“I have a proposition for you.”

Lexie leaned toward Nick, her voice low. “When was the last time you had a really good time?”

Words stuck in Nick’s throat. His pulse pounded in his temples and in his groin. He was close to giving in. Too close.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I have a business to run and I can’t be distracted.”

She smiled with a sly, knowing expression and rose. “All right, Nick. You’ve made up your mind and I respect that. For now.” She moved to the door and looked over her shoulder at him, that same self-assured smile still in place. “And just so you know, I’ll be making every effort to convince you to change your mind.”

He swallowed hard. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh, but I do.” The smile broadened. “Six months is a long time. I hate to think of spending all that time alone, don’t you?”

Dear Reader,

Like many of you, I’m a voracious reader. Of course, I adore romance books, but I also read nonfiction, history, mystery and suspense. I’m a big fan of private eye stories. Any time the old movie The Big Sleep, with Humphrey Bogart as P.I. Philip Marlowe, shows up on TV, I’m there!

So I had tremendous fun writing my own private eye, Nick Delaney, in this book. Of course, he required a heroine who was up to any challenge he might throw at her, so I created Lexie Foster, a woman intent on taking every advantage of the second chance she’s been given in life.

This is also the first time I’ve mixed a little mystery with my romance in a book. I hope you’ll enjoy the results.

I love to hear from readers. You can write me at P.O. Box 991, Bailey, CO, 80241, or e-mail me at Cindi@CindiMyers.com. And be sure to visit my Web site at www.CindiMyers.com for all the latest news.

Until next time…

Cindi Myers

No Regrets
Cindi Myers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Diane and Mike

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

1

SOME PEOPLE THINK LIFE is full of second chances. But the way Lexie Foster saw it, do-overs didn’t come around that often. When you got the chance for one, you’d better grab it and make it good.

Or so Lexie tried to explain to her best friend, Candace French, as they lingered over frozen macchiatos on a mid-June afternoon in the coffee shop of the building where they worked in downtown Denver.

Where Lexie used to work, that is.

“Call me dense, but I’m just not getting this,” Candace said as she stabbed a straw into her drink. “Your first day back at work since the accident and you quit? Why?”

“I never liked working at Culpepper and Piper.” Lexie took a long pull on the macchiato, savoring the rich caramel and coffee flavor. She’d never really appreciated things like good coffee drinks before, but those days were over. “I’ve wasted too much time already in that dead-end job,” she explained. “The accident taught me that life is too precious to waste a second of it.”

She didn’t remember much about the accident itself, but the feelings surrounding the night lingered: the heart-stopping terror as she felt her car begin to slide on the icy road and watched it hurtle toward the guardrail; the confusion as she tried to see the ambulance lights pulsing somewhere to her left through a haze of blood, garbled voices shouting unintelligible words; the bleakness that washed over her upon waking in the stark white world of the hospital, unable to move; the incredible joy when they’d released her restraints and she’d discovered she would fully recover; the desire to get out into the world and experience everything that had consumed her during almost six months of rehab.

She sucked up more of the macchiato with a satisfying slurp and looked at Candace. “I’m going to do all the things I was too timid or busy or lazy to do before.”

Candace looked skeptical. “What kind of things?”

“I’ve made a list.” Lexie opened her purse and pulled out the little red leather notebook she’d bought especially for this purpose. “I’ve written one hundred things I intend to accomplish.”

Candace opened the book and scanned the first page. “Have affairs with at least six men before I’m thirty?” Her eyes widened. “That’s only three years.”

Lexie flushed. “That’s one every six months.”

“You haven’t had that many relationships in six years. Have you?”

She shook her head. “That’s the whole point. I’m not going to live the way I did before.” The “old” Lexie had been conventional, conservative and too concerned about what other people thought of her to take many chances. The “new” Lexie reasoned that life was too short to let anyone else’s rules dictate how she should live.

“But six? Don’t you think that’s a little ambitious? Maybe you should start slowly and work up.”

She smiled. “You haven’t read the rest of the list.”

Candace flipped through the book, her eyes widening as she read. “What? You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve always thought of you as, well, conservative. Reserved.”

“I was. I’m not going to be that way anymore.”

Candace cleared her throat and glanced at the book again. “Have sex in a public place? Do something kinky?” She fanned herself. “That must have been some near-death experience.”

Lexie shifted in her chair. “Those are fantasies. Don’t you have fantasies?”

“Yes, but I don’t write them down and set out to make them come true.”

“Then maybe you should.”

Candace returned the book to Lexie. “Maybe you’re right. And it sounds like you’re going to have a lot of fun. But what does this have to do with quitting your job?”

She tapped the cover of the book. “Number four on the list—no more settling for boring and conventional just because it’s convenient. I’m going to find a better job. One that’s more exciting, or at least interesting.”

“Such as?”

“I saw this ad in the Sunday paper. It’s perfect.” She took out the clipping from the Denver Post and showed it to Candace.

“Private detective seeks administrative assistant. Must be organized, computer literate and have superior phone skills.” Candace frowned and returned the clipping to Lexie. “It’s still a secretary. It’ll probably turn out to be just as boring as what you’re doing now. And not as well-paid.”

Lexie shrugged. “If I don’t like it, I’ll find something else. Number eighteen on the list.”

“Which is?”

“Embrace change as good.”

“Uh-huh. Then what about ditching the scarves?”

Lexie touched the paisley silk scarf knotted at her neck. “I will. I’m just waiting for the scars to fade a little more.”

Candace shook her head. “They’re not that bad.”

Lexie made a face. “They look pretty awful to me.” The doctors had to insert a breathing tube in her throat to save her. That and the surgery to repair the resulting hole had left scars that stood out white against her olive skin. Every time she looked in the mirror she cringed.

“So what about all these men you’re going to have affairs with?” Candace asked. “Are you going to keep your neck covered while you’re making love? Or turn out all the lights?”

“It won’t matter so much with them. I’ll have my mind on other things.” At least she hoped that would be the case.

“Where are you going to find these men?” Candace asked.

“They’re everywhere.” Lexie smiled. “I’m sure I won’t have any trouble finding them.”

“No, you won’t.” She leaned over and patted Lexie’s hand. “I’m really proud of you. You go. Wow ’em all.”

Lexie tried to look more confident than she felt. It was one thing to sit at home at night and conjure up all these fantasies, quite another to go out and make them into reality. But she’d promised herself she’d do this. Almost dying had made her see how much she’d cheated herself by always playing it safe. Time to take a few chances and really live.

NICK DELANEY GROANED and leaned back in his chair after interviewing yet another ditzy young woman who chewed gum the entire time and appeared incapable of alphabetizing correctly. That’s what he got for expecting to find a competent assistant on the salary he could afford.

He shifted his gaze to the stack of mail on the corner of his desk. Bills, mostly. Some junk mail. Maybe even a new client or two, but between working cases and trying to find someone to help him in the office, he hadn’t time to read his mail. Every day he didn’t have an assistant was a day he was likely losing money.

A knock on the door reminded him he had more interviews to conduct. He only hoped one of these applicants was at least mildly qualified. “Come in,” he called, sitting up straight.

A looker in a black skirt and sleeveless purple blouse walked in. She had short dark hair, and wore expensive-looking gold earrings and a black silk scarf knotted at her throat. The impression she gave was a combination of sophistication and sexiness—a definite cut above the candidates he’d seen so far.

He rose to greet her, his gaze dropping to her legs, which were long and sleek. Very nice. But could she handle a computer?

He offered his hand. “I’m Nick Delaney. And you are?”

“Lexie Foster.” She sat in the chair across the desk and crossed her legs at the ankles. She wore ankle-strap high heels, a particular favorite of his.

He cleared his throat and focused his attention on the résumé she’d slid across the desk. He hadn’t been in Denver long enough to start dating anyone, but clearly he was overdue for some female companionship. His ex-wife had rid him of the idea of wasting his time on anything long-term, but there was a lot to be said for momentary gratification. A good lay might help him keep his mind out of the gutter and on his work.

His eyebrows rose as he read Lexie’s résumé. If everything on here was true, she was more than qualified for the position. “This says you’re currently employed at Culpepper and Piper.”

She nodded. “Yes. I’ve been with them for five years.”

He didn’t know a lot about the company, but you couldn’t miss their imposing glass-and-steel headquarters downtown. They were a high-tech success story, and reportedly one of the top-rated employers in Denver. “Why are you thinking of leaving them?”

She smiled, brown eyes dancing with amusement, as if she were in on some private joke. “I’m looking for more interesting work.”

Ah. He’d heard that one before. He folded his hands and gave her a hard look. “People think P.I. work is interesting. It’s not. It’s deadly dull. I need someone to answer the phone, file paperwork and maybe do background research for civil suits, divorce cases, insurance scams, things like that. Nothing exciting.”

He was purposely trying to intimidate her, but she wasn’t buying. She crossed her legs at the knee, giving him a look at a good six inches of firm thigh. He kept his expression neutral, but below the belt there was a definite response.

“Working for a large firm like Culpepper and Piper is very impersonal,” she said. “I’d enjoy the chance to work one-on-one in a small office.”

He shifted in his chair, thinking about the kind of “one-on-one” activities he obviously hadn’t enjoyed enough of lately. “You know I can’t afford to pay you what you’re making now.”

“That’s all right. I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”

Was she intentionally coming on to him, or was his horny imagination taking over? He studied her for clues, but she sat there, serene and perfectly relaxed, her posture almost prim, except for the short skirt and sexy shoes and the ends of the scarf trailing over her breast like a flag marking a hazard.

Working with her might be a hazard to his concentration. Then again, he was desperate for someone competent to help him in the office. He glanced at the stack of mail on the corner of his desk. Did he hire the only qualified person he’d interviewed so far who was willing to work for the salary he could afford, or did he waste more time trying to find someone else for the position?

He looked at Lexie again. “When can you start?”

Her smile widened, positively dazzling now. “I can be in first thing tomorrow.”

He nodded, a little breathless in the face of thatsmile. He struggled to his feet and shook her hand, then watched her leave the room, his eyes focused on her curvy bottom in that tight skirt. He knew plenty of guys who’d count themselves lucky to have just hired a secretary this sexy.

But those were guys who hadn’t spent the last year digging out from under a fiasco of a failed marriage. Guys who hadn’t learned how dangerous a really sexy woman could be.

LEXIE SET THE BUD VASE on the corner of her desk and stepped back to admire the single pink rose she’d bought on the way to work this morning. From now on, she wanted flowers on her desk every day. Today, her first at her new job, was special and called for a rose, but other days she might have carnations or daisies. The kind of flower didn’t matter so much as treating herself to that little bit of extra beauty.

She looked around the front office space of Delaney Investigations and couldn’t suppress a thrill of excitement. It was happening. She really was changing her life. No more sitting back and dreaming about what could be. Now she was all about making things happen.

She smoothed a hand over her new gray tweed dress. The dress and the matching cropped jacket were made of a conservative fabric, but were cut to cling to every curve. No more dull clothes for her. Now she was a real bomb-shell with a whole closet full of pencil skirts, fitted jackets, bustiers and designer diva fashions.

The door to the back office opened and she turned to greet Nick Delaney. Though landing a hunk for a boss hadn’t been on her list, she had no complaints. Nick looked exactly like the image of a private investigator she’d always had in her mind: dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders, ruggedly handsome features. He hadn’t smiled much so far; at times he was almost surly, but there was no real anger in his grumpiness. If this were a movie, he’d be a better-looking Humphrey Bogart and she’d be the femme fatale who stole his heart. It was fun to pretend to play the part. “Can I get you something, Nick?”

“I need a letter typed.” He handed her a sheet of paper on which he’d scribbled an address and a few figures. “It’s a bid to do background checks on potential employees. It needs to go out this afternoon. There’s stationery and envelopes in the supply cabinet.”

“Sure, I’ll get right on it.” She took the paper and walked over to the computer, aware of his eyes on her. She knew the combination of tight skirt and high heels drew attention to her figure but then, that was the idea, wasn’t it? No more blending into the background for her. And she couldn’t say she disliked the idea of Nick being attracted to her. After all, he was good-looking and apparently single—there were definitely sparks between them.

She sat and rolled her chair up to the desk. “Is there anything else?” she asked, deliberately keeping her voice low and sultry.

He blinked and she suppressed a smile. “Make a copy for the files while you’re at it,” he said.

She nodded. There weren’t many files so far. She’d checked. In fact, everything about the place indicated Nick hadn’t been in business long. “How long have you been a private eye?” she asked.

He frowned and she thought he was about to tell her to mind her own business. But he said, “A little over a year. Before that I was a cop.”

“In Denver?” She opened the word processing program on the computer.

“Houston.”

She thought she’d detected a bit of a Texas drawl. Very nice.

“As long as we’re asking questions, I’ve got one for you.”

Her stomach gave a nervous shimmy. Did he intend to interrogate her? She had nothing to hide. She looked up, meeting his gaze. He had amazing blue eyes, pale against his tan skin. “What would you like to know?”

“Your name. I’ve never known anyone called Lexie before.”

“It’s short for Alexandra. But no one calls me that, not even my mother.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned to go into his office. She wanted to ask him to stay, to talk a little longer. She’d like to get to know him better, but she supposed that would come in time. She hated to waste time these days. She had so much she wanted to accomplish, she was impatient to take care of one item on her list and move on to the next.

The letter was done in ten minutes and she took it in for his signature. He was on the phone when she entered, and signed without comment. So much for continuing their conversation.

The rest of the morning passed with agonizing slowness. She straightened magazines and watered the lone rubber tree in the corner of the office. With nothing else to do, she took out the Spanish textbook she’d recently purchased and began leafing through that. Tonight she started Spanish classes at Red Rocks Community College. Number seventeen on her list.

Shortly before noon, Nick emerged from the office and walked straight to her desk. Startled, she slammed the book shut and shoved it into a drawer. “Did you need something?” she asked.

“Do you have plans for lunch?”

“No.” She’d thought about walking to the fast-food place on the corner and bringing something back here. Maybe he’d like her to bring him something, too.

“Good. You can come with me. Seeing as it’s your first day, I thought I should buy you lunch.”

Not exactly an invitation to a hot date, but she’d take it. She took her purse from the desk drawer and stood. “That would be great.”

They went in his car—a Ford Explorer that had seen better days. He had to sweep out a litter of food wrappers and convenience-store coffee cups before she could climb into the passenger seat. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “One of the things about doing P.I. work is you tend to live out of your car.”

She fastened her seat belt, then picked up a key map and a telephone directory off the floor. “I guess you use these in your work.”

He nodded and stashed the books behind the front seat. “There’s a telephoto lens, binoculars and a cell phone charger down there somewhere, too.”

“Tools of the trade,” she said.

“That’s right.”

They headed south from the office on Colfax, past tattoo parlors, pawn shops and funky boutiques, to Vick’s, a six-table café wedged between a liquor store and a mini-mart. “It’s not fancy, but the food is good,” he said as he ushered her inside.

The first thing she noticed was all the cops—two sheriff’s deputies, three police officers and a man with a federal badge filled the tables. “Is this some kind of cop hangout?” she whispered as she slid into a chair across from Nick.

“Yeah. We know where all the great dives are.”

His grin startled her—all white teeth and a light in his eyes that stole her breath. She’d thought he was handsome before, but smiling, he was transformed. The word devastating came to mind.

The waitress arrived and they ordered from the menu that was written on a chalkboard posted on the back wall—a burger for Nick and a Greek salad for Lexie.

“Why did you decide to quit being a cop and become a P.I.?” she asked when they were alone again.

He picked up his fork and began turning it over in his hand. “It’s a long story.”

She spread her napkin in her lap and gave him an expectant look, saying nothing. She’d learned that if you kept silent long enough most people would say something to fill it.

He took a long drink of iced tea, then set it down with a loud thump. “You really want to know?”

She nodded.

“I was married. One day I came home and found all my stuff packed in boxes and suitcases in the front hall. My wife asked me to move out.” His voice was calm, but the lines around his eyes deepened and his knuckles whitened on the hand that held the glass.

“That’s pretty cold,” she said, trying for sympathy without pity.

“Yeah, well, she said she’d been trying to let me know how unhappy she was, but I was so wrapped up in work I hadn’t noticed, so she figured kicking me out was one way to make sure I got the message.”

Give the woman points for being direct. “What did you do?”

“I was stunned. I really hadn’t had a clue. I got a room at a cheap hotel and promised her I’d make things better. Since she seemed to think my job was part of the problem, I quit. I decided being my own boss offered more flexibility and better hours.”

Wow. He must have really wanted to save his marriage. She couldn’t imagine loving someone enough to make that kind of sacrifice. “But it didn’t work?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Turns out the problem wasn’t really my job—it was her boyfriend who’d lost his job and wanted to move in with her.”

She winced. “Ouch.”

The waitress delivered their order. The salad looked delicious. “Why didn’t you go back to your old job when things didn’t work out with your wife?”

He poured ketchup over his fries. “By then I kind of liked the P.I. business. No office politics, make your own hours. It was a good fit for me.”

“Okay, then why Denver?”

He shrugged. “I knew a few people up here. The climate’s good. It seemed like a good place to start over.”

She nodded. “I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want to stay in Houston.”

“Your turn. Why did you quit Culpepper and Piper and come to work for a one-man detective agency?”

She speared an olive on her fork and swiped it through a pool of dressing. “Kind of like you, I guess. I’m starting my life over.”

He paused, the burger halfway to his lips. “Divorce?”

“Another D word—death.”

He set down the burger and stared at her. “Run that one by me again?”

She laughed. “I didn’t really die, but almost. I lost control of my car on an icy road and went over an embankment. Apparently I was in a coma for a week. Then I was in rehab for almost six months. When I was finally well I promised myself I was going to live the kind of life I’d always wanted to live. Instead of dreaming about things I’d do ‘one day,’ I was going to do them now.”

“What kind of things?”

“Getting a different job, for one. A new wardrobe. Trying new things. I signed up for a Spanish class at Red Rocks. I want to go to Spain, and lots of other places. I want to learn gourmet cooking.”

“That’s a lot of stuff.”

“There’s more. I actually made a list of one hundred things I intend to do.”

“You wrote them down?”

She nodded. “I have them all in a red leather notebook in my purse.”

“You sound pretty determined.”

“Oh, I am.” Their eyes met, and she felt the electricity between them again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this attracted to a man.

The fact that he was her boss made things a little complicated, but it wasn’t as if this was a big company where one or both of them could fall prey to office gossips or even legal entanglements. It was just the two of them, in the office together every day. Anything could happen with that kind of intimacy.

Was that good or bad? The old Lexie would have thought it was bad.

She smiled to herself and finished the last of her salad. Right now, she thought, maybe it was a very good thing indeed.

2

NICK LEANED BACK in his desk chair and admired the view through his open office door. Lexie was doing something with the fax machine, bent over at the waist with her back to him, presenting an enticing view of her rounded backside and long legs. Today she was wearing a black knit dress, belted at the waist, a black-and-white scarf knotted at her throat. She must collect scarves the way some women bought shoes. She’d worn a different one every day this week.

She bent farther over the fax and his eyes traced a line over the curve of her bottom, down her thighs. His fingers curled against his palm as he imagined stroking her there. He was getting a hard-on watching her like this; he felt like a cross between a horny teenager and a twisted voyeur. Every day when he left work he told himself he was going to go out and find a woman and let off some of this sexual steam. Unfortunately, no woman he’d seen lately turned him on the way the one working in his office did, which left him where he’d started—watching and wanting and not doing a damn thing about it.

He told himself he ought to close the door so he could get some work done, but he was enjoying himself too much at the moment.

Hiring Lexie was one of the best decisions he’d made in a long while. She was efficient and intelligent as well as good-looking and sexy. And she was good company, pleasant and easy to be around. He looked forward to coming to the office every morning, knowing he’d see her.

Of course, having her around did interfere with his work to a certain extent. His mind might be determined to focus on the job, but when Lexie was around his body invariably reminded him that he was a healthy man who’d been alone for a while now.

Much as he was tempted to start something with her, he knew it was a bad idea to mix business with pleasure. He’d settled on the unsatisfactory compromise of admiring her when she wasn’t looking, and keeping his distance otherwise.

He doubted she’d stay with him long anyway, not with all her talk about wanting more adventure in her life. He’d been like that himself once, when he’d first joined the police force. He’d gotten over that restlessness soon enough. Now he wanted to be settled somewhere, taking comfort in the everyday routine. He hoped Denver was going to be his home for a long time but it was too soon to tell.

The front door opened and a well-dressed man entered. Lexie greeted him with one of her hundred-watt smiles, leaving the man with a slightly dazed expression on his face. He followed her toward Nick’s office, clearly mesmerized.

Nick straightened and faked interest in the paperwork spread out on his desk. “Mr. Delaney, Mr. Wittier is here to see you.”

Stan Wittier, executive vice president of Carruthers Manufacturing, looked much less imposing in person than he’d sounded on the phone. When Nick stood to greet him, he noticed he was a good six inches taller than the executive, who was a slight man with thinning brown hair and worry lines across his forehead. “Please sit down, Mr. Wittier. Would you like some coffee?”

“Your secretary already offered, but it isn’t necessary.” He turned to watch Lexie leave, only facing Nick again when the door was closed. He looked disappointed to see her go. Nick didn’t blame him.

He sat at his desk again. “On the phone you indicated you wanted to see me because of concerns about your wife?”

Wittier nodded. “Yes. I believe she’s being unfaithful.”

“What makes you believe this?”

The frown lines deepened. “Ellen is a very beautiful woman, some years younger than myself. Lately I’ve had a sense that she’s restless and bored. In my experience that is a sure sign a woman is considering an affair.”

Nick found this an odd choice of words. “Considering, or involved?”

“By now I’m sure she’s involved. It’s a familiar pattern.” Wittier crossed his legs and leaned toward Nick. “I’ve seen it in my first wife and in the wives of my two business partners. Women reach a certain age and become dissatisfied with their lives. An affair seems to be the answer.”

The theory was new to Nick but maybe Wittier was on to something. Maybe the problem in Nick’s own marriage hadn’t been him or his job at all. Maybe his wife merely had reached “a certain age.” “And you want me to verify if your suspicions are true?”

“Yes.” Wittier straightened. “I want to find out now and divorce before too much damage is done to my reputation.”

“Of course.” Nick took out a notebook and pen, prepared to write down the particulars. He loathed these kind of cases, but accepted they were the bread and butter of the P.I. business. “You say your wife’s name is Ellen?”

“Yes. I’ve brought her picture, and a copy of her engagement calendar for the next month, as well as my own schedule.” Wittier took these items from his briefcase.

The man’s preparedness surprised Nick. “Have you had your wife followed before?”

“My first wife. As I told you, this is a familiar pattern to me.”

Wittier’s coldness repelled Nick but he didn’t have to like people to take their money. Sometimes the dislike even made it easier. “I’ll need a deposit. I work on a per diem for this sort of thing, plus any unusual expenses, such as travel. I’ll provide an itemized accounting to you. If your suspicions are true, it shouldn’t take more than a few days to confirm them.”

“I’m familiar with how this works and I’m prepared to write you a check today.”

Wittier didn’t flinch at the fee Nick quoted, which made him wonder if he should have asked for more. He took the deposit the executive paid and put it in the drawer, then promised to get to work right away.

When Wittier was gone, Lexie came into his office. “You don’t look very happy,” she said. “Did he not hire you?”

Nick leaned back in the chair and frowned at the drawer where he’d slipped the check. “He hired me. To find evidence that his wife is cheating on him.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What has she done to make him think she’s cheating?”

“She’s ‘restless’ and apparently behaving exactly the way his first wife did when she was cheating on him.” Not much to go on, but then, Wittier knew his wife better than Nick. If Wittier thought she was up to something, she probably was.

“That doesn’t sound like much evidence to me,” Lexie said.

“Which is why he hired me. He needs concrete proof so he can divorce her and, I suspect, avoid paying through the nose for the privilege.”

“How lovely.”

He shrugged. “It pays the bills. Yours and mine.”

She looked thoughtful. “I guess so. Is it okay if I go to lunch now?”

“Sure. Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting a friend at Jose O’Shea’s.” She smiled at him, a look that never failed to make him feel a little less weighted down. “Want me to bring you something?”

“That’s okay, but thanks.” What kind of “friend” was she meeting? A boyfriend? For a second, he had the absurd idea to follow her to see, but immediately dismissed it. What did it matter to him if she was seeing one man or ten?

“Okay. See you in an hour.”

He watched her leave, breathing in the lingering scent of her floral perfume. He’d thought he might drive somewhere and buy a burger or a sandwich, but now that Lexie was gone off to meet her mysterious luncheon companion, he found he’d lost his appetite.

CANDACE WAS WAITING at a booth when Lexie rushed in. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “We had a client and I had to wait for him to leave.”

“A client. Sounds like business is picking up.”

“Nick’s new in town.” She slid into the booth and helped herself to a fresh tortilla chip from the basket in the middle of the table. “Things will get better. Besides, when things are slow I can study.”

“How are the Spanish lessons coming?”

She shook her head. “Not so well. I don’t seem to have much of a knack for languages.”

“Hang in there. You’ll pick it up eventually.”

She nodded. “I will. I’m determined to speak the language by the time I go to Spain.”

“And when will that be?”

“This fall, maybe? I think I can have the money saved by then.”

“That’s amazing to me, considering the pittance this detective is paying you.”

“It’s not that bad. And I still have some insurance money left from the accident.”

The waitress came to take their orders, then the conversation resumed. “Speaking of work,” Candace said, “guess who they hired to take your place?”

“Who?”

“A man. His name’s Charles Lewis and he’s gorgeous and single.”

“Then I’m sure he was immediately the most popular person in the office. Is he straight?”

“Apparently so. I should introduce him to you.” She crunched a chip. “He might be the perfect candidate for the first affair on your list.”

Lexie shook her head. “I’ve already found the man I want.”

Candace leaned toward her, expression eager. “Who?”

“My new boss, Nick Delaney.” Lexie tried to keep the triumph out of her voice, but failed. The look on Candace’s face was worth all the pain of keeping her plans a secret until now.

“Are you crazy?” Candace said. “He’s your boss.”

“And he’s perfect.” Lexie ticked off the reasons on one hand. “He’s recently divorced and definitely not interested in any kind of serious relationship right now. He’s hard-nosed and practical. And he’s gorgeous and sexy.”

“Do you think he’s interested?”

She smiled, remembering how Nick always watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking. “Oh, he’s interested.”

“Has he said anything?”

She shook her head. “And I don’t think he will. Which is why I’m going to proposition him.” She’d made the decision last night after realizing that in over a week on the job, Nick had been nothing but an absolute gentleman. She was pretty sure he wanted her, but just as sure the practical, sensible side of him she so admired didn’t intend to let him do anything about the attraction. If she was really going to have an affair with Nick, she’d have to make the first move.

“What, you’re just going to walk up to him and say, ‘Let’s sleep together. How about it?’”

On these words the waitress arrived with their lunch. She gave Candace a puzzled look, then left them with their enchiladas.

When they were alone again, the two friends burst out laughing. “Seriously,” Candace gasped when she’d regained control. “How do you bring up a subject like that?”

Lexie spread sour cream over her food. “I’ll simply point out that we’re obviously attracted to each other, and that I’m interested in a sexy affair with no strings attached. I’ll explain that I plan to leave for Spain in about six months, so he doesn’t have to worry about long-term commitments, and I’ll reassure him that I won’t let our private relationship interfere with my work at the office.”

“It sounds as exciting as negotiating a lease agreement for a car.” Candace sliced into her beef enchiladas with the side of her fork. “So when are you going to do this?”

“Friday after work, I think. That will give us the whole weekend to get to know each other.” Lexie grinned. “We’ll be great together, I just know it.”

“Aren’t you forgetting one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“A lot can happen in six months. What if you fall for this guy?”

Her stomach quivered, but she ignored it. “It won’t happen. Neither of us is interested in an emotional attachment right now.”

“All right then, what if he doesn’t go for it? That’s going to make continuing to work for him a little awkward, isn’t it?”

She dismissed this idea with a wave of her fork. “Why wouldn’t he go for it? Isn’t casual, noncommitted sex on a regular basis with an attractive woman every man’s fantasy?”

“He could still say no. Men do, for whatever reason.”

She shook her head. “He won’t.” Sometimes when she looked at him she was struck by the sadness that seemed to weigh him down. “I think he’s really lonely.” She shrugged off the melancholy image of Nick and reached for another chip. “I think I’m just what Nick needs in his life right now.”

“Maybe. But you need to be careful.”

Familiar advice that she’d long ago grown tired of. “I’ve spent my whole life being careful and it taught me one thing.”

“What’s that?” Candace continued to look worried.

Lexie smiled, and enjoyed the thrill that filled her at the thought of her own daring. “I’ve learned that caution is really overrated.”

After all, caution hadn’t saved her from almost dying in that car wreck. It hadn’t gotten her through rehab or into a new job. Playing it safe wasn’t going to get her Nick Delaney, either. For that she’d have to tell caution to take a hike while she mustered up all the daring she could manage. But she had no doubt a hot guy like Nick would be worth taking a few chances for.

WHEN NICK HAD HIRED Lexie they had agreed she would work until five o’clock. He usually stayed at least until six, sometimes later. He told himself he needed the time to catch up on paperwork, but the truth was he delayed going back to his apartment as long as possible. There was nothing at home to hold his interest and a man could spend only so many evenings watching TV and eating take-out before he snapped. Sometimes he stopped by a bar, but he’d never been a big drinker, and more often than not the cheerful crowds only underscored his solitude.

So he was both surprised and pleased when Lexie lingered at the office at the end of her second week of employment. “Are you busy?” she asked, standing in the doorway between their two work spaces.

He shook his head and pushed aside the report he’d been writing for a skip-trace firm that had subcontracted some work to him. Locating people who’d skipped out on bills and other obligations was tedious, but fairly lucrative. “I figured you’d be out of here by now. Off to class or something. Or maybe a date.” He couldn’t imagine a woman like Lexie spending many Friday nights alone.

She shook her head and moved into the room. “No class tonight. No date, either.” She glanced at him, seeming almost shy. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure.” He ignored the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach that rose at her words. This was it. She was leaving him already. He couldn’t blame her. The job had been anything but exciting so far, and her paycheck was a third less than what she’d brought home from her previous employment. Still, he was going to miss her.

She sat in his client’s chair, crossed her legs and smoothed the skirt of her tropical print dress over her knees. She wore a red scarf today, the ends tied in a small bow on the left side of her neck.

“What did you want to talk about?” he prompted.

“I have a proposition for you.”

A proposition. The word set him on alert. Most of the propositions he’d encountered had been shady deals. “What is it?”

“Well…you and I seem to get along great.”

“Yes.” She wasn’t a hard woman to like.

“And I find you very attractive.”

“You do?” He’d thought he was past the point where such praise flattered him, but obviously he was wrong.

She smiled, the warmth in the look stoking a fire inside him. “Of course. And I believe you’re somewhat attracted to me as well.”

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t deny it but he wasn’t ready to reveal too much, either.

She shifted in the chair and smoothed her skirt again. He fought back a smile. It was different seeing her so…unsettled. She generally had more self-confidence than most women he’d met. “Do you remember I told you about the list I’d made? The list of one hundred things I intend to do?”

He nodded. He’d glimpsed the little red notebook poking out of the top of her purse a time or two and had wondered what was in it. “How many things have you done so far?”

“Only about five, but I’m working on the others.” She gave him a coy look. “I thought maybe you could help me with one of the items on my list.”

Oh yeah? “What’s that?”

“I think you and I would do well together as lovers.”

He blinked. Was his horny imagination getting the better of him? “Did you say what I think you said?”

“Yes. What do you think?”

He shook his head. “No. Not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He cringed at the hurt in her eyes, and tried to soften the rejection. “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive. I do. But we have to work together every day. Adding sex to the equation isn’t a good idea.”

She lifted her chin, defiant. “I think you’re wrong. I can be a professional and do my job during the day and sleep with you at night. People do it all the time.”

Really? Was she that experienced with situations like this? “I don’t. Besides, I’m not exactly in the market for a relationship right now.”

“I’m not talking about anything serious. Just fun and sex.” She smiled. “I’m not ready to get serious about anyone, either, which is the reason I picked you. And it would only be for a few months—no more than six.”

He should have ended the discussion already, but her determination intrigued him. And what man wouldn’t be turned on by the idea that a woman wanted him that much? “Why is that?”

“In six months I plan to take an extended trip to Spain.”

“Another item on your list?”

“Yes. But I promise to find someone to take over my job here before I go, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

A relationship with a built-in expiration date. The idea was absurd, yet at the same time, held a certain appeal. He studied her a long moment, as if by staring at her enough, he’d figure out what was really going on inside that gorgeous head. “I didn’t think women thought that way,” he said.

“Thought what way?”

“About casual sex and temporary relationships. I thought those were male fantasies, while women were all about hearts and flowers and settling down.”

“Some women, maybe. Even me at some point in my life.”

“But not now?”

She shook her head. “I have too many things I want to do, things to learn and accomplish, places to see, people to meet. I can’t do all that if I’m tied to a relationship.”

Right. She made it sound so simple, but he couldn’t believe intimacy between two people was ever that simple. “I’m flattered,” he said. “But I still say no.”

Her expression clouded. “You’re not attracted to me?”

“I told you I am. Very.” He leaned toward her, eyes locked to hers, telegraphing just how strong the attraction was, how much he wanted her. Her pupils were dilated, her lips slightly parted like a woman overtaken by passion. At that moment it was all he could do not to clear his desk and start removing all their clothes. “A man would have to be dead not to be attracted to you,” he said, his voice low. “Last time I checked I still had a pulse.”

“Th-then what’s wrong?” she stammered.

What was wrong? He blinked, trying to remember his objection to her absurd proposition. He took a deep breath, but all that did was fill his head with the scent of her, flowery and feminine and setting off sparks along every primitive pathway between his brain and his sex organs. His body, at least, had already made up his mind about Lexie.

He tore his gaze away from hers and summoned his old willpower. Reasoning returned as his head cleared. “I’ve always had a policy of not mixing business with pleasure,” he said. “I don’t see any reason to back off from that now.” He almost winced. He sounded like some old coot with a steel rod for a backbone.

Instead of being angry, she looked amused. Superior. As if she knew how much he was bluffing. “Didn’t you ever hear ‘rules are made to be broken’?”

“Not by me. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” Now he was channeling his father. He gripped the armrests of his desk chair and tried again. “Look. One of the things this job and my years as a cop have shown me is how screwed up life gets when people take too many chances and risk too many complications. They start out thinking they can handle it—one more hot check will take care of everything. One more time fudging on the books and they’ll be out of it. One more drink and they’ll stop. The next thing they know, they’re in too deep.”

Her expression told him she wasn’t buying it. “We’re not talking embezzlement or bank robbery here. We’re talking about two intelligent, healthy, single adults who are attracted to one another getting together to have a good time.” She leaned toward him, her voice low and breathy. “When was the last time you had a really good time?”

Words stuck in his throat. His pulse pounded at his temples and in his groin. He was close to giving in. Too close.

He pulled himself away from the edge, shoving his chair back and standing, putting some distance between them. “It doesn’t matter. I have a business to run and I can’t be distracted.”

He waited for anger, or even tears, but she surprised him by smiling—not the warm welcoming look he’d seen so many times before, but a slyer, knowing expression. She rose and looked him up and down. “All right, Nick. You’ve made up your mind and I respect that. For now.” She turned and moved to the door.

Fear that this might be the last time he saw her gripped him. “Wait,” he called. “Will you be in Monday morning?”

She looked over her shoulder at him, that same self-assured smile still in place. “I’ll be here. And just so you know, I’ll be making every effort to convince you to change your mind.”

He swallowed hard. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh, but I do.” The smile broadened. “Six months is a long time, Nick. I hate to think of spending all that time alone, don’t you?”

When she was gone, he sank into his chair, the strength in his legs deserting him. He was breathing hard, as if he’d just run up four flights of stairs, and his head was spinning. So much for his blasted self-control. He’d attempted to lay down the law and all he’d done was wave a red flag in front of her. Now she was determined to change his mind.

What man stood a chance against a determined woman like Lexie Foster?

3

NICK TOLD HIMSELF he’d turned down the promise of a temporary affair in the interest of keeping a good assistant, which in his previous experience, had always been more difficult to find. But as he worked side by side with Lexie during the following week he wondered at the wisdom of his decision.

She was still an excellent assistant, charming his clients and keeping the office running smoothly. But now, in addition to lusting after her in silence, he was constantly reminded of what could be his if he could only ignore common sense and convention. The struggle made him irritable and surly, which she pretended not to notice.

Instead, she smiled and made pleasant, intelligent conversation. She continued to dress in a variety of professional yet stunning outfits. Each seemed to have been designed expressly to call his attention to her shapely curves and long legs, all topped off by a silky scarf tied around her neck, like the ribbon on a package, tempting him to unwrap her.

She made no mention of their conversation that Friday afternoon, but he was aware of her watching him—studying him, really—as if she were formulating a plan of attack.

And was it his imagination, or her ingenuity, that led to the most innocent activities taking on a sexual connotation? Was it necessary for her to lean quite so far over his desk when she delivered letters for his signature? Had she meant for him to see the erotic black satin and lace lingerie peeking out of the bag she left in the restroom after a lunchtime shopping trip?

And speaking of lunch, he couldn’t believe mere coincidence had led her to return from lunch with an ice-cream cone, which she proceeded to consume in full view of his office, her tongue slowly encircling the cone, her lips making gentle sucking noises until, in agony, he’d gotten up from his desk and slammed the door.

Today it was lipstick. When he came out of his office at midmorning she was sitting at her desk applying lipstick. Slowly. The tube caressed her lips and stained them berry-pink. Who had decided women’s lipstick should have such a definitely phallic shape?

“I hate to interrupt your toilette, but I need you to call the Magnolia Hotel and make reservations for me for tonight.”

She slowly twisted the lipstick back into its tube and tucked it in her purse. “The Wittier investigation certainly has you out of sorts, doesn’t it?”

If she wanted to think he was feeling this way because of Stan Wittier and his wife, let her. The case certainly was contributing to his frustration. He’d followed Ellen Wittier all over town for a week and come up with absolutely nothing. If she was meeting another man she was being incredibly discreet about it.

“Tell the hotel I’d like a room on the west side of the fourteenth floor. Preferably either 1422 or 1424.”

“Why those particular rooms?” she asked as she flipped through the yellow pages.

“Those rooms look directly onto the Wittiers’ loft. Stan Wittier told me he’s going to be out of town on business for a few days, so I figure his wife will use the opportunity to meet her lover. When she does, I’ll be watching.”

“What if she draws the curtains? You won’t see anything.”

“No curtains. I already checked. They apparently hired a decorator who’s into minimalism. Or they don’t want to block the view they paid big bucks for.”

She found the number for the hotel and put her finger on the page to mark the spot. “Who is this boyfriend of hers, do you know?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t seen a sign of him. So far, Ellen Wittier has lived a stupefyingly dull life that seems to consist mainly of shopping, having lunch with friends and attending various beauty appointments.”

“I don’t think she’s cheating at all,” Lexie said. “I think her husband’s paranoid because he married a pretty young thing and doesn’t spend enough time with her.”

“If she’s not cheating, it will be the first time in my experience that a client’s been wrong about something like this. By the time somebody hires me to get the evidence, they already have a good idea what’s going on.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” She picked up the phone. “Any preference as to what kind of room? Double-double? King?”

“I don’t care as long as it gives me a good view of that loft.”

She looked him up and down, her gaze traveling over him deliberately. He felt his temperature rise when her vision focused on his crotch and she smiled. “I think you’re more of a king-size man,” she said, and punched in the number.

He turned and retreated to his office. It was either that or snatch the phone out of her hand and do all the things to her he’d been dreaming about. Fantasies of Lexie were keeping him awake nights anyway.

Every day that passed, he was having more trouble remembering why those fantasies couldn’t come true. Logic was apparently the first thing to go when the sex drive started running the show.

LEXIE HUMMED ALONG with pseudo-pop hits and waited for the hotel reservations agent to come on the line. Nick’s gruffness didn’t fool her one bit. She knew she’d shaken him up with her suggestion they become lovers. Though he’d done his best to keep his distance from her this week, she sensed he was weakening.

Who wouldn’t melt a little in the heat of the attraction that crackled between them? Her senses stayed on hyper-alert whenever they were in the room together and when they accidentally brushed against each other it was all she could do not to moan. Ever since she’d conceived the idea of taking him as her lover she’d been able to think of little else, like a woman stranded on a desert island in need of a chocolate fix.

If Nick were chocolate, he’d be the most expensive, darkest kind, sinfully rich and sweet, with a hint of bitterness.

Now that she’d set her sights on him, no other man would do. She’d been patient so far, reminding him at every opportunity of what he was missing. But so far he hadn’t taken the bait. Maybe it was time for more drastic action.

“Hello, reservations. How may I help you?”

She started as a man’s voice replaced the music. “I’d like to reserve a room for tonight.” She explained Nick’s requirements and was assured that room 1422 was available, and that it had a king bed.

“Will there be anything else?”

She smiled, struck by a brilliant idea. If Nick wouldn’t come to her, she’d simply have to go to him. After all, it would be a shame to let that king-size bed go to waste. “Yes, could I go ahead and order dinner for two to be sent up? Say, about seven o’clock? Something simple—steak and baked potatoes, with a nice salad and a good bottle of merlot.”

“Very well. Is there anything else?”

“No. That’s all for now. Thank you.” She gave the rest of the reservation information and hung up. Good thing she’d bought that new lingerie earlier in the week. Tonight she’d put it to good use. She and Nick would enjoy a good steak dinner together and then…on to dessert.

NICK STOOD TO ONE SIDE of the window that took up most of a wall in his room at the Magnolia, binoculars trained on the loft apartment slightly below and to his right. In the three hours since Ellen Wittier had arrived home and he had checked into the hotel she’d changed into a sexy, expensive looking pair of lounging pajamas and had set the table with china and candles for what looked to be a romantic dinner.

When she’d leaned over and lit the candles, Nick’s heart had sped up. He knew it! Once again, his instincts had been right. With her husband safely away at a convention in Reno, Ellen was making her move.

But now, almost an hour later, he wondered at her lover’s tardiness. The candles were dripping wax on the tablecloth and Ellen was on her second glass of wine. Why was her Romeo keeping her waiting?

A knock on the door roused him from his musings. He glanced at the door, then at the clock—six forty-five. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so it was probably someone with the wrong room. He turned back to the window and raised the binoculars again.

“Nick, open up. It’s me, Lexie.”

Frowning, he laid aside the binoculars and went to check the door. Sure enough, Lexie was standing in the hall, looking up at the peephole, her face distorted by the fish-eye lens. He undid the locks and opened the door. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I came to see you.” She moved past him into the room, and set her purse on the bedside table. “Nice room,” she said, looking around.

“I don’t have time to visit,” he said. “I’m working.”

She walked to the window and looked out. “Which one is the Wittiers’ loft?”

“Top floor on the right.” He came to stand behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She was wearing a halter dress made of some clingy red material. Her shoulders were bare, her skin soft and warm. He ignored the tightening in his groin when he touched her. “Move back from the window a little. I don’t want her to see us.”

She did as he asked, colliding with him as she stepped back, sending shock waves of awareness through him. She leaned her head back and her hair brushed against his face, filling his nose with the scent of flowers.

He released her and quickly moved away. “Why are you here?” he asked again.

She walked to the bed and sat, crossing her legs. The skirt of her dress was slit at the side, revealing a long expanse of thigh. “I kept thinking of you up here, all alone, with this king-size bed.” She smoothed her hand along the bedspread.

He looked away, breathing heavy. Seeing her sitting on the bed this way was only a short leap from imagining her stretched out on it. Naked. “I’m working,” he said again. He was repeating himself, but his brain couldn’t manage more, considering most of his blood had flowed south.

“Has anything interesting happened yet?”

Other than you showing up here like this? He shook his head. “She came home, changed into a sexy outfit, set the stage for a romantic dinner and poured the wine, but so far her lover’s failed to show.”

She stood and went to the window again, careful this time to keep back. “Maybe she’s not waiting on anyone. Maybe she’s just entertaining herself.”

“Check again. There are two places set at the table.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Right.” She turned away from the window. “Any idea who she’s meeting?”

He shook his head. “Her husband didn’t know, either.”

Another knock on the door interrupted him. So much for laying low. “Who is it?” he called.

“Room service.”

“I didn’t order any—”

“I ordered it.” Lexie hurried to the door.

A waiter wheeled in a table topped with covered dishes, a vase of flowers, a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Would you like me to open the wine?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” Lexie said. While he did that, she checked under the metal covers. Steam rose from the plates and the aroma of grilled steaks made Nick’s mouth water.

She signed for the meal, then closed the door behind the waiter. When they were alone again, she turned to Nick. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

She flicked her tongue along her bottom lip, reminding him of all the things he was hungry for. He checked on Ellen Wittier again, trying to compose himself. She was pouring her third glass of wine, slumped at the table, watching the candles drip.

“Come sit down,” Lexie beckoned him. “Have some wine.”

He sat in the desk chair, but she perched on the edge of the bed, the light from the lamp mounted on the headboard spotlighting her. The neck of her dress was low, revealing the swell of her breasts. When she leaned forward to remove the covers from the plates, he had a tantalizing glimpse of one shadowed nipple. He immediately grew hard, and hurried to spread the napkin across his lap to hide his arousal.

The steak was tender and juicy, but he scarcely tasted it, too distracted by his dinner companion.

“Where is Mr. Wittier this weekend?” she asked halfway through the meal.

“Reno. At a convention. According to the schedule he gave me he was originally supposed to fly home tonight, but he sent word yesterday that his plans had changed and he intended to stay over.”

“And that’s when you decided to book this room?”

He nodded. “I knew his wife wouldn’t pass up the chance to spend a whole night with her lover.”

“As far as you know, she’s never spent any time with this phantom lover.”

“I haven’t seen him yet, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist. Who else is she dressing up for tonight?”

She glanced toward the window. “He’s not a very considerate lover, standing her up this way.”

“Maybe he’s cheating on his wife and couldn’t get away.”

She frowned. “You think he’s married?”

“It happens. All the time.”

“I suppose this job gives you a pretty jaded view of relationships between men and women, doesn’t it?”

“I prefer to think of it as realistic.”

“Don’t you believe two people can be happy together without hurting each other?”

“I wouldn’t say I didn’t believe it. I just haven’t known it to happen often. ‘Happily-ever-after’ occurs in fiction a lot more than in real life.”

“What about ‘happy-for-right-now’?” She laid aside her fork and looked at him. “What about two people enjoying each other for the moment and not worrying about what might happen a few months or even a few weeks from now?”

He took a long drink of wine, weighing his answer. He knew what she was getting at. Here, in this intimate setting, with Lexie so warm and willing and only inches from him, and another woman in the building across the way, alone and crying without her husband or her lover to comfort her, all of his old arguments about working together or not working together didn’t seem to matter. Tonight, those objections were reduced to one question: Did he want to spend another night alone?

No, he didn’t. He wanted to welcome this woman, whom he’d been lusting after for weeks, into his arms and his bed.

He pushed the table away and stood, looming over her. She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “You know I want you,” he said.

“Then I’m yours,” she said, and opened her arms wide.

WHEN NICK TOOK LEXIE into his arms, she sighed with joy and relief. All these weeks she’d been waiting for this. All those months in physical therapy when she’d worked so hard to get well, this was what she’d been working for, though she hadn’t even known it at the time. She’d been waiting for strong arms to reach around her, for warm lips to find hers, for hands to caress her, and for the rush of blood and heat that was like a shout within her. She was alive and whole again. All that struggle and pain had been worth it to get to this moment.

She stood on tiptoe, arms reaching around him, pressing her body close to his. She felt his arousal against her belly and a thrill of anticipation surged through her, followed by a tremor of nervousness. It had been a long time since she’d had sex with a man.

He slid his hands up to cradle her head, his fingers buried in her hair, turning her face more fully to his. His lips claimed hers in a drugging kiss that she felt all the way to her toes. Long-dormant sensations came back to her, reminding her that sex was not something to be learned over and over again, but a pleasure to be enjoyed and continually perfected.

He fumbled with the fastening of her dress, and she reached back to help him. “I should probably be more patient and take it slower,” he said. “But I’ve been imagining you naked so long I can’t wait anymore to see the real thing.”

She laughed and undid the button at the neck of the dress, letting the two halves of the top fall forward to hang at her waist. “I could say the same thing about you,” she said.

She reached for the waistband of his pants, but he stepped back. “I want to look at you,” he said. “All of you.”

Feeling only a little self-conscious, she reached back and lowered the zipper of the dress, then slid it down over her hips. Clad only in pink silk bikini panties, red scarf and red stilettos, she faced him.

The reverent look in his eyes was almost her undoing. The mixture of raw lust and unabashed need send a rush of wet heat to her sex. Her breasts felt heavy and aching beneath his gaze, and her nipples rose in points anticipating his touch.

When she thought she couldn’t bear another second apart from him, he moved toward her. She let out a sigh of relief, which turned to a moan when he moved past her, to the window. He checked the loft again, then drew the heavy inner drapes, closing them off from the world.

“What is she doing?” she asked.

“The lights are off in the dining room. She’s in the bedroom, on the bed.” He turned to her, his face pinched with some undecipherable emotion. “I think she’s crying.”

She felt a pang of sympathy for the lonely woman across the way, but had little time to dwell on this. With remarkable swiftness, Nick shed his clothes and moved toward her again, his erection stiff and proud, swaying with each stride.

Then he was gathering in his arms, maneuvering her toward the bed. When the back of her legs came in contact with the spread she let herself fall back.

Nick followed, and stretched out beside her, his hand on her stomach, preserving the connection. “You’re more gorgeous than I imagined.” He grinned. “But not naked enough.”

She watched, amused, as he slipped to the floor and knelt to unfasten her shoes. She started to make a joke about him bowing before her, but all words fled as he pulled off one high heel and drew her toe into his mouth.

She moaned at the sensation of his tongue, hot and wet against her toes, touching some primitive part of her. Was it possible to come from having one’s toes sucked?

From her toes, he moved to her ankles, up her calves, her knees, to her thighs, his tongue and lips finding sensitive nerves she hadn’t known existed. She felt hot everywhere he touched; little flames of sensation lit the length of her body.

He hooked his thumbs underneath the sides of her panties and drew them down. She raised her hips to help him and then she was naked.

She waited, tensed, anticipating his lips on her. She could hear him breathing hard, sense his gaze on her. When she raised her head to look, he was staring at her, a half smile on his lips.

Why had he stopped? “Is—is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just undressing you. Almost done.”

He reached for the scarf at her throat, but she caught his wrist and stopped him. She’d revealed enough tonight; she wasn’t ready for more. “Leave the scarf on,” she said.

He looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Just…leave it on.”

She waited for him to ask why, the heat of the moment already receding as she struggled to come up with a superficial explanation.

But he didn’t ask for one. He simply lowered his hand to her side and his mouth to her stomach, and began working his way up her body, one kiss at a time.

She fell back again, abandoning herself once more to sensation. It was as if her body were waking from the coma all over again, nerves she’d forgotten coming to life beneath his exploring lips and tongue.

When he reached her breasts, she could stay still no longer. She arched to him, hips thrusting, silently pleading for release from this incredible, exquisite tension. She felt him smile against her, then he sucked her nipple into his mouth and she gasped with pleasure.

Her pulse beat hard against her temple, and her vision clouded as he suckled and teased, first one breast, then the other. She put her arms around him, holding on as if to an anchor. Anything to keep her from flying off the bed and soaring to the ceiling. Or breaking into pieces. Any minute now she felt she could explode, nerves stretched beyond bearing.

“Niiiick.” His name was a low moan on her lips, both endearment and plea. She couldn’t wait anymore. She couldn’t.

He moved away from her momentarily and she lay still, eyes closed, breathing heavily. If she just had a moment to recover, she’d be ready to offer him as much pleasure as he was giving her. Just a moment…

His mouth closed around her sex, hot and wet and insistent. In that moment she shattered, light and heat rushing through her, a shout torn from her throat. Part of her really was up near the ceiling, separated from her physical body and flying on sheer pleasure. She’d forgotten how wonderful this felt. Or had it ever really felt this good before?

Nick held her as the aftermath of her climax shuddered through her, the awareness of his strong arms around her gradually bringing her back to earth. He was there when she opened her eyes, watching her with concern in his eyes. She grinned, and somehow found her voice. “Wow. If that was the opening act, I can’t wait to see the main attraction.”

“Coming right up.” He knelt between her legs, gently urging her thighs farther apart to accommodate him. “Pun intended.”

She laughed, giddy with happiness, aware that at any moment she might burst into giggles. Not very seductresslike but she couldn’t help herself. She imagined running down the halls, shouting I’m alive. I’m alive. And it’s wonderful!

“I can’t believe I was so stupid!”

His words, and the groan that followed pulled her back to the moment.

“What’s wrong?”

He made a face and looked at the bedside phone. “Do you think room service would send up a condom?”

4

THERE WAS A TIME when Nick would have considered protection just another tool in his cache of supplies, but he’d gotten out of the habit since his marriage. Perhaps he was pickier, but spontaneous seduction wasn’t part of his life these days.

“I have some in my purse,” Lexie said.

“Some?” He arched one eyebrow in his best man-about-town imitation. The idea of her deliberately setting out to seduce him was a huge turn-on. He was a man used to doing the pursuing. The chance to be on the receiving end for a change held a wicked fascination.

She flushed. “I wanted to be prepared.”

He started to get up, but she pushed him back down, and went to retrieve her purse from the table. He lay back and watched her, admiring the way her breasts swayed as she walked. She was gorgeous. Amazing.

Her boldness had taken him by surprise at first, but once they were both naked, he sensed this wasn’t an everyday thing with her. She’d been as eager and needy as him, and it had been all he could do to force himself to take it slow, to make this good for her. He wouldn’t let her think he was the kind of man to take his own pleasure first and leave her wanting more.

And then she’d come, her cries pushing him to the brink of his own desire. Just as well he had this moment to pull back, or else everything would be over before they’d really started.

She returned and crawled back into the bed, the ends of the scarf trailing over her breast, the cherry-red silk bright against her almond-colored skin. Why had she insisted on wearing the scarf? What was she hiding under there?

Did she really think anything he might see would make a difference to him? Later, he’d talk to her about it, but now was not the time to argue.

He reached out to take the condom, but she pushed aside his hand. “Allow me.”

She tore open the packet and leaned over him, the scarf brushing the sensitive head of his penis. He sucked his breath through his teeth, willing himself to stay in control.

Then her hands were around him, cool and soft, squeezing gently as she slowly rolled the condom on. He felt himself pulse against her palm, and closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation but fighting against it, too. She was torturing him. But what sweet torture.

She straddled him, her calves cool and sleek against his thighs. Then she slid over him, surrounding him with her heat and wetness. He clasped her hips as she began to ride him, matching her rhythm, every movement sending shock waves of feeling through him.

He opened his eyes and watched her, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, her eyes half-closed, her mouth slightly open, cheeks flushed. He moved his hands up to caress her breasts, and smiled as she gasped in obvious pleasure.

She planted her palms on his chest and adjusted the tilt of her hips to a more acute angle. He moaned and his vision clouded. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

His climax slammed into him, stealing breath and sense and leaving him weak as a baby. He put his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing his face against her breasts, dimly aware that she was coming again, tensing around him then releasing. She leaned into him, collapsing into his arms.

They lay like that for a long while, fused together by passion. She was all softness and heat, smelling of flowers, her breath a warm tickle against his ear.

It had been a long time since he’d held a woman like this. He’d forgotten how good it felt. How right.

The thought jolted out of his haze. Where had that idea come from? This wasn’t a matter of right and wrong, only a moment of physical pleasure.

Yet he was reluctant to let her go. In fact, she was the first to pull away. She gave him a sleepy-eyed smile, kissed the corner of his mouth, then got up and padded into the bathroom.

While she was gone, he disposed of the condom, then dragged himself over to the window to check on Ellen Wittier again. Her rooms were dark. She must have gone to bed. Alone, from the look of things; a night-light in the hallway cast a faint glow over the still untouched dinner for two laid out on the dining room table.

He let the curtains fall back into place and crawled under the covers, trying to sort out what had just happened between him and Lexie. It was as if he’d lost himself for a moment, become some other person. A person who needed Lexie in his life.

A dangerous thought.

She came out of the bathroom and slipped under the covers beside him. He opened his arms to her, welcoming her to his side even as part of his brain screamed that he ought to keep some distance. He didn’t have room in his life for the feelings she conjured in him, this tenderness and wanting.

The thought kept him awake long after she was sleeping soundly, her head still on his shoulder, her body shaped to his. The scent of her surrounded him—floral perfume and female musk, so sweet and intoxicating. Only his growing uneasiness drove him to slip from beneath her, out of the bed.

He dressed as quickly as he could, watching her as he did so. He thought about leaving a note, but what would he say? He hoped she understood he wasn’t running away from her. Actually, he was, but he needed time to think, time to gain perspective and put the night in its proper place.

He left, shutting the door behind him, hearing the tumblers of the lock fall into place. If only it were as easy to lock away emotions and feelings and all the messy things that got in the way of a sane, uncomplicated life.

WHEN LEXIE AWOKE she sensed she was alone even before she opened her eyes. The room was too quiet, the only sounds were her own breathing and the muted hum of the air-conditioning unit. She rolled over in bed and stared at the empty space beside her. The pillow still bore the indentation from Nick’s head but when she reached out to touch it the space was cold. He’d been gone for a while.

She couldn’t say she was surprised. Though he’d been an intense, passionate lover she’d had a sense that he was holding something back. While his body had been fully engaged in their lovemaking, some part of his personality had remained aloof.

She could dismiss some of that as typical male behavior, and perhaps a portion was due to the cautious nature of a former policeman. But intuition told her there was more to Nick than a former cop wanting to keep things superficial. She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on with him, but she looked forward to the chance to find out.

She sat up and stretched, relishing the slight soreness that reminded her she had been well and truly sated the night before. Her boldness with Nick had paid big dividends. She smoothed her palms along her ribs, smiling at the memory of his hands on her.

He’d been right about one thing; last night had changed the situation between them. She had no doubt she could continue to be a professional assistant to him, but now there would be an increased awareness between them. Every interaction would have an extra edge, and even as she went about the mundane tasks of her job, she’d be anticipating when they would be together again.

And they would be together again. No way was she going to pass up a chance to enjoy another night like the last one.

Still smiling, she reached for her clothes and began to dress. She’d promised Nick six months before she left for Spain and other adventures. In the meantime, he was just the man to help her complete some of the more adventurous items on her list.

She laughed. Oh yes, she and Nick were going to have a very good time together.

NICK SPENT A GOOD PART of the weekend parked near Ellen Wittier’s condo, waiting for her mystery lover to appear. But from his vantage point he saw only Ellen by herself: talking on the phone, watching television or eating a solitary meal. Stan Wittier returned Sunday evening from his convention and all appeared well.

Maybe Lexie was right. Maybe the woman wasn’t cheating on her husband. He supposed it happened, that there were still married people who were faithful to each other. He just hadn’t had the opportunity to meet many of them in his two careers.

He’d told himself he wasn’t going to think about Lexie, but he might as well try to stop breathing. How could he not think about the woman when he could still feel her imprint on his body, still smell her scent on his hands? Every time he closed his eyes his brain insisted on throwing up the image of her naked, an erotic movie playing out against his eyelids.

Which meant he’d spent half the weekend with a hard-on and the other half annoyed with himself for getting so caught up with a woman that he let her distract him from his work. He was almost grateful when Monday morning arrived with its promise of mundane routine.

Except, of course, that Monday also meant facing Lexie again. He braced himself for her wrath. In his experience, women didn’t appreciate it when you walked out on them without so much as a note the way he had. They didn’t seem to understand that sometimes it was better not to say anything than to risk putting the wrong thing in writing. At least then you had less chance of your words being used against you.

“Good morning, Nick.” She looked up from her desk when he arrived, her voice cheerful, her ruby-tinted lips curved up in a smile. The sight of her, dressed in a clingy red top that dipped low in the front to show off an enticing glimpse of cleavage, sent a jolt through him. Apparently Lexie clothed could arouse him as much as the memory of her naked.

“Good morning.” He nodded to her, trying to act casual, trying to avoid staring.

“Did you have a good weekend?” she asked.

Was this a trick question? Was she waiting for him to bring up the events that had started off the weekend? Did she expect him to admit she’d shaken him up, and not in a good way?

“It was fine.” He threw the conversational ball back to her. “How was yours?”

She assumed a coy expression, her eyes sparkling with teasing mirth. “Oh, I had a very nice weekend. There’s nothing like fantastic sex to get things off to a good start.”

That she’d thought the sex they’d enjoyed was fantastic pleased him. Apparently he hadn’t lost his touch.

But then something black and ugly wrapped itself around him. She had been talking about the two of them, hadn’t she? “So what did you do this weekend?” he asked casually. “I mean, after Friday?”

“Oh, I went shopping. To the movies. Fun stuff.”

Alone, he hoped, then pushed back the thought. He didn’t have any right to tell her who to see or what to do with her time. One night didn’t give him any claim to her.

On this depressing note, he went into his office and shut the door. He focused on catching up on paperwork, and tried to forget all about the woman on the other side of the door.

But the woman apparently wasn’t going to let herself be forgotten. He’d scarcely pulled the first file from the stack on the corner of his desk when she came breezing into his office without even knocking. He looked up, annoyed. “Yes?”

“How did you spend your weekend?” she asked.

Here it was then. She wasn’t going to let it go until she’d wrung some kind of apology from him for running out on her. He frowned. “I really don’t have time to discuss this right now,” he began.

She sat in the chair across from his desk and crossed her legs, a good bit of knee and shapely thigh, clad in sheer black stockings, showing beneath the hiked-up hem of her black skirt. Did she do that deliberately, knowing the move commanded his attention?

“I know what you were doing,” she said. “You were watching Ellen Wittier. Did you find anything? Did her lover ever show?”

He shook his head. “No sign of the guy.”

“I’ve been thinking about this and I think you should let me talk to her.”

He shook his head. “No way. I don’t want her to get suspicious.”

“She won’t be suspicious.” She leaned toward him. “You said yourself she spends a lot of time alone. So she’s probably lonely. And lonely women like to talk. I’ll simply arrange to run into her somewhere and strike up a conversation.”

“Right. And she’s going to tell you—a stranger—all about her boyfriend?”

“I won’t be a stranger by the time we’ve talked a few minutes.” Her smile would have looked smug on anyone else. On her it was flat-out sexy. Confident. The smile of a woman who’d seen you naked and knew exactly what to do to make you beg.

Not that she’d made him beg, but it was a tempting fantasy….

He pulled his mind out of that trap and focused on business. The truth was, he wasn’t getting anywhere with this case on his own. And Lexie’s idea made a certain amount of sense. “All right. You can give it a try. But be careful. Don’t give anything away.”

“I won’t. Now didn’t you say you had her schedule?”

He opened a drawer and took out the case file. In it were the copies of Ellen’s date book that Wittier had given Nick. He handed the sheets to Lexie.

She scanned the pages, then tapped a pink-painted nail against one. “This is great. She has an appointment for a manicure at a nail salon in LoDo. I’ll make an appointment for the same time and it’ll be easy to strike up a conversation.”

He nodded and replaced the sheets in the file. “Let’s hope you find something.”

“Or maybe I’ll find out she really isn’t cheating. Our client ought to be happy with that.”

So it was “our” client now? He really couldn’t object to that. If she wanted to help out with a few investigations, he’d let her. But he’d make the rules about when and where. As long as he remained in charge, everything would be okay.

She stood and smoothed her skirt. “I’ll call and make an appointment at the nail salon right away.”

She turned to leave but he cleared his throat, stopping her. “Was there something else?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah.” His chest was tight. He hated this kind of thing but he wasn’t going to be a jerk about this. “About Friday night…”

He’d half hoped she’d jump in with another comment about how “fantastic” it had been, saving him from having to grovel, but no such luck. She fixed him with a level gaze and waited.

“Sorry I ran out like that,” he said. “Without a note. I—” He shrugged. “I’m not much for notes.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “About the note. Not that you left.”

Right. So she did think he was a jerk. He waited for her to let him have it, but she surprised him by sitting down again and pulling her chair closer. “It would have been okay if you had stayed,” she said. “I mean, I wouldn’t have read more into it than you wanted.” She smiled. “I just want us to have a good time. To enjoy each other for the next few months.”

Something like relief rushed over him, coupled with innate caution. “I did have a good time.” A great time.

“Me, too.” She stood again, still smiling. “Now that we understand each other, I’ll go make that appointment.”

He watched her go, then collapsed back against his chair, stunned. If he were one of those hard-boiled types popular in forties’ movies, he’d have a bottle of whiskey stashed in his desk for moments like this one.

Unfortunately, the only pain relievers in his desk drawer were half a bottle of aspirin and a roll of antacid. Not enough to sharpen his thinking where Lexie was concerned. She might think they understood each other but as far as he was concerned, there was no understanding women. Especially one like Lexie who was in turns tough and tender, who made love as if she’d never have the chance again and who hid secrets behind silk scarves.

But then, they all had secrets to hide, didn’t they? Private wounds they kept hidden from the world. Maybe that was what had unnerved him most about those intimate hours at the hotel: some part of him had recognized that Lexie might be the one to uncover those wounds, the one to learn his secrets. And maybe that scared him more than anything.

5

LEXIE WAITED IN HER CAR until she saw Ellen Wittier go into the nail salon. A few moments later, she followed. A string of bells attached to the door announced her entrance. The young Vietnamese woman who was working on Ellen’s nails looked up. “May I help you?” she asked.

“I have an appointment for a manicure.”

The woman looked toward the back of the shop and said something in Vietnamese. Another young woman emerged from behind a beaded curtain. “You pick color,” she instructed, gesturing toward a turntable filled with bottles of polish.

Lexie took her time perusing the polish, studying Ellen’s reflection in the mirror behind the manicure table. She was an attractive woman, perhaps in her mid-to late-thirties, dressed in an expensive-looking silk tank dress and Jimmy Choo sandals Lexie immediately coveted. Her hair and makeup were done just so. Either Ellen was very particular about her appearance or she had nothing better to occupy her time.

“I ready for you now.” The manicurist waved Lexie over to her table, next to the one where Ellen sat.

“Great.” She reached for her usual pink polish, then hesitated and impulsively grabbed a bottle of bright red dubbed Hot Tomato. The new, bolder version of Lexie was definitely a hot tomato kind of gal.

“How are you today?” the manicurist asked, her words a pleasant singsong.

“Bored.” She gave an exaggerated sigh and glanced toward Ellen. “I’m new in town and my husband’s away so much with his business. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Her attempt to draw Ellen into conversation worked. “What does your husband do?” she asked.

“He works for a software developer.” A safe enough choice, since Denver was riddled with high-tech firms, despite the tech bust a few years ago. “We haven’t been married all that long,” she continued. “We met at a fund-raiser in Houston a few years back and were immediately attracted to each other.” She shook her head. “I used to laugh at women my age who dated men old enough to be their fathers, and then it happened to me.”

“I know just what you mean.” Ellen managed a small smile. “My husband is fifteen years older than I am.”

“Mine is almost twenty years older, but you’d never know it to look at him. I think that’s what attracted me to him. He was so dynamic and sure of himself.” Amazing how glibly the lies rolled off Lexie’s tongue. Within a matter of seconds she’d created an elaborate fantasy for herself and her mythical spouse.

“Other hand, please.”

“Oh, sure.” She gave her other hand into the manicurist’s care. “Of course my family thought I was crazy to marry him and move to Colorado. Some days I wonder if they weren’t right. I mean, not that I don’t love him—I really do. But he’s gone so much and here I am.” She shrugged.

“Yes, that can be difficult.” Ellen turned her attention back to her manicurist. “A little rounder shape, please.”

Lexie’s smile faltered. So much for becoming best buddies with Ellen Wittier. She’d been polite, but no more. Lexie would have to think of another approach.

“How short you want?” The nail tech’s question distracted her.

“Oh, that’s fine right there. Thank you.”

“You say your husband is older than you?” the tech asked.

“Yes.”

“Mine is older, too.” The tech nodded, then rubbed the third finger of Lexie’s left hand. “You no wear ring?”

Lexie felt heat rise to her face. Damn! She’d forgotten all about a ring. “Uh, I never wear it when I have a manicure,” she said. “I’m too afraid I’ll take it off and then leave it behind.” She chuckled, and didn’t have to fake nervousness. “I’m still so new at this marriage thing.” She glanced toward Ellen, who was gazing out the front window of the shop, her expression blank. “I just wish my husband could be home more.”

“It is difficult when the two of you have to be apart so much.” Ellen turned toward her again. “It gets a little easier after a while.”

Does it? Lexie remembered the lonely woman who’d wandered the empty loft and then lain across the bed, crying on Friday night. “You sound like you might have a little experience,” she said. “Does your husband travel in his work, too?”

Ellen nodded. “Yes. It gets lonely sometimes, but it’s made me really appreciate the time we have together.”

“I wish my husband stay away more.” Lexie’s nail tech rubbed the buffing block vigorously over Lexie’s nails. “He under foot all the time.”