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Tall, Dark and Filthy Rich
Jill Monroe


Sassy heroines and irresistible heroes embark on sizzling sexual adventures as they play the game of modern love and lust. Expect fast paced reads with plenty of steamy encounters.A blast from the past! When tomboy private investigator Jessie Huell arrives as a guest on popular Atlanta chat show Just Between Us, she is unexpectedly reunited with her schoolgirl crush, producer Cole Crawford. Cole’s a multi-million dollar lottery winner, stunningly sexy…and bad, bad news for her!Now Cole and Jessie are doing just the kind of naughty things she swore she’d avoid. As each incredible second explodes by, Jessie finds herself in deep trouble. If she’s not careful she could find herself falling for him…Which means she’ll have to find the real dirt on Cole Crawford – because this man is too good to be true!







Six winners. Six fantasies.

SIX MILLION DOLLAR SECRETS…

Plain Jane Kurtz is going to use her winnings to discover

her inner vixen. But what’s it really going to cost her?

She Did a Bad, Bad Thing by Stephanie Bond Available from Mills & Boon® Blaze® in July 2008

* * *

New girl in town Nicole Reavis is on a journey to find

herself. But what else will she discover along the way?

Underneath It All by Lori Borrill Available from Mills & Boon® Blaze® in August 2008

* * *

Risk taker Eve Best is on the verge of having everything

she’s ever wanted. But can she take it?

The Naked Truth by Shannon Hollis Available from Mills & Boon® Blaze® in September 2008

* * *

Young, cocky Zach Haas loves his instant popularity,

especially with the women. But can he trust it?

For Lust or Money by Kate Hoffmann Available from Mills & Boon® Blaze® in October 2008

* * *

Solid, dependable Cole Crawford is ready to shake

things up. But how “shook up” is he prepared to handle?

Tall, Dark and FilthyRich by Jill Monroe Available from Mills & Boon® Blaze® in November 2008

* * *

Wild child Liza has always just wanted to belong.

But how far will she go to get it?

What She Really Wants for Christmas by Debbi Rawlins Available in the M&B™ collection Her Christmas Temptation in December 2008


JILL MONROE

makes her home in Oklahoma with her family. When not writing, she spends way too much time on the internet completing “research” or updating her blog. Even when writing, she’s thinking of ways to avoid cooking.



Dear Reader,

Have you ever thought about winning the lottery?

Yes? Me, too! Only about a billion times. I’ve played the “What if I won a million?” on many a boring road trip.

One thing that never figures into those dreams – the problems that would arise from that kind of notoriety and that kind of cash. Cole Crawford wasn’t expecting those difficulties either. Nor was he expecting the kind of delicious turmoil Jessie Huell would bring into his life.

Cole and Jessie’s story was a lot of fun to write. I even played the lottery a time or two to really get the research! OK, I probably would have played it anyway. That one hundred and twenty million powerball jackpot is a hard thing to resist. If I win, the pizza will be on me!

I’d love to hear from you. E-mail me at jill@ jillmonroebooks.com or visit me on the web at www.jillmonroe.com.

All my best,

Jill




TALL, DARK AND FILTHY RICH


BY

JILL MONROE




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Thanks to my husband and family.

I love you and treasure your support.

Special thanks to Gena Showalter – a great

dancer who’s taught me all her best moves.

Please note what DOES happen to those who

steal garden gnomes.

Thanks also to Sheila Fields, Donnell Epperson

and Betty Sanders, who always make me laugh

and are always there for me. And to

Kassia Krozser, whose name is always

on my dedication page.

To my friends Jennifer and Karen, who’ve put up

with a lot during this book. Thanks. I promise to

return to all sweetness and light shortly.

I also want to thank the other authors from the

MILLION DOLLAR SECRETS books and

Kathryn Lye. It was great fun working

with all of you.


1

“EVER THINK MAYBE YOU’RE in the wrong line of work?” Dana, the reporter from the Atlanta Daily News, asked in a bored tone as she flipped a Skittle into her mouth.

“No. Why?” Jessica Huell shrugged. So much for the great article the reporter planned to write about Atlanta’s Most Interesting Professionals. Clearly, Jessie’s execution of her current job was proving to be a dud, and she’d really hoped the exposure from the proffered feature in the newspaper would swing a little more business her way.

Movement caught her eye. “Wait, get down,” Jessie said, as she pushed Dana’s head below the dashboard.

Both women scrunched low, toward the floorboard of Jessie’s car, which was littered with sacks of fast food they’d eaten earlier that night.

Jessie listened. They’d cracked the windows for a little air and to hear the night sounds more easily. At two in the morning, this residential street in Atlanta was quiet. She easily heard the clap of high-heeled shoes on the sidewalk. The opening and closing of a car door. The turning of an engine.

After counting to ten, Jessie poked her head up over the steering wheel. The blue car. Bingo. She watched as it drove down the street, then turned left. She counted another ten seconds and then slowly took the same path.

Dana sat up in her seat and rubbed the muscles of her neck. “This wrecks that ‘female private investigators are cool’ thing I was going for.”

Good. Jessie curled her fingers around the steering wheel in satisfaction. Being an investigator could be dangerous and exciting, but when people were drawn to the job for those qualities, that’s when folks started getting hurt. Her job entailed hard work, long nights and little sleep. With “boring” thrown in to smooth out the rough edges. A whole lot of boring.

“Whew, I’m glad that’s over,” Dana said as she rummaged in her purse for something, obviously ready for her one night of undercover to be over. “I don’t know how much longer I could stand being in this car.”

“Well, we still have a ways to go.”

The reporter stopped applying her lip gloss. “Why? You already have the picture of him with the woman.”

Jessie dropped back farther from the car she was trailing. Even in a big city like Atlanta, a car closely following another would be suspicious after 2:00 a.m. “A picture tells only part of the story. We don’t know who the woman is. What her relationship is to Mr. Roberts.”

Dana scoffed. “She hugged him, then stayed in his home for over three hours. I don’t think she was the maid. Not with those shoes.”

Those were some pretty sexy stilettos. Not that Jessie was much of a shoe person. Not much call for high-heeled sling-backs in her line of work, in spite of the Hollywood image.

Smiling, she kept an eye on the sedan several car lengths ahead. They were back on side streets, where only an occasional streetlight or neon sign broke the darkness. They’d be hitting a residential neighborhood soon. She gave a silent plea that the car would lead her to a house with an address rather than to an apartment complex. Those were the worst. A lot of effort wasted on a dead end.

Yes! The owner of the nonmaid shoes was pulling into a paved driveway. Jessie held back, waiting for the woman to enter her home before driving past.

Then she slowly moved forward, looking as casual as she could. Just an insomniatic neighbor out for a drive. Or maybe a desperate mother hoping to get her baby to sleep. Whatever. Blending in. Appearing like someone who belonged there. That was her strength; she’d never been one to stand out. She hated flash, and unlike the reporter beside her, Jessie had never applied lip gloss in a moving vehicle. She wouldn’t even know how to take care of a highlight.

With a subtle glance at the number on the front of the house, Jessie was on her way.

“That was a little more fun. It was the closest we’ve come to getting caught,” Dana said, her voice slightly breathless.

“We weren’t anywhere near getting caught,” Jessie told her dryly. She was all for exaggeration, but not if it made her come across as less than professional.

“No need to get irritated. I just meant it was the first bit of excitement we’ve had since blondie showed up in the first place. When I still thought this night would be interesting,” Dana said with a wink. “What now?”

Dare she tell her? Jessie wondered. Dana was a reporter, after all. The woman dealt with facts. Hopefully.

Actually, Jessie herself should be delving only in facts. Conjecture shouldn’t be part of her professional world. But in the lonely hours after midnight, The Speculation Game was often the only thing that kept her awake. And interested. Maybe Dana was right; maybe she needed a different line of work.

Okay, she was losing it. She loved her job. Giving another woman the truth—that the man she was about to marry was a loser—was always good. Or even better, that the man she was about to commit a lifetime to, or at least the next several years to would be “on the level” with her. If only someone had been around to wake up Jessie before her own loser fiancé proved what a louse he was.

She glanced at her companion, whose laptop illuminated the front seat of the car. No, she probably shouldn’t tell Dana that on a stakeout she often dabbled in assumptions and bizarre guesses. But then, at nearly three in the morning, common sense was asleep.

“Right about now I start thinking about where she’s going.”

“What do you mean? We just saw her go into her house.” Dana stated, not bothering to look up from her typing.

“No, I mean, what does she plan to do with that stolen microchip he passed along to her?”

Dana stopped typing and gave Jessie an assessing look. “Stolen… I thought he was just some guy who doesn’t spend his Thursday nights with his girlfriend.”

Jessie put on her best mock-serious expression. “Oh, no. He may come across as a mild-mannered accountant who worked overtime during tax season to buy an engagement ring, but in reality he’s escaped from a faraway land. The secret agents from his country have found him.”

“The country of Fabricatia, perhaps?” Dana asked, her body language suggesting for the first time this evening that The Speculation Game was something she could get into.

“Exactly. And now he’s being stalked by that woman, but determined to keep his secrets safe.”

“I knew there was something suspicious about those pointy-toed sling-backs. Those were total spy shoes. He slipped her a fake chip, I know it.”

“But how long can he hold out?”

Dana laughed. “So, do you make up stories like this all evening?”

“Beats the reality of the job.”

“No question about that. I was really hoping some irate couple caught in a clandestine tryst might come after you with a gun. Would have made this story a lot more interesting.”

“Sorry I couldn’t accommodate.”

“That was before I knew you. Now I don’t want you to get shot at. You can stay with your boring job,” Dana said with a smile.

Jessie pulled her car into the parking lot of an all-night diner. “Then you’re going to love this next part. You’re about to witness the glamorous excitement of plugging this address into the database. Hopefully we’ll make a quick hit.”

“Ugh. Where’s the excitement in that?”

“Did I mention the waffles?”

COLE CRAWFORD FISHED for the package of antacids in his desk, and after ripping open the wrapper, swallowed a few pills without water.

“I caught you,” Nicole Reavis said as she poked her head in the doorway.

Cole grimaced. “Yeah, it’s already starting out to be one of those days.”

“Really? You mean, things aren’t working out for the man with a special insight into the minds of women?” she asked with wide-eyed innocence. Fake wide-eyed innocence.

Cole kept his expression neutral. Lately the women in the office had taken to quoting from that fluff piece Dana Roberts had written about him in the Atlanta Daily News. Someday he might be able to live down the “sensitive bachelor” line. After a while the receptionist might even stop snickering when delivering mail addressed to “Hottie Producer,” as the caption under his picture in the paper had read. Sure, his name was in the piece, but with it buried under phrases like “understands a woman’s needs outside of the bedroom” and “has insights into a woman before she even knows them herself,” who’d remember?

He regretted ever agreeing to do the interview. Atlanta’s Most Interesting Professionals? More like Atlanta’s Most Sensitive Pansy-Ass, a profile guaranteed to suck the testosterone right out of his body.

Never again. From now on, he’d leave the spotlight where it belonged—on Eve Best, the star of Just Between Us. He’d spotted her talent back when he was stuck producing public-affairs programming for the station. He’d gone with his gut that time. And he’d stick to it from now on.

Nicole waved a newspaper clipping in front of him. “Looks like your favorite reporter has a new victim, and this ‘Most Interesting Professional’ might make a great segment for the show.”

One of Nicole’s jobs as a story-segment producer was to scour newspapers, magazines and the Internet for the kind of sex-themed hot topics viewers loved.

Unleashing your Inner Wild Child.

In Praise of Younger Men.

The last few topics on Just Between Us had been real winners. Each week brought more viewers. The pressure was mounting to top the previous show. And that was with actual hard work.

Several months ago, he, along with several of his coworkers at the station, had won Georgia’s own Lot ‘O’ Bucks lottery. Thirty-eight million dollars generated a ton of press coverage, and the news division of the station had had a field day with interviews and live feed. So when a former colleague, Liza Skinner, had leaked to the media that she planned to claim part of their winnings, too, things had really gone crazy on the show. With the threat of a lawsuit and the hold up of the money, the advertisers were lining up. New viewers might tune in hoping to catch up on the latest controversy, but stayed because they produced a damn fine show.

With lawyers now involved, their group had opted to shy away from the media. But when one of the winners was Eve Best, star of Just Between Us, keeping quiet wasn’t always easy. Luckily, the rest of them weren’t in front of the camera. Jane Kurtz did the show’s makeup. Nicole searched for stories rather than becoming them, and Zach Hass operated the camera.

He still couldn’t believe Liza thought she was entitled to any of the money. Sure, she’d given her share into the lottery fund when she worked with them all, but she’d left town without any explanation, and eventually her money had ran out.

Their mistake had been to keep playing her number.

Despite his current appreciation for sodium bicarbonate, Cole thrived on pressure. Which was a good thing. With half the staff taking time off for trips, moving in with one another and weddings, his workload had multiplied. Luckily, things were settling down just in time for the important November ratings period. Sweeps month always took priority over relationships.

He glanced at the newspaper clipping Nicole was now placing on the very large stack of reports, memos and requests already in his in-box. “A private detective?” he asked.

“She’s got a bit of an edge. She basically guarantees dirt on anything with a penis.”

Ballbusters were great for ratings. He’d book her in spite of becoming a traitor to his gender. “Sounds interesting. You know, you don’t need to have me okay your ideas anymore. Feel free to call anyone for an initial Q and A.”

“Well, she’s from your hometown. I thought you might know her. According to the article, she’s just a few years younger than you.”

He’d come from the small town of Thrasher in rural Georgia, and most everyone had stayed in the general area after graduation. Some worked for the many businesses that still thrived there. Others worked on the tree farms, taking care of the tall pines Georgia was so famous for.

He reached for the newspaper clipping and quickly scanned the top paragraph until he found a name. Jessie Huell.

A smile spread across his lips. Sweet little Jessie Huell. Strange profession for someone as softhearted as Jessie. But with her father being chief of police, maybe investigation and research were in her blood.

He’d always wondered what had happened to the police chief’s good-natured daughter after he’d left. She probably never knew it, but one night she’d saved his life. Did she ever think of him?

He doubted it.

“Do you have a home phone number or just the office one listed here?” he asked.

“Just the office. I figured you’d want to contact her yourself. Plus, with your ‘finger on the pulse of women’s interests,’ I figured you’d have her booked in no time.”

And here was the reason for the over-the-counter meds. He tried for stoic.

With a laugh, Nicole quickly left his office. A wise move on her part.

The man with a special insight into the needs of women. Cole scowled. It was enough to make a guy want to shop. For power tools. A good handsaw. Nothing that plugged into the wall. Just something that required plain brute strength.


2

JESSIE ROLLED OUT OF BED and groaned. She flipped off her sleep mask. It was always hard waking up when most people were already several hours into their jobs.

But that wasn’t what made her heart start pounding. It was a sense of trouble. The nagging sensation that she’d agreed to…to something…wouldn’t leave her. After rubbing her eyes, she spotted an envelope by her bedside table, with her handwriting on the back.

Oh, yeah. Phone call. The faint memory of desperately searching for a pen. Writing something down.

Resignation filled her. How many times had she told herself not to answer the phone after being out all night? But with the loss of potential business, she’d never turn her ringer off.

Fully awake now, she could make out the details of the call.

Who the hell had phoned her at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning? Sure, that was probably a normal working time for most people. However, most folks reserved their dirt-worthy behavior for sometime after twilight. Good thing she was a night person.

She stretched, loosening her muscles. The dark panels covering the windows ensured that no bright Atlanta sunshine sneaked into her bedroom while she was trying to sleep.

It had also made finding her ever-moving lamp difficult, until she’d added that clapping device. Great gadget for a fumble-free life. Jessie fluffed one of her pillows, leaned against the padded headboard and took a calm, soothing breath.

From the cloud-soft shades of her pale gold comforter to the harmonious apricot of the drapes, everything about her bedroom was designed to fool her body into sleeping in the middle of the day. Now, if only Jessie could get her phone to cooperate.

She’d probably say yes to anything at nine in the morning, just so she could go back to sleep. She scanned her chicken scratching and prepared herself for what she’d agreed to.

Okay, not too bad. Interview for Just Between Us. The Atlanta afternoon talk show she usually watched while eating her breakfast.

Hmm, if this interview worked out, it could be better for business. That profile of her in the newspaper had already provided a nice spike in her income. More weeks like those, and she might be able to pay off the night scope and bullet camera.

Some women bought shoes.

Others liked purses.

Jessie couldn’t resist spy gadgets, and she’d been eyeing the Espion Digi-Cam Pen. Illegal in all fifty states, and with a price tag of over two grand, it was enough to make any gal squeal.

She rubbed the muscles of her neck. Sitting in the car always did hellish things to that area of her body. Then she saw the name she’d written underneath the time of her preinterview.

Cole Crawford.

Jessie blamed the fact that she’d fallen into bed way past four for not instantly recognizing it when she’d heard it. She was totally aware now. Her heartbeat quickened and her palms grew moist.

Hell, she was surprised she hadn’t written the O in the shape of a heart, as she had when she was sixteen. Over and over again in her history notebook she’d also doodled, “Jessie Crawford.”

What her sleep-deprived body hadn’t experienced this morning, she felt now. Full force. Her mouth went dry. The butterflies in her stomach decided to reemerge.

Maybe it was a good thing Cole Crawford had never kissed her. She probably would have dropped on the spot. Although dropped happy.

He’d been tall and lanky, and her idea of what a boy should look like.

What the hell? Her palms were tingling, for crying out loud. His name alone had her reverting to age sixteen. Without even trying. But then, that was always the way. Cole Crawford had never tried anything with her. Not once.

After dropping the envelope on the bed, she stomped into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her heated cheeks. She didn’t want to see Cole Crawford again. He was her ideal fantasy man, placed high atop his pedestal before she’d realized men could be jerks. He was all that a boy of her dreams should have been. Handsome. Smart. Big shoulders. Why would she ruin it by seeing him now?

Surely what she thought was hot in high school would not be what looked good today. Maybe those “big shoulders” had only appeared muscular and strong, because he was two years older. Maybe he was actually quite scrawny. What if he had grown a unibrow? A mullet? A person could change a lot in nine years.

Stop. Why was she doing this to herself?

Jessie had learned the truth long ago that Santa didn’t exist and neither did the tooth fairy. But for some reason she just didn’t want to destroy her faith that Cole Crawford was somewhere out there being perfect.

Almost every other illusion she had about life, like soul mates and fidelity, had been stomped into the ground. Couldn’t fate allow her to keep this one?

Unfortunately, she’d agreed to a fantasy-snatching appointment when she wasn’t thinking straight.

After a quick shower, she padded into her bedroom to peruse her closet. Her wardrobe didn’t elicit a lot of “oohs” and “ahhs.” She’d never needed much of one to begin with. Until she’d left the force, Jessie had worn her Atlanta PD uniform with pride. Home was casual—jeans and a T-shirt.

Maybe she should have tossed a few bucks toward adding another skirt or shirt in something other than black. But then, black was the only sensible choice on a stakeout.

Wait. There in the back. Something her mother had sent as a desperate attempt to make her girlie. Okay, it was lavender. Not her color of choice, but the blouse was at least professional looking. She paired that with a straight black skirt, her black high-heeled, steel-toed black boots, and her outfit was complete.

What would Cole think of her now?

And why would she care?

After pulling her long, straight blond hair into a ponytail, she brushed out her bangs. Jessie was ready to face the annihilation of her sole remaining castle-in-the-sky, whimsical delusion, which would make Cole Crawford just another guy.

And in case he wasn’t, she’d remind herself what kept him off-limits. Cole Crawford was married. With kids.

COLE LEFT HIS OFFICE and walked toward the studio’s break room. Jessie Huell should already be in the conference room, but he wanted to buy her a can of Coke before he joined her. He found that he was smiling, anticipating seeing her again.

Maybe they could have a laugh over it. He used to buy her a pop while she conjugated his Latin verbs. His dad had ridden his ass hard back then, and she’d been helping him out. After attending school all day and then working at Mr. Martin’s garage all afternoon, he could barely keep his eyes open for homework. Him bringing home a failing grade would have set his old man off.

Cole had probably escaped quite a few smacks due to Jessie’s talent with the future perfect tense. Man, at that time, with his day-to-day survival, he couldn’t even wrap his brain around the idea of the future. Let alone anything being perfect.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think of her. Not in years. What would have been the point? Now, he couldn’t wait to see Jessie, to note the changes time had made. Okay, she probably didn’t still wear her hair in those long braids, but he doubted her sweet smile had altered.

After buying her Coke, Cole rounded the corner and stopped. His skin grew hot. The bold woman with her back to him, reading one of the Just Between Us promo posters, was the kind that should be appreciated. Slowly.

He could spend a lot of time admiring this woman’s butt, so nicely packaged in the short black skirt she wore. Or that sexy stretch of skin between where her skirt ended and her boots began.

Did women know just how damn inviting that length of leg was? And those boots…feminine enough to show off an uninhibited sex appeal, but worn with an attitude that said she’d kick the backside of any man stupid enough to act like a jerk.

His kind of woman. A million carnal fantasies flashed in his mind.

He swallowed, feeling good. This was the first time in a long time he’d responded so physically to someone. But who was she?

The chill of the cold aluminum can finally jerked him back to reality. He needed to find Jessie. Cole looked down the hallway to see if maybe she’d wandered off. She was always curious. It was a trait that often got her into trouble. And had once saved his skin.

Then the woman turned and he forgot the cold.

Cole had been right. He’d never fail to recognize Jessie’s smile. It was still the same, but everything else had changed. She’d grown a little taller, and those shapely legs of hers invited serious appreciation. Her breasts, round and full, drew a man’s eyes. And that mouth, sensual and carnal, promised a lot of wicked things. The woman in front of him could never be called sweet.

Her brown eyes tipped up in the corners with her widening smile. She knew. She knew she’d surprised him, and what’s more, he knew she liked it.

“Hello, Cole. It’s been a while.”

“Little Jessie Huell,” he said, his voice filled with wonder.

She was beautiful. Her lips twisted and she raised an eyebrow. “Not so little anymore.”

As if he needed to be reminded. For some reason, he thought that if he called her little, he might see her as that. Idiot. Was it really Jessie Huell’s mouth he’d just imagined on his own?

She walked toward him slowly. Every step reminding him how long it was since he’d been attracted to someone. A year and a half. A year and a half since his wife had left.

“I bought you a Coke.” The gesture seemed lame now. Men didn’t bring this woman soft drinks. They brought her jewelry.

A soft smile touched her lips. “Like when we studied Latin?”

He nodded as the scent of her ambushed him. She smelled like sunshine, and he was transported back to a time when his whole life had stretched golden before him. A time when the mistakes you made were on geometry tests and missed free throws, not with your life.

“De oppresso liber,” she murmured, as her fingers wrapped around the can.

The phrase meant “Free from having been oppressed.” Once, he’d been leaving the garage for their Latin study session. He’d kept her waiting for over forty minutes. She’d gasped when he stretched out in the booth across from her, sporting the beginnings of a black eye. He hadn’t gotten out of his father’s way fast enough that time.

She hadn’t said a thing. Simply wrote the phrase on his notebook. Then below that, she’d written Someday in English. Someday. She didn’t know it, but he’d held on to that bit of encouragement with everything he had. Sometimes it was all he had.

Together, they’d sipped their Cokes in silence. The sun had set, and the crickets started to chirp. With his eye nearly swollen shut, he hadn’t needed another thing but Jessie’s quiet understanding.

That memory told him how dangerous his attraction for her would be. Because he couldn’t need anything. Too many needed him already. A pair of little girls depended on him to make the right decisions.

He dropped his hand from the soda, took a step away from the teasing scent that beckoned to him, and closed his mind to the past. He could do without having his emotions stripped bare right now.

Jessie popped the top of the can and took a sip. “I’ve switched to diet, but every now and then I miss the taste of Coke with sugar. Of course, you probably hear this kind of talk from all the women in the office and your wife.”

“I’m not married.”

She looked up at him sharply.

It was the first time Jessie’s smile slipped.


3

THE ONE THING that had been holding her back from making a complete idiot of herself over seeing him was now gone.

Cole Crawford wasn’t married.

Damn, she really should have paid more attention to her mother’s newsy e-mails about her hometown. That might have prevented the shakiness she felt right now.

Turning, she took a large swallow of pop. The sweet drink gave her body an instant jolt.

Who was she kidding? Cole gave her that jolt. She’d crushed on him big-time. But he’d gone off to college, found someone new and gotten married. Jessie had forced all her feelings for him into a hidden corner of her mind and locked them there.

Now that lock was open and hope was chasing away the shadows. She was suddenly having all kinds of amazing fantasies. Okay, she was playing something far more dangerous than The Speculation Game; instead, she was sporting around in Exaggeration Land. Grrr.

Cole followed her into the conference room, then pulled out one of the chairs at the long table, offering her a seat. At least she could give her weakened knees a break.

Jesse tried to smile politely rather than glare at him. He was supposed to be in some far-off, remote place, being untouchable and gorgeous.

He wasn’t supposed to be right here in Atlanta, being single and a buffet of lick-me kiss-me carnality. If he had to be somewhere near her, he could have at least been sporting a large, protruding gut over those khakis.

She’d bet Cole’s abs would make any male model run home and cry for his mommy.

Dammit.

She took a measured breath. Yes, she was being ridiculous. She was a mature woman who’d built a business from the ground up. And she was here to discuss that business. “Did you want to ask me a few questions?” she said, thrilled that her voice sounded so unaffected.

His eyes narrowed, then he seemed to notice the notebook in his hand, and gave a chagrinned shrug. “I was just getting over the grown-up you. I was expecting braids.”

“I hope I wouldn’t still be wearing the Laura Ingalls look at my age,” she said, as she watched him slide into the chair opposite from her.

“So tell me about your job,” he began, after giving her legs one last look. “You’re a P.I.?”

“I dig up dirt.”

He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “What if you can’t find any?”

Why did people never believe? All the naiveté… Sometimes it made her a little sad. But it was good for business. “Everyone has dirt. Some you sweep under a rug and forget about. Some you bury alive.”

His hazel eyes challenged her. “Think you could dig up any dirt on me?” he asked, his voice lower. More sensual.

She stopped herself from sucking in a breath. While some girls went for the cute boys, the tall basketball players or the preppy charmers, Jessie had always been a sucker for the guys who liked fast cars. The rebels without a cause. Yeah, fast and dangerous. That was all Cole Crawford.

He may have smoothed out the edges, but underneath, she sensed the danger still lurked.

And she still went for it.

Her agency had been created to protect women just like her. Those who liked a man with a bit of an edge. Would she find dirt on this man? She could guarantee it.

“I bet I could have a juicy bit on you in less than thirty seconds,” she told him with a laugh. Her body liking the idea of the challenge.

The hazel of his eyes darkened to brown. She’d forgotten about his beautiful eyes—sometimes green, sometimes brown, depending on his thoughts.

Mmm, no, she hadn’t forgotten; she’d just wanted to.

Any woman would take a moment and bask in the sheer pleasure of his gaze. Savor it like some delicious dessert. Chocolate and Cole’s eyes. Two things a gal could never get enough of.

His knee accidentally brushed hers as he shifted in his chair. Sensation raced down her leg, and she stared at him. There was plenty of space between them. There was no reason for him to accidentally touch her.

Wait a minute. Was Cole Crawford flirting with her? She wasn’t looking for it, had never expected it, so it would come as a bit of a shock…but the signs were all there.

The way he’d angled his big, broad shoulders toward her to totally focus on what she had to say, as if he planned to do nothing but listen.

Or how his gorgeous eyes held her gaze just a moment longer than necessary. Then there was the teasing about finding dirt on him.

Cole had teased her when they were in high school, but it hadn’t been like that. Sensual. His voice had never lowered, his glance never flicked to her lips as his playful actions elicited shivers down her back.

“Oh, I’m sure you could find something.”

Her nipples hardened. He’d accepted the challenge.

A young woman, who looked fresh out of college, knocked on the open door of the conference room.

He reluctantly looked away from Jessie. “What’s up, Penny?”

“Bad news. Nicole wanted me to let you know our guest for to day’s show just bailed. So should we do another Eve chat?”

“Eve chat?” Jessie asked.

“That’s when Eve walks into the audience and they ask questions and chat,” Penny explained.

“You’re kidding! That’s what you do when someone doesn’t show up? I figured those shows were only aired on Fridays.”

“We also work them into the schedule when this comes up. You never know when a guest will cancel at the last minute.”

Jessie sat back in her chair. “Wow, you’d never guess that. Eve seems so natural.”

“That’s why she’s so good at her job,” Cole told her.

“So, what do you want me to tell Nicole? Go with the Eve chat?”

Cole glanced Jessie’s way, and her shoulders suddenly tensed. She knew by the change in his expression, the speculation that entered his hazel eyes, that he was contemplating asking her to fill in. Being on TV seemed like a great idea, but at such short notice? And on only a few hours’ sleep?

Contemplating the purchase of a vehicle GPS location tracker when the new money started rolling in was all fun and games until the reality of appearing on TV hit her. She could look a total fool. She could babble. She could freeze. Something could be hanging from her nose and she wouldn’t know, but everyone else in Atlanta would have seen it. Who would hire a P.I. who had stuff coming out of her nose?

Jessie took a deep breath. She grabbed the Coke can and swallowed a large mouthful of pop.

“You up for being our guest today?” Cole asked. His eyes held a daredevil challenge.

No. “Sure,” she said with a forced shrug. She wanted this. Her business needed this. She had never backed down from anything in her life, and she wasn’t going to start now. She’d just make certain she looked in a mirror before stepping in front of a camera.

Jessie straightened her shoulders and placed the Coke can on the conference table with resolve. Sure, being in a situation where she could humiliate herself and have it remembered for years to come, not to mention bring shame to the Huell family name, was a possibility…so why would she want to turn that down?

“I’ll tell Nicole,” Penny gushed.

Jessie turned toward Cole. “I’m looking forward to it.”

A slow, sexy smile spread across his face. “Thought I might have lost you for a minute there,” he said.

Hmm. She was usually pretty good at schooling her features. In fact, she was proud of her ability to hide from people what she was thinking. And feeling. Was she slipping?

Or maybe Cole could read people a lot better than she’d given him credit for. She’d have to remember that.

“I’ll take you over to makeup.”

Cole stood and escorted her down the hall. He’d grown taller since the last time they’d walked side by side. His shoulders were broader, too.

So many things had changed since he was her high-school fantasy.

Lines fanned from his eyes, indicating he still liked to laugh. But deep grooves circled his lips, proving he’d experienced some of life’s harder times. And what had happened to his wife?

With no other obstacles in their way…

Would this be Jessie’s chance?

Her chance to finally touch him, kiss him, be with Cole the way she’d wanted to since she’d first seen him on that loud, rusty motorcycle her dad had hated so much.

No. No, for some reason she liked her fantasy and wanted to keep it intact. Knowing Cole’s true flaws would be a letdown. And every gal needed at least one unattainable dream to make life interesting.

“Do I have time to run home and change? I wasn’t expecting to be on the air today.”

His gaze scanned her body. Her skin heated as it moved from her face, down her neck, to linger on her chest. Her nipples began to bud and her stomach tightened as his eyes moved lower. And lower.

All the green was gone from the hazel when his eyes met hers once more, betraying a raw desire. “You don’t need to change,” he said, his voice low again and husky. With a nod, he indicated the door marked Makeup, then he turned and left.

Jessie leaned against the wall as she recovered from her body’s reaction to the lust in his eyes. The fast heartbeat, hitch in her breath, the perspiration…they were all there. And suddenly she realized she was wrong.

Maybe knowing the real Cole would be more than enough. More than enough to give up on her fantasy man. With a smile, she headed into the makeup room.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting in the makeup artist’s chair, trying to hold her tongue. It was hard. Jane’s nonstop talk about her new boyfriend had put Jessie at ease, but it took everything she had not to blurt out her typical warnings. “You hooked up in Vegas?” “How easily can you replace that wall between your two condos?”

Ordinarily, Jessie wouldn’t have anything in common with the fashionable blonde, but Jane was obviously so happy and made her feel so comfortable, she couldn’t help but like her right away. But Jessie hated to see anyone’s heart stomped on, so she thought maybe just one small word of caution about men would be in order.

She’d have to break her in easy. Maybe start with a quick suggestion of a simple Google search before she moved on to credit checks and criminal background reports. “Do you have a computer at home?”

With a flick of her wrist, Jane spun the chair so Jessie could finally see herself in the mirror.

And she forgot all about tips on securing a man’s social-security number. “Wow.” She moved her head from side to side. “I have cheekbones.”

Jane laughed. As if she had this kind of response to her abilities every day, but still loved it.

“You make me look like this all the time, and I’ll check out that new man of yours for free.”

“No, I’m not worried.” A smile so peaceful passed across her face that Jessie’s inborn worries grew. Only a woman who truly loved would have a smile like that, and was therefore more likely to ignore her man’s faults.

“Besides, I can show you how to look like that in ten minutes,” Jane said as she put away a few of her brushes. “Makeup is the easy part. Unleashing your inner wild child, now, that’s…”

Her words trailed off, and Jessie got the impression the woman was reliving some delicious memory.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the green room.”

“When will I meet Eve?” she asked as she followed Jane to the door.

“Normally you would have already, but since you’re a last-minute fill-in, probably not until just before showtime. Sometimes Eve likes it that way, to keep things fresh.”

They passed by open double doors to a large studio, and Jessie stopped. Audience members were already filing into their seats. A charged energy positively radiated from the room. The leather furniture of the interview area, which seemed to fill up her TV screen at home, appeared miniature now against the backdrop of lights, cameras and the half-dozen or so crew members milling around the studio floor.

Getting tickets to Just Between Us was the new hot thing. Atlantans waited in line excitedly for hours. Now they were going to see her. And be utterly disappointed.

Jessie sucked in a breath. Her skin grew clammy and her nerves started fluttering.

“You’ll do great,” said a deep voice she recognized.

Cole had returned, and was in the process of placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Except the touch that was supposed to be comforting was anything but. Once again her nipples tightened beneath the lavender material of her awful blouse.

She turned, and Cole’s eyes widened. His expression grew more serious. Jessie had forgotten Jane’s ministrations to her face. “How do you like the new me?” she asked, shooting for glib.

“Nice. I liked the old you, too,” he said, his voice deep, his eyes intent.

Those butterflies inside her tummy disappeared as her stomach clenched in reaction to his words. Because Cole wasn’t just saying he liked how that kid he’d known from the past had matured, he was acknowledging the new attraction between them.

A surge of strength made her muscles loosen. This was something she could handle. Wanted to handle. Desire…passion.

“I have your microphone. It’s wireless, so you won’t have to remove your shirt.” He held the small device up for her to see. “Ready?” he asked.

Maybe. She worked to make her breathing normal when she felt his warm fingers brush the swell of her breast. The scent of him wafted toward her…citrus, with just a hint of mint. She struggled not to wiggle as he clipped the microphone in place.

How long did this take?

“You look hot, Jessie.” They both turned to see Penny walking toward them. “Nicole wanted me to wait with Jessie in the green room until her segment,” she told Cole.

He nodded. “That’s fine.” Clearly, the young woman was in awe of him. Who wouldn’t be, with the sense of power that hung around him? At the same time, there was something about authority that made Jessie want to challenge it.

Not a great quality to have when working as a police officer.

A must-have for a P.I.

Cole’s hazel eyes cut back to her. “Break a leg,” he said with a slow wink.

She watched him walk away, and Jessie vowed she would never watch this man walk away from her again, until she knew the secret delights those eyes of his promised.

FITTING HER FOR THE microphone had been a bad move. Penny could have done it. Hell, twelve other people on staff could have managed it. Feeling the softness of Jessie’s skin had teased him, but spotting the hint of her sexy, black lace bra foretold his doom. He hadn’t been able to concentrate since the show began taping. Thankfully, the director had the action well in hand.

All Cole had to do was sit in the control booth and speculate on the black skirt she wore. Would it ride up? That expanse of skin between skirt and boot had teased him before, in the conference room. Now, it tortured him, because he knew just how soft her skin was. Would the inside of her thighs be as delicate? His fingers curled into a fist.

The stagehands finished the change to the set from the last segment, and Eve and Jessie took their seats on stage.

The director flipped on his studio mic. “Cue music, we’re back in five, four, three…”

As the music faded, Eve took over with a smile. “We’re here with Jessie Huell, who’s been sharing some of her stories of late-night chases pursuing cheating spouses. So, Jessie, give some advice for the single girls out there. What should we be on the lookout for?”

“Take camera two,” the director said, and the monitor filled with a close-up shot of Jessie’s beautiful face.

She laughed, a deep feminine sound, yet filled with cynicism. That was it. Cole hadn’t been able to place what was different about the sweet, innocent girl he’d known. Suspicion, skepticism surrounded her now.

“First of all, you need to be prepared that he’s holding something back. News you might not want to hear or know.”

“Camera one, go to a two-shot,” announced the director.

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Because everyone’s got a secret. In fact, you show me a man who’s lived in the world, had a job, gone to college or whatever, who doesn’t have at least one thing he wouldn’t want you to know, and I’ll show you a man who’s a liar. Or someone who’s very good at covering his tracks. And that’s just what I like to do…uncover tracks.”

“How do you go about it?”

“Camera three, pan the crowd for audience reaction.”

“Other than the background searches, you have to become an investigator and think systematically. Find out what your target’s hidden objective is. We all have one. Certainly every man I’ve encountered has. Maybe it is to find love, his soul mate. Maybe it’s to get to something you have.”

Cole scanned the audience’s reaction. Jessie held their attention. Good.

“Here’s the second step. Find out the reason behind your man’s actions. What’s he trying to hide? Some dirt you can live with, some dirt you can’t. Why is he with you instead of some other woman? Ask yourself that before you enter into any kind of relationship. Is he cheating? Using you? Be methodical and be brutal. And remind yourself that love has nothing to do with it.”

“So what does that leave a woman with?” Eve asked. Damn, she was good. Cole had been wondering the same thing.

“Back to camera two.”

A sexy smile tugged at the corner of Jessie’s lips. “Now, that’s where the beauty of the fling comes in. I highly recommend it. But like your investigation, you have to be systematic about it. There are rules.”

“This I’ve got to hear.”

“Get rid of anything casual. No quick phone calls just to talk. The telephone should only be used to set up times for sex.”

Cole’s penis hardened.

“Second, don’t sleep over. You’re not twelve.”

“Got it,” Eve said.

“Never engage your emotions, and last, but certainly not least, don’t ever let him see how much you want him.”

“Terrific. Thanks, Jessie.”

“Wind down and cue music. Close segment in five, four…”

Eve grinned into the camera. “There you have the rules for your next fling. We all have secrets, and it’s Jessie Huell’s job to discover what they are. Join us after the break.”

“And to commercial,” the director said, and took off his headset. “You found a good one there, Cole. I bet our viewers will be contemplating their boyfriend’s covert objectives, or their spouse’s hidden intentions for weeks.”

The smile left Cole’s face. He forced the speculation about Jessie’s cynicism from his mind. She was in the habit of finding dirt, and he was a man who’d lived in the world of sandstorms. Yes, she was intriguing. But she was also a woman of secrets. And most secrets were best left alone.


4

HAD SHE REALLY ANNOUNCED to the world she believed only in flings?

Jessie closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. That fling comment should definitely make her mother proud. Jessie could picture the scene at the Cuts and Such salon, where her mom never failed to get her hair back-combed every Saturday. Her mother would be innocently thumbing through a magazine under the dryer, when she’d be bombarded by the tsk-tsk-tsks of her friends. Each commiserating that she’d never make grandparent status with that kind of daughter.

But the fling observation wasn’t the best part of the ill-fated interview. Jessie had quickly followed her statement about flings by announcing—most emphatically—that all men were basically big lying liars.

That pretty much ensured no dates in the foreseeable future. She’d almost shouted that any man who asked her out would be practically fingerprinted. If she’d learned one thing in her line of work, it was that guys liked their secrets kept hidden.

Oh, well. It’s not as if anyone had been wearing a path in the grass to get to her, anyway. Plus, she’d have no time for dating, because her client list was sure to expand. After the show, she’d taken a cue from Eve and spent the next twenty minutes talking with audience members. Jessie had almost run out of business cards. That alone would be worth any embarrassment associated with appearing on Just Between Us.

Crew members, from the camera operator to assistant producers, congratulated her on her performance. When the receptionist handed her three pink message slips asking for return calls, the last of any I-said-too-much qualms vanished.

“That went great,” Penny told her, as she took off Jessie’s microphone before dashing away to do something else.

Jane came by with a small white box. “These facial wipes will take off the makeup if you want.”

Jessie shook her head, her blond hair flowing around her shoulders. Pretty different from her normal ponytail. “I think I’ll keep it on. Makes me feel a bit glamorous, and I can’t remember the last time I wore makeup.”

“Not even on a date?”

“Who’s dating, with my upside-down schedule? I’m hitting work at the time most people are heading to bed.”

Eve approached them. Jessie had always thought the woman was charismatic on TV, but in person she was stunning. “That was a great interview, Jessie,” she said.

Jessie immediately felt her sincerity. “Really? I was afraid I was coming off a little cynical.”

Eve shook her head. “The studio audience was loving it. I could have used you myself in the past. I’ve had a boyfriend or two who I know had a lot of dirt. Speaking of which, I heard you went to high school with Cole. Now, that’s some dirt I want to hear.”

“You knew Cole in school?” Penny asked as she returned to Jessie’s side. “Was he hot then, too?” She giggled.

Yes.

Jessie resisted the urge to say, “Hey, that wasn’t so long ago,” complete with a giggle of her own. Then she realized Eve and Jane were also looking at her expectantly. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced from one woman to the other. Now this was interesting. These ladies were really curious about Cole, which meant that he likely hadn’t changed much from the keep-everything-to-himself teen he’d been. And just like always, women wanted to know his secrets.

Jessie did know some of them. They were some of hers, too. But although she was in the business of spilling other people’s secrets, she kept hers under lock and key. “Uh…”

“Uh-oh. I can see we’ve made you uncomfortable,” Penny said. Then her face brightened. “Hey, you should go out with us tonight for our end-of-the-week stress down. Cole will be there.”

“End of the week? But it’s Thursday,” Jessie said, feeling confused.

“Right after the sign-off for the Friday show, Cole leaves town and heads over to his sister’s place to see his daughters.”

“So really, Thursday is our Friday,” Penny told her.

Jane nodded. “And that’s why Fridays are our worst shows.”

Eve shrugged. “Or our best. Depends, really.”

Both Eve and Jane laughed. Clearly this was an inside joke. But Jessie was getting really good information about Cole. Excellent. Now she had an explanation about where his kids were, and she’d avoided having to look through filed court cases. Those were the worst. If she had enough money—Wait a minute! When. When she had enough money to hire an assistant, poking through judgments would be the first thing reassigned.

Man, this was almost too easy. Jessie hadn’t even had to resort to the tools of the trade. Blank expression. Innocent-sounding questions. Where was the challenge?

Just then Cole came striding toward their group, looking far more relaxed than earlier, but still very, very sexy.

Hmm. Here was her challenge now. A little thrill ran down Jessie’s back. Little? Who was she kidding? Her whole body grew tingly. It was ready to take up the task at hand. Cole.

“Tell him you want to go to Club Octane,” Eve said, her lips twisting as if she were trying to hide a grin.

Jessie glanced toward him. She sucked in a quick breath, because the purposeful way he was moving in her direction reminded her of a dark gym when she was fifteen. High-school dance.

Oh, the agony and the angst of not being asked to dance. She’d spent thirty minutes with her back against the padded gym wall, the basketball net casting a shadow across her face. She’d stood there, feeling miserable and asking herself the same thing over and over again: why had she come?

As others danced and moved about on the gym floor, she’d sometimes spotted Cole. Her face would flush and her breath would hitch, reminding her why’d she been idiot enough to attend this dance.

Then Cole had walked toward her.

He’d asked her to dance. With a nod, she’d joined him on the floor, her heart beating so loudly it overpowered the music. The song pounding from the speakers changed to something slow and seductive, and Cole drew her closer. She took a deep breath. Memorized the smell of him. He’d worn cologne that night. It reminded her of the woods, but didn’t mask the scents she associated with him. Leather from his jacket. Or the harsh soap he used to clean his greasy hands after working in the garage.

She’d closed her eyes as she settled her forehead on his chest. Jessie vowed she’d dance this one song and leave. She knew this was a pity dance. Cole was trying to save her from the embarrassment of not having been asked out onto the floor even once. But she didn’t care. She would have taken Cole any way she could have got him.

Cole Crawford had tried to save her back then. As he was doing now, by infiltrating this gang of female coworkers and helping to pull her out of a potentially awkward situation. How sweet. But Jessie was more than capable of saving herself. In fact, Cole should be concerned about saving himself. From her.

She flashed him a smile, and his steps slowed for half a beat. She made sure her lips didn’t turn up in satisfaction. Cole might not be so immune to her as he’d been in high school. “Your colleagues were inviting me to join you for your Thursday night out. Club Octane good for you?”

Cole shuddered. Ah, the ladies were setting her up to make him uncomfortable, Jessie realized. Excellent. She’d play along. “So what’s wrong with Club Octane?”

“Two words. ‘Dancing Queen.’”

Eve and Jane laughed, but Jessie was still confused. “I don’t get it.”

“The probability of me having to dance to an ABBA song is perilously high at Octane. I’ve never met a woman who wouldn’t dance to that song, and try to drag me onto the floor with her. Not going to happen.”

Eve draped her arm around Cole’s shoulders. “You see, according to the Atlanta Daily News, Cole here has his finger on the pulse of what women want. So like any man…he’s not going to give it to them. No dancing.”

Jane shook her head sadly. “Ever since that article came out, it’s been only sports bars.”

Cole raised an eyebrow. “It hasn’t been all bad for you.”

She nodded. “True, I actually participated in the fantasy-sports league. Won an HDTV Big Screen with surround sound.”

“You never saw so many grown men crying in their beer,” Cole said dryly.

Jessie laughed. She loved it. The camaraderie. The teasing. She’d missed that since she’d left the force. Hadn’t even realized she had until now. Maybe that was because—

Stop. She wasn’t going to do this. She wasn’t searching for inner reasons.

“I’m going to call Perry and see if he wants to join us at Latitude 33. I’ll meet you there,” Jane said with a wave.

“Good idea. I’ll call Mitchell, and invite Nicole.”

And that left Jessie and Cole alone together.

“Perry and Jane live together, and Mitchell is Eve’s boyfriend,” Cole told her.

“Ah,” Jessie said with a nod.

The smile faded from his eyes as Cole faced her. “Thanks, Jessie. You really came through for us today. But then you always come through, don’t you?”

The light atmosphere disappeared instantly. Jessie’s jaw almost dropped. Could he actually be referring to that fateful night that nearly killed him and sent her to her father for help? Here? In the impersonal beige hallways of some TV station?

No, she was inferring way too much. Jessie gave a light laugh, wanting to lighten the mood. “Yes, well, I can see all that Latin Ablative Absolute work we did has really paid off in the work force.”

Cole’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. “I don’t even remember what that is.”

“I just remember it was hard.” Did she want to steer the conversation back to the questions she always wanted to ask? No, she could enjoy her visit down memory lane to a point, but there were memories she didn’t want to relive. Cole leaving her without a word was one of them.

No, better to keep it light. She glanced at the banks of TV monitors. All on different channels. It felt surreal. Uncomfortable. Jessie nodded her head toward the row of screens. “It’s strange, but I feel I’m being watched.”

“It’s a TV station. You can’t escape it. But I know what you mean. If you’re ready, I’ll walk you to the restaurant. It’s only a block from the studio.”

That was the nice thing about the midtown area of Atlanta. Places to eat, shop, live and work were all within easy walking distance.

Cole led her to the reception area. With a wave to the security guard chatting to the receptionist, they emerged onto the sidewalk. Jessie blinked as the late afternoon sun hit her eyes, and she rummaged in her purse for sunglasses. With her odd schedule, she’d become a creature of the night, and bright sunlight really bothered her.

The click of her boot heels on the pavement was the only sound for a while. The weather was still mild for this time of year in Georgia, and Jessie took a moment to enjoy it—the warmth of her skin, the sun on her hair. Days like this were few and far between.

Cole reached for her hand and drew her into the shade and out of the way of foot traffic. He’d donned his own sunglasses, but the set of his lips was stern.

“I know you were cornered in there. You don’t have to go. I’ll call Eve’s cell right now and—”

Jessie placed a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tighten beneath her fingertips. “No, it’s okay. I think it will be a lot of fun.”

His expression grew dubious. “You realize they are going to grill you.”

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and gave him a wink. “Actually, I promised them a lot of dirt. Yours.”

His shoulders stiffened. “Then maybe we should talk about this. There are…events I don’t discuss with any…”

As his words trailed off, the tension ramped up between them. Jessie swallowed. Hard. She knew exactly what things, what events Cole was referring to.

She returned her hand to Cole’s arm. “It’s okay. I’m not going to talk about events.” She’d be thrilled to never think about what had happened that night. Ever. “Some stories are best left in the past,” she said, hoping her voice was reassuring.

His eyes met hers. Searched hers. Jessie forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, those ladies want the kind of dirt they can tease you about. Something embarrassing from high school. Like falling out of your seat in second period or getting caught passing notes in class. Maybe I should tell them you actually wore pajamas on pajama school spirit day.” Which had never happened.

His shoulders relaxed and his upper lip lifted in a half smile. “I don’t think they’d believe you.”

“I don’t think they would, either.”

The heat of his gaze faded, and his eyes turned hazel once more. He shifted his shoulders, and his body language became neutral. The barrier had returned. There was a detachment about Cole. There always had been. Oh, he was more at ease around people now, his “hands off” attitude more toned down. But it still lingered. That was probably why the women in his office took so much pleasure in teasing him. That article gave them the right tool to find a chink in his heavy emotional armor.

Jessie didn’t like barriers. Not anymore. They could hurt people. Her line of work was all about breaking barriers down. Discovering why someone needed those barricades. She didn’t like this newest wall Cole had just planted between the two of them. “Where can I get a copy of that article everyone was talking about?”

Cole turned and drew her back onto the sidewalk. “Forget it,” he said.

She tugged her sunglasses onto her nose and cautioned herself that the warm hand at the small of her back was some alpha male show of courtesy.

“You might as well give it to me. I’m a private detective, after all. I have my ways, you know.”

“You’ll just have to use them. I’m not about to make this easy for you.”

She wouldn’t want it any other way.

He led her to a building with a large sign proclaiming Latitude 33. Before Cole could even open the door, Jessie heard the low roar that could only be a crowd enjoying happy hour. She stepped inside. Yes, definitely a sports bar. Rows of televisions playing football, soccer, baseball and golf littered the place. Decorations representing every conceivable sport hung from the ceiling, draped over doorways and lined the walls. From the back of the room she heard the break of pool balls on one of the six green-felt-covered tables.

And the tempting smell of nachos. Her mouth watered.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to find Eve. “So, what do you think?” she asked.

“Wow. It’s like man heaven.”

“You haven’t even seen the upstairs. That’s where they have the interactive games. You can try your hand at golf or the batting cages. Nothing like slamming a ball into the wall to relieve a little stress. It’s actually a lot of fun.”

“Just don’t let that secret out on your show or men might start thinking sports bars are the perfect setting for proposals, birthdays and anniversaries.”

“Good point. Ah, there’s Nicole. She was finding us a table. I’ll introduce you to everyone else. And they can’t wait to meet you.” Eve glanced toward Cole with a playful smile. “We’re having a bet on who can get the best story from you about Cole.”

He rolled his eyes, but took the ribbing good-naturedly.

“You should be worried,” Jessie warned him. “I can be bought. Maybe you giving me that article doesn’t sound half-bad now. You know I can do some damage to you.”



JESSIE WAS RIGHT. She could do a lot of damage to him. Ever since the word fling had come from her beautiful mouth, he’d been trying not to picture her naked. Although that was just an excuse. He’d been picturing her naked since he’d spied those sexy legs of hers in the conference room.

This was not the awkward, innocent girl from his past. This was a woman who was smart, knew what she wanted and didn’t make a man look twice at her, because no man would be fool enough to take his eyes off her in the first place.

This evening had become sweet agony. Sweet because she fitted into his network of colleagues and friends so easily. Over the past hour they’d laughed, ate and generally enjoyed each other’s company. Agony, because he couldn’t get his mind off the potential softness of her lips. Or that spark of sexy mischief in her dark brown eyes. Or how she shifted in her seat, providing him a new, painful glimpse of her thigh. It should be illegal for this woman to wear short skirts.

In public, he amended. With him, in private, she could wear or not wear whatever she damn well wanted to.

He watched as Eve laughed about something Jessie had said. Jessie drew him. Looking back now, he realized she probably always had. Any number of people could have helped him with his Latin. Any number of people weren’t the police chief’s daughter, and yet still, he’d needed her company. He’d been attracted to her openness and giving spirit before. Jessie had always reminded him of sunshine.

But now…

Now the hints of what could happen in the darkness joined her sunny promise. Suddenly he wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in a long, long time. And it was futile. Like the tense of those Latin verbs she used to help him with, everything about this situation was imperfect. The past was the past. He’d been an idiot to bring it into the present.

Anyway, it didn’t matter, because he had to get out of there. A new hell was starting in the bar. Karaoke.


5

THERE WERE TWO THINGS Jessie did really, really poorly in a bar. She couldn’t tie a cherry stem with her tongue and she couldn’t sing karaoke. Why she was expected to do either one, she didn’t know. The first, she probably wouldn’t have to attempt today. The second, well, “The Love Shack” was playing, and Penny wanted to hop on the stage and drag Jessie along with her.

“I’d pay cash money to see Eve up there,” Cole said.

“You’d need a lot,” Eve told him.

He laughed. “I just happen to have a winning lottery ticket.”

“Which right now isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on. And it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“You guys are so boring. I’m going to request ‘These Boots Are Made for Walking.’ Jessie, you’ll sing with me, won’t you?” Penny asked.

“She just agreed to play darts with me,” Cole said, standing.

Jessie turned her head and mouthed “thank you” to him, because her singing voice could clear the room. Cole offered his hand and helped her to her feet. His fingers wrapped around hers.

To be honest, Jessie had always expected to feel some cheesy clichéd sensation, such as a zap of electricity, if he ever held her hand. She was right. It was cheese on top of cheese, because her whole body experienced a high voltage shock thanks to this man’s touch. She wanted to pull away quickly or hang on tighter all at the same time.

She tried to gauge from his expression if he’d felt the same thing, but he was already leading her through the bar to the game section.

Upstairs, the lighting was low, allowing the LED displays on the various games to glow brightly. What would they do? What would they talk about? She was reminded of those times she’d wait for him at the diner. The sole dating advice her mother had ever offered consisted of the woman’s responsibility to keep the conversation flowing. Jessie had been filled with nervous anticipation.

Now she was just curious. Curious about Cole. About his divorce that no one back home seemed to know about. Which probably wasn’t surprising since he had no family left in their hometown of Thrasher.

As a young girl she’d wondered how his lips would feel against hers. As a woman, she wondered what kind of lover he’d be. How he’d use his hands. Stroke or caress? What his skin would feel like beneath her own fingertips. Whether he’d be quick to get—

“Steel-tipped or soft?” he asked.

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

He nodded toward the darts. Good thing the lights were low in here, because she felt an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. She’d gotten a bit carried away with her thoughts.

She could play this off. No problem. “What’s the difference?” she asked, her voice growing husky.

“Soft is best if you’re not as experienced. No one gets hurt with a wild throw. The steel-tipped darts are harder and penetrate the board easier, but are a lot more dangerous.”

Jessie swallowed. Harder. Penetrate. Oh, my. “Maybe we should stick with the soft.” And maybe she should get a grip. What was wrong with her? This was darts. In a bar, for crying out loud. Not everything had to remind her of sex.

He handed her a dart and she smiled in thanks. She gave a quick practice toss, then fired. Missing her target by a mile.

Cole laughed. “You’re really bad at this.”

Jessie laughed with him. “You know what makes it worse? As a P.I., I have a license to carry a gun.”

He groaned.

“Okay, in all fairness, I think the last time I played darts it involved Velcro and I was nine. I’m actually a good shot with a rifle or handgun.”

“I might have to see that to believe it.” He reached for her hand, giving her another dart, and she experienced another jolt. “See those grooves along the shaft? That’s where you want to wrap your fingers. Hold firmly. Try to use your whole hand around the shaft. The more area your fingers touch, the better your control.”

And maybe she should just call “time” and go with the fact that this sounded like hand-job instructions. Or that she might not mind brushing up on her technique with Cole.

Then he wrapped his arm around her, enveloped her in his heat. “Pull back, aim. Release.”

Her dart sailed through the air.

“Bull’s-eye,” he said, his lips just above her ear. His breath a caress.

Never again would she look at darts as anything other than foreplay. She glanced upward, and their eyes met. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she felt her nipples harden. Her lips parted.

Cole dropped his arm. “Here,” he said, handing her another dart. “Try again.”

He didn’t put his arm around her after that, but the atmosphere between them had changed. Intensified.

After playing a full round, they made their way back to the others. Cole didn’t hold her hand now, but kept a steady distance away from her. She recognized his MO: he was in full barrier-building mode.

She was caught. A polite person would back away, respect a man’s right to erect a ginormous emotional blockade between himself and the world. But as she’d acknowledged plenty of times in her career, she was in the barricade-obliteration business, and every obstacle he threw up between them emerged as an exciting challenge.

The rest of their group had migrated from the restaurant side of Latitude 33 and now stood around one of the high tables near the entrance, chatting and finishing their drinks.

“There was a waiting list to get into the restaurant, so we decided to come over here,” Jane told them.

Jessie wondered if Cole would leave now. He’d looked as if he’d planned to bolt when the singing began. But he joined the others at the table, and they made room for both of them. She was glad. Even though she had to be on a case later, she wasn’t ready for the evening to end. Then the sounds of a lone guitar filled the room.

“When did they start bringing in a band?” Cole asked their waitress as she removed some of the glasses and replaced a few beers.

“The owner is trying something new. The lead singer is a friend of his wife’s.”

Cole looked pained but resigned as he turned his gaze back to Jessie. “Do you want something besides juice?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I have to work tonight, and I need a clear head.”

“Speaking of your work, Jessie, I bet you have some great stories,” Nicole said. Jessie hadn’t met her during the taping of the show, but she’d learned later Nicole usually developed the story ideas for Just Between Us.

“Hey, you’re forgetting the rule. No work talk on Thursday nights,” Eve said, her voice filled with laughter.

Nicole stood straighter. “This isn’t work.” Then she smiled. “But if Jessie should happen to tell some sexy story that sparks an idea for a segment, I’m not going to put my fingers in my ears and sing ‘la la la.’”

“A lot of times I sign a confidentiality agreement with my clients, and most of what I do is pretty straightforward surveillance. But let’s just say I have a laundry list of places I won’t have sex, because of my job.”

Eve glanced over at Nicole who gave her a wink. “You were right. This is what I want to hear.”

“Parking lots,” Jessie said promptly. “Plenty of action going on there, believe me. The park after dark, the not so deserted parts of a library. You name it, I’ve seen it.”

“Tell us a really good one,” Nicole invited.

She thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Okay, I’ve gotten so many referrals from this man, it’s hardly a secret anymore. I was hired over the phone to follow around a man’s wife. He suspected she was having an affair with her ‘administrative assistant.’”




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