having finally found him the perfect—although the most unlikely—woman, who’ll make him retire his wild ways!

I hope you enjoy this final book of the miniseries. This book, like Fascination and Friction, is also set on the beautiful Chesapeake Bay; as such, a percentage of the sales from this series will be donated to conservation projects in that area. Please stop by my Web site at www.samanthahunter.com to share your comments and see what’s new.

Enjoy,

Samantha Hunter

Flirtation
Samantha Hunter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Lori Borill, who helped me get many of the details right, and who will be a Harlequin Blaze babe one of these days herself. Soon, I hope.

To my sister Harlequin writers at ThePlotThickens—you guys keep me sane. Well, you try. To all the readers who send kind and enthusiastic comments, thank you! And to my friends at eHarlequin.com and ADWOFF.com (hi Ani! Euri! Nonnie! Teresa!

And…everyone I don’t have room to list!) This one’s for you!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

1

EJ SLOWLY LIFTED from his sex-induced slumber, feeling a soft hand curl around his morning erection, stroking him into further wakefulness. He groaned and stretched, not opening his eyes, but moving into the hand that held him, fueling the caress. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse and good-humored.

“I’m dead, Jo. You did me in last night.”

“You don’t feel dead to me.”

There was an unmistakable smile in her voice, and a clear promise of more sensual adventures. But he really was exhausted.

He’d met Jo a little less than twenty-four hours ago; she’d been the instructor for his sky-jumping lesson the day before. He’d never parachuted before, but he’d decided to do something special for his thirty-fifth birthday. So first he’d jumped out of the plane. Then, exhilarated by the adrenaline rush and ready to go out and celebrate, he’d ended up jumping Jo, as well. Or maybe she’d jumped him. The end result was the same.

He’d had to put the family celebration off until the weekend, which hadn’t pleased his mother one bit. But all in all, it had been a good birthday, he thought with a grin, feeling the pleasure of Jo’s practiced touch course through him.

“That feels wonderful, darlin’, but I have to get to work.”

“Won’t take long, darlin’,” Jo laughed. She loved making fun of his Southern accent, and he didn’t mind one bit. He was the product of four generations of Virginian tradition and she was pure Connecticut Yankee. But when a woman was as warm and passionate in bed as Jo was, he could care less about geographical differences.

EJ loved all kinds of women. As evidence of the fact, he’d dated as many as time and opportunity allowed in the past few years, since he’d ended his romance with his childhood friend, Millie Stewart. EJ had broken their engagement, left his job with the family shipbuilding business, and basically thrown the seriousness and responsibility of his old life to the wind. He loved his freedom, he loved his job and he loved women. Life was good.

EJ sometimes wondered what had driven him to want to get married and have kids in the first place. Well, he knew the answer to that: family pressure. Being Ethan Jared Beaumont the Fourth came with a set of expectations, especially after his father had died unexpectedly of a heart attack five years ago.

EJ had quit his job with the Department of Justice, where he’d worked as a fraud investigator, and filled the seat left empty by his dad—Ethan Jared Beaumont the Third. EJ had done his duty. And he’d been miserable. He just hadn’t known it. Then his friend Ian Chandler had offered him the job of a lifetime with a specialized computer crime unit, known as the “HotWires” team. They worked in conjunction with the Norfolk Police Department, and EJ had never regretted for one moment accepting Ian’s offer.

That was almost three years ago. And now, his life was better than he ever could have imagined.

“Maybe I can breathe a little life into you?” Jo smiled, her tone hushed and suggestive as she slid down his body under the covers intending to replace her hand with her mouth, but he reached out, stopping her.

“I’m sorry, honey, I really do have to get to work. I have a meeting in less than an hour.”

Jo settled back, sighing. “Well, okay then. I suppose I should get going, too.” She smiled in a friendly way, as if they were simply having a casual chat on the sidewalk instead of crawling out of bed after hours of vigorous sex. “I had a great time, thanks.”

She slid off the bed and walked around the room in totally unselfconscious nudity, picking up her clothes. EJ sat up, too, wondering why he was suddenly disgruntled and out of sorts. He was tired, and he’d passed up an award-winning blow job, for sure, but Jo didn’t seem to be all that concerned about his refusal. There was no problem with rejection, no pouting, no argument.

She walked over to him, smiling, and kissed him goodbye. A friendly peck. For some reason, it pissed him off.

“Can I pop in your shower for a minute?” She looked him in the eye, no trace of any hidden agenda. Not an iota of disappointment. He shook his head, erasing his errant thoughts, and hauled her up against him. Bending to kiss her soft breast, he pushed aside whatever was bothering him.

“Sure. Maybe I’ll join you for a quick one.”

CHARLEY: You’re very expressive. You enjoy it when someone tells you what they want in bed, where to touch them, how to kiss you….

EJB: I do like that—how did you know?

CHARLEY: Your cards show your strong need for communication and sensuality in a relationship. You need to be with someone who can excite your mind as well as your body—with what they say, how they eat or cook, the music they appreciate.

EJB: Would you tell me where to touch you? How to kiss you?

CHARLEY: I’m a very verbal person, yes.

EJB: I get turned on by a woman telling me what she wants to do, and what she wants me to do to her.

CHARLEY: I know….

“Sheesh, EJ—pouring it on a little thick, weren’t you?”

EJ slid his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, tired from being up too late and getting in just under the wire to pour over the transcripts of his last dialogue with the suspect he was currently investigating. Not that his quickie in the shower with Jo hadn’t been worth it, but he wasn’t in the habit of being late to work because of sex. Work was first on his list, and he took it seriously.

Sarah Jessup, one of his partners on the team, was skimming over the transcript as well, looking at him in mock disgust.

“I mean, really. Do women fall for this schlock?”

He grinned, loving the Yiddish words Sarah always threw into the conversation that he’d never be able to pull off with his southern drawl. But Sarah was born and raised near New York City, and she’d spent almost a decade in Brooklyn before moving to Norfolk, Virginia, to be one of the team, so she could definitely talk the talk. Her three years living below the Mason-Dixon Line hadn’t changed her hard-edged New York attitude one bit. EJ loved it.

“They fall right into bed, darlin’. All except for you, of course.”

“Yeah, I’m immune to your flirting, thank God.”

“I didn’t really try all that hard, us working together and all.”

“Yuh-huh. You keep telling yourself that.”

“Ah, now. No need to be bitter. All this reading here is all playacting. Couldn’t blame you one bit if it makes you wonder what you missed out on.”

He grinned, watching her gorgeous blue eyes narrow—there was nothing romantic between them and never had been, but he loved teasing her about her “missed opportunity.” He’d made a pass at Sarah once, years ago, before she’d met the man she was currently engaged to, Logan Sullivan. Logan was a former cop who was currently starting his own kayak sales and service business.

EJ knew he’d been out of line propositioning Sarah in the first place, but they’d been alone, out having a few drinks after finishing a case, and they were both single and lonely. At the time, he’d just broken his engagement and wasn’t sure what was in store for him. And Sarah had been available, and he liked her. He’d figured, why not?

Sarah had put EJ in his place. She wasn’t interested in falling into bed with anyone, period, but especially not with someone at the office. Of course, six months ago Logan had come along and changed all that, seducing Sarah when they met on a vacation fling, and then becoming her ad hoc partner while solving a missing person case that had cracked open one of the largest Internet pornography operations on the east coast. Sarah was all work, all the time, even when she’d been on vacation. Logan had mellowed her a bit, but not much.

The bust had been a huge feather in Sarah’s cap professionally, but meeting Logan and putting some of her own ghosts to rest while doing so had made Sarah a happier person, in general. She was still intense, but she just was more peaceful overall, more settled. Well, settled might be overstating it.

EJ was always grateful that she hadn’t taken him up on his offer that night, though he sure enjoyed teasing her about it. They had a solid friendship and a perfect working relationship, and that was all. That was enough. In many ways, he was closer to Sarah than he was with any of the women he slept with.

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. “You’re looking a little tired this morning, EJ. Worn out. Was last night’s birthday conquest a little too athletic for you, old man?” She grinned. “Many happy returns, but the way.”

He winced, hating that she’d hit on the source of his tiredness spot-on, but aimed a no-nonsense look in her direction instead. “Thanks. When do you leave again?”

Sarah didn’t miss his sarcasm, but broke into a huge grin. The change in topic was obviously a happy one for her.

“Two weeks.”

“Damn. I thought it was sooner.”

EJ watched her shape her fingers into a gun and shoot him point-blank. He loved messing with Sarah, and he loved it that she gave as good as she got. She was a breath of fresh air, a whole different species than the well-heeled, upper-class Southern women he’d grown up with.

He glanced at his e-mail, skimming the subject lines of incoming mail that already had piled up in his inbox, realizing the room had become very quiet. He looked over and smiled more sincerely, finding her lost in thought as she gazed at the huge diamond on her left hand.

“It’s a helluva rock. Logan really wants you to have the best.”

She blushed furiously and then glared at him—if Sarah hated anything, it was being caught acting girly. She was tough as nails, a great cop, and a brilliant computer hacker. But Logan had also brought out her softer side in a big way. The glare morphed into a cheeky smile as she flitted her fingers in the air.

“It is amazing, but it’s just a ring. Having Logan is what counts. And in two weeks, I will be on an amazing honeymoon with an amazing man having amazing sex all day on our own amazing private beach.”

EJ sighed exaggeratedly. “Another one gone to the other side.”

“Yeah, just wait. Your turn is coming.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m happy just the way I am.”

She just gave him a look of doubt—or maybe it was something else. Concern? It was often annoying now that he’d discovered the wilder side of life, that all of his friends were settling down with spouses and babies. And the more that happened, the more they believed it should happen to him, too.

Maybe someday he would find someone special. Fill his empty family home and grow old with grandchildren on his knee. There would be a time when the singles life wouldn’t appeal quite as much, and he didn’t want to get old alone. But that time wasn’t now.

Shaking his head, he silently thanked the heavens when their boss—and his old friend—Ian Chandler walked into the office, putting an end to the discussion and turning matters to business. Ian was a few minutes late, and looking even more exhausted than EJ, but that was bound to happen when his wife was expecting twins at any moment.

Ian had met his wife, Sage, at the same time the HotWires team had been forming. It had been a bumpy courtship to say the least, but all was well that ended well. EJ thought the world of them both, and was happy to be included in their little family by being asked to be future godfather to the babies. For EJ, it was the best of all possible worlds—he got to enjoy things like babies and friends, weddings and family, but he also had his independence.

“Morning, folks.”

“Hey, Daddy. How’re my goddaughters?”

EJ watched pride replace the exhaustion as Ian sat down to start their meeting.

“Ready to come out and driving their mama crazy already, kicking and keeping her up at night. Sage is big as a house, and still trying to work, even though the doctor has her on partial bed rest. I have no idea what to do to make that woman slow down.”

EJ laughed. “Neither one of you will be slowing down for a while, I suspect. But at least you got her to marry you.”

“Yeah.”

EJ watched his friend’s eyes warm as he glanced at the gold band on his finger that had been placed there four months before. Busy with their lives and with Sage starting a new business, Ian and Sage had ended up pregnant before they’d talked about marriage. Both of them had been happy enough with the new development. Though Sage had been hesitant to have a shotgun wedding, in the end Ian had won her over and it had been a beautiful event, made even richer by the knowledge that they would soon be a family.

The sentimental look vanished as Ian turned to business.

“So you’ve made contact?”

EJ nodded. “Last night was our second meeting.”

“Anything notable?”

“Here’s the transcript.” He ignored Sarah’s chuckle as he shoved a file folder in Ian’s direction. “But no, not much. Yet. It’s early.”

“It may take a little while. They could be feeling you out.”

EJ agreed, but he was still hoping to crack this case sooner than later. If nothing else, he was getting tired of online sex talk—he liked his sex real and in person.

They’d been working on the paper trail for weeks, tracing scattered evidence regarding large thefts that had no seeming connection, but after sifting through piles of notes and paperwork, one commonality finally appeared: all of the victims had been subscribers to an online psychic service called SexyTarot.com.

Finally, EJ was closing in. That single, real thread of evidence had led them right to their own backyard: Norfolk, Virginia. Said service was owned by a single player: Charlotte Gerard. That was the common denominator among all the people who had lost money—at one time or another, she’d read for the victims.

He focused back on the file. A background check had revealed zip in the way of a criminal past, though Ms. Gerard had experienced a less than stellar childhood. Raised an orphan up north in New Hampshire, she went the usual route and lived in several foster homes until she’d moved to Norfolk three years ago. She didn’t own a car and had no priors, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a late bloomer to a life of crime.

Ms. Gerard was twenty-nine, single, and eighteen months ago she’d started running SexyTarot.com, which offered psychic readings focusing specifically on clients’ love lives.

It seemed innocent enough on the surface, but the service was an ideal cover for luring people in and gaining information that could lead to bank accounts, credit cards and even home addresses. However, the catch was that other than the circumstantial evidence of all victims having paid for readings, EJ couldn’t find any hard evidence connecting the woman directly to the thefts—yet. It was his job to get it.

Ian looked at him speculatively. “What’s your gut telling you?”

“That the sooner I can drag her out from behind the screen, the sooner I can get this settled. I’m hoping I can force her hand if I set myself up as a target she can’t resist. A chance for one big score.”

“What are you thinking about?”

He grinned, winking at Sarah and watching her roll her eyes. “Just a little not-so-innocent flirtation. I figure heating things up a little and trying to draw her out, maybe for a date, would be the easiest way to go. It happens online all the time these days and is unlikely to cause any suspicion. At worst, she’ll think I’m an online pervert and say no. But if she’s checked me out via the registration information and card info I gave her, I think she’ll bite.”

“Then do it. You’re certain the woman you’re interacting with is Charlotte Gerard?”

EJ smiled, but there was a slight predatory gleam in his eye—he loved tracking down the bad guy, or bad girl, as the case had it.

“Sure as I can be. Goes by ‘Charley’—not exactly a masterful disguise. But meeting her for real will cement things, if I can get her to go for it.”

“Good. Remember, she could just be a little fish fronting a larger scam, which is why we can’t find anything tied directly to her—could be she just lures in the marks, and the real action goes down somewhere else.”

EJ nodded, still looking at the photo, wondering what pushed a young woman like Charlotte into a career of crime. She looked like a sweet thing, paid her taxes even on the pittance she appeared to earn on the Web site and at odd jobs. She was, perhaps, a little too squeaky clean. Unfortunately, EJ knew he lived in a world where if someone was too clean, they were probably dirty.

She’d been engaging, entertaining and yet apparently sincere while she’d read for him the night before. And sexy, without a doubt. She’d said things to him that scored a direct hit on his desires—he loved a woman who wasn’t afraid to talk about sex in frank terms. A female voice saying the right thing in his ear could turn him on faster than any touch.

Charlotte was particularly talented at drawing him into the conversation, making him lose track of his objective and almost luring him into admitting some things that he didn’t easily discuss with anyone. What he wanted in bed and from life. From love.

He dismissed it as the same phenomenon as airplane talk. Talking with people online was a lot like talking to strangers in airplanes—you could say anything, because you were never going to see them again.

But deep down, he also knew there was a grain of truth to the things he’d shared with Charlotte, and he didn’t like how she’d pulled him in to whatever spell she wove. In general, he considered himself immune to that kind of thing, and it rankled that he’d felt a sense of connection when he should have been concentrating only on business. She was a suspect, for crying out loud.

But her smooth ability to get people to feel comfortable, to get them to talk, was even more proof against her—in his gut, anyway. The best con artists were very hard to dislike and they knew how to read people, how to get the information they needed. But so did EJ.

EJ looked back at Ian, changing the subject. “So how are you and Sage holding up?”

“I’m fine, but I feel for Sage. She’s so big, and mostly immobile, which is torture for her. She’s so used to being on the go, and was at a really critical point with her consulting business when she found out about the babies. She’s conducting business online and over the phone, but she’s tired and more than a little cranky.”

Sarah butted in, shuddering. “Who could blame her? I get cranky just thinking about it.”

“You’re cranky anyway,” Ian teased. “Aren’t you and Logan thinking about a family?”

“Sure. In about ten or fifteen years. Or longer.”

EJ tipped his head curiously. “Have you ever heard of the concept of a biological clock?”

Sarah grinned smugly. “They make them digital these days. Women are having babies in their forties and beyond. Although I don’t really get that, either.”

EJ and Ian shook their heads, laughing. Sarah was incorrigible. Logan had often talked about a family, especially inspired by Sage and Ian, but Sarah was holding strong. Having babies was not in the cards for her anytime soon, EJ imagined. Logan would have his work cut out for him.

Conversation ceased as Ian grabbed his cell phone, excusing himself for a moment. Looking past the clear glass windows that encased their offices, the hallways of the Norfolk Police Department buzzed with activity. Outside the office, he knew it would be hot and muggy—the air-conditioning was constantly on the blitz, but the HotWires offices were almost too cold, kept that way because of the sensitive technology in the room.

They’d come a long way in three years, solving some major cases, and increasing their funding and resources with each success. It had just been the three of them to start, an experiment that had met with phenomenal success. Their unit, having gained state and local recognition for their work, had just gotten more funds to expand. The cases were piling up, and they needed more people on the job, especially with their personal lives becoming more complicated.

In fact, Ian was lining up interviews with prospective agents soon. EJ looked over at Sarah, who returned to her case file with deep concentration. She’d been a freelance computer hacker just a few years ago, doing odd jobs so she could finance her hacking habit, buying all the computer equipment she needed to track down Internet pornographers so she could report them to the feds. It was how she’d met Ian and had ended up being a part of the team. And she was one damned good cop; Ian had great instincts, and hiring Sarah had paid off big-time.

But EJ had thought further ahead. In fact, should Ian ever decide to change jobs, considering his family situation, EJ hoped to be able to step up to the plate to lead the HotWires unit, something his single life prepared him for perfectly.

He’d never spoken to Ian about it, but he wondered if his friend would want to stay in a dangerous position after he had children to consider. Having stared down the barrel of a gun more than once in the line of duty, EJ wasn’t sure he could do it if he had little ones depending on him to come home every night.

Ian’s voice brought EJ back to the moment. “I’ll be spending more time at home, but I’m still available if you need me in here. And Sarah can be pulled in, too, if you need backup. At least before she leaves. If you can’t get us, you’re authorized through Marty to pull whatever you need from the general department resources.”

EJ nodded, looking again at the petite blonde with the heart-shaped face in the photograph, and he felt a stirring in his gut, remembering what this beautiful woman had talked about with him online. Private, intimate, sexy things.

Too bad she was probably going to jail.

2

THE THREE OF SWORDS crossed by The Devil yet again—poor Ronny. Charlotte sighed, looking for something good in the cards—she always tried to put a positive spin on things, if she could—but this reading bothered her. In fact, it gave her a creepy feeling; something was definitely off in her brother’s life. As usual.

Ronny never asked for readings—he thought her tarot was a bunch of hooey—but now and then she did a reading for him, just for herself, to get an idea how his life was going and how she could support or advise him. Normally she would never do a reading without someone’s permission—it was eavesdropping of a kind—but this was her privilege as a big sister, she figured.

Padding into the small kitchen of her apartment on Ocean View, just east of downtown Norfolk, she poured herself a large glass of lemongrass iced tea and stared out the small window over her old-fashioned ceramic kitchen sink as she sipped.

Her apartment wasn’t in the fanciest of buildings, in fact, it was probably going to be knocked down sooner than later to make way for the new development that was springing up left and right. But she stayed here because she was in love with the view.

Four miles of quiet beach stretched out on either side of her backyard. The southern end of the Chesapeake Bay was only about eighty-two steps outside her back door—she’d counted—and she had a panoramic view of the famous Bay Bridge.

If she went out her front door, the road was busy, and the streets were not ones she was comfortable walking too late at night, though it was safer now that they’d decided to redevelop the more dangerous areas on the southernmost end of the avenue. Things were picking up; there were new businesses, homes and a golf course.

But it was the mix of people, the way new condos sprouted up between fleabag hotels and old apartment houses like hers, and how tidy, older ladies walked their prissy little poodles alongside kids with sagging pants and MP3 players that attracted her. The place had personality and diversity, and the entire neighborhood was eclectic and genuine. She felt like she fit right in.

She stared at the cards again, her thoughts returning to her brother. He’d had a hard time of it, and it didn’t look like anything was going to get easier, which broke her heart. She’d only known him for three years. She’d found him through a family locator service that helped siblings separated by the courts to find each other again. It had taken her almost ten years, since she was eighteen, to find him. She’d continued the search in fits and starts as money and time allowed.

She’d lived in New Hampshire then, the land of the White Mountains and presidential primaries, but she never regretted moving to Virginia to be near Ronny. He wasn’t able to move, and she didn’t mind. She was more flexible, able to work wherever she went. But, in truth, she would have lived just about anywhere to be near the only family she had.

“Hey, Mary, Mary…how does your garden grow?”

Ronny’s voice boomed as he walked through the front door, and she quickly slid the cards into the deck, gasping in delighted surprise when she saw he was carrying several flats of colorful flowers.

Because she worked planting and maintaining flowerboxes—one of her more profitable ventures—he always called her Mary, from the nursery rhyme. She loved it—it seemed like one of those things that a brother would do. She intercepted him before he put the flats on her clean tablecloth, and set them gently on the floor by the door.

She ran her hands over the delicate petals of colorful pansies, smiling. “These are gorgeous. Like little cheerful faces, aren’t they?” She smiled up at him. “You shouldn’t have, though. I know things are tight for you.”

He leaned over, kissing her soundly on the cheek.

“We help each other out—that’s what family does. Use these to make some boxes for out front, and make up a little sign about your flowerboxes. Maybe you’ll get some new business.”

Her heart swelled—she loved him so much, even though they hadn’t known each other very long. True, Ronny had a rough side. He gambled, smoked pot and hung around with a rough crowd. He was on his third job in the past year, but this one seemed to be working out a little better. He had a good heart, she knew that. If only she could get him to see he was worth more than he thought he was.

“Thank you—that’s a great idea. I’ll do that today.” She went to the counter, putting on a pot of coffee. She didn’t drink it but kept it around for Ronny. He snagged the pretty towel she put on the hook that morning on his way through the kitchen, and she straightened it reflexively before reaching up to pull his cup from the spot where she kept it among her neatly arranged cupboards.

“Did you check out that brochure with the college courses I left for you?”

She heard his heavy sigh behind her. Ronny had gotten his GED, but he didn’t seem interested in doing more. Charlotte hadn’t been to college, either, but she liked the jobs she took to make a living. Someday, if she was able, she dreamed of opening her own flower shop, or maybe a greenhouse. But if that never happened, she enjoyed her life just as it was.

But Ronny, well, he needed focus. He needed to do something more productive with his life—just being successful at one thing might make all the difference. That’s what one of his substance-abuse counselors had told her. He needed to build his self-esteem and believe he was worth success. It was her sincere wish to help him be happy, to make his life better. It wasn’t always easy.

“I wish you’d drop that. I’m not college material,” he grumbled.

The same old line. But she wasn’t going to give up, and responded cheerfully.

“What is that supposed to mean? You’re smart—look at the idea you just came up with. Ideas like that could lead to a good job.”

“I have a good job. Working at the docks pays good, and in six months I get benefits.”

She saw the familiar sullen look come into his eyes—they were the same soft brown as hers—as he turned away and backed off. She knew him well enough to know she couldn’t push; he would just withdraw deeper into himself and become surly and unreachable.

“I’m sorry. You do, I know. And it sounds like it’s going well.” She looked at him from under her lashes, gently inquiring as she thought about the cards from his reading. “Things are going well, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” He glanced around the kitchen, avoiding her eyes. “Um, do you mind if I check e-mail on your laptop?”

Charlotte nodded her head. “Let me boot it up for you.”

“I can do it.” He stood, taking the coffee she handed him. “Got any donuts?”

“You know I don’t eat refined sugars.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, I don’t get that.”

He kissed her again, lightly on the forehead, and made his way over to the computer. She cringed a little when he picked it up and plopped it on his lap. It was her prize possession; she’d had to plant a lot of flowers and walk a lot of dogs to pay for that secondhand computer, but it was helping her expand her horizons.

Though she’d sold some things through online auctions for a small profit, her most successful venture so far was reading tarot for her online business, SexyTarot.com. While she was never going to get rich doing tarot readings, she was getting more clients as time went on, and she was helping people, as well. She truly believed that money, while necessary, wasn’t always the most important thing. At first SexyTarot.com had been free, but then repeat clients had wanted to make donations, the equivalent of tipping a waitress, she supposed. Several of them were relatively generous.

She heard Ronny curse, followed by a thunk, and she jumped around to find him hitting the side of the computer’s delicate screen.

“Ronny, please don’t do that!”

“This connection’s so slow. How do you ever get anything done?”

She looked at him and sighed. “Patience, I guess.”

And she needed loads of it, reminding herself that the machine was just a machine, and not worth hurting her brother’s feelings over. Still, she’d worked hard for everything she owned, from the kitchen towel to the laptop, and she treasured her possessions. Still, she’d trade them all rather than lose her brother.

“I think I’ll go out and get started on these flowers.”

“Yeah, you have a ball, doll.”

She smiled, loving when he called her sweet names. It was the first time anyone in her life had ever really used endearments toward her, and it felt like a hug every time. That got her through a lot of rough moments.

She walked outside into the morning sun, thinking about what flowers she could plant first. It would definitely cheer up the dilapidated outside of the building, and be a little advertising for her, as Ronny said. She’d have to get some poster board and make up a sign later.

She opened the bag of potting dirt and sank the trowel in, losing herself in thought as she planted. Connection with natural things eased her mind and improved her mood, as always. And she’d been a little more agitated the last few days. The feeling that things in life were about to shift followed her—the sense that change was on the way. Her cards supported the theory, and she even had an inkling what it might be.

EJB.

That’s the name by which she knew the man who had come to her for readings twice now, and reading for him had touched her deeply. He was a good man. He’d given her a nice donation the very first night, but that wasn’t why he was special. His charisma, intelligence and responsiveness in their conversations had reached out and pulled her in. She felt like they were connected though they had never met.

Charlotte read for a lot of people, and they talked about many intimate things, but she’d never had the sense of involvement that she’d felt with EJB. She wanted to be open to it, even though it scared her a little.

She’d see him again tonight, or rather, talk to him on the chat site where she did her readings. His questions so far had been more subtle than most—the first time he’d asked her “How can I find what I’m looking for?” and the second, “Where is the woman who can give me what I want?”

Right here, handsome.

He was The King of Cups and The Magician all rolled into one. Maybe a bit of The Devil thrown in, as well. No doubt about it, EJB was a sensualist, and a romantic. But she felt that his sensuality was being stifled, poured into other areas of his life, but not finding its fullest expression in love.

Heat moved through her as she thought of him. She caught herself poking the tender stem and roots of a plant into the dirt a little more roughly than intended, and whispered an apology to the little blossom. She fussed, focusing on her task for a moment; counting out the number of plants she had available, she divided them evenly, to make sure she had enough of each color for the boxes.

Sitting back, she tamped the back of her cotton gardening glove to her forehead—it was going to be very warm today—and sighed. Her romantic thoughts about EJB were foolish notions, but she wished she could meet someone who had some…depth. It would be great to experience something more romantic than the propositions she regularly got from Ronny’s less than desirable friends. Years in group and foster homes had taught her to be cautious when it came to men and sex. She’d never been abused, fortunately, but she’d had friends who were.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of men. She’d had a few lovers—youthful relationships borne of curiosity and affection yet nothing lasting—but she was never a girl to just fall into bed with anyone who offered. She and Ronny had been the children of a woman who had been promiscuous and careless in her sexual encounters, leaving her babies at the hospital for social services to take almost as soon as they’d been born.

Charlotte would never do that—she’d gone without family for so long that she could never leave a child behind. But she didn’t plan on ever having to make that decision. She wasn’t a one-night stand kind of girl; she wanted something more. She wanted romance. Real, honest-to-goodness love and romance. And maybe children, someday.

She selected some tiny Coleus specimens to plant around the base of the pansies—one of her secrets was to plant boxes with several tiers that developed over time—to shade the roots and retain the moisture in the southern heat. If the little purple-and-green leaves were pruned just right, they would remain small and low, covering the dirt of the box and providing lush background color for the flowers, and protecting the dirt from hard rains that often came with afternoon storms. It was like creating a tiny forest.

Her thoughts drifted back to EJB. She wondered what his real name was, and what he looked like. And if she dared to ask him. She was trying to run a professional service, and didn’t want to scare him away by being forward. He was a client who came to her for insight, after all. He’d trusted her with some of his innermost secrets and thoughts, spoken of his desires and needs. She couldn’t take advantage of that, though in their last discussion, when he’d asked her if she would tell him what she wanted, how to kiss her, she’d almost given in.

A riff of anticipation made her smile to herself as she finished one of the boxes—while she wasn’t one to wish her time away, she couldn’t wait to chat with him online again that evening.

EJ STRETCHED OUT on the beat-up leather sofa that dominated the den in his family home in Ghent, an upscale neighborhood close to downtown Norfolk. Though he loved the house, he didn’t spend much time here. In fact, he knew that deep down he was avoiding being here more than he had to. It had just gotten too quiet. Unless he had company—especially of the female variety—he would rather be out and about, doing something interesting, rather than haunting around the huge house on his own.

His mother had moved into a smaller house that their family owned near the shore shortly after his father had passed on, and his sister, Grace, lived downtown to be close to the office. It was a big house for one man, but he couldn’t part with it. He’d grown up here, a bustling place with beautiful gardens, filled with children, guests and pets. Maybe it would be again one day. His sister might get married, have children. She would probably want to live in the house, should that happen, and he would gladly find his own place.

Maybe he’d get a dog—walking dogs was supposed to be another good way to meet women. But that would probably require getting some little froufrou pooch, and he wasn’t up for that. Nah, if he got a canine friend, it would be a man’s dog—a Great Dane or maybe a Lab or a Weimaraner. A solid hunting dog.

He hadn’t been hunting since he was a boy. When he and his dad would drive to the Virginia woods, they’d spend more time talking than hunting. Still he’d snagged a few ducks and some deer in his younger years. A dog would come in handy for hunting. Right now though, he was gone far too much with his job to have the responsibility of a pet.

It was dark, and the crickets were singing out in the yard. Still musing, he filled his wineglass, settling back and waiting for his appointment to begin; he had a few minutes yet. But surprisingly, just as he was about to switch to another window, the SexyTarot logo appeared on his screen, and Charley’s sign-on signaled him that she was there. Early.

CHARLEY: Hi, EJB—are you ready? I know I’m a little early. My last appointment ended sooner than I thought.

EJB: No problems, I hope.

CHARLEY: None at all. How are you tonight?

EJB: Happy to be talking with you again. I’ve looked forward to this all day.

CHARLEY: Me, too.

EJ blinked—her direct response interested him. Was this the beginning of something new? His senses went on immediate alert.

EJB: Really?

CHARLEY: Yes. I was thinking about you…I mean, your cards, a lot today.

EJB: Why? Did something worry you?

CHARLEY: No, I was just moved by your last reading. There were some powerful moments, and I think we should explore what’s holding you back in life. In love.

EJB: Why do you think anything is holding me back?

CHARLEY: Look here at The Eight of Swords. What do you feel?

EJ looked as she provided an image of the card on the screen for them both to look at. A figure stood blindfolded, bound, encircled by swords.

EJB: I want to help her. She’s trapped, unhappy.

Charlotte sighed, staring at the screen. He was a rescuer. She loved men with strong protective instincts; they were the knights, the real romantics. The heroes. Not that she personally needed rescuing, of course.

CHARLEY: Perhaps it would be worth talking about what inhibits you—what you are holding back, and why.

EJB: Maybe it means I’d like to be tied up and blindfolded.

CHARLEY: (laughing) That’s always a possibility. Do you enjoy bondage?

EJB: I might, with the right person. I’m usually willing to try anything, once.

CHARLEY: I can see that—like we talked about last time, you’re a very sensual man. You crave it—but you also want more. Something deeper, more meaningful. Does that sound right?

She was way off, but he wasn’t about to let her know that. He was happy with his love life just the way it was, but he supposed she had a script of things she said to people to elicit certain responses. He was willing to play along.

EJB: I don’t know. I enjoy women. I don’t want to be tied down, but sometimes…

CHARLEY: Sometimes what?

EJB: I don’t know. I date a lot, and I love a woman in my bed, but sometimes there is something missing. Sharing. Warmth, I guess.

He watched the words he’d typed pop up on the screen, almost without him thinking about it, and he stopped typing, sitting back, blinking. It was happening again. With almost no effort, she managed to get him to tell her private thoughts, things he barely admitted to himself.

CHARLEY: So you are a romantic at heart. I felt that. You have an active sex life; your body is being engaged, but not your heart.

EJB: Do you enjoy romance, Charley?

CHARLEY: I think all women do.

EJB: I want to know about you.

CHARLEY: Let’s draw another card for you first. See what’s coming your way in terms of romance, of something deeper than one-night stands.

EJ waited a beat as she expertly deflected the attention from herself; maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

He saw another image pop up on the screen. The card didn’t have any images on it, but displayed a group of sticks—what he knew now was the tarot suit of Wands—flying through the air, the Roman numeral VIII printed clearly at the top.

CHARLEY: Eight of Wands—fire, movement and change. This seems like a favorable indication of new opportunities coming your way, but there’s some question about how well things will go, or if you are ready for what’s about to happen.

EJB: You get all that from looking at one card with sticks flying through the air?

CHARLEY: (laughing) Well, I’ve talked with you a few times now, so I’m detecting patterns. And it’s not all about the image itself. It’s the suit, the number, the element the suit represents. In this case, fire. Swords, in your previous card, represent air—your intellectual side, your thoughts, the mind. So the issues are between mind and heart, rationality and desire.

Looking at it elementally, fire is fed by air—so your thoughts, what’s going in inside your mind, are feeding these passions you feel, maybe in some form of dreams or wishes, but they’re also holding you back, as the Eight of Swords indicated. You’re being careful. Guarded. The question is why? What are you worried about?

The fact that both cards are eights is also important—numbers have lots of various interpretations, but in Chinese mythology this number is very auspicious, suggesting a time of growth and change, new beginnings. So I think you have a lot to look forward to, though it doesn’t hurt to be careful. When we want something bad enough, we can be blind to the consequences.

EJ sat back, watching her analysis roll out on the screen, fascinated in spite of himself, and then quickly got a grip. This was the danger, that she could figure out what he needed to hear—that was the hook. And she was very good—however she arrived at her conclusions, or maybe it was in the delivery, she made him want to believe.

EJ decided the moment was right to push things a little further.

EJB: It feels good to talk with someone who understands. Who can see the things I need, what’s inside.

CHARLEY: We all need that.

EJB: True, but I feel like we have a…connection. You have somehow managed to see things about me that even my closest friends don’t know.

Charlotte sat back, looking warily at the words EJB typed in, unsure how to respond. It seemed like he was reading her mind, mirroring her thoughts. She’d been purposely trying to keep things less sexual tonight, concentrating on his deeper needs, his emotional situation, but even so, she still had this in credible feeling of electricity just talking to him. And apparently he felt it, too.

She knew it was breaking her own set of professional rules, but she followed her heart.

CHARLEY: I know. I’ve felt it, too. But it’s not right for me to get personally involved with a client…

EJB: How could this not be personal? Everything we’ve shared has been personal. Intimate.

CHARLEY: I’ve just never had this happen before. It’s very powerful.

Yeah, right. EJ rolled his eyes, ignoring his own increased heartbeat, telling himself it was just excitement at setting the trap while he tapped at the keys, playing out the conversation.

EJB: Me, either. But I feel like the change that the cards say is coming into my life is…you. Maybe the risk I’m supposed to take involves you.

CHARLEY: You really think so?

Charlotte’s heart beat furiously, and her palms were actually sweating. On some level she’d known this was going to happen—there had just been something about their previous conversation that suggested it—but still, she couldn’t believe it was really happening. It was so…romantic. She and this man she’d never met had a genuine, spiritual bond, and it was the most romantic thing she’d ever experienced. He wasn’t like other men who were condescending about her spirituality or her tarot reading, or who approached sex as if it were a sport. EJB was sensitive, expressive and open.

EJB: What do the cards say?

She picked up her deck, and shuffled carefully, holding the deck close by her heart, feeling the cool breeze from the window against her overly warm skin as she cut the deck and took the card from the top, flipping it over slowly, hoping…The Lovers.

3

CHARLOTTE’S HEART leapt as she looked down at the nude figures intertwined in a passionate embrace even though she knew the cards were not literal—seeing the Death card didn’t mean you were going to die, and seeing The Lovers didn’t necessarily mean you were going to become romantically involved. But it didn’t mean you weren’t, either. It all depended on free will, and what she decided to do at this very critical moment. She could walk away, or she could take a chance.

She clicked the image so it appeared on the screen for EJB to see, too, not typing a word.

EJB: That’s amazing.

CHARLEY: It can be about difficult situations, and making good choices. It’s not always about romance.

EJB: Maybe we should choose to make it about romance.

CHARLEY: (smiling) I was kind of hoping you’d say that.

She let out a happy little squeak after she’d typed the words, bopping up and down and nearly knocking the laptop from its perch on her thighs. She was excited as all get out. Could this really be happening to her?

Thoughts raced through her mind. What did EJB look like? What was his voice like? What color were his eyes? He had to be handsome, with the active sex life he’d mentioned. She thought about that for a second, and shrugged. So what if he was a bit of a playboy? If she was going to try to have a romance, it might as well be with a man who knew what he was doing.

She wondered what his real name was. She had seen his credit card payment, but it just said his last name—Beaumont—and the first two initials. She wanted to know his first name, so she could see how it felt moving past her lips for the very first time.

EJB: Can we set the tarot cards aside for a few minutes and get to know each other a little bit?

CHARLEY: Okay. I was just thinking I wanted to know what your real first name was.

EJB: (smiling) I guess that’s a good place to start. Actually, I usually go by my initials, EJ, since my dad, and my grandad, had the same first and middle names. But my full name is Ethan Jared Beaumont.

Charlotte pressed a hand to her heart, inhaling and then whispering the name on the breath she released. He even had a romantic name, for goodness sake. She said it over a few times, and then answered.

CHARLEY: May I call you Ethan?

EJB: I kind of prefer EJ, only because my dad was Ethan, and I’d rather hear my name than his off your beautiful lips. And I assume your real name is not Charley?

CHARLEY: No, but it’s a shortened form of my real name, Charlotte.

EJB: That’s beautiful—it’s incredibly sexy. I’ve never known a woman with that name. Until you.

Charlotte felt herself blush, and rolled her eyes at herself. Oh, my.

CHARLEY: Thank you. What else would you like to talk about? I asked about names, so I guess it’s your turn.

EJB: Personally, I’m wondering what you like in bed. What your favorite spot to be touched is, what makes you cry out.

CHARLEY: I haven’t had all that much experience finding out, I’m afraid to say. Does that bother you?

EJ scowled at the screen. What game was she playing now? He was supposed to be playing the dupe, letting himself appear to be reeled in, so he played along.

EJB: Are you saying you’re a virgin?

CHARLEY: (laughing) No, not quite. But it’s been a while. A long while.

EJB: Care to share why?

CHARLEY: Nothing earthshaking, just life. I had other priorities and, well, I don’t make a habit out of having casual sex.

EJB: That’s good to know. I can’t say I’ve been serious with anyone in a while, either, though I’m open to the idea. With the right person. It’s just that between running the family business and dealing with life, there hasn’t been time to find her.

He sat back in his chair, smiling. That should bait the hook nicely. If she hadn’t recognized his name already as part of one of Norfolk’s leading families, she at least knew he was successful in some sense.

CHARLEY: Work can be rewarding, but it’s hard to not let it take over your life and crowd out everything else.

EJB: True. I love my work, but I’m finding you to be quite the distraction. I was thinking about you all day at work today.

CHARLEY: You were? Why?

EJB: I guess it’s the things you shared with me. The intimacy between us. We may not have had sex—yet—but we talked about it, and you’ve gotten under my skin.

CHARLEY: EJ…I don’t know what to say.

EJB: Say you’ll meet me.

CHARLEY: That may not actually be possible.

EJB: Where do you live?

CHARLEY: Virginia.

EJB: Where in Virginia?

CHARLEY: On the coast. Norfolk.

EJB: Charley, fate is on our side.

CHARLEY: Why do you say that?

EJB: I live in Norfolk, too.

Charlotte sat back, stunned. Was this possible? She’d heard a lot of stories about people meeting on the Internet, traveling incredible distances to be together, but ending up in the same city? She might not be so surprised in an enormous population like New York City, but for two people in Norfolk—the sheer magic of it floored her, and she had no idea what to say.

EJB: Charlotte. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you. This is a huge coincidence, I know, but it’s not all that uncommon these days. Maybe we’re just lucky. Maybe it’s fate. Are you okay?

CHARLEY: Not scared. Amazed.

EJ sighed—of course. Amazed because she believed she’d found yet another dupe to rob blind. He was surprised she hadn’t backed off when he ended up living in the same town, and wanted to meet. Maybe Ian was right and she was just the information gathering point for a larger operation, because he’d expected it would be safer for her to stay anonymous—unless she was angling for a bigger take.

If she’d checked out his registration information, and the credit card information from his donation, she would know a lot about him already. She’d know he lived in a wealthy neighborhood, and that he was in her backyard. He supposed she had to play it cool, pretend like she had no idea. She might know a lot of other things, depending on how good she was with a computer network.

He wanted to get to the bottom of this. Whatever was going on, Charlotte Gerard was part of it, and he wanted to find out how. No doubt they had other victims on the line, and he wanted to close this down before they took some other poor guy’s life savings.

EJB: Charlotte, can you do another reading for me? In person.

CHARLEY: I’d love to, EJ. That would be perfect.

EJB: I understand your concerns, and we could meet in a public place, a café, if you like.

Charlotte sat back, considering. She knew that was the smart thing to do, but she didn’t like the idea of meeting EJ with lots of people around, or reading for him in public, which was bound to be a very personal experience, considering.

Putting her faith in the universe, she flipped another card: The Fool. While she might be foolish to take such a leap, the card generally advised taking a chance, and trusting that things would work out. So she held her breath and took the plunge.

CHARLEY: No, I’d really rather meet you at your house.

She decided, ultimately, that it was safer to meet him at his place, so he didn’t find out where she lived. Also, if the residence looked sketchy, she could just leave.

EJ: Thank you, Charlotte. I have a feeling this is going to be life-changing for both of us.

THE NEXT DAY, Charlotte stepped from the taxi, smoothing her yellow and white pinstriped seersucker sundress and catching her breath at the sight before her. It was the most beautiful house she’d ever seen, with the ivy-covered porch and bursts of spring flowers everywhere.

Its grandness could have been off-putting with the porch’s sturdy columns and iron rails, but everything was wrapped in green and color, the plants were mature and well-tended. No modern landscaping could rival it. This gorgeous old house had known love, nurturing and happy times.

It must also be worth a fortune. She counted the beautiful, multi-paned windows on just the front—twenty-one. Wow. She looked up to the third floor, wondering what it would be like to gaze from one of those windows down on the magnolias that were just past their peak. The grass was green and lush, without a weed in sight. Relatively assured the man she was meeting was probably not an axe-murderer—not that money guaranteed against that, but she was willing to err on the side of her instincts—she waved to the taxi driver and sent him on his way with a smile.

Stepping up on the porch, she pushed the buzzer and waited, heart pounding. The man who would open the door had been sizzling in her fantasies for days, and now she was going to meet him face-to-face. Not one to succumb to nerves so easily, she was virtually vibrating with excitement and anticipation.

Nothing happened. No one arrived at the door. Pushing one curl, damp from the heat and plastered to her forehead, back in place, she hit the buzzer again, this time, holding it down longer, frowning.

Still nothing. Pursing her lips, she took a deep breath. She didn’t believe EJ was the kind of man to stand her up—especially on the porch of his very own home. She decided to look out back.

Sure enough, as she rounded the end of a long, curving drive, she spotted a man working in the yard and caught her breath again.

Oh my.

Standing atop a wooden ladder by the side of a large gazebo, he was stretched tall, wearing only low-slung jeans and a white T-shirt that clung, grooming the very fruitful wisteria that covered the panels of the charming structure. He must be the gardener—maybe he’d know where EJ was.

But Charlotte just stood there and watched for a moment. How could she do anything but? He was gorgeous. His muscles clenched and released as he maneuvered the clippers around the curves of the beautiful vine, taking care not to damage the huge, lavender-blue blossoms.

Watching him work told her more than the man would probably ever suspect. How he gently worked his way around the blossoms, how he made precise cuts.

Heat gathered low in her stomach, and she tried to control the flush that moved up into her cheeks as carnal images flashed through her mind. She was here to see one man, and getting all hot and bothered over another. She shook her head, surprised. It wasn’t her habit to gawk, but as she let her eyes travel up the length of the man’s taut form, resting for a few moments on his narrow, masculine hips and backside, she couldn’t suppress a sharp twist of desire.

She was going to meet EJ looking flushed and bewildered, and she didn’t want to be sending out the wrong signals. They’d acknowledged the spark between them online, and now they had to see if it would fade in real life. She knew she was there for much more than a reading—but if she thought about that too much she wouldn’t be able to take one more step forward.

Time to stop ogling the gardener.

Gathering her composure, she stepped forward, a little more nervous than she had been. The grounds of the house were huge, and she walked slowly through the gorgeous yard where everything was blossoming, eager to burst from the bud. Her body felt heavy and warm the closer she got to the gazebo, and she pushed her hair back from her forehead again. Finally she stopped, trying to control her voice as she observed him close-up.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for EJ Beaumont. Could you tell me where to find him?” She wished her voice wasn’t so breathless, but it was the best she could do.

The clipping stopped and the man turned slowly on the ladder, looking down at her with clear green eyes that warmed as he looked at her. His gaze was as lush as the foliage surrounding him, and she couldn’t look away.

“Charlotte.” Her name escaped from his lips on a husky welcome, his genteel southern drawl softening the consonants and making it sound much more romantic than she’d ever thought it was.

“EJ?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Oh. My. God. The gardener was EJ?

He didn’t step down from the ladder right away, but stayed there, towering above her, taking her in as if he never wanted to stop looking at her. He didn’t say another word, and she started to feel like a bug under a microscope. But then he smiled.

She double-stepped a little, thinking she’d hit an uneven patch in the yard. Either that or this was the first time in her life a man’s smile had literally tipped her off balance. She looked up, dazed, and he smiled even more widely, starting down the ladder.

“Charlotte,” he repeated, as if feeling her name with his mouth, melting her knees in the process. She almost backed up a step, mesmerized and trying to escape his spell, clearly in over her head. But she held her ground, waiting.

She opened her mouth but no sound came out as he walked up close, and took both of her hands in his. His skin was warm from his work, his hands rough but not calloused, his touch welcoming but not inappropriate. Curling her fingers around his was the most natural move in the world, and she lifted her eyes and fell into heaven.

“EJ,” she said again. “Oh. I thought you were the gardener.” She swallowed, catching her breath. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry you’re the gardener—that’s a fine profession and I love gardens, but I am a little early, I have this thing about time, I like to be on time, I hate to be late, so I end up being early all the time, but being early can be just as rude as being late, but…”

She ended her babble, staring haplessly, watching him nod slowly and seriously as if every word coming out of her mouth made absolute sense.

She felt a rush of disbelief and confusion. How could this amazingly hot…stud—it was the only word she could think of—not be taken? How could he not have the woman of his choice in his bed every night? What was he doing getting tarot readings online and standing here with her?

Chasing away the self-denigrating thought, she smiled and looked around the yard, trying to ignore the fact that he was still holding onto her hands.

“I’m not the gardener, Charlotte, I just like to work outside from time to time. This is my family home, though I’m the only one who lives here now. With my work, I spend a lot of time inside at a desk, so I try to get outdoors and do things when I get the opportunity.”

“Your home is gorgeous. I’ve never seen wisteria that prolific.” Thank God, she managed to say something halfway intelligent that time. She even sounded normal.

“Really?” He glanced back and then returned his gaze to her. “It’s hard to keep it from invading, actually. This one is almost fifteen years old, and we have to make sure we don’t let it take over the yard.”

“Oh. We?” she asked vaguely, still looking into his handsome face. His mouth was firm and straight—he had nice, manly lips, not too full, but a perfect complement to his slightly sharpened cheekbones, tanned skin and sandy hair. Spontaneously combusting from the inside out, she wondered what he would taste like.

“Well, it’s just me now. I used to work out here with my mother quite a bit, but she moved shortly after my father died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear you lost your father.”

“Thanks, but it’s been years. Mom’s seeing someone new, even.”

“Oh.” He was so close his scent permeated her space—ginger, moss and earthy, delicious man—and she closed her eyes, letting it envelop her.

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes flew open quickly—she’d completely forgotten herself. My God, the man had her in a swoon! She almost giggled, feeling uncharacteristically light, excited, and buzzing like one of the bees on the flowers.

“I’m fine. I was just getting a good vibe, is all.”

“You’re from New England.”

“Yes, New Hampshire.”

“It’s beautiful there. I like your accent.”

She laughed then, forgetting how different she sounded here until someone mentioned it. “Thanks. New England is great, but I like it much better here. I like the sun and the warmth.”

As if on cue, her face flushed once more when he stroked a thumb absently—or purposefully—over her palm before letting her fingers go. His eyes had darkened a shade to the most stunning jade she’d ever seen. None of this seemed real, including EJ.

“Let me wash up and we can get to know each other a little. You did bring your cards?”

“Oh, yes, they’re in my bag.”

“Let’s go inside. I’m looking forward to this.”

Charlotte thought, following behind as he led the way, that saying she felt the same way would be a radical understatement.

EJ HAD RARELY been rendered speechless in his lifetime, but he was just glad he’d been able to get his wits about him as quickly as he did. When he’d heard the soft female voice speak to him and turned to find her standing there, he’d almost fallen from the ladder.

He wasn’t expecting her early, and he wasn’t expecting…he wasn’t sure. To feel so bowled over, maybe. But the real Charlotte was very different than the pictures in her file. She packed a wallop up close.

The image of her standing, looking up at him on the ladder, was burnt into his mind. If he’d known how beautiful she was, their online chat would have brought him to his knees. Baby-soft looking blond curls flew everywhere in charming disarray, framing what could only be described as an angelic face, with a petite nose, doe-brown eyes, and petal-pink lips that had him sweating with the effort to stem his body’s visceral response.

But it was too late—he could imagine that sweet, moist mouth wrapped around him, sending him skyrocketing into pleasure. He adjusted his gardening belt to hide the result of that momentary flight of fancy.

Charlotte was petite, the top of her head only coming to his mid-chest, but she wasn’t slight or dainty—supple and lush were probably better terms. She wore no makeup that he could see, no stockings, and just a simple silver chain around her wrist. He wondered what she wore under that dress, if anything.

The light yellow shift didn’t accentuate her curves, but hugged her breasts and butt enticingly as he slowed down and let her move ahead of him. Those huge brown eyes took in everything, thanking him quietly when he held the door for her and let her in the back door, to the kitchen. She wore thick, chunky sandals, and her toenails were painted with clear polish. She looked…earthy. Sensual, but innocent.

But EJ knew she wasn’t. Even if she wasn’t a thief, she was connected to the scam somehow. And how she’d talked to him about his sex life indicated she was far from inexperienced and pure—though that didn’t make it easier to calm his reactions. It would be to her benefit to look innocent, seductive—he had to remember she was on the make. And he was fighting the urge to be a willing victim. Hell, she hadn’t needed to rob people online—if she’d met those men in person, they probably would gladly give her anything she wanted.

Which made him wonder what she wanted, what she liked.

Trying to sound casual, he poured her a glass of lemonade and excused himself to change. He hoped to find some shred of self-control in the process.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he said, smiling as he handed her the glass. “Make yourself comfortable, feel free to look around.”

Leaving before she could even acknowledge him, he took a deep breath and hopped the stairs two at a time to his room. Ducking into a quick, rinsing shower, he dried off and found a clean pair of pants and a decent shirt. He hoped Charlotte did show herself around.

He wanted to make himself an irresistible target, to sweeten the pot so that she couldn’t resist. He’d even left a checkbook—not his real one, of course—sitting innocuously on the counter, waiting for inquiring eyes to investigate and perhaps memorize his account number. Baiting the trap.

When he hit the bottom of the stairs, his stomach clenched nonetheless when he saw her holding his grandmother’s music box.

“It’s an antique from the 1800s. My grandfather had it made for my grandmother for their wedding, and it is passed on when each son or daughter marries. It will go to my sister, Grace, if she ever decides to marry, and if not, to my wife. Should I ever marry, as well.”

She smiled, setting it down carefully. “It’s gorgeous. It must be so nice to have that kind of family history, things that are passed down from one person to another.”

“Doesn’t your family pass things down?”

He felt a little stab of guilt saying that, knowing what he knew about her past—there’d been no family, let alone family heirlooms for Charlotte Gerard—but he wasn’t supposed to know that. After a slight shadow passed over her face, she brightened again.

“No, not before. I didn’t know my parents. But for me, maybe in the future there will be children, if the situation is right. And I’d love to have things to pass along, though nothing this beautiful, I’m sure.”

He stepped closer, reaching down to touch the smooth mahogany box and looking at her reassuringly. “It’s not about the price of the item. It’s about who had it before. That’s what makes heirlooms important. Every time I play this, I think of my grandmother. And I remember how my grandfather loved her.”

Charlotte was gazing up at him with every hopeful thought shining in her eyes, and she looked like the least likely thief he’d ever met. Clearing his throat, a bit unsettled at the open adoration in her expression, he gestured to the table.

“Do you still want to do a reading for me?”

“Absolutely.”

Was that light in her eyes due to the undeniable sexual attraction between them or excitement over finding such easy pickings? EJ smiled, walking closely by her side and trying to remember she was a suspect, even though her sexy scent was criminal in an entirely different way.

“Do you have any preference where you read?”

She shrugged. “Not really. A table is nice, and if I can get a north-facing chair, even better, but I read cards just about anywhere.”

EJ opted not to ask about the north-facing chair issue but showed her to the sunny kitchen table and watched her sit, leaning over to retrieve the cards from her bag, and he couldn’t stop himself from admiring the generous cleavage the move exposed.

He’d always preferred smaller women with streamlined builds—compact, but feminine. However, he found himself imagining what it would be like to weigh the roundness of Charlotte’s breasts in his palms, to nestle his face in the warmth of all that fullness. The thought nearly paralyzed him with need. He blinked, realizing she’d said something to him. He didn’t hear the words, but he zeroed in on the movement of those delicious lips.

“I’m sorry, what?”

She smiled, and a bright pink stain bloomed in her cheeks. No surprise, he probably hadn’t been very discreet about his leering. She didn’t seem offended, in fact, a pleased sparkle danced in those deep brown irises.

A touch of cynicism straightened his back—of course she didn’t mind. She was probably thrilled that he was so easy to lure in, to distract. That he was so obviously lusting after her. She looked through the deck quickly, pulling out a card and placing it in front of him, face up.

“The King of Pentacles. This is your significator.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s just a representation of you. Who you are in the reading. Kings are usually used to represent mature males. At first, only knowing you online, I would have been tempted to choose the King of Wands or Cups, but seeing you here, in your home and in the gardens, I can’t help but choose pentacles.”

“If you say so.”

EJ didn’t miss the symbolism; maybe Charlotte was giving away too much through her selection of cards without realizing it. Though nature was a prominent element in the image on the card, the figure sat upon a throne and was blanketed with riches. Not very subtle, actually; it was clear how she was seeing him.

Maybe there was something to be said for this tarot business. He studied the card more closely, seemingly unaware of her watching him, when in reality he was attuned to her every breath, her every move.

“Just focus on the significator and your question while I shuffle.”

“Shouldn’t we hold hands or something?”

She smiled patiently. “That’s for a séance. We’re fine as we are—I couldn’t shuffle the deck if we held hands. Focus, now.”

He obeyed her gentle command, feeling foolish and intrigued at the same time. She seemed to really be into it. She put the cards in front of him and asked him to cut them into three piles then recombine them. He did so, and waited as she asked for his question and started to turn out cards.

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