Nothing can shake a cop from pursuing justice—except a beautiful witness marked for death, in New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster’s sexy new series…

When Detective Logan Riske goes undercover to find Pepper Yates, a potential link to his best friend’s unsolved murder, he vows to gain her cooperation by any means necessary. But the elusive beauty is more suspicious—and in far more danger—than he expected. And the last thing Logan needs is to start caring for her….

Pepper has spent years dodging the corrupt club owner who will stop at nothing to keep her silenced. She can trust no one, not even the handsome new “construction worker” who’s moved in next door. The heat between them is undeniable. But will surrendering to passion bring her the safety she so desires—or will her feelings for Logan draw them both into a killer’s crosshairs?

Praise for New York Times bestselling author

Lori Foster

“Bestseller Foster…has an amazing ability to capture a man’s emotions and lust with sizzling sex scenes and meld it with a strong woman’s point of view.”

—Publishers Weekly on A Perfect Storm

“Foster rounds out her searing trilogy with a story that tilts toward the sizzling and sexy side of the genre.”

—RT Book Reviews on Savor the Danger

“The fast-paced thriller keeps these well-developed characters moving.… Foster’s series will continue to garner fans with this exciting installment.”

—Publishers Weekly on Trace of Fever

“Steamy, edgy and taut.”

—Library Journal on When You Dare

“Foster writes smart, sexy, engaging characters.”

—New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan

“Intense, edgy and hot. Lori Foster delivers everything you’re looking for in a romance.”

—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz on Hard to Handle

“Lori Foster delivers the goods.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Tension, temptation, hot action and hotter romance—Lori Foster has it all! Hard to Handle is a knockout!”

—New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth Lowell

Dear Reader,

As I draw to a close on each series, wonderful readers always ask me for more. You can’t know how much that means to me! I’m thrilled that you enjoyed the Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor books, and it’s very rewarding to know you’d be happy for more stories with those characters. But I always go where my muse takes me, and now, with my new Love Undercover series, it’s taken me to some wonderfully complicated relationships where, out of necessity, the hero or heroine—or both!—are hiding their true identities...and falling in love anyway! How fun is that?

Well, I think it’s fun! I grin a lot while writing, so I hope you grin while reading.

And I especially hope that by the time this series draws to a close (several books from now!) you’ll write to me...and ask for more.

That’s the best compliment an author can get!

Here’s to happy reading!

Run the Risk

Lori Foster

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Jenna Scott and Gary Tabke, I have immense respect for all law enforcement officers, but I know little about the inner workings.

Thank you both for all the insight, the research help, and for answering my numerous questions.

Any errors or exaggerations are my own (because really, sometimes we writers need to make things work!) but hopefully, thanks to you both, the story is believable.

Here’s to the writing community—authors and readers alike.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

PEPPER YATES FELT the intense scrutiny stroking over her as she made her way to her apartment building. She’d been feeling it for over two weeks now, ever since her new neighbor had moved in, but she’d never get used to it.

Dangerous anticipation crawled up her spine.

She didn’t acknowledge the man leaning over his balcony, muscular arms folded along the railing, shirtless, smiling—tracking her every move.

She didn’t, in any way, encourage him. He was out of her league in a big way. His attention made her tense, more so with every incident.

Uncertainty gave her a faltering step, causing her cheap canvas slip-on sneakers to make an obnoxious shuffling sound. Her long skirt kicked around her shins. Her chest constricted.

Keeping her head down, her paper bags of groceries held securely in her arms, she pretended not to notice him.

She should win an Oscar for her performance, because seriously, who wouldn’t notice him? If she had to guess, she’d say women came to him easily. He had that type of raw, cocky presence.

The kind of presence that left her on edge.

It probably ate him up that she ignored him. That was the only explanation for his continued attention. But what else could she do?

The hot August sun beat down on her head. She would dearly love a cool swim right about now. But not with him around.

Actually…not ever.

It seemed her carefree days of swimming were well behind her. It made her sad to think of all that had been lost, all that she’d had to forfeit, in the name of survival.

But thanks to her brother, she had survived, she reminded herself. And that’s what mattered most.

It was also the number one reason she couldn’t be drawn in by the new neighbor’s lure.

He should have a big D for danger on his oft-naked chest.

As she hastened her steps in, Pepper dropped her head so far that her chin nearly touched her chest.

Of course he called out to her. He always called out to her. It made no sense, but her rebuffs hadn’t dissuaded him at all.

The man had a rock-solid ego.

“Evening, Ms. Meeks.”

When she’d taken the alias, it hadn’t been a big deal, because she wasn’t a big deal. Few ever spoke to her. None ever called out to her.

But he did.

She drew a fortifying breath, peeked up at him and gave a subdued nod. “Evening.”

He disappeared off the balcony and she just knew he was coming inside to corral her in the narrow hallway.

Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?

The apartment building was…unpleasant. Peeling paint from the walls, mold in the corners, carpet with stains she didn’t want to investigate too closely…

She knew why she was there.

Why was he?

Dreading every foot that brought her closer to him, she went up the squeaking steps to her second-floor apartment, and…there he was.

Knowing he waited for her, she stalled.

He lounged back against his door, which was right next to hers, arms crossed over his bare chest, his brown hair disheveled, five o’clock shadow on his jaw. He wore only wrinkled khaki shorts that hung low on his lean hips—and he took her breath away.

Seeing him again had the same impact it’d had the first time she’d laid eyes on him. He was so sinfully appealing that it staggered her senses.

What did he want?

Not the usual, not with how he looked, and how…she looked. So then, why did he so relentlessly pursue her?

The long walk to the grocery and back again—something she usually enjoyed—left her hot, damp with perspiration and in no mood for playing games.

At least, not these games.

She had to avoid his gaze or—humiliating thought—he just might see everything she felt, everything she thought.

About him. About the incredible body that he insisted on displaying.

And how she’d like to rub her body all over his…

“Hey.”

Before she could figure out a way to dodge him, he pushed away from the wall, his smile welcoming, his dark eyes warm. She swallowed her sigh. “Hello.”

“Here, let me help you with that.”

Like she couldn’t handle a few bags of groceries? Why was he bothering her like this? Flustered, talking too fast, Pepper said, “That’s okay, really. I’ve got—”

He scooped the bags away from her and gestured for her to precede him to her apartment.

“—it.” Left empty-armed and unnerved, she kept her shoulders slumped and did her best to bank her reaction to him. “Really, Mr. Stark, I don’t—”

“We’re neighbors, so call me Logan.”

She didn’t want to call him anything and tried to convey that with a show of umbrage. “Really, Mr. Stark, I don’t need any help.”

His grin widened. Teasing. Flirting. “You are so prickly.”

How could he make that sound like a compliment? “I am not—”

He snatched her keys from her, too, and short of grabbing for them, which would only make her look foolish, she had no choice but to follow him.

“—prickly,” she muttered—probably in a really prickly way. While he unlocked her door, she stared at his broad back. He was tanned, his sleek skin almost as damp as her own.

Her fingers twitched with the need to touch him, to coast her palms over his heated skin and taut muscles.

He turned toward her, and she got the up close and personal view of his chest. It shocked her, but she noticed his small brown nipples, how soft chest hair half hid them…

“If not prickly, then what?”

She glanced up, saw he’d been watching her as she studied him, and wanted to sink into the floor. Her face went hot, her body hotter—but probably not for the reasons he assumed.

“I’m private.” Although, the way she’d just looked at him, sort of eye-raping him—oh, God—it was no wonder he didn’t understand that.

Every single time he got within her view, she visually molested him. His fault in part, because he always had so much skin on display; she wasn’t used to anyone like him, anyone who looked as good as he did.

A touch to her chin brought up her face and nearly stopped her heart. “Saying hi to a neighbor somehow intrudes on your privacy?”

No, no, no. He couldn’t touch her. She couldn’t let him touch her. Time to escape.

Ducking around him, Pepper swung the door open, stepped in fast ahead of him, then turned to block his way. “I barely know you.”

“I’m trying to remedy that, right?” He looked into her apartment with curiosity and surprise. One brow lifted at the mess she knew he saw.

So she wasn’t übertidy. So she was actually a slob. Maybe that would repel him.

“I keep to myself.” She awkwardly snatched back her groceries and straightened her spine. “Others should do the same.”

“Yeah, maybe I could.” Giving up his scrutiny of her cluttered living space, he leaned in her door frame—all six-feet-plus of him. His broad shoulders kept her from closing the door.

Patient, silent, he waited for her to meet his gaze.

Girding herself, Pepper looked up—and felt caressed by his suggestive, intimate attention. She cleared her throat and prompted him with, “You could…what?”

“Maybe stop chasing your skirt.” His voice dropped. “If you weren’t so damn cute.”

Shock took her back a step.

Cute? He must be deranged, because no way was he desperate. Why would he say such an absurd thing?

His expression softened. “You don’t think you’re cute?”

The laugh strangled in her throat, and her automatic “No” sounded like a croak.

Cute? Hardly. She kept her dull blond hair pulled back in a low, unflattering ponytail at the nape of her neck, showcasing a face devoid of even the most subtle makeup. She wore clothes any respectable grandmother would disdain, with shoes so ugly they made her sad when she stepped into them.

She slumped when she walked, mumbled when she talked. Or at least, she remembered to mumble when a certain neighbor didn’t push her past the breaking point.

“Well, I think you are,” he said, still watching her, his tone almost…pitying.

How dare he feel sorry for her?

Pride rose to the forefront, returning her backbone. “Is that a joke, Mr. Stark?”

Shifting his stance, he leaned in and—while she held her breath—said with distinct insistence, “Call me Logan.”

Oh, good Lord. He was close enough that she felt his warm, moist breath and could see the thick, dark lashes on his eyes.

Bedroom eyes.

Her temperature spiked. “Oh, umm…”

Those sexy lips lifted into a satisfied grin. “And I’ll call you…?”

When Pepper only stared at him, a little dazed, his grin twitched. And man, oh, man, she wanted to kiss that mouth of his.

Kiss it and…other things.

Catching herself, Pepper shook her head and tried to ease the door shut. “Goodbye, Mr. Stark.”

His big hand flattened on the door near her shoulder. “Come on, throw me a bone here.” Without much effort, he held the door open. “How will it hurt if I have your name?”

What to do, what to do?

He was so pushy that her continued refusal looked absurd.

Grudgingly, she said, “Sue.”

Now more amused, he admitted, “I know.”

“Beg pardon?”

“You manage the building, so I already saw your name on my rental agreement.” He tweaked her chin again. “But I wanted to hear you say it anyway.”

Her huff of affront did nothing to get him out of her doorway.

“So.” He looked up and down the hallway. “You’re a woman alone, and this isn’t the best apartment building, or the best neighborhood.”

Now he was a master of understatement? “You’re insulting my management skills?” Did he think that’d win her over?

“You’re only responsible for notifying the owner if rent is late or repairs are needed, right?” Without letting her reply to that, he said, “Let me leave you my number. Anything comes up, or if anyone bothers you—”

“You’re bothering me.”

His gaze zeroed in on her mouth. “That’s why you’re flushed?”

Oh, God. More heat rushed to her skin’s surface. “Really, Mr. Stark—”

“Logan,” he corrected softly. “Say it for me. Just once. Then I’ll go.”

He wanted to…seduce her?

So it appeared. And worse, he succeeded just by presence alone. “Logan,” she agreed through stiff lips. “I need to go.” Before I do something stupid—like invite you in.

Or kiss you.

Or drag you down to the floor and—

He pulled a card from his pocket. “My number. Seriously. Any problem at all—or if you just want to visit—give me a call, okay?”

“All right.” Not on your life. “Thank you.”

As if he knew her thoughts, he gave a warm laugh and stepped out of the doorway. “See you later, Sue.”

Not if I see you first. “Goodbye, Logan.” She started to close the door.

And he said, “Now that wasn’t so painful, was it?”

She clicked the door shut in his face, then dropped against it.

Painful? Not exactly.

Stirring? She felt like a blender on high speed, all her emotions, all her dormant desires, churning together in a frenzy.

It had been too long—like forever—and she was too deprived to be around a specimen like him without imagining the impossible. She needed to find a way to avoid him, but she’d have to do it without causing suspicion. And there was the rub.

Avoiding him was suspicious.

Pepper turned so that it was her shoulders against her door. Head down, eyes closed, she struggled to come up with a plan.

Maybe, she reasoned to herself, she was going about this all wrong. Any woman would be flattered by Mr. Stark’s attention.

A woman like her, especially so.

Slowly, she lifted her head. Did she have a good reason to engage him in conversation? To get to know him better?

She pressed her hands to her cheeks and fought off a smile.

Yes, that’s what she would do. She would stop deflecting him, and instead—she’d shyly reciprocate. If that didn’t scare him off once and for all, she didn’t know what would.

* * *

LOGAN RISKE SAUNTERED back to his temporary digs with a feeling of encouragement.

So he’d had to be pushy. Again.

So he’d had to practically force a conversation on her. At least this time, he’d been successful.

More than successful.

The lady could deny it till doomsday, but he felt her awareness. If her damned brother didn’t have her so cowed, she’d probably be knocking on his door right now.

Thinking of her brother, Rowdy Yates, always soured his mood. No doubt Rowdy had run roughshod over her for years, so Logan had to proceed cautiously.

He ran a hand over his chest, considering all the twists and turns of her ruse. It was a ruse—he couldn’t be wrong about that. Yes, she looked different from the photos he had, but there was something in the eyes, in the way she looked at him.

Pepper Yates.

After two years of searching, the end drew near.

She was the one woman he needed, the link that’d get him everything he’d worked for.

He thought about the small grainy photos online, the newspaper reports. Her wide-eyed innocence had shown through. She looked a little worse now than she had two years ago, but he supposed running, and hiding, and putting up with her brother could do that to a woman.

His hands curled into fists.

Most everything he’d uncovered had been on Rowdy Yates, but bits and pieces of Pepper had surfaced, as well. He knew she was younger than thirty, and he knew she was shy.

He hadn’t known she would be so tall. At around five-ten, she stood only three inches shorter than him. And while no one would accuse her of being pretty, he hadn’t known that her light brown eyes would be so expressive. When she looked directly at him, he felt it.

All over.

Her hair was so dark a blond, it was nearly brown. Long, but lank. Dull. Untidy, with frizzy ends, despite her habit of securing it in a ponytail.

And still he wanted to see it loose. He wanted to feel it in his hands.

And speaking of untidy… His quick glimpse of her living room had been a shocker. He’d just naturally assumed that a plain Jane like her would be ultraneat, like the stereotypical mousy woman who lived like a maiden aunt.

Ha! Not even close.

Clothes, magazines, empty cola cans and a pizza box had all littered her small living space. Beyond that area he’d seen a towel on the floor of her bathroom, and through an open door, her unmade bed with a quilt more off the bed than on it.

For some reason, knowing she wasn’t a neat freak made him smile. It was such a contradiction to his assumptions.

He again pictured her sloppy bed and wondered if she’d had a sleepless night. He knew for certain she’d spent the night—every night—alone.

Maybe that was why, more than once, she’d stolen a glimpse of his body.

And that rosy flush?

Yeah, that hadn’t been annoyance he’d seen stirring in her expressive eyes.

Eyes that couldn’t hide her secrets.

Not from him. As a cop, he excelled in uncovering mysteries.

As a man, he knew how to seduce a woman.

Sue Meeks—what a joke—would be no different.

What he found odd was his own reaction.

She wasn’t outright homely; he knew women well enough to see that with some work, she could be attractive. Women had an amazing knack of highlighting their best features while downplaying their flaws.

Not Pepper Yates. The woman didn’t seem to have a clue how to promote her strong features.

And her body…well, who could know? She didn’t exactly look thick or thin, just…shapeless.

He hadn’t found any photos of her that really showed off her figure. And beneath the dated, ill-fitting clothes she now wore, she could be concealing anything.

Yet while talking to her, he’d felt alive. Hell, he’d felt alive just watching her stride down the sidewalk, her enormous, sloppy purse throwing her off-kilter more than the overloaded bags of groceries had. She’d kept her head down, but her stride had been long and confident.

Until she’d seen him.

Then she’d dragged her feet like a reluctant sacrifice.

Which, though she couldn’t have realized it, was a pretty apt description for what he had planned.

He would not feel guilty about it, Logan told himself. She’d be fine. He’d see to it. She might be timid, but she had a spark of fire.

Once he got things ignited, he’d find out everything he needed to know about her brother—but he’d do so gently. He’d treat her with respect, and he’d be generous with his attention, both emotionally and physically.

No, Pepper Yates wasn’t a beauty, but having her wouldn’t be a hardship. Hell, he felt taut with anticipation just thinking about it.

Enough on that.

Logan secured the locks on his door, then headed back to the balcony. Since the building didn’t have air, and the windows were small and difficult to open or close, the balcony offered the only respite from the smothering, humid heat.

But, yeah, the August weather wasn’t his only reason for venturing out to the crumbling balcony.

He’d seen the steak in her grocery bag.

Pepper Yates, aka Sue Meeks, prepared a lot of her meals on a small propane grill. Too many evenings he’d lurked inside, observing her through the vertical blinds, watching her as she’d cooked a single potato with a piece of chicken, a pork chop or a steak.

Did she hate cooking for one as much as he did?

Didn’t she ever tire of eating alone?

He knew for a fact she didn’t date, didn’t have any visitors of any kind—not even her damned brother.

She didn’t drive, didn’t leave the apartment any longer than it took to run errands, and as she said, she kept to herself.

No social life.

He knew, because he’d been watching her for longer than he’d been in the apartment building. Weeks longer.

Would she venture out to her grill with him sitting outside, his balcony right beside hers, close enough that they could chat?

Would she give in to the curiosity he’d seen in her expression?

Or would she avoid him as she’d done so far?

After dropping into a lounge chair, Logan finished off his beer, sprawled onto his back, closed his eyes against the evening sun, and thought about things yet to occur.

Things that had to do with her.

Things that would no doubt prove…interesting.

Even exciting.

The thrill of the chase.

This was what he lived for. The reason he’d become a cop. The core of his basic nature.

And now, finally, he was moving in on his prey.

* * *

WHY DID HE HAVE TO BE out there? For over an hour, Pepper waited to see if Logan Stark would go inside. He didn’t budge.

And she didn’t stop watching him.

He appeared to be sleeping, his broad chest expanding with deep, slow breaths. Legs sprawled, hands loose, face relaxed.

Body enticing.

She swallowed and thought about the card he’d given her—now on the top of her refrigerator for safekeeping. It didn’t mention a job, just his name, address and cell phone number. He didn’t have the look of the poor. His demeanor defied the defeat of unemployment, and his body defied a lack of activity.

He wanted conversation. She bit her lip.

Okay, so maybe she’d ask him where he worked. Maybe, given his absurd pursuit, he would expect her to want to learn more about him.

God, he looked good all lounged out like that.

He had one arm up and over his head, showing off his biceps and the tuft of darker hair under his arm. Sinfully sexy. He kept the other bent at his side, his big hand opened over a tautly muscled abdomen. The setting sun glinted off his brown chest hair, turning it almost golden. He wasn’t overly hairy, just earthy and masculine.

No shaved chest for this guy, thank God.

His chest hair narrowed to a fine line down his body, skirted around his navel, and then, growing darker, disappeared into his shorts.

And below that, behind the fly of his shorts, a nice, full bulge.

Stepping farther out, she stared hard, enrapt.

Her heartbeat slowed, her breath deepened.

Logan opened one eye and found her visually molesting him again.

For several seconds they stared at each other, and then he said, “Hey,” in a deep, lazy, interested way.

Oh, no, no, no. Why did he have to be so…potent?

Busted, but never a coward, Pepper stepped out fully to the balcony. Hands clasped together in front of her, nervous smile in place, she said, “I, ah, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Just dozing.” A low rumbling growl accompanied a deep stretch. “No biggie.”

The stretch did interesting things to all those muscles: flexing, bulging, then letting them relax again, still prominent, but no longer tense.

So unfair. How could he look so good doing nothing?

Sitting up, he swung his long, hairy legs over the side of the chair. Even his big feet were beautiful!

After running a hand over his head, then his chest, he focused on her. “Getting ready to grill?”

How did he know that? “Um…”

“I could join you.” His gaze drilled into her. “I have my own steak I’d planned to throw on anyway. No reason we can’t share the grill, right?” And as an enticement, he added, “I’ll even bring the beer.”

That much proximity, given her sizzling awareness, could be treacherous. A little time with him, maybe. But the entirety of dinner? She’d be a fool to agree to such a… “Okay.” What?

Oh, my God, had that really come out of her mouth? Well of course it had. Look at him, sitting there like physical temptation, legs apart, expression lazy and skin sun-warmed.

She covered her mouth with a hand.

But she was only human after all, and if her downtrodden appearance didn’t keep him at bay, well then, what would it hurt?

As surprised as she, he said, “Seriously?” He straightened, his manner suspicious, his gaze going all over her.

What, did he think she had a concealed weapon? Did he expect her to wield a steak knife?

Did he expect ulterior motives?

Yes, of course, she had them—but they weren’t motives he’d ever guess.

Pepper dropped her hand and filled her lungs with the thick evening air. “As you said, there’s no reason for us to fire up both grills.”

“Well, hot damn.” Smiling, Logan pushed to his feet. “I got time to take a shower?”

Oh, she wished he wouldn’t. Her nose twitched with the need to smell him, to drink in his hot scent. “If you must.”

“Give me five minutes.” Without another word, he ducked back inside.

Hugging herself, Pepper sat down on her single patio chair. She felt deflated, concerned and absolutely filled with anticipation.

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER BREAKING SPEED RECORDS for a shower and shave, Logan punched in the number, then dried off one-handed while using his shoulder to hold his cell phone to his ear.

The second he got an answer, he said, “She took the bait.”

His partner, Reese, bit back a curse. “What does that mean, exactly? What did you do to her?”

Around a rough laugh, Logan said, “I didn’t do anything to her.” Ignoring the fact that he hoped to do a lot of things to her, he tossed aside the towel. “She agreed to share dinner with me, that’s all.” For now. But if things went right…

“I wish you’d rethink this, Logan.”

Why did Reese have to act as if he planned to molest her? “Fuck that. If I don’t get to the bottom of this, then who will?” No one else was willing to track down the truth. No one else dared go up against that scum, Morton Andrews.

No one else cared what had happened two years ago.

“Logan—”

Skin still damp, Logan skipped his boxers and pulled on another pair of soft, well-worn jean shorts. Long ago he’d decided to eschew the trappings of inherited wealth and go for comfort instead. As a detective, he had to wear suits, a tie, the whole shebang. He’d gotten used to it, and didn’t even think about it anymore.

But in his leisure time, he wore whatever felt best.

This new gig masquerading as a middle class construction worker fit him just fine. More often than not, a pair of shorts was all he needed. “I’m too close to pull back now, so save the lecture.” He dragged up the zipper with care.

Resigned, Reese got down to business. “Have you seen her brother?”

“No.” Not even a glimpse. “But he’s around, I’m sure of it.”

“If it turns out you’re right, the walls could start crumbling down. But if you’re wrong…”

He wasn’t wrong. No way. He trusted his instincts and his gut; both told him he was on to something here. He and Jack Carmin had gone through school together, college together, but while Logan had set his sights on becoming a detective, Jack had veered off into a different type of public work: politics. He’d died at the hands of a madman. Senseless murder—all for greed and corruption.

“He was my best friend, Reese.”

Morton Andrews would pay, even if it took him a lifetime.

“I know.” Tiredly, Reese said, “Keep me posted, okay? Don’t push too hard, and don’t do anything stupid or dangerous.”

That made Logan laugh, but not with any real humor. “Don’t act like you? Is that what you’re saying?” Known for championing the underdog, Reese resembled Jack in many ways. In the face of injustice, he often reacted before thinking, but usually, at least in Logan’s opinion, he was dead-on. Logan trusted him with his life, and that was saying something. He trusted only a select few.

Now with a smile in his tone, Reese said, “Exactly.”

“I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“Not tonight?”

With any luck, he’d be busy till late. “Let’s keep the calls to a minimum, just in case.”

Reese hesitated. “Forget the task force and your assignment—if you need backup, don’t trust anyone else, understand? Get hold of me, and only me.”

“That’s a given.” Jack’s murder had been all the incentive Logan needed to accept the position as head of a special task force. To clean up a lot of the rampant corruption in Warfield, Ohio, his lieutenant had given him carte blanche.

But because some of that corruption had infiltrated the force, Logan had immediately brought Reese on board.

“I’ve lined up a few unies if we need them. Kids I know we can count on.”

By “kids,” Reese meant young uniformed cops, still bright-eyed with the need to see justice served. “You didn’t tell them anything yet?”

“Nope. Just checked out their backgrounds, family histories and their records. If you find Rowdy, they can make the actual arrest to keep it clean.”

“Thanks.” To really make a difference, Logan needed people he could count on, and that meant Reese had to do a lot of setup.

But he also needed an eyewitness to a two-year-old murder.

And that meant he needed Pepper’s brother, Rowdy Yates.

Through tons of research and a little luck, he’d found Pepper. At first he hadn’t been certain it was her; Rowdy had done an amazing job of covering their tracks. But now that he’d seen her up close, talked with her, he was sure he had the right woman.

Through her, he’d eventually get Rowdy.

And with Rowdy, he’d get that scumbag club owner, Morton Andrews, the man he knew was responsible for many deaths, including Jack’s.

Hell, he wasn’t the only one who knew it. Plenty of people made the link. But Morton owned enough people, bought enough alibis that, for all intents and purposes, he remained untouchable.

With Rowdy’s eyewitness account, he’d finally be able to put Morton away.

With that end goal in mind, Logan said, “I gotta go. The lady is waiting.”

Dropping his cell phone into his pocket, along with his keys and a wallet holding false ID, a rubber and a few bills, Logan detoured into the kitchen.

Using his real first name made the undercover work easier. It was enough to remember that Pepper Yates was Sue Meeks without trying to carry his own alias. It was all too easy to fuck up when you tried to change too much. That’s why construction work was part of his undercover persona.

Sure, he and his brother Dash had inherited a shit ton of money from their family. But neither of them flaunted the money, and neither of them felt content being idle or, God forbid, sitting in boardrooms. They invested wisely, donated generously and got on with their lives.

As owner of a construction company, Dash could employ Logan when necessary, giving him the background he needed in case Rowdy got on to him and did any checking.

It was a stroke of luck that he’d found Pepper in a different county. Anyone who knew him might unwittingly blow his cover, but the different locale made a chance encounter with cops in the field less likely.

Logan grabbed his packaged steak, a potato and a six-pack of beer, minus one.

He locked the door behind him and stepped over to tap on Pepper’s door. As if she’d been waiting for him, it opened almost before he’d dropped his hand.

Standing before him, shifting her feet nervously, she said, “Hi.”

She looked adorably unsure of herself, her gaze avoiding his, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip.

Again flushed.

“Hi yourself.” Logan took his time looking her over, not that she’d changed a thing. She still wore the ugly canvas sneakers, long skirt and baggy pullover top. Her hair remained dragged back in that hideous ponytail.

But he saw the movement of her chest as she drank in deep, nervous breaths, and the way her hands trembled a little.

Emotion, awareness and his dick all swelled. He felt ruthless, and he felt territorial. “You want to let me in, Sue?”

She continued to look at him, all over him.

Logan lowered his voice more and said with certainty, “I’m coming in.”

“Oh.” Closing her eyes in embarrassment, she stepped aside. “Yes, of course.”

He hadn’t planned to rush things. He’d intended to be smooth, patient. But the moment just felt right, so as he moved past her, he bent and put a firm kiss to her soft mouth. “Thanks.”

The brief contact proved addictive—sparking awareness, firing his blood.

Over a simple kiss.

He made it all the way to her kitchen before he realized she still stood at her open door, staring after him, frozen in shock. She watched him set down the beer, the steak and potato.

She looked ready to flee the apartment.

Pretending he didn’t understand the reason, Logan asked low, “Everything okay?”

She treated him to another intent stare, consuming him with her innocent gaze. “Yes.” Letting out a long breath, she closed the door, faltered a second, then stepped forward. “Yes, everything is fine.” Head down, mouth pinched, she bustled past him. “I already started the grill. Another minute or two and we can put on the steaks.”

Logan caught her arm, his fingers wrapping around her. She was slim, her bones delicate.

Why hadn’t he noticed that before?

“You picked up the place.” She’d closed the door on her bedroom and bathroom, so he didn’t know about those spaces, but the cardboard pizza box, empty cans and papers were gone. “I hope you didn’t tidy up on my account.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Sidling out of his reach, she plumped a throw pillow at the end of a love seat, putting the entire piece of furniture between them as a barrier. “That stuff was leftover from last night.”

Her efforts to distance him only made him feel more predatory. Alarm filled her gaze as he approached. She jerked around, turning her back on him, but then just…stood there, waffling, uncertain.

A defense mechanism? How badly had her damned brother mistreated her?

Savage, protective instincts sharpened. She was so damn sweet, so shy.

Having her would be sweet, too. Not that it mattered; his reasons for being here with her now, for using her, had little enough to do with her growing appeal.

An appeal he hadn’t noticed before getting close to her.

Using the back of one finger, Logan stroked the side of her neck and was rewarded with her shiver. Her incredible softness stirred him more and roughened his voice. “You ate pizza all alone last night?” The image pained him.

“I… Of course.” She swayed back into him. “I am alone.”

Amazed by how quickly she melted, he settled both hands on her shoulders. Again he noted her slimness. Not skinny, but most definitely slight in the way of females.

Would it really be this easy? Did she not possess a single iota of self-preservation? She wore her heart on her sleeve, her need for affection painstakingly obvious.

He wanted to pull her closer, wrap his arms around her, but he didn’t want to scare her off.

Using his thumbs to rub the backs of her upper arms, he said, “You could have invited me over.”

“I…” She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t.”

Because her brother wouldn’t allow it? Bastard.

Logan leaned closer, his breath on her nape, his whisper near her ear. “Anytime, Sue. You have my number.” His lips just touched her lobe. “Or just knock at my door.”

Breathing hard, she shifted—then lurched out of his reach. “No, I’m sorry,” she said in a rush, “but I won’t ever do that.” She all but raced out to the patio. With her out of the room, Logan looked around.

Her furniture, ragtag and mismatched, had probably come with the apartment, same as his. As an acting manager for the four-unit building, did she get to live here rent-free? Where did she get money for food? For clothes? Lack of funds likely accounted for her secondhand clothing. She didn’t have a car—because she couldn’t afford one?

It disturbed Logan, how isolated and alone she was. He always empathized with those less fortunate; never in his life had he wanted for a single thing—except justice. But with this woman, it went beyond a sense of social responsibility to the needy.

It went beyond anything familiar.

Where the hell was her brother? Why did Rowdy leave her so unguarded?

From what he’d uncovered, he hadn’t considered Rowdy Yates a “bad” man, just a man of poor choices and, in the case of his employment with Morton Andrews, worse acquaintances. Now, knowing Pepper? Rowdy had to be the lowest type of villain. How else could you explain her circumstances?

Other than a work history that included everything from dishwasher to deliveryman, carpenter to bouncer, there’d been little on Rowdy, and even less on Pepper.

Logan knew her brother worked, he drifted, he teetered on the edge of trouble—and he dragged Pepper along for the ride.

Logan hadn’t been able to find anything on their educations, parents or other relatives.

But Rowdy had worked at Checkers—which was the wrong club at the wrong time. While employed there he’d gotten embroiled in corruption. His testimony was needed to bring down Andrews, but for two years now, he’d dodged involvement. The last anyone had heard from Rowdy was right before a reporter had his throat cut.

After that, nada.

Until now.

Now, Logan had Rowdy’s kid sister, and much as it went against the grain, he would use her to get what he wanted.

Justice.

Revenge.

Peace of mind.

Unwavering, Logan picked up his food, snagged two beers, and went out to the patio to join her.

* * *

PEPPER LAY IN HER BED, wide-awake, miserably hot, and dissatisfied.

The fan in her window stirred the humid air, pushing it around the room and over her mostly bare body.

A cold shower hadn’t helped, not after four long hours of Logan Stark’s personal brand of seduction.

God, she felt singed. The intimate way he’d looked at her, the suggestive way he talked.

Even the way he ate his steak somehow affected her to the point that she’d barely touched her own, when she’d been anticipating the dinner.

She had planned to ask Logan some personal questions, but he’d kept her on the defensive with small touches and warm smiles. It had taken all her wits to keep from falling under his spell.

But she wanted to. Badly.

Actually, she wanted to be under him.

Impossible.

Rolling to her back, she stared at the shadowed ceiling and wondered if he was asleep. After that spontaneous kiss he’d given her before walking into her apartment, she’d been on guard. When she’d finally gotten him to the door, ready to say goodbye, she’d stuck out her hand.

A handshake she could handle. It was civilized. Socially acceptable.

But he’d done her in even then, lifting her hand, pressing his firm mouth to her palm. Inundated with the sensations all over again, she curled her fingers and groaned.

When her phone beeped, she jumped, then quickly sat up. No one had her number—except Rowdy.

She turned on a light, pressed a button on the phone and put it to her ear. “Hey.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.” They both kept strange hours, but even if they didn’t, Rowdy would always call when others least expected it. Because it was always a looming threat, she asked, “Is anything wrong?”

“You had company.”

She gulped. How did he find that out so quickly? “A neighbor.”

“A man.”

Since Rowdy actually owned the apartment building, buying it outright under yet another alias, she could understand his consternation. “I don’t know too much about him—”

“But you had him over anyway?”

She understood his incredulity. “It’s not like that. His name is Logan Stark and for some reason…” Well, she couldn’t just tell her brother that Logan hit on her. That’d not only infuriate him, it’d also make him as suspicious as she was. “He wanted to share dinner, that’s all.”

Cold silence.

“C’mon, Rowdy,” she cajoled. “I’m careful, you know that.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

Maybe. “It’s not a big deal. Dinner, that’s all.”

“Then tell me why.”

She shrugged to herself. “I wondered the same thing. It’s not like I’d be appealing to him.”

He cursed low. “I didn’t mean that.”

“You did,” she corrected. “But it’s okay. A low profile is what’s most important, right?”

“I don’t like it.”

“There’s not much you do like these days.” She sighed, feeling for her brother, worried about him, and so tired of all the subterfuge. “Please, believe me, Rowdy. I won’t take any risks.”

“Maybe not on purpose, but that was a risk you took last night, so I’m going to check into him.”

Hmm… “Maybe you could find out where he works.”

“Ask him,” Rowdy said. “We’ll see if what he says to you meshes with what I find.”

“All right.” If the opportunity presented itself, she could try a little prying.

“Give me a week or two to find out what I can about him. Until then, watch your ass.”

Of course she would. Not like anyone else was watching it. Well, except her brother—and she could do with a little less vigilance from him, especially now that Logan was in the picture. “Love you, Rowdy.”

His voice softened. “Love you, too, kid.” And then, right before he hung up, he admonished, “Behave.”

Pepper put the phone back on her nightstand. It would be so nice to visit with Rowdy, to spend an entire day with him. But he wouldn’t allow it.

She understood why, but that didn’t stop her from missing him, more and more each day.

It saddened her, but as she tried to get to sleep, it was Logan she thought of, not her brother.

And that disturbed her most of all.

* * *

ON THE THIRD FLOOR of his exclusive, all-service club, Morton Andrews held court. Idiots surrounded him, but they were his idiots, loyal to him, afraid of his influence, so he tolerated them.

He eyed the cop who’d just entered. No, he wouldn’t offer a seat. He’d show no courtesy at all.

Cops had to remember their place—as hired help. “Is it true that Rowdy Yates has turned up?”

Surprise showed, but then was quickly covered. “Where did you hear that?”

Interesting. So maybe there was some truth to it. “You forget my many tentacles? I have ears everywhere. You know that.”

A nod of acknowledgment. “Yes, I know that.”

Morton accepted he had few virtues, and patience definitely wasn’t one of them. “Well?”

“There’s nothing concrete on Rowdy.”

It irked him sometimes, that cool confidence, the near disdain. Others cowered around him. Others understood the threat. But not this one. “You’ll let me know when there is?”

“Of course.”

Truth, or false assurances? Didn’t matter. In his own way, and in his own time, Morton knew he’d get to the bottom of it. For now, it amused him to let the illusion of trust exist. “All right, then.” And just to be a prick, he said, “You can go now.”

Taking the dismissal with no show of insult, the cop turned and left.

Morton shook his head. To his way of thinking, the only good cop was dirty—or dead. He’d yet to decide the fate of this one. But soon…

* * *

FOR THREE DAYS, Logan kept his distance. It wasn’t easy, but he wanted Pepper to think about him, to anticipate seeing him. Anticipation could break down her barriers, and that’s what he needed.

After spending the day working for his brother Dash, he’d expended a lot of tension. Physical labor always did that for him. Sunshine, sweat, using his hands, working his shoulders and thighs…he enjoyed it.

Likely Dash did as well, which would explain why he’d not only bought the company, but worked alongside the laborers on a regular basis.

There’d been a lot of concrete work throughout the afternoon. Sweat flattened his hair to his head and kept his T-shirt glued to his back. Everywhere he stepped, his dusty boots left footprints. Too much sun made his face feel tight.

And still he loved it.

Dash had the right idea. Make his own way doing good, honest labor, and build a great reputation at the same time.

It didn’t hurt that the construction company gave Logan great cover. No one knew he and Dash were related, so no one paid him any attention. On the construction site, he was just one more grunt, there to help with the physical workload.

Just as he reached his door, Pepper’s opened.

Satisfaction burned in his gut.

He glanced up, saw her standing there uncertainly, and smiled. “Hey, Sue.” He continued to unlock his door, pushed it open. “What’s up?”

“I, ah…”

He glanced at her again, a brow raised.

“I haven’t seen you for a few days.”

“Been working.” He leaned in the door to drop a thermos and hard hat. “That’s how construction is. You don’t work for a month, then you’re nonstop busy for a while.”

“Construction?” She eased farther into the hallway.

Seeing this as a prime opportunity, Logan rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. “Yeah.” He gestured. “You want to come in? I need to shower and grab some dinner, but then we can visit.”

“Oh.” Shaking her head, she retreated a step. “No, I—”

Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he reached for her, caught her hand, and pulled her forward into the hall and then into his apartment. “I only need a few minutes. What’d you have planned for dinner? I’m starving.”

Not the most subtle hint, but maybe she’d be female enough to pick up on it and take pity on him.

“I was going to order a pizza.” She looked around his apartment with interest but jumped when he closed the door. Apprehension welled up. “I should go.”

“I’d rather you stay.” He dropped down to his couch but didn’t lean back into the cushions, not with his shirt damp through and through. He began unlacing his work boots. “I’d put off the shower, but I’m a sweaty mess. It’s bad enough that it’s in the nineties, but add in the humidity, and it was miserable today.”

“Yes.”

At that faint agreement, he looked at her, found her staring at his shoulders, and smiled. “I probably smell like a locker room.”

Her face again warmed, and she breathed, “No.”

Logan reveled in her response. Had he reduced her to one word replies? Just to keep her tongue-tied, he stood and pulled off his shirt.

Her jaw loosened, and she drew in a shuddering breath.

Damn, could a woman be more enticing? More in need of a long hard ride? She damn near fainted when he reached past her to set his boots on the floor inside the door.

Close to her, crowding her a little, he emptied his pockets on the table, setting out his wallet, cell phone and some change. “Stay put, okay? I’ll be right back.”

She stared at his throat.

Remember what you’re doing. Giving her a verbal nudge, Logan whispered, “Sue?”

Her gaze jumped up to his.

“Tell me you’ll be here when I get out of the shower.”

“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “I’ll be here.”

He couldn’t resist touching her, but because he was a mess, he used only his baby finger to stroke her warm, downy cheek. Then, before he lost it, he said, “Make yourself at home,” and turned to head into the bathroom.

He hoped she would use the time alone to snoop a little; it was why he’d left his wallet and second cell phone sitting right there. Anything she found would only reinforce his cover.

Scrubbing head to toe, he removed the grime even as the cool water helped to temper his explosive lust.

Not that he should have been exploding with lust. It made no sense. This was a job, just like any other. His association with her was a means to an end, and Pepper Yates, aka Sue Meeks, was as far from a femme fatale as a woman could get.

But knowing she waited in the other room left him half hard, his guts knotted and his balls tight.

Shit.

In a hurry to get back to her, he turned off the shower and dried. Now that he’d gotten her into his place, he didn’t want her to turn tail and run before he could take advantage of the situation and advance his goal.

But as he walked back in, snapping his jeans along the way, he found her still at the door, his belongings untouched, her expression a little lost. It appeared she hadn’t moved an inch. Hell, it almost looked as if she held her breath.

New sensations tensed his muscles. He didn’t know for sure what he felt, but he felt it in spades, unsettling and blistering hot.

Without saying a word, their gazes locked, he approached her. For several seconds they stood there, staring at each other while the charge between them arced and crackled, growing stronger with each beat of his heart.

Softly, he said, “You look ready to bolt.”

She rolled in her lips and shook her head.

Because he couldn’t not touch her, Logan put a hand to the top of her head. Her hair was silky soft, warm. He stroked back to her nape, and then down the length of that long ponytail, stopping with his hand open on the small of her back. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Then, as he nudged her closer, she blurted, “I hadn’t heard from you…”

His strategy had obviously worked—so then why did he feel like such a prick? “After working on the construction site, I came home each day pretty beat.”

“I didn’t mean… You don’t owe me anything.”

Her vulnerability chewed on his conscience. “No?”

Without his urging, she drew closer, her attention on his mouth. “I just… You had said…so I thought…” She clamped her mouth closed and squeezed her eyes shut. “Never mind.”

“I gave you my number,” he reminded her.

Her tone now more strident, she shot right back, “I told you I wouldn’t call.”

So she had.

He probably should’ve kissed her already to avoid this little conflict.

Better late than never.

But he didn’t take her mouth. Instead, he lowered his head and brushed a kiss over her heated cheek, down to her firm jaw, and then to the side of her silken neck.

She locked her hands behind her, confounding him.

“You smell good, Sue.” He nuzzled her ear, filling his lungs with her scent. “Like sunshine.”

“I was outside.” Breathless, she added, “The building has termites.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t give a damn. His hand on her back contracted; she felt supple, trim, but so soft.

“I had to meet with the exterminator.” She tipped her head to make it easier for him to get to her throat. “We were outside for over an hour.”

This dump had an exterminator? Okay, so he’d never seen any bugs, it still surprised him. “Thanks for taking care of that.”

“I probably need a shower, too.”

“No.” He opened his mouth on her throat, moved his tongue over her, tasting her skin, licking her, then whispering in her ear, “But you could have showered with me if you’d—”

She left his arms so quickly, it took him a second to figure out what had happened.

She had that deer caught in the headlights look about her.

Time to regroup.

Pretending he hadn’t panicked her, Logan said, “You mentioned ordering pizza.” He took a step back, giving her some space so she could breathe easier. “How about I pay, and we can eat here?”

Indecision kept her on the edge of retreat. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’d be doing me a favor.” When she hesitated, he handed her his phone. “Go ahead and order it. I’ll get us something to drink in the meantime.”

He walked away, hoping she’d settle down and stay with him—but prepared to go after her if she didn’t.

Then he heard her soft voice ordering the pizza, loaded, just as he liked it.

He got out glasses. “You want a beer or a Coke?”

She looked at his beer with longing, but said, “A Coke, please.”

Another mystery. If she wanted a beer, why not say so? Did she think it unladylike—or did she worry that alcohol, even a simple beer, would lower her resistance, maybe allow her to divulge secrets better kept concealed?

Logan disliked her brother more by the minute. “Over ice?”

She nodded.

“How long for the pizza? I’m starved.”

“Fifteen minutes or so.” She inched closer. “They’re just around the corner.”

“Good to know.”

“You can also get Thai and Chinese pretty quickly. And hoagies or chili only takes half an hour.”

“You do a lot of fast food, too, huh?”

“During the summer I usually grill dinner. You know that. But at night, after it gets quiet, sometimes I…” She shrugged.

“You can’t sleep?”

“I enjoy the peace,” she corrected. “I don’t have a set schedule, so when I want to watch an old movie, or catch up on the news, I do. I think I’m a natural night owl.”

“So you curl up on the couch with some fast food?” It was a cute picture. What type of pajamas did she wear? A granny gown? T-shirt and panties? Somehow he couldn’t picture her in lingerie. “Maybe you can share the numbers of the local restaurants with me.”

“All right.” Though she hung back in the kitchen doorway, she asked, “Can I do anything?”

Oh, hell yeah. She could do all sorts of things. He gave her a smile but said, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just grab some plates and napkins when it gets here.” He handed her drink to her. “Want to watch TV now, or sit on the balcony?”

She looked toward his balcony but again hesitated, so he took the decision away from her.

“Let’s see what’s on TV.” Taking her hand, he led her to the sofa. He sat down and pulled her down beside him, probably closer than she liked, but not as close as he wanted.

She sat stiff, silent and wary. After setting her drink on the coffee table, she clasped her hands together in her lap, pressed her knees and ankles together, kept her back military straight.

All because he sat beside her? “Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” she said too fast.

After a long look, he grinned at her and shook his head. “I think I’ll have to teach you how to loosen up.”

Her eyes flared, especially when he put aside his beer and reached for her shoulders.

But he only pressed her back against the couch, and began kneading her tensed muscles. “C’mon, Sue. Take out the starch. Inhale a big breath…that’s it. Now let it out nice and slow.”

She tried, but she was still far too rigid.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get there eventually.” He settled back beside her. “That’s a promise, by the way.” Using the remote, he turned on the set and flipped through the channels until he found a movie in the middle of a love scene.

“There you go.” He took a swig of his beer. “Better than suffering more of that broiling sun.”

For a minute or two she watched the movie, her breathing deep and even, until the sex scene faded to dark. When the commercial came on, he flipped channels again, finding a sports update.

She half turned toward him, and, tension mounting, Logan waited to see what she’d do.

Using one hand, she touched his jaw. It was so unexpected, that spontaneous contact from her, that it rendered him mute, immobile and combustible.

“Men do seem to enjoy controlling the remote, don’t they?”

What did she know of men and their preferences on control? He found his voice to say, “You want me to go back to the movie?”

“I don’t care what we watch, but I’m glad you chose to stay inside.” She brushed her fingertips down to the side of his neck. “You’ve already gotten a little too much sun.”

Jesus, how could one simple touch do that to him? “On my shoulders, too,” he said huskily. “Hazard of the job, I guess. Half the time we work shirtless.”

Her gaze drifted to his shoulders, followed by her hand. “Construction is why you’re so tanned?”

“That, and I like the outdoors.” Blindly, he set aside his beer. “Swimming, boating, just being outside. I enjoy nature.” His brother had a very secret retreat on a lake. They’d each used it when they wanted to get away, when even female companionship didn’t appeal.

The log cabin was so rustic that anything more than a five-minute shower used all the hot water. Dishes had to be washed by hand—and so did clothing. The all-wood panel interior boasted three sparsely furnished bedrooms, a tiny kitchen with the barest essentials and a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in. The massive front deck, flanked by towering trees, overlooked the small secluded lake that was big enough for fishing, swimming and a rowboat or small trolling motor.

“Does it hurt?” she asked softly, teasing the skin of his shoulders.

“What?” He ached with lust, but he didn’t think she meant that.

“The sunburn.” She drifted her hand up to his nape, around to his collarbone.

It was such a bold move for her, so unexpected, that he forgot his plan. He caught her wrist, kissed her palm and then flattened her hand against his chest. “Sue?”

She stared at his mouth with yearning. “Your skin is so hot.”

Fuck it. She begged for a kiss, and God knew he wasn’t a saint. In the end, what did it matter if he made his move now or later? One way or the other, she’d be his.

His to enjoy.

And then his to use.

He put his hand around her nape and pulled her in as he leaned forward. At the first touch of his mouth on hers, she made a sound of pleasure, and Logan knew he was a goner.

CHAPTER THREE

COULD ANY MAN TASTE BETTER, smell better, or be more tempting?

Heat poured off him, and Pepper wanted to feel it all over her body. She pictured him working outside, all macho in jeans and heavy boots, the sun on his bare shoulders and chest, and her pulse raced. As his mouth moved over hers, his chest hair drew her fingers again and again. Using care not to exacerbate his sun-kissed skin, she stroked him, carefully, over his shoulders, his chest—and down to his taut abdomen.

Oh, God, she wanted to feel every inch of him.

He made a sound of approval and somehow, at the same time, lowered her to her back on the couch. The plush cushions gave way to their combined weight, and she sank into them.

Having a man’s solid body over her, pressing into her—she’d missed it. So damn much.

Each kiss grew deeper, hungrier, until they were both breathing hard. He had his tongue in her mouth, exploring, and she just naturally twined her own with his.

He ran a hand down her side to her hip, his spread fingers covering a wide path, touching so much of her. He squeezed at her hip with appreciation, and even through her long skirt and underwear, it electrified her senses.

He moved his hand down her thigh until she stiffened, ready to stop him if he took things too far.

Instead, he brought that seeking hand back up her body, up, up, to her left breast.

Before she could think better of it, she arched her back, pressing into his palm, alive with sensation.

He cuddled her, but his movements slowed, became more of a search than a caress.

Lifting his head but staying very close, he said with a touch of confusion, “What kind of bra is that?”

No, she didn’t want reality to intrude. Not yet. Not now. “Sports bra,” she breathed, and took his mouth again.

A very tight, very restrictive sports bra.

Hoping he might not think too much of it, she caught his wrist and tugged his hand away. Please let me have a little more.

“I want to touch you,” he murmured, and his hand went back to her waist, this time slipping up under her loose shirt.

Sexual frustration mounted, warring against desperation, against common sense. She knew she had to be strong, but then she felt his rough palm at her waist, at her ribs, and her resistance began crumbling—until a knock sounded on his door.

She jumped, at first alarmed, and then, reluctantly…relieved for the jolt back to sanity.

The pizza delivery boy had saved her, because she hadn’t been strong enough to save herself. She’d take the interruption as a warning—to show more care.

Logan pressed his forehead to hers. His heartbeat rapped against her breasts, and the tension in his shoulders amplified.

“Rotten timing.” Using both hands, he held her face, his thumbs stroking her jaw, his breath hot. “I don’t suppose you’d want to put off dinner?”

She couldn’t look at him. If she did, she’d cave. Staring at his left shoulder, she shook her head.

His sigh teased her lips. “All right then. Pizza it is.” As he sat up, he pulled her up, too.

She closed her eyes with stark regret, and when she opened them again, she encountered his intense scrutiny.

His smile went crooked as he tweaked a long hank of her hair. “You are so sweet.” And with that, he left the couch.

Sweet? What was that about? Pepper checked her hair and felt the way her ponytail had come undone. Worse, her top was all displaced, her skirt hiked up on one side all the way to her knee, and she’d lost one slip-on canvas shoe.

While Logan answered the door, she decided to make a hasty exit to right herself. “Excuse me.” She snatched up her shoe and rushed down the short hall into his bathroom. She closed and locked the door.

Get a grip, she ordered herself. But it was oh-so-difficult after those scorching kisses and exciting touches.

A few deep breaths helped a little. She stepped into her shoe, tugged her shirt into place, and moved away from the door. One glance in the mirror over the sink and she winced. Her hair was more out of the ponytail than in it. Hastily, she pulled the band free and finger-combed her long hair back, then resecured it.

She straightened her clothes again, but could do nothing about her aroused flush. Blast her fair skin.

A tap sounded at the door. “Everything okay, Sue?”

“Yes.” Other than unfulfilled lust, she was just peachy. Head down, Pepper opened the door and walked around him, up the hallway and into the kitchen.

He’d already put slices of pizza on plates, set out napkins, and moved their drinks to the table. Surprising her, he pulled out her chair.

Why, oh, why couldn’t he be wearing a shirt instead of flaunting that awesome body? As to that, why couldn’t he be out of shape instead of so ripped? Or unattractive instead of so appealing? Or—

“It’s just pizza, Sue.” He tipped his head. “I won’t pounce on you while you’re eating, I promise.”

She didn’t want to get that close to him again, but she didn’t want to look overly foolish, either. “Thank you.” She brushed past him and sat.

After trailing the backs of his fingers over her cheek, he took his own seat. “Dig in.”

“Thank you,” she said again.

He thoughtfully watched her as he ate. “You know, I just had my tongue in your mouth, so you don’t have to be so formal.”

Pepper gasped—and choked on her pizza. What was he thinking, saying something like that over dinner? Did he have no sense of propriety at all?

After a bout of wheezing, she caught her breath, looked at him, saw he was still eating while studying her reaction, and decided that no, he did not have any sense of decorum.

“It bothers you?” he asked. “Kissing me, I mean? Is that why you’re over there strangling yourself?”

“No—”

“Sure looked bothered to me.”

“I didn’t expect to discuss it over dinner!”

He ignored that. “I’m wondering,” he said, “if I mentioned how bad I want to get you naked, would you keel right over?”

Throwing the slice of pizza at him seemed like a good idea. Instead she put it back on her plate. Should she leave? Show disdain? Embarrassment?

She decided on a dose of honesty instead. “You’ll never see me naked.”

“No?” As if only mildly curious, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because I won’t allow it.”

His eyes narrowed—and his gaze went to her chest. “Too shy, huh?”

She sat back in her seat. “You don’t talk like a man who ever hopes to be successful. You’re so mocking, it’s almost an insult.”

“Don’t mean to be.” He put another gigantic slice of pizza onto his plate. “Truth is, Sue, you confound me.”

“Confound you?”

She had to wait while he devoured half the pizza. After he wiped his mouth with a napkin, he crossed his arms over the table. “You’re as interested as I am. I wasn’t the only one on the couch who wanted more.”

Since he waited, she said, “No.” She’d probably been far needier than he was. For certain, she’d been celibate longer.

“So why are you so skittish? Why the mixed messages?”

Shoot. She had been pretty inconsistent. But how could she possibly explain the past that held her back, the fears that dictated she show discretion in all things?

He saved her by reaching for her hand. “You can tell me, you know.”

No, she most definitely could not. She eyed him warily. “Tell you what?”

“If someone hurt you. If you’re just inexperienced. If you’re modest or afraid or…whatever the problem might be.”

All that? What exactly did he think? That she’d lived in a convent? That she’d been a victim of abuse? For certain she couldn’t tell him any part of the truth. Even with the passing of time, even with Morton Andrews’s club, Checkers, being in another county—distant enough that they wouldn’t run into him, close enough that Rowdy could keep tabs on him—the truth would be risky.

But she had to say something, so she looked at his big hand holding hers. “I am shy. And I am modest.” A really good liar, too.

“But you want me.”

Did she ever. Whether she should or not, whether it was wise or not.

“Sue? Whatever you tell me, it’s okay. I’m not going to start rushing you.”

Baloney. That’s all he’d done so far. She met his gaze. “Yes.”

It took several heartbeats before he repeated, “Yes…what?”

“I want you.” Let him deal with that. “Your interest has been flattering,” she added, trying to sound a little more uncertain. “But I’m not comfortable with anyone seeing me.”

His sharpened attention moved over her. “Naked, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

A heated stillness fell over him. “You don’t have anything I haven’t already seen, right?”

She almost choked again. He had no idea the surprises she kept hidden. “I’m not disfigured, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, I wasn’t. Just making a point, that’s all. And if modesty is the only problem—”

“It’s not.” No, there were a million reasons why she shouldn’t get too involved with him, physically or otherwise.

And yet, here she sat. Having pizza. Talking.

After allowing him to kiss her into oblivion and grope her on the sofa. She put her head in her hands and fought off a groan.

Pushing his chair back from the table, his dinner forgotten, he concentrated on her. “What else?”

Because it felt as if he might pounce on her at any moment despite his promise not to rush her, Pepper left her chair and stood behind it. Judging by the look on his face, he saw it as a defensive move. She knew it was more a matter of control: around him, she had none.

Slowly, he stood.

Before he took a step toward her—and before she pounced on him—she said, “I barely know you.”

“Okay.” He held out his arms. “I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”

Why do you want me so badly? No, she couldn’t ask him anything that blunt. “Everything, I guess.”

“Will you sit down and finish eating while I give you a verbal resume?”

Why not? She was still hungry, the pizza still hot. “Okay.” Not looking at him, she took her seat and again bit into her pizza.

“Long or short version?”

Everything, in minute detail. She shook her head. “I don’t mean to pry exactly—”

“Long it is.” He smiled, waited until she got a mouthful, then said, “Never been married, but was engaged once. Have a degree in business, but haven’t used it because I enjoy the freedom of construction more. I’ve been all over the country, but prefer the Midwest. I’m thirty-two, love watching all sports and enjoy playing softball or football. I detest shopping of any kind, even for groceries, but I’m a fair cook when forced to it. I really like animals, but don’t have any because, well, living in a place like this, it wouldn’t be fair to the animal, right? Dogs especially deserve a big backyard. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t really trust anyone who doesn’t like animals, so do you?”

It took Pepper a moment to realize he’d slipped a question in there. She swallowed down her bite and nodded. “Yes, but for the same reasons you just gave—” and many more “—I don’t have any pets, either.” Someday, in her fantasy future, she’d love to have pets, lots of them. Kids, too…no, she wouldn’t, couldn’t think that way.

It’d only depress her.

“So we have that in common,” Logan said. “My folks have an ancient German shepherd that loves to swim. I think it’s easier for him than running, less stress on his hips.”

Slipping in her own question, she asked, “Why didn’t you marry?”

“Haven’t met the right woman, I guess. I want to someday.” He gestured. “You know, home, hearth, holidays with two kids, a cat and a dog. All that.”

“You were engaged?” she prompted.

“Yeah, for over a year.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was all good until she decided I had to take a job with her daddy, and her daddy was a grade-A prick, so…” He shrugged. “Couldn’t work it out.”

That sounded like the absolute truth, but could that really be the whole story? “You don’t sound particularly heartbroken over it.”

His expression warmed. Belatedly, she decided that prim and proper Sue Meeks should have reacted some to his language. But, oh, well. Too late now.

“Funny thing, that. I never was.” Done eating, he slouched back in his chair and cradled his beer on his midsection. “I mean, I was pissed. Maybe even a little…” He searched for a word and settled on, “Disappointed. But I guess I never really loved her, not the way you should love someone if you’re going to spend a lifetime together.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Few years.” He gave her a searching look. “What about you? Ever been serious about anyone?”

“No.”

Because she’d answered so quickly, he laughed. “Okay.” He nodded at her empty plate. “All done?”

Thrown by the change in topic, she looked at her plate and was surprised that she’d eaten so much. “Yes, thank you.”

“So.” He stood and carried the dishes to the sink. “What now?”

Bemused, she watched as he rinsed each plate, loaded them in the dishwasher and did a general cleaning of their dinner mess.

By the time he finished, no sign of dinner remained. “You’re a lot tidier than I am.”

“No offense, but I’m thinking a lot of people are probably tidier than you.”

“It’s true.” She didn’t really get into the whole domestic routine. She let out a sigh. “My place isn’t really dirty or anything, but it is cluttered.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like to fuss.”

“Good. Fussy women are annoying.”

Distant thunder rumbled, and they both looked toward the balcony. The bright evening sunshine had faded beneath thick gray clouds that darkened the sky. A troubled breeze carried in cooler air.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Logan said, “but this is the weirdest date I’ve ever had.”

That brought her back around to face him. “It wasn’t a date!”

“Sure it was.” Mood teasing, he came closer. “A little necking, dinner and conversation, getting to know each other.”

Oh, God. Maybe it was a date.

“Usually doesn’t happen in that order, and I can’t recall ever talking marriage on a first date.”

“You brought it up!”

“To appease your curiosity.” A light patter of rain danced over the patio doors. “But it wasn’t bad for our first. Was it?”

Not bad at all. In fact, it was the first time in ages that she’d forgotten, for just a little while, how much her life had changed. “No, I suppose it—”

Bright lightning splintered the sky, chased by a deafening crack of thunder that reverberated in the floor beneath their feet.

She said, “Wow.” And the electricity died.

It needed only this.

The combination of no lights and black sky left the apartment cast in deep mysterious shadows.

Logan walked to the patio doors just as the storm hit in earnest, pounding the earth with a deluge of rain. It blew in against his bare chest, dampening his skin, his hair and the front of those well-worn jeans.

He shut his doors and, after swiping off his face, crossed the floor to get the kitchen window, too.

Because she stood there in a lustful daze, he prompted her. “What about your windows? They open?”

How had she forgotten that? “Damn it,” she said, and bolted back to her own apartment. She didn’t want Logan to follow her, but she didn’t take the time to tell him not to. The way the rain blew in, everything she owned would be soaked in under a minute.

She got the balcony doors closed while he shut the kitchen window for her. She darted into the bathroom to get that small window, and Logan…went into her bedroom.

No, no, no.

Face soaked, shirt and shoes wet, she waited, but he didn’t come back out. Knowing proximity could get the best of her, she nonetheless stepped into the bedroom behind him. He had his back to her, eyeing her treadmill.

“Logan?”

When he turned, she saw his jeans clinging to his body, his chest hair darker with the rain, his nipples tight from the chill.

Her mouth went dry.

“Sorry.” He ran a hand over his face and pushed back his hair. “It was coming in pretty good. Your floor’s wet, and so is the bottom of your bed.”

She stayed by the door, her thoughts rioting with explicit images of him naked, the things he’d do, the things she wanted to do to him.

A sudden shift in the air, in his mood, sent a thread of excited alarm up her spine.

He took a step toward her. “What about you, Sue?”

Not knowing what he asked, she shook her head in confusion.

“It’s too damn dark for me to tell,” he whispered, coming closer. In a husky, suggestive tone, he said, “I’m betting you’re wet, too.”

So many ways she wanted to reply—all of them dangerous.

She couldn’t think when she looked at him, so she turned her back and tried to order herself to caution.

“Thank you for the help.” It was an obvious hint for him to go, but at the same time, she had that image of him standing there, at the foot of her unmade bed. Tall, bare-chested, sexy as sin…

His hands settled on her shoulders; his scent settled around her.

And before he said a single word, she knew she was a goner.

* * *

LOGAN IGNORED the not-so-subtle suggestion for him to hit the road, especially since her voice had gone all thin and high. She was nervous, he got that.

Why, he didn’t yet know.

But he had her in a bedroom, in the near-dark, and with every fiber of his being, he was aware of her as a woman.

Not of his plan to get hold of her brother. Not of how she could assist him in his goal to obtain justice.

Just…her.

The way she trembled, the scent of her damp skin, her arousal.

They stood in the shadows while lightning flashed outside and occasional thunder rattled the windows.

Holding her shoulders, he drew her back into his chest and bent to inhale the heady fragrance of her damp skin. “I don’t want to leave you alone in this storm.”

The silence grew taut, and he knew she warred with herself, with what she wanted—and probably her damned brother’s rules.

Finally she whispered, “I’ll be fine.”

“You want me to stay.” And knowing that, he went about convincing her, putting soft love bites on her throat, teasing her ear with his breath and his tongue, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close enough that she felt his erection against her soft ass.

“Logan…”

“Your shirt is wet,” he told her and boldly smoothed a hand up and over her breast. The restrictive bra confounded him. It couldn’t be comfortable.

“Don’t.” She caught his wrist and drew his hand down to her waist, but she didn’t step away from him.

“Okay.” He pressed his hand lower, to her belly, and asked, “Is this better?”

She shocked him by nodding.

Need held him in a powerful grip; he pressed his hand lower, between her thighs, cupping her through the long skirt and insubstantial underwear.

They both breathed harder.

She parted her thighs.

Amazing. So this was okay, but her breasts were off-limits? Prodded by concern, by the idea that she could be scarred, or worse, he asked, “Why, honey?”

Pressing back against him, she put her hand over his, encouraging him to continue while muttering low, “No questions.”

Not being a fool, Logan agreed. When he got her in bed, he’d get her naked, and then he’d figure it out on his own. He’d reassure her and let her know whatever it was, it didn’t matter, not between them.

She flattened her hands on his thighs, and her nails dug into him. He heard the catch in her breathing, savored the heat of her, how she moved against his exploring fingers.

For the longest time they stood there like that, in the dark with the storm all around them, damp, hot, necking and petting. He grinned against her shoulder. “I haven’t done this since high school.”

It took a little while before she asked, “This?”

“Making out. Fooling around with my clothes on.” He pressed his hard-on against her. “Getting so frustrated, I almost can’t take it.”

She groaned—and started to step away.

Logan turned them both instead and brought her down to the bed. He sprawled out over her, kissing her hard, deep, hoping to obliterate any objections.

She had none.

Of her own accord she parted her legs so that he fit between them. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she held him close while he kissed her.

When he again reached for her breast—dying to see her, to touch her—she stalled. “Wait.”

Of course he did. Balanced over her, edgy with need, their breaths mingling, he…waited.

Her body beneath his was an indistinct form, but he felt her urgency, the way she stared at him, and her indecision.

Her hands kneaded his chest. “If we’re going to do this—”

“I hope we are.”

“—then I need the curtains closed.”

Even though it was black as pitch outside? He looked toward the window. Was she afraid a flash of lightning would show him something? Like what? Thinking to encourage her, he said, “You don’t need to—”

“And you have to keep your hands to yourself.”

Thoughts, ugly suspicions, bounded this way and that. He gave her a gentle kiss. “I don’t understand.” Any of it, including the driving need to discover her hang-ups. “I’ve got my hands on you now.” He emphasized that by tucking her hair back, smoothing her cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t want you…feeling around on me.”

Moving his body over hers, he growled, “I can feel you. All of you.” He closed his eyes at the giving softness of her curves, the open cradle of her thighs. “You’re soft and hot and—”

A little panicked—or else very close to the edge of release—she said in a high voice, “Promise me right now, or we’re done.”

Unease warred with conviction. He couldn’t keep from brushing gentle kisses on the bridge of her nose, her brow, and he wanted to go on kissing her. Everywhere. “Whatever it is, honey, I swear to you, it’s okay.”

“It’s me.” Stroking her hands around to his back, fraught with uncertainty, she clutched at him. “I need my clothes on. I need the lights out. I need you to keep your hands mostly to yourself.”

Jesus. “When I mentioned high school, I wasn’t looking for a reenactment.”

She sucked in a breath. “Fine.” Shaking, she pushed against him while trying to turn away from him. “Then let’s forget about—”

“No way.” He brought her face back around to his and again kissed her, softer, deeper. “You can trust me, Sue.” Like hell. “I won’t hurt you.” Damn it.

In the near darkness, they watched each other. Her eyes glimmered, but he couldn’t see her well enough to decipher her thoughts.

She touched his jaw. “Let me up.”

Damn, damn, damn. Flopping over to his back with a groan, Logan stared toward the ceiling, hot, frustrated, but mostly troubled. From the knees down, his legs hung over the end of the bed.

The part the rain had soaked.

The wind howled eerily, suiting his mood. Thunder crashed, and he felt it in his chest.

He didn’t want things to end like this.

He rose up on one arm. “Sue?” It amazed him that he kept the forethought to continue using her alias. There remained just enough light filtering in for him to see her shadowy form as she lifted her skirt.

Lust tied him in knots. He drew in necessary oxygen. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my panties.” She dropped them on the floor and crossed to the window to close the heavy curtains. “Only my panties.”

His heart thundered. “Yeah, all right.” Lust cut into him. When he felt her approach, he dropped back to the bed in an agony of suspense, breath held, erection straining.

Her hands went to the fastening of his jeans. With a small tug, she opened the snap. “I shouldn’t do this,” she said.

He heartily disagreed.

She pushed his jeans down to his knees. “I’ll probably regret it.”

He wouldn’t let her feel regret. Somehow he’d make it okay—

Her hand curled around him, and his thoughts shattered on a rough groan.

Keeping his cock held tight in her small, hot hand, she climbed onto the bed to straddle his hips. She’d lifted her skirt; her panties were indeed gone. “Please don’t ruin this for me, Logan.”

“No.” Hell, no. “I won’t.”

Sitting back a little, she stroked him once, then released him. “Can you put on this condom?”

Where the hell had she gotten it?

Screw it, he didn’t care. He found her hand in the darkness and took the rubber from her. “Yeah, no problem.” Amazing that he felt so close; it hadn’t been that long for him. He shouldn’t be so wired, so fucking desperate to get inside her.

She was plain, timid, with a nondescript build and more secrets than he could count.

She was a pawn in his scheme to corral the murderous Morton Andrews.

But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this.

CHAPTER FOUR

LOGAN LOVED SEX, always had, always would. No two ways about that. Somehow, with Pepper Yates and all her coy rules and seductive timidity, it felt different. Scorching. Salacious.

Like a kinky fantasy come to life.

Her soft bare thighs opened over his hips. Not touching her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He fisted his hands in the damp sheets of her bed.

Again she wrapped her small hand around him. “I can feel you pulsing,” she whispered.

God. “Tell me what you need, honey.”

“You,” she said. “Inside me.” And with that, she moved over him, positioning him, moving the head of his cock against her hot, slick flesh.

He couldn’t remember ever being so turned on, so primed. “You’re wet,” he said with savage satisfaction. She gave him so little…but he had this.

“I know.” She sank down the tiniest bit, caught her breath and hesitated.

Shaking all over, Logan held himself as still as he could. Jaw tight, he waited. He could barely see her, but her scent was stronger now, her body clamping around him, alternately squeezing him, then softening again with devastating effect.

It was a snug fit, and with her only working the sensitive head, he thought he’d lose it. Through his teeth, he said, “More, Sue.” He drew a harsh breath. “Now, or it’ll be over before it begins.”

“I’m sorry.” She braced a hand flat on his chest and pressed down, rocking a little, working herself down over him. “It’s been a while for me.”

“You need me to touch you, to help ready you—”

“No.” Now with both hands on his chest, she gasped, and sank more.

Heels to the floor, Logan lifted up and pressed himself as deep as he could go until he’d buried himself inside her.

He heard her vibrating groan and felt the way her inner muscles worked him.

“Yeah?” Anchoring himself so he wouldn’t forget and reach for her, he waited.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Thank God. He drove up into her again and again. He wanted to hold her hips, he wanted to free her breasts and suck on her nipples.

But all he had was this, and it was so damned erotic, he had to concentrate hard to keep from coming.

They found the perfect rhythm together. Her nails curled into his pectoral muscles, then kneaded him in pleasure. He growled, and she purred.

“Let me kiss you,” he said. He needed at least that. “Give me your mouth.”

Lowering to her forearms, she bit his bottom lip, kissed him hard, licked her tongue against his. This new position drove him even deeper, brought her clitoris into contact with his shaft with each solid thrust—and he felt the start of her climax.

Against his mouth she cried out, still kissing him with hunger, grinding herself against him, harder and faster.

Suddenly she arched back with a harsh moan, riding out her orgasm, and more than anything Logan wished he could see her.

Letting himself go, he groaned with her, stunned by the power of what she made him feel, by her physical and emotional appeal. The release continued until he was drained, until the aftershocks faded and she sprawled down over him, a limp, sweet weight over his heart.

They were half off the bed, half on it, as lax as the sheets.

Carefully, Logan settled his hands on her narrow back. “Okay?”

“Mmm.” She kissed his sweaty chest, nuzzled her nose against him and said with clear regret, “It’s such a shame that you have to go.”

* * *

HE WENT STILL beneath her, then rigid. “Is that a joke?”

On a long, melancholy sigh, Pepper levered herself up over him. “No.” She patted his rock-hard shoulder, disengaged their bodies, and left the bed. “I wish you could stay.” She really, really did. “But I’m sorry. You can’t.”

“You’re kicking me out?” He sat up in disbelief. “Now?”

“Yes.” If only the lights would come back on first so she could get a good look at him. But darkness prevailed. She moved away and opened the curtains again. “It’s getting late.”

“It’s only half an hour later than it was before we got in bed!”

True. Unfortunately, prolonged foreplay wasn’t in the works for them. Trying to ignore his irritation, she started out of the room. “I need a shower.”

He was off the bed in a heartbeat, stepping into her path, blocking her retreat.

Offended.

Given her current frame of mind—sort of soft and distracted and…susceptible—it was a good thing he’d pulled up his jeans. They were still open, and now that she’d parted the drapes again, she could see his abdomen…and lower. But at least she didn’t see all of him, everything that she’d touched, stroked.

The thick flesh that had filled her up.

Her heart beat in a slow, steady rhythm. Resisting the urge to touch him, Pepper put her hands behind her and backed up.

Incredulous, he glared. “No fucking way are you afraid of me.”

After everything they’d just done? “No.” She was afraid of herself, of her reactions to him. She couldn’t do this—but she had. And it had been so wonderful…

He tried a different tack. Taking her shoulders, caressing her, he cajoled, “Let me stay the night.”

“I can’t.” She took another quick step back—out of his reach.

His hands dropped. “I don’t fucking believe this.”

His coarse language grated on her. They’d had sex—weird, restrained sex, but still, that didn’t give him the right to treat her without respect.

“I don’t believe you’re cursing me.”

“Not you.” Working off what was clearly a very short fuse, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s this situation. I thought we were getting closer. I thought…”

That it meant something? He sounded like a scorned woman, and she felt like a jerk.

It seemed a wise thing to get out of the bedroom. Pepper went as far as the small sofa and paused. Don’t do it, Pepper. Don’t do it— “We could share dinner again. Tomorrow I mean.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “If you’re not busy.”

The sudden silence nearly choked her. Had the storm finally quieted, too? She wasn’t in the habit of propositioning men. Even before her life had changed so drastically, she hadn’t thrown out dinner invitations.

She hadn’t needed to.

Wondering what Logan thought, if he’d accept her offer, she turned to him. He’d crossed his arms, but his nonchalant stance couldn’t hide his antagonism.

“Well?” She wished he’d say something.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re really inviting me for dinner, or for sex.”

Both. Feeling a little foolish, she shook her head. “Never mind. It was a bad idea.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” In three long strides he reached her. “Whatever we just did, I liked it.”

Her knees went weak. “Me, too.”

“Yeah?” He caressed her again. “It was unusual—”

He meant odd. Weird. Bizarre.

“—but I don’t think I’ve ever been that turned on.”

“Really?” Sure, she’d loved it, but then even a crumb was delicious to a starving woman. And that had been no more than a crumb.

Guys were always easy, but still, she couldn’t believe he’d be that accepting of her restrictions.

“Absolutely.” With two fingers, Logan touched her chin. “If you’re asking me over for more of the same, I’m in.”

Could she make the apartment dark enough? Would she have an opportunity to buy blackout blinds? Did she dare have an encore of that unique and somewhat torturous intimacy?

“But,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “if it’s only dinner you want, I’m in for that, too.”

No way. If he accepted a “dinner only” invite, it’d be because he figured he’d eventually get back in her bed. “Okay.”

Proving her right, he slid both hands around her neck. “You know I’m rooting for the first option, right?”

“Yes.” She was sort of rooting for it, too. “I understand that. I just don’t know…”

He kissed her. “We’ll play it by ear, see where things take us.”

“Okay.” And if she could find a way around Rowdy’s temper over it all, then for sure, the bed would win. But she had no illusions about keeping this from her brother. He knew everything she did, and who she did it with.

Well, not the sexual details, of course. But he always watched her so closely, no way would he miss the fact that Logan had been in her apartment, during a power outage, without a lot to do to keep them busy.

Rowdy wouldn’t be happy. She sometimes thought if he could have his way, he’d keep her locked up, out of sight.

Out of the way.

Thinking about that bothered her, so she again said to Logan, “You need to go.”

Something dark and dangerous—probably ego—glittered in his eyes. “You have my number handy?”

“On top of the fridge.”

Despite his menacing expression, his touch remained gentle, persuasive. “Keep it by your bedside, all right? Better, program it into your cell phone. Just in case you need me.”

Need him? Did he mean for sexual satisfaction or physical protection? Either way… “I’ll be fine.”

Answering her question, he said, “If this blackout lasts, you don’t know what kind of trouble might come knocking at your door.”

True enough, but she wasn’t worried. “It’s just a storm.” God knew she had survived worse things than weather. “And actually…I’m good with numbers.”

“Meaning you’ve memorized it already?”

She shrugged.

“Good.” Still he hesitated. “I’m leaving under duress.”

Never had she known anyone like him. Sure, most men would take sex in just about any circumstances that they could get it. But what they had just done had to top the list of peculiar sexual encounters.

Still, she knew he’d reached satisfaction. His harsh groans had been wonderful to hear, and the way his body had tensed, the heat pouring off him during his release—she’d loved every second of it.

He’d gotten what he wanted. But now, instead of being glad to escape further involvement, he wanted to hang around.

That sort of made her smile. “Thank you.”

Taking her by surprise, he wrapped one arm around her waist, the other under her backside, and he lifted her off her feet. Given her height, that was no easy feat, but he didn’t look strained.

Actually, he looked turned on. Again.

With her pelvis flattened to his hard abdomen, her legs aligned with his, she braced her hands on his bare shoulders. Hot.

“Logan!” She gasped. “What are you doing?”

Her well-covered breasts were even with his chin, but he stared into her eyes. “I need another taste to tide me over until tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She found no fault with that plan. “Okay.”

Treating her to the full effect of his potent appeal, he kissed her—and this kiss was different from the others. Not entirely sexual, but not exactly sweet and innocent, either.

It was maybe a kiss of…understanding. And interest.

As he lowered her back to her feet, he said, “Think about me tonight, Sue. And think about what we’ll do tomorrow.” He gave her one more kiss before leaving.

Pepper watched him go. Think about him? She doubted she’d be able to think of anything else.

* * *

HAT PULLED LOW, collar up, Rowdy Yates hung back in the shadows, shielded from the downpour by the slight overhang of the building across from the apartment complex. He chewed the end of a toothpick until there was nothing left of it.

What the hell was she thinking, fooling around with the new neighbor? She knew better, damn it.

Because he’d taught her better.

Having random, well-hidden cameras in the building hadn’t proved useful until now. Usually, she took no chances. He’d felt safe with the occasional contact, knowing Pepper could reach him in case of an emergency.

But ever since Logan Stark had moved in, he’d been more vigilant—mostly because Pepper had been different. It seemed that, despite all his precautions, she’d come to the end of her rope. He’d have to deal with that, with her—but first he’d deal with Logan Stark.

Down the street, somewhere in the darkness, a car alarm blared. Glass broke. Sirens split the night.

A streetlamp flickered back on, disturbing the concealing cocoon of the blackout, sending a river of light to shimmer across the washed-out roadway.

The woman on his arm shivered from the rain and pressed her heavy breasts into his side. “It’s cold.”

“Not really.” He’d already forgotten her name but didn’t care. He wouldn’t see her again after tonight. Wrapping an arm around her, Rowdy asked, “Better?”

“Are we going in or not?”

“Yeah.” He could smell her perfume, felt the heat of her small body. He threw the toothpick away. “Remember, I’ve got an hour or less. That’s all.”

Running a hand down his chest and smiling, she said, “Sugar, that’s all the time I need.”

* * *

STILL CURLED IN HER BED, relaxed from a good night’s sleep, Pepper watched the sun begin filtering through the curtains. She had that type of lethargy that only came from sex.

She stretched, smiling, wondering what the coming day—and the night—might bring. More time with Logan? More sex? She hoped so.

Her cell phone rang.

She frowned toward it, but she knew it would be Rowdy, and she knew he’d be angry. Much as she wanted to keep reality at bay, she had to answer.

Rolling to the side of the bed, she snatched up the phone and pressed the button to accept the call. “You’re up early.”

“But you’re not?”

Smiling again, she fell to her back. “I slept in.” To daydream. To remember.

“We have to talk, Pepper.”

Uh-oh. Hearing Rowdy’s exasperation, she shook off her dreamy preoccupation. “What’s the matter?”

“You already know, so don’t play dumb.” And then, sharper, “What do you know about him?”

“He’s…harmless.” A neighbor, an oversexed guy willing to abide by her stipulations for a little fun in the sack. In other words…perfect.

“He’s working construction.”

Shrugging to herself, she said, “He told me.”

“But you didn’t know it, not until I checked.”

She looked at the clock. It was after ten. “Is that where he’s at now?”

“Yeah.”

“And you figure it’s legitimate?”

“Since he just shot a nail through his hand, I’d say so.”

She bolted upright in the bed. “Is he okay?”

Rowdy fell silent.

“Is he?”

“You care about him,” Rowdy accused.

“I barely know him.” Not a lie; but she knew him better than she knew most people.

Because she’d gotten intimate with him. A strange sort of intimacy, but still…

“He got sloppy with the nail gun, but I’m sure it’s not a big deal.”

Only another guy would think that. “Did he go to the hospital?”

“No. A few of the other guys patched him up.”

Her anxiety lifted. It must not have been too awful. “So you’re convinced he’s on the level?”

“Hell, no. You shouldn’t see him again.”

But she would. “Why not?”

“You know why.” Disgust mixed with anger in his tone. “Think about it, Pepper. What does he really want from you?”

Sex. “I don’t know.” And dinner. And…conversation? She shook her head. “Maybe he just wants to know a friendly face here.”

With silky menace, Rowdy asked, “And have you been friendly?”

Oops. Bad wording on her part. “Not exactly.” She propped her back against the headboard. Anxious to get off the topic, she said, “So you only called to caution me?”

“To warn you. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

She didn’t ask her brother if he’d been celibate; she knew the answer already. Double standards always annoyed her. “Duly noted. Now I need to go. I have to see how much damage the storm did to your building.”

“Wait.”

Pepper could almost picture him grinding his teeth, and she smiled. “Yes, Rowdy?”

A beat of silence, and then: “Until I get a chance to do a more thorough check on him, keep him out of your apartment.”

Her lips compressed. Rowdy had gotten awfully good at giving her orders—and expecting them to be obeyed. “Fine.” She wondered if Logan had been sent home from work but didn’t dare ask Rowdy. He was surly enough already. It never paid for her to tweak his temper. “Let me know if you find out anything more.”

“Might take a few days, but I’ll be in touch.”

The connection died, and so did her good mood. She tossed aside the phone and bounded out of bed. She had a lot to get done, so she might as well get to it.

Going to her closet, she chose another drab, ugly outfit and carried it into her small bathroom. Looking at herself in the mirror, she touched her dull hair and even duller complexion.

She hated to face the truth, but Rowdy had a valid point. Though he hadn’t come right out and said it, they both had to wonder what Logan saw in her.

Easy sex? Accomplished.

So now what? More sex? For most of the men she’d known, it was all about the conquest. Once they got what they wanted, they moved on to more challenging territory.

For now, Logan was an enigma.

She’d shower, dress and get through her errands which, despite what Rowdy said, included buying heavier drapes and blackout blinds for her bedroom—just in case. It was bad enough that Logan had seen her treadmill.

She didn’t need him seeing anything else.

Being a woman of her word, she’d insist that dinner be at his place tonight. And after dinner, maybe she’d be able to talk him into round two.

Letting out a long sigh, she cooled the temp on her shower and stepped in.

She knew better than to hope for too much; nothing in her life had really changed. She still lived a lie, and she needed to remain in isolation.

But she couldn’t seem to stop herself from reaching for this one pleasure.

Her very restrictive existence suddenly looked brighter. For the first time in a long time she had reason to anticipate the day.

Given half a chance, she’d thank Logan for that—in the limited ways left to her.

* * *

WITH HIS CELL PHONE on speaker, Logan paced his small living room and stewed. His hand ached, but he deserved it. Luckily, it was his left he’d injured, not his gun hand. He could shoot adequately with his left, but he had improved aim with his right.

Even luckier—depending on your point of view—it wasn’t an uncommon accident to have happen on the job site. While he’d cursed a blue streak, the other workers had laughed at him, proof positive that they’d seen it happen before.

Dash had remembered not to single him out with concern and had, in fact, chewed his ass for being careless, as he would do with any worker.

But now he’d have a few days off work, and that’d fuck with his cover and his control. He needed to stay busy, to keep his thoughts occupied.

What the hell was Pepper Yates hiding under those hand-me-down clothes?

What didn’t she want him to see? To touch?

Men were simple creatures, women not so much. They always wanted physical attention during sex. Hell, they needed it to get off.

Not Pepper.

He could still feel her sliding down his shaft, at first so slowly that she’d made him nuts, then taking him deep. And he could still feel the way her body had tightened around him during her climax.

A climax she’d reached with little help from him.

All while dressed. Without a single seductive stroke of his fingers.

Or his tongue.

He hadn’t seduced her, hadn’t incited her.

He hadn’t done anything except supply a dick and then react to her lead. It burned his ass big-time that he felt used.

It burned him even more that he wanted her to want more.

Reese finally picked up on the fourth ring and said with irritation, “Anything wrong?”

His mood gave Logan pause. “Not really, no.”

Reese cursed. “Then this better be good.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Actually, yeah, you are.”

Logan grinned. “New woman?”

“New puppy. It’s destroying my place.”

That was so far from what Logan had expected to hear, it threw him. “You got a dog?”

“It sort of got me. Long story.”

So he’d taken in a stray? Logan grinned. “You’re such a big softie.”

Reese snorted. “You want me to come there and kick your ass? Is that it? You’re all lonely and, instead of admitting it, you’re finding a reason to piss me off so I’ll hunt you up?”

Logan laughed outright.

Reese said, “Dog, no. No! Damn it.” Then with a growl to Logan, “What’s up?”

It took some effort to fight off another laugh, but Logan took pity on Reese and got to the point. “I need you to do some specific searching through our collection of photos.”

“Rowdy?”

“No.” He knew Reese wouldn’t be happy, but what the hell? Logan had his reasons. “Pepper.”

Reese paused. “We don’t have much on her. Some small black-and-whites, that’s all.”

“I know.” And if there was any way Logan could do this himself, he would. The last thing he wanted was another man scrutinizing Pepper’s body. But it’d be too dangerous for him to have the photos around, so he’d have to rely on Reese. “Look at what we have, see if we have any body shots.”

“Body shots?”

Forging on, Logan said, “Try to get a read on her…body.”

“Come again?”

At least now Reese sounded more interested. “She’s hiding something, something physical I mean.”

“And you know this…how?”

No way in hell would he give Reese the nitty-gritty. Pepper Yates was a pawn in the big scheme of things, but for whatever reason, Logan didn’t want to betray her.

So fucking stupid.

“Look to see if there are any shots showing her in a blouse, or hell, even a T-shirt. Anything that’ll show…” The words dropped off. What could he say?

“The size of her rack?” Reese finished for him.

Logan rubbed his face with his uninjured hand. “Yeah. But more than that, too. Body type. Like is she shapely all over, or athletic, or maybe extra slim—”

“Damn it, Logan, what the hell are you doing now?”

“Nothing.” Nothing that he’d share anyway. “I just need to know what I’m dealing with.”

“Because you’re dealing with her boobs?” Reese grunted. “Never mind. Forget I asked. At least I know you haven’t had sex with her, or you’d know the answer to that one yourself.”

No, he wouldn’t. But again, not Reese’s business. “Can you try to find some pics or not?”

“Yeah. Give me till tomorrow morning.”

Logan looked at the bruising on his hand, flexed his fingers and winced. Being done with the topic of Pepper’s body—for now—he asked, “So did you name the dog?”

“Cash.”

“Nice name.”

“It was either that or Debt.” Reese made a sound of frustration. “He’s been expensive. And speaking of that, I need to go. He’s eating one of my shoes.”

Logan heard Reese call out to the dog, then drop the phone, and with a laugh, he ended the call. Next time he and Reese got together, he’d find out more about the animal. But for right now, he had other, more important issues on his mind.

Like how he’d get Pepper Yates naked.

No time like the present to start working on that.

CHAPTER FIVE

WEARING JEANS AND A T-SHIRT, Logan stepped out of the apartment, locked the door, turned—and found Pepper standing there.

By the looks of it, she’d just left her apartment, as well.

“Sue. Hey. I was just coming over to see you.”

How she could look so shy after last night, he didn’t know. The woman had used him up, and they’d both loved every second of it.

She licked her lips—which now, to his curious libido, appeared soft and lush—and nodded at him. “Hi.” Clutching a big purse to her chest, she turned toward the stairway to the apartment building entrance. “I was just on my way out.”

“Hold up.” Logan fell into step beside her. Bright sunshine poured through the glass entry doors, gilding her long, dark eyelashes, highlighting her lack of makeup. He hadn’t noticed it before, but she had amazing skin.

And when the hell had he ever noticed a woman’s skin, unless it was on an interesting place on her body? “Where are you off to?”

“Shopping.”

“I could give you a lift.”

“No. Thank you.” She trotted down the steps. “That’s okay.”

“What’s the rush?” He tried a laugh that, even to him, sounded fake as hell. But damn it, she was running from him. Still.

First the hurried sex in the dark with her clothes on. Then the abrupt goodbye. And now she didn’t want to take a single second to talk with him.

“Sorry,” she said again. “I have a lot to get done today.”

“I could help,” he offered, but she was already shaking her head. “Why?” he demanded. “What’s different today?”

But he knew. Intimacy, mixed with sunshine. She wanted to keep her damned secrets.

He wouldn’t let her.

Eyes wide, she stared at him. “Nothing has changed. Why would you think it has?”

Now, that pissed him off. He leaned toward her. “I was inside you last night.”

As her face went hot, she dropped her gaze to his shoulders, then lower to his crotch. “Yes,” she breathed, and she touched his chest. “You were deep inside me.”

God, the way she looked at him made him feel it all over again. His cock twitched, his heart started popping against his ribs. He covered her hand with his own. “You liked it.”

“I did.” She looked into his eyes and pulled her hand away. “But that doesn’t change anything. I still can’t…” She gestured from him to herself and back again. “Can’t. But if you want, we can still do dinner tonight.”

Only dinner? Like hell. He’d squelch that idea at the first opportunity. “My place or yours?” he said as a challenge, then wanted to smack himself when she jumped on the offer.

“Yours.”

Figuring her out could take a lifetime. But he’d already spent considerable time getting to this point. He wouldn’t waste a minute more. “Okay, sure.”

Maybe after he had her brother, he’d be able to nail Andrews and ultimately get justice for his best friend’s murder.

And then he could work on unraveling the mystery of Pepper Yates.

He looked her over in the faded jumper that she wore over a blouse with elbow-length sleeves. “What do you feel like?” God Almighty, she had horrid taste in clothes. “Besides me, I mean.”

Her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, making them look darker and somehow more mysterious. “Besides you—I don’t care.”

Damn. So sex was still on the table with no effort on his part at all?

He’d never known a woman to be all timid one minute, then so verbally ballsy the next.

The contradictions left him singed.

“I’ll be over at seven.” Tentatively, she reached out and touched his chest again in a vague, barely-there goodbye gesture. “See you then.”

Logan rubbed the spot where she’d just stroked him.

What was it about her? She may as well have stroked his junk for the way it affected him.

She hadn’t asked about his hand, or why he wasn’t at work, but then, he’d already told her he didn’t work every day. And really, with her attention on his body, who cared if she noticed a stupid injury or not?

He didn’t.

Before she got too far down the walkway, Logan stuck his head out the doors. “I’m cooking barbecue.”

Her head down, her shoulders forward, she gave a negligent wave of her hand and kept going in a brisk walk.

Almost like the hounds of hell dogged her heels.

Logan watched her until she was out of sight. Damn it. He hadn’t even realized he was staring after her until he couldn’t see her anymore.

He had to get it together.

Preferably by getting her under him. Without clothes. Lights on. And with enough time for him to explore every inch of her.

Once he had her, all of her, then he’d be better able to focus.

But for now…what to do?

He looked up the steps, considered breaking into her apartment to snoop around, but if Rowdy had any booby traps set, he could end up blowing his cover.

Best not to push it.

Tromping back up to his own apartment, he got his shoes and a shirt, and headed out to the grocery. His culinary skills were limited. He knew only how to cook what he liked best, which meant meat and potatoes. He’d pick up the barbecue, and maybe grab a cake or something from the bakery.

He made a point of driving around the block so that Pepper wouldn’t think he followed her. They could still run into each other, but it wouldn’t be on purpose—not on his part, anyway. Along the way he thought about Morton Andrews. So far, Andrews had gotten away with a lot, including murder. So many times, in so many ways, the trail led to him.

Unfortunately, Andrews had connections everywhere, which meant he always had an alias.

Logan needed Rowdy Yates’s eyewitness account to nail the bastard for good. The facts bolstered his belief that he’d eventually be successful.

Yates had worked at Andrews’s club, Checkers, a few years ago. For all Logan knew, Yates had been legitimate muscle for the club, but either way, he’d been in the right place at the right time to have the inside scoop.

A reporter had claimed to have a breaking story about Jack’s murder—thanks to confidential info from Yates.

That story had died with the reporter, but Yates was still around, and soon, Logan would be able to question him.

He could hardly wait.

Thoughts of Morton Andrews continued to plague him even as he parked and did his shopping. He could still see the smug prick: fifty years old, tall, trim, and as dirty as they came. Women seemed to find him handsome with his dyed white-blond hair, near-black eyes and slick wardrobe.

As one of the wealthier club owners in the state, he always had a babe on his arm. The women either didn’t know, or didn’t care, that Andrews dealt drugs and was suspected of forced labor trade and everything from theft to murder.

What would Pepper think if she knew of her brother’s association with Morton Andrews? Did she even know her brother had worked at Checkers?

As Logan grabbed the few things he needed off the shelves, he could have sworn he felt someone watching him. Not casual curiosity but intense observation. He paid for his groceries and walked out to the parking lot.

The sense of being watched sharpened. After slipping on mirrored sunglasses, he looked around, nonchalantly checking parked cars, customers and shadows.

Though he saw no one in particular, he’d been on the job long enough to know he hadn’t imagined it. Only Reese and the lieutenant knew he was currently undercover, but Andrews was always a threat. For that reason, Logan remained cautious. But he was damn good at his job, and he doubted Andrews could have had him followed, not without Logan knowing it before now.

So who then? Possibly Rowdy Yates?

He stowed the groceries in the rear of his pickup and opened the driver’s door. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck prickled; would he end up with a bullet in his back? Anyone with a rifle could pick him off with ease. Was Rowdy corrupt enough for cold-blooded murder?

“What are you doing here?”

Logan jerked around and found Pepper standing there, a hand shading her eyes from the sun, a soft breeze playing with a few loose tendrils of her dark blond hair.

When he pulled off his sunglasses to greet her, he noted her look of unease.

Logan knew her damn brother was the most likely threat to him…but was he also a threat to her? “I had to get stuff for dinner.” To make it more difficult for anyone with a rifle scope, he maneuvered her between his body and the grocery store entrance. He had his own truck at his back. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed some groceries myself.” Looking beyond him, expression wary and anxious, she scrunched her face against the glare off the blacktop parking lot. “I could have gotten your stuff for you, but since you’re here anyway—” she took his arm and began hauling him back toward the store “—you may as well give me a ride home when I’m finished.”

That attitude was so different from what she’d expressed back at the apartment that his suspicions darkened. Was she hoping to protect him from Rowdy?

He said only, “Glad to.” And he freed his wrist from her grip so that he could put a hand to the small of her back.

The rain from the night before had ramped up the humidity, but it also left behind that stirring breeze that plastered her skirt to her legs. The skirt kicked up with each hurried step she took.

“Stop staring,” she said. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He’d been about to ask her why she was rushing him, but she effectively sidetracked him. “I find it hard not to watch you.”

“Why?” she asked.

Before, he’d studied her to make her aware of him, not out of any real intimate interest of his own.

Now…her every move enthralled him. He needed to see her body, to touch her all over. At every moment, some part of his brain churned over the body hidden from him. In a very short time, he’d become obsessed.

“You have long legs,” he mused aloud.

She missed a step, then moved ahead of him, out of his reach.

Knowing he had her on the run, Logan smiled. “Slim hips, too.”

She charged forward, grabbed a cart and shoved her way down an aisle. Hanging back a little, aware of the concentrated way she resisted any sway to her walk, Logan watched her.

Suddenly she stopped and turned to glare at him.

And it was a glare of pure fire, taking him by surprise.

“Stop it,” she ordered him, “or leave.”

Mesmerizing, that small sign of her temper. “You asked me to give you a ride home.”

“Yes, but if you can’t behave in a civilized way, I’d rather walk. In fact, I like walking. It’s good exercise and—”

“Forget it, honey.” Logan put his arm around her and started her forward again. “I’ll pretend you’re not hiding a sweet body, okay?”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She clung to the cart, almost using it for support as he urged her down the bread aisle.

As she shopped, Logan stayed attuned to their surroundings, but he no longer felt the scrutiny of prying eyes.

Come out, you bastard, Logan thought to himself. Come out so I can get to you.

But he didn’t see Rowdy Yates anywhere around, and he didn’t feel that burning gaze, either. His disappointment would have been more pronounced if he weren’t so fascinated with Pepper. The no-nonsense way she shopped, how she moved, even her junk food choices were a source of interest.

Add to all that her awareness of him, which he felt in spades.

Even in the middle of a grocery store, that damned sexual chemistry arced between them, live, hot and alarmingly real. Possibly the most real thing he’d felt in two long years.

* * *

“TURN IN HERE.”

Logan glanced at her. “What?”

“I need to go to the department store, too. Turn in here.” He’d been silent too long, and she didn’t know if it was because he’d sensed her brother’s nosiness, or his curiosity about her body that kept him brooding.

Neither possibility boded well for her peace of mind.

As he pulled into a parking spot, she opened her seat belt. Already preoccupied with thoughts of her brother and his domineering presence, she said, “You don’t need to wait. Thank you for the lift, but I’ll walk the rest of the way after I’ve finished.”

Before she moved an inch, he caught her arm in a gentle but unbreakable hold. Far too seriously, he said, “I don’t mind waiting.”

He had such big, strong hands, but she couldn’t imagine him ever hurting her. “What happened there?” She nodded at his left hand, braced on the steering wheel. The nail gun had left behind some grisly bruising.

As if he’d forgotten the injury, he looked at it. “I screwed up at work, that’s all.”

Pepper couldn’t resist reaching for his wrist, drawing his hand toward her. At the base of his thumb and halfway up his index finger, purple, blue and green colored his skin. At the fleshiest part of his thumb, where it webbed, she saw a puncture.

“What did you do?” she asked softly, pretending she didn’t already know.

“Drove a nail through it.” He curled his fingers around hers. “It’s fine.”

“Ouch,” she said in sympathy. The urge to kiss his hand nearly overwhelmed her. But she didn’t know for sure if Rowdy had followed them, and she didn’t want to do anything to set off her brother’s temper. When it came to her, he had enough anger for ten men. “Did you go to the hospital?”

“No need. I already had a tetanus shot and I didn’t hit anything vital—just my pride.”

She smiled with him.

Almost as a suggestion, he said, “I’ll be off work for a few days.”

She waited…for what, she wasn’t sure.

“I was hoping we could spend more time together.”

And there it was, the reason for Rowdy’s suspicions. She tried to think of what to say, tried to muster up the conviction to turn him away.

He didn’t give her a chance.

“I have so many things to ask you.”

Alarm took her breath. “Like what?”

Teasing, he kissed the end of her nose, then her cheek and finally her mouth. He lingered, a soft press of lips, breath mingling, heartbeats accelerating. Finally he sat back. “How is it a woman as shy as you are has a rubber handy?”

Oh. Not a horrible question. “I, um…”

“Why don’t you run in the park instead of on a treadmill?”

She winced. She knew sooner or later he’d ask about that. “The thing is…”

He put a finger to her lips. “And why don’t you realize how pretty you could be.”

Could be. Out of all the people who’d looked past her, even through her, did Logan actually see her, not a disguise, not the bland facade, but a real woman? The tension left her shoulders. “Logan.”

“Not that you aren’t cute now.” He ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “It’s there, even though you don’t want it to be.”

“It?”

“Your physical appeal. I know you’d rather I didn’t notice, but I can’t seem to help it.”

No, she didn’t want him to see much of anything at all. “I’m not cute.” She really wasn’t. Not like this. “I have mirrors.”

Leaning in for another kiss, he murmured, “If you give me a chance, I can convince you.”

He was soooo tempting. “A chance…how?”

His mouth brushed the corner of hers. “Spend some time with me. We can do dinner out and a movie, or nothing at all. Your choice.”

“But you want to have sex again?” She could care less about the other stuff, but the physical intimacy—she craved a repeat performance.

His mouth quirked. Then he laughed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t object to it.” He traced a fingertip over her jaw, her chin and down her throat. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, you know. We can mix it up a little.”

The way he looked at her, almost as if he meant it, as if he really did think her cute, had her drowning in need. She drew in necessary oxygen—and her cell phone buzzed in her purse.

Rowdy.

Oh, God, she had to get away from Logan, and fast. She didn’t know if Rowdy was watching them right now, and she didn’t know if Logan realized her phone was on vibrate. But she’d taken enough chances for one day.

She opened the door and slid off the seat. “Sorry, but I do need to go, and no, I don’t want you to wait for me. Please don’t argue with me, Logan. I want to walk. I need the fresh air.” And then, because that all felt so abrupt and maybe even unkind, she added, “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Confusion narrowed his eyes. “That was an awful lot, said awfully quick.”

“Logan, please.”

He searched her face, scowled darkly, and nodded. “All right. If you’re sure.”

“I am. Thank you.” She reached for her groceries, but he stopped her.

“I’ll take them home. You can get them from me later.”

Rather than debate with him, she agreed. “Okay, fine.”

“And, Sue?”

She detested that stupid name more each day. “Yes?”

“You’ll answer my questions for me? Tonight at dinner, I mean.”

Right. Rubbers, treadmill and cuteness. She could handle that. “Okay.”

He smiled. “Tonight then.”

She hurried off—forgetting, again—to shuffle her feet.

Rowdy would have her head before this was over.

But if Logan got her body, well then, she’d consider it a fair trade-off.

CHAPTER SIX

NOW THAT PEPPER HAD WALKED away, Rowdy relaxed. What the hell did Logan Stark want with his sister? Through the binoculars, Rowdy watched her cross the parking lot and enter the relative safety of the department store.

Was he missing something?

No, he didn’t miss anything, especially when it came to women, and most definitely not when it concerned his troublesome sister.

Maybe Logan was after something other than the usual.

He brought his gaze back to the neighbor. Sitting there in his truck, Logan Stark peered around as if he felt Rowdy’s attention. Huh. Perceptive bastard.

Finally the neighbor put his truck in gear and drove away.

Stowing the binoculars in the glove box, Rowdy got out of his car, locked it up and pocketed the keys. The bar he’d chosen to use for surveillance had an ideal location. With his binoculars he could see all the way up the road to the apartment building, as well as the grocery and small strip mall—basically any place his sister was likely to go.

While debating his next move, he strode toward the bar. He noticed a “For Sale” sign crudely attached to the brick wall above a collapsing cardboard box of trash. Old papers, a few cans and a broken bottle had already spilled out. Hazardous.

He thought of Checkers, the upscale club Morton owned. Pricey liquor, chic decor, classy-looking women and high-stakes activities. Checkers had been kept visually pristine, but he’d bet his life that more filth had happened inside its walls than could ever occur in the back alleys of the town where he now kept his sister under wraps.

Checkers boasted three floors. It was the main floor where Rowdy had usually worked, overseeing lap dances, ensuring none of the ordinary men got too grabby or overstepped the services they’d paid for. More adventurous activity was reserved for the second floor and for men with deeper pockets. On the second floor, patrons could buy hand jobs, blow jobs and a variety of sex ranging from one partner to three.

Morton’s sprawling office was on the third floor, along with a private boardroom and other, smaller offices.

Rowdy had been paid well to know the difference in the clientele, to keep his mouth shut about illegal sex acts, and to alert the guards stationed at the upper levels whenever the law came calling.

It all ran smoothly, even in moments of chaos. And when it didn’t… Rowdy closed his eyes, not wanting to think about the city commissioner who’d been murdered. Jack Carmin had died at a young thirty-two—and Rowdy hadn’t done a damn thing about it.

Acid burned in his gut. Rumor had it that Morton would be expanding his enterprise into human trafficking. Rowdy knew he’d have to do something about that, and soon. But now, with Pepper’s admirer putting him on edge, he couldn’t act. He had to guarantee her safety first.

His sister would always be his top priority.

If it turned out Logan Stark was on the up-and-up, well then, maybe she’d be safe without Rowdy keeping tabs on her. At least for a short time.

Long enough for him to take care of Morton as he should have two long years ago.

A drunk loitered outside the bar entrance. Off to the side, two youths smoked and talked too loud.

Distractions like that would never have happened at Checkers, but for here and now, an uninterested owner worked to Rowdy’s advantage; the less accountability at the bar, the safer it was for him.

While wondering if the bar would end up abandoned, he almost missed the woman smiling at him. She stepped out of the shadows, tall, slender, sexy—and probably for sale. Too bad he avoided hookers. Not because of moral scruples, but because he never spent money so unwisely.

“What do you say, sugar?” She traced a finger up and down her exposed cleavage. “Got some free time?”

Nothing but. “Sorry, but you look out of my price range.”

“For you, I’d offer a…special.”

Yeah, he could just imagine. “Appreciate it, but not this time.” After a farewell nod, he entered the dim establishment. Sluggish music played. Regulars filled the booths and the bar. Up on a ramshackle stage, exposed bodies gyrated.

More women looked his way, so he tried not to make prolonged eye contact. In his current mood, he didn’t want to encourage anyone. He had a few things to work out before he sought company for the night.

A nod here, a halfhearted smile there. He always appreciated the female attention. But he didn’t always take advantage of it. Sometimes, though, when the dark past intruded and his turbulent thoughts made sleep impossible, he needed a woman’s softness to get him through the night.

And at those times, he always despised his own weakness.

Grabbing a seat at a small table, slouching back comfortably, Rowdy glanced toward one attentive woman who looked too young, another who looked too mature. He settled on watching a pole dancer who had a great ass.

Other women worked the floor in skimpy dresses, some nearly topless, all in mile-high heels. Matching small aprons distinguished them as employees of the bar.

He rubbed his mouth, wondering if a fast tumble would help clear his thoughts. Not that anyone had really grabbed his interest yet. Hell, he felt no spark, not even for the mostly naked blonde; he definitely didn’t appreciate her substantial curves as he should have.

“What can I get for you?”

At the intrusion of that brisk female voice, Rowdy glanced up—and got lost in pale blue eyes.

But not for long.

While the gyrating blonde left him cold, this woman set off a spark. He trailed his gaze over her, from thick, dark red hair held back by a headband, to a narrow nose and wide mouth, to her petite little bod.

No sexy uniform for her.

She wore straight jeans with slip-on shoes and a regular crew-necked T-shirt. That same apron, a little messier than the others, loosely circled her waist.

Rowdy looked back at her face. “You’re a trim little package, aren’t you?”

Her chin tucked in. “You have two options, okay? You can give me your drink order, or you can get a different table.”

Well, well, well. A challenge? A chase?

The spark caught flame.

Rowdy smiled at her—and saw her blink. A little predatory, a lot cynical, he kept quiet and watched her.

“Okay,” she said. “I have to admit, that look is effective. Dangerously so. But as it is, I live on tips, so if you don’t want anything—”

“I want.”

She filled her lungs on a deep breath. Shifted her stance. Looked up at the ceiling, then off to her right. “The thing is, honestly, I need to take a drink order. But that’s it. That’s my job, nothing more.”

“No pole dancing, huh?” He relaxed a little more, sliding back in his chair, one hand on the table, one resting on his thigh. “Well, damn.”

Her brows pinched over his mild show of disappointment. “The place would go broke, believe me.”

“I assume it’s already going broke.” When that confused her, he said, “The ‘for sale’ sign?”

“Oh, yeah.” She scrunched up her nose. “Are you thinking of buying?”

“Could I reassign you to the pole if I do?”

“Not if you wanted to continue employing me.”

Had the current owner already tried that? Interesting. “Got other prospects, huh?”

She gave a hesitant pause, then without invitation, she pulled out a chair and sat opposite him. Prim and proper. Spine straight, shoulders back. “So what’s your name?”

“You can call me anything you like.” As long as it wasn’t his actual name. For those who might care, Rowdy Yates had fallen off the face of the earth, and he planned to keep it that way.

“All right. Here’s the thing, Walter.”

“Walter?”

“That’s the name I’m choosing. You did say anything would do.”

He chided her with a small frown. “But not Walter.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m working, sir.”

“That’s not much better.” Hell, no one had ever called him sir. The people he associated with either had no manners at all, or were the ones he deferred to, not the other way around.

She forged on. “I have responsibilities, sir. I know that the bar encourages outrageousness. I understand that. It’s a guys’ hangout.” She glanced around with clear contempt, murmuring low, “There’s a lot of sexism, and a lot of inappropriate activity going on.”

“Yet you’re still here,” Rowdy pointed out softly.

“Yes, sir. For the pay, which I need. But I’m not part of any of…” She waved toward the floor. “That.”

He ignored the “sir” business. “By choice?”

She dropped her head to the table with a thunk. Rowdy winced for her. She looked tired and a little fed up.

Unable to resist, he ran his fingers through the dark ropes of red hair spilling over the table. Warm, thick, silky.

Was she a true redhead?

Something primal in his nature gave him a real weakness for petite women. For a redhead…yeah, he was a goner.

Without raising her head, she snagged his wrist, lifted it away from her hair, and sat up.

She maintained her hold on his thick wrist. Her slender fingers didn’t quite circle all the way around him.

Rowdy didn’t object, and she didn’t let go. The physical connection felt more intimate than it should have.

Anticipating what she’d say or do next, he watched her.

She met his gaze squarely. “On the off chance that you might be a buyer for the…establishment, I want you to understand that I’m too short, too lacking in curves and far too modest to ever do justice to any stage performance.”

“You think?” Because he didn’t. “You could audition and let me make that decision—”

Cutting him off, she held up her free hand. “And if you’re not a buyer, then know that I have no interest in flirting, the nuances of sexy banter elude me, and no way, ever, would I date anyone from this bar—regardless of how attractive he might be.”

Date? He didn’t date. No time and no interest. He said only, as a taunt, “Bet I could change your mind.”

She made a funny sound. “Take a look around, sir. Plenty of other women are hoping you’ll notice them. I’m sure they’ll provide an easier route for your intentions.”

She didn’t know his intentions, and he didn’t look, because he didn’t care. “I think you’re attractive, too.”

That gave her pause. She glanced down at her person and made a face. “I was going for something altogether different.”

“Like?”

“Perhaps plain, uninteresting. Maybe even invisible.”

So the clothes she wore were supposed to…hide her? He again took in her shoes which, despite being unadorned, were still feminine, almost like dainty little ballet slippers. The straight-legged jeans, likely new, showed the length of her legs. And that crew-necked T-shirt, even being a little big, displayed the narrowness of her bone structure and the soft swell of her breasts.

Whatever her intent, she made an enticing, overall package. Small, female, understated.

But with that dark red hair…

Intriguing.

That made him frown. Did Logan look at his sister like that? Did he see beyond Pepper’s outward image?

It wasn’t at all the same thing, given this woman only downplayed her looks instead of attempting to conceal them. But his sister…

“I’m glad we were able to clear all that up.” Mistaking his silence for lack of interest, she stood. “So would you like a drink or not? And believe me, if you give the wrong answer this time, I’ll leave and let another waitress deal with you.”

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