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Sex & The Single Girl
Joanne Rock
Brianne Wolcott is back in town as co-owner of the hottest singles resort to hit South Beach. And her past is here to greet her in the form of Aidan Maddock. A lifetime ago she had a schoolgirl crush on the sexy FBI agent. But she is so over him now…or is she? The way her pulse reacts when he's around suggests that she still has a thing for Aidan. Well, fine. She'll have her one night with him and that's that. Too bad her libido insists that one night is not enough.Aidan used up all his resistance to Brianne when he sent her away years ago. No surprise, then, that the sight of a very grown-up Brianne makes him forget all the reasons he refused…especially when she offers to act out the fantasies she'd once whispered in his ear. But she's in for a surprise. Because once they hit the sheets, he's not walking away…ever!



“That part you mentioned about me being ready to pounce?”
Aidan’s eyes wandered over Brianne with slow deliberation. “You couldn’t be more right. I’m guessing you’ve got about three seconds before I zero in on my next target.”
She couldn’t have moved to save her life.
Not with his gaze cruising over her with every bit of sensual heat she’d ever longed for ten years ago. More. She would have never guessed back then that a man’s stare could ignite a small inferno.
For that matter, she hadn’t known until just this red-hot, blistering second. If she’d had any doubt about who Aidan’s next target might be, it was obliterated the second he moved toward her. Invaded her personal space. Crowded her.
This was a bad, bad idea. Her hungry lips and aching body didn’t seem to realize it, however.
“Does this remind you of anything, Bri?” His voice was close. Too close. He bracketed her body with his arms, steadying himself on the wall behind her.
Did it? If she wasn’t careful, she’d be so lost….


Dear Reader,
Ever since I lived in Miami Beach, I’ve never missed an opportunity to rave about the colorful setting and the vibrant mood of the place. But the challenge remained—how could I possibly convey the nuances of the infectious energy of the nightlife, the lure of Latin music, the draw of Caribbean cuisine and the steady backdrop of rolling waves behind it all?
Lucky me, I’ve got six books in which to try! Welcome to SINGLE IN SOUTH BEACH, my first miniseries for Harlequin. This month we begin with one of the new owners of the exotic Club Paradise and over the course of the series we’ll meet more of the driven women who put their creative muscle behind this hedonistic playground. Next month, be sure to check out Summer’s story in Blaze #108, Girl’s Guide to Hunting & Kissing.
For now, sit back and enjoy Brianne Wolcott and Aidan Maddock’s story. Since these two hit the town, nightlife on the strip has definitely heated up! Visit me at www.JoanneRock.com to learn more about my future releases or to let me know what you think of my books.
Happy reading,
Joanne Rock

Sex & the Single Girl
Joanne Rock


For fabulous Lisa, Jen and Arete—
my highly educated, superintelligent girlfriends whose advice
I crave most for shoes, shopping and great food.
Who says we can’t still be divas? I adore you.

Contents
Prologue
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

Prologue
“HOLD ON TO YOUR PANTIES, girlfriends. It’s raining men just outside our front door.” Brianne Wolcott eyed the monitor from security camera number three, the one with the best view of the crowd gathered at Club Paradise’s Ocean Drive entrance—and all the gorgeous guys waiting in line. The mob of people would be checking out the newly revamped disco in another hour. Nervous energy hummed through her. As a new part-owner and head of security for the club, Brianne needed to make sure tonight’s reopening ran smoothly. “Looks like we’re in for a busy night.”
“My panties couldn’t be more firmly in place if they were Super Glued to my hips.” Lainie Reynolds, CEO of the reorganized South Beach resort and nightclub, slid into the oversize leather chair behind Brianne’s desk in the slick, modern office housing the club’s high-tech equipment. “Divorce will do that to you.”
The four founding members of the soon-to-be hottest spot on Miami’s trendy South Beach had called a meeting an hour before they opened their doors for business. Although Club Paradise had been a wildly successful resort for couples over the last five years, the three former partners behind that business—known locally as the Rat Pack—had absconded with the profits. Brianne’s stepfather had been one of those partners, Lainie’s husband another.
With Lainie’s business savvy and legal guidance, the women left behind in the wake of the embezzlement scheme had pulled together to restructure the company. Tonight they were reopening just the club. In a few weeks, they’d have the rest of the resort refurbished and ready for guests.
The couples theme was out, however. Given that three of the four women who now owned the business had been deceived by husbands or boyfriends in the Rat Pack, the new owners had no desire to market themselves for the sticky-sweet couples’ demographic. Club Paradise would slowly be overhauled into a singles’ haven—a lush, hedonistic oasis for the uninhibited.
And although Brianne hadn’t been dumped by a husband or boyfriend in the Rat Pack—merely inconvenienced by her highly immoral stepfather—she’d still bought into the singles theme. She had a hideous track record in the dating world, and even worse experience as part of a couple. She couldn’t wait to enjoy the lavish, sensual luxuries the club would provide.
Summer Farnsworth, another founding partner and the ambiance coordinator for the club, approached the television screen teeming with men. She blew a kinky blond curl out of her eyes and traced a finger over a muscle-bound motorcycle rider who had pulled in front of the line outside. “I don’t know, Lainie. Even Super Glue might not be strong enough to resist the temptations we are going to be subjecting ourselves to in this line of work. Have you seen these guys?”
Brianne suspected Summer would be the quickest to find romance—or at least some sensual diversion— during the course of their upcoming endeavor. Sort of a flower child throwback, Summer prided herself on lack of inhibitions and what she called “living in the moment.” While Brianne had never considered herself uptight, next to earthy Summer and her seductive wardrobe of silk skirts and halter tops, Brianne sometimes feared her tailored clothes and dark colors made her look downright repressed.
“Been there, done that,” Lainie shot back, slowly spinning in the oversize black leather chair behind Brianne’s seldom-used desk, her sleek platinum hair not daring to move out of place. “And I lost half my life savings in the process. You can decorate the club with as many nude statues and erotic paintings of flowers as you want, Summer, a new relationship doesn’t even begin to tempt me. What about you, Brianne? Are you looking for a Mr. Right Now tonight?”
Not yet. She was more interested in keeping an eye out for a Mr. Wrong from her ancient past. Rumor had it FBI agent Aidan Maddock was investigating the scandal that had rocked the club last year, and he was the last man Brianne needed to see. Sure, Aidan might have held more than a little appeal for her at one time, but the man held a grudge against her stepfather and had proved himself impervious to Brianne’s every seductive machination ten years ago. He’d be better off remaining in her past.
But Brianne wasn’t entirely comfortable with spilling her intimate thoughts to women she’d only known for all of a month. “I’ll be too busy doing my job.” Keeping an eye out for the agent she suspected would be watching Club Paradise very carefully. “Speaking of which, I’ve got some security concerns I’d like to share as soon as Giselle arrives—”
“Sorry I’m late.” On cue, the club’s head chef, Giselle Cesare, burst through the office door. A petite, dark-haired Italian-American, Giselle was a nonstop bundle of energy. She balanced a tray of exotic drinks topped with fortune cookies in one hand. “I thought the start of our new venture deserved a toast.” She lowered the tray of drinks on to the desk with a flourish. “Introducing the Good Fortune Potion, newest specialty of the house.”
While Summer squealed, Brianne hurried to stuff a glass in Lainie’s hand. Lainie was having a difficult time getting over the fact that her husband had not only embezzled half her money, he’d also indulged in a quick affair with Giselle before he’d skipped town. What Lainie didn’t seem to understand was that the bastard had hurt Giselle nearly as much in the process, providing her with more guilt than a guileless twenty-five-year-old deserved. Giselle had had no idea that the man had been married.
But even Lainie seemed to catch the momentary spirit of camaraderie and she sipped at her drink, too.
“This is awesome.” Brianne raised her glass to the chef and temporary bartender. “But before we toast the grand opening, I wanted to suggest we open our doors a little earlier than we anticipated to try and minimize the crowds out front. There are already journalists swarming and I don’t want our guests getting hassled about the club’s old scandals.” Nor did she want to miss her stepfather’s nemesis, agent Aidan Maddock, if he tried to get in the disco tonight.
Lainie and Summer were both shaking their heads before she finished. Lainie set her fortune cookie on a cocktail napkin atop Brianne’s shiny lacquered desk.
“We want the press, Bri, even if it’s negative,” she argued. “And we definitely don’t want to lose the long line out front as that’s one of the main elements of cachet for a hot spot.”
“Not to mention the moon is void of course until almost eleven tonight,” Summer added, clutching one of her crystal necklaces as if for good luck. “We agreed to open at eleven because by then the moon will be entering Aries and the stars will be in a favorable position for the new venture.”
Brianne focused very hard on her fortune cookie to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. “But it’s difficult for the surveillance cameras to detect images with the bright lights of the television crew glaring into their lenses. I’d hate to have a security breach our first night because we failed to take a few simple precautions.”
Brianne recognized the importance of security measures. Her last relationship before she’d left New York had been with a guy who couldn’t seem to take no for an answer. If not for her techno-gizmos and stepped-up security measures, she might have actually been concerned for her personal safety. Did it hurt to be a little careful?
“I could send some of my erotic pastries out to the TV group,” Giselle offered, tapping one short, efficient fingernail on her glass. “That might distract them a little longer until we’re ready to open the doors.”
“Send some of the Kama Sutra cookies,” Summer urged, “those pretzel positions ought to keep the crew intrigued for at least another hour.”
Lainie shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to waste her most delicate work on the media.” She sniffed in distaste at the word. But then, all of the members of Club Paradise’s new ownership had been scrutinized in the news over the past few weeks. “I think most of the reporters are male, so I bet a box of the doughnuts with cherry nipples ought to be distraction enough. Good thinking.”
Brianne exchanged surprised glances with Summer. The compliment was the most civil exchange Giselle and Lainie had managed all month.
“Is that okay with you, Bri?” Lainie asked.
“It ought to work. Heaven knows I wouldn’t want to disrupt our moon timing.”
“We all want tonight to be a success, don’t we?” Summer asked, unoffended. “A little help from a favorable celestial alignment couldn’t hurt.”
“Neither could a toast,” Brianne agreed, lifting her Good Fortune Potion high in the air. “To the success of Club Paradise.”
“To a feast for the senses,” added Giselle, clinking her glass in time with her words.
Lainie rose to her feet. “To a fat bottom line and sweet, financial revenge.”
Summer sidled over to the group. “And for crying out loud, girlfriends, let’s have a little fun while we’re at it. May we all enjoy the single life at its absolute, delicious best.”
Their collective clank of glasses sent Good Fortune Potion spilling down their arms and to the floor as they christened their partnership and began a friendship.

1
THE PROMISED FORECAST of raining men had turned into an outright downpour. Too bad Brianne couldn’t seem to enjoy all that testosterone right now.
She slipped away from the sizzling salsa beat and raucous voices in the disco’s Moulin Rouge Lounge to seek the privacy of her office. Not only because she’d never been that much of a party girl, but also because she took tonight’s job seriously.
After the Rat Pack embezzlement and the difficulties the new ownership had faced getting Club Paradise back on track, Brianne wasn’t about to risk any security breaches to land them in tomorrow’s newspapers. From the safety of her high-tech office haven, Brianne could survey lovers’ quarrels on the dance floor or cat-fights near the ladies room—anything with the potential to attach more scandal to the club’s name.
She’d be damn sure nothing happened on her watch. Not with her entire life savings wrapped up in the club now.
Her finger settled over the mouse on her computer to click through the security monitors in the unused portion of the hotel. There shouldn’t be any activity in the resort rooms tonight, just empty scaffolding and paint cans that were part of Summer’s massive decorating overhaul.
She clicked on autopilot, zipping through the views of the former Sweethearts Suite, the Lovebirds Nest and the excessively gilded Honeymoon Heaven. She was about to flip screens back to the lounge when a movement in Honeymoon Heaven caught her eye.
Instantly alert, Brianne pressed a few more buttons to tell the camera to zoom in on a shadowy figure crouched beside the bed. Nerves tense, she waited as the lens refocused and lightened the picture at her command.
Lo and behold, the dark shadow slowly rose from the floor and turned into a huge bear of a man. Standing at a good six-foot-four, he dwarfed the delicate white, heart-shaped bed. His dark hair reached his collar, a bit overgrown and as tousled as if he’d just crawled out of bed with an overenthusiastic woman. A short Fu Manchu beard-mustache combo gave him the trendy-scruffy look of South Beach.
He wore a Harley T-shirt with jeans that had seen better days. Reflective sunglasses perched in his hair even though it was well past midnight.
And for the second time in her life, Brianne thought he was the most unusual-looking FBI agent she’d ever seen.
After ten years, Aidan Maddock hadn’t changed a bit.
Her heart jumped a bit out of rhythm as she stared at the object of her eighteen-year-old fantasies. She’d half expected to see him tonight, given his unrelenting pursuit of her ex-stepfather’s criminal activities. Did Aidan really think she’d be hiding her crooked old man under the bed in the Honeymoon Heaven?
She needed to get him out of the club. And she would go confront him. Soon.
For now, she couldn’t resist another minute or two to just look her fill. She’d wondered during her years working in the film industry in New York if she’d imagined how intriguing-looking Aidan had been.
She hadn’t.
Perhaps it was merely the producer-director in her that so enjoyed watching the way his big body moved, the way he dominated his environment at every turn. But her accelerated breathing led her to think her reaction had very little to do with her work as a director.
And everything to do with being a woman.
He looked utterly out of place in the white room overflowing with lace and gold accents. He picked up a miniature music box in the shape of an old-fashioned woman’s boot and poked at it with one large finger.
The absurdity of the gesture reminded her that she’d always thought they’d be a great match because Aidan would overshadow a more delicate woman. At five-foot-eleven, Brianne had never been a fragile flower.
Silly, romantic thinking of an eighteen-year-old.
Dismissing the notion, Brianne flicked off the camera zoom and prepared to confront Aidan in person.
Until one of Club Paradise’s new employees sidled across Brianne’s monitor screen and insinuated herself in front of Aidan. Brianne recognized the cigarette girl from the Moulin Rouge Lounge. A definite fragile flower, the young woman had wide blue eyes and sort of fluffy blond hair. She looked innocent as a damn baby chick, but she was probably close to the age Brianne had been when she’d fallen hard for Aidan.
Only Aidan looked at this newcomer with considerable more interest than he’d ever shown Brianne.
Not that she cared. It was a purely detached observation. Something Brianne had gotten very good at during her years spent in New York. After her overly dramatic childhood with a temperamental mother and a charming, white-collar criminal stepfather, Brianne had become a quick study in detachment.
Scooping up her handheld computer, she switched the picture from the Honeymoon Heaven camera on to the miniature device so she could keep tabs on the action while she walked through the club to the resort’s tacky white room. Aidan hadn’t needed to pick any locks to get into the suite, but he was definitely treading where he shouldn’t have been by ignoring the signs saying Employees Only.
For that matter, the cigarette girl was way out of line, too. Brianne would tell her that as soon as the elevator reached the top floor.
As soon as she shoved open the door and—
Real life collided with the image on the monitor as Brianne walked in on Aidan and the cigarette girl in a liplock to set a woman’s heart racing. The stacked little blonde pressed every one of her considerable curves against Aidan and practically climbed her way up his tall body.
Brianne lounged in the door frame, determined not to allow any stray feelings to tangle themselves up in what needed to be accomplished here.
Instead, she steeled herself against the sultry over-load of hormones in Honeymoon Heaven and took command of the room in her best director voice.
“Am I interrupting something?”

AIDAN MADDOCK HAD BEEN waiting to hear that throaty purr all night.
He hadn’t particularly wanted to hear it while he had Daisy Stephenson clinging to him like a honeysuckle vine.
Luckily, Brianne Wolcott had the kind of take-no-shit attitude that even a little rebel like Daisy respected. She leaped off him like a scared rabbit and scampered out of the room before he could discreetly thank her for her minimal spying efforts this week. He paid her to be an informant, not a sexual booby trap, but he’d have to wait to explain that until next time they met.
Now, he needed to focus all his attention on Brianne as they were suddenly very alone.
“Nice to see you again, Brianne.” Aidan mentally scrambled to cross swords with the stepdaughter of his recurring nemesis. The same man who’d been at the root of his first-ever FBI case had eluded Aidan and half the police force in Dade County. He would need to be on his toes tonight if he was going to gather any useful leads. “You look…” Hot. Sexy. A hell of a lot better than he’d even remembered. “…great.”
Understatement of the year. The body that had already been slender and seductive at eighteen was worthy of its own pinup calendar ten years later. Her stark black skirt and blouse were slim-fitting and simple, accentuating the sleek, elegant curves of her body. With her long auburn hair and creamy pale skin, she possessed the hot-to-trot attributes of one of those too-cool female cartoon characters in a kick-ass video game geared toward guys.
Not that he ever wasted his time playing video games or anything.
She snapped her handheld computer closed. A half smile kicked up one corner of her soft, peach-colored lips. “Thank you. Although I can’t imagine you’re finding it all that nice to see me since I’ve not only busted you in an off-limits zone, but I also caught you with your pants down.” She let her gaze wander southward to his jeans. “Figuratively speaking, at least.”
The supercharge jolt to his libido was immediate and dead-on accurate. If Daisy Stephenson was a sexual booby trap, Brianne Wolcott was nothing short of dynamite.
He whistled, low and long, like a kettle hissing off steam. “You left Miami as a sweet young thing with big dreams, and now you come sauntering back like hell on wheels. What exactly did those New Yorkers do to you, Bri?”
She tilted her head against the door frame, obviously unruffled by his observation. “Nothing I didn’t want them to. Now, are you going to leave quietly, Maddock, or am I going to have to call security?”
She used to be so damn sweet. So trusting. She’d been naive enough to trust him when he had been gunning for her stepfather in a federal case ten years ago.
“Come on, Brianne. We both know the extent of your new security team is you. For now, at least. Why don’t we sit down and catch up for a few minutes instead? You can tell me all about your stepdad’s latest scheme.” Bottom line, he was here on a mission.
He needed information on Rat Pack ringleader Mel Baxter, a slick crook with a knack for pulling off big scams and walking away clean. After Aidan’s investigative efforts had failed to produce enough evidence to convict Baxter a decade ago, Aidan’s professional reputation was riding on this investigation. He did not need a so-sexy-it-hurts woman from his past fogging up his brain cells.
Brianne straightened in the doorway and strolled closer. Her black outfit clashed with the sticky-sweet white lace fabrics in Honeymoon Heaven. Aidan realized he was tracking the progress of her hips with his eyes and ruthlessly wrenched his gaze upward.
“I made the mistake of having loose lips around you once before, Maddock.” She stopped just outside his personal space, leaving him all of six inches to breathe. “And I guarantee it’s not going to happen again.”
His jaw tightened along with every other movable body part. What sort of freaking perversity made it impossible not to want a woman who declared herself off-limits?
He should have felt ashamed at her obvious reference to the one time he’d slipped up and returned her enthusiastic kiss in those last months before she left for New York. But all he could feel was overwhelming curiosity about what it would be like to be on the receiving end of a kiss like that now.
“Never say never.” He had to keep this conversation light, nonconfrontational if he ever expected to cultivate Brianne’s help. God knows, he needed a break somewhere if he was going to catch up with his quarry. “Haven’t you heard it’s dangerous to tempt fate?”
“Is that a warning, Agent Maddock?” She leaned fractionally closer, getting in his face as boldly as any sparring partner he’d ever encountered. The tough-girl effect was mitigated, however, when a sexy strand of auburn hair slithered out of place and fell forward over one shoulder.
“Just a little friendly advice from your local FBI guy, that’s all.” He tried hard not to imagine what it would feel like to run his fingers over that shiny red curl. And failed. “Because I like you, Brianne, I’ll give you another tip. You’d be doing yourself a favor if you let me know when Mel gets in touch with you.”
She rocked back on her heels, the first sign she might not be as cool, calm and collected as she wanted him to think. Her eyes widened just a fraction before she pivoted away.
Aidan’s professional instincts went on high alert. “He hasn’t already tried to contact you, has he?”
Brianne flipped open the miniature computer she’d been carrying in one hand and checked the tiny monitor screen. “I’m not certain I’d be discussing it with you if he had. But rest assured, I don’t want anything to do with Melvin and he knows it. He’s my ex-stepfather, and he has been for a long time, remember?” She closed the computer again and her gaze connected with Aidan’s. “Look, I don’t have time to escort you to the parking lot since I’ve got to get back to work. I just came up here to tell you to get out of my business and don’t come back.”
She edged around a half-erected piece of scaffolding and headed for the door.
“Wait, Bri—”
“Oh, and because I like you, Aidan,” she turned when she reached the gilded archway of cherubs and vines that led to the hall, “let me give you a little friendly advice.”
Hell, this meeting had gone so abysmally, maybe he ought to be taking advice from the crook’s daughter. He folded his arms and waited.
She cocked a hand on one gently curved hip. “Next time you want to pull a covert snooping mission, why don’t you choose a room that’s not under camera surveillance?”
Aidan would have liked to have argued he hadn’t been trying to be sneaky. But of course, that would have been a flat out lie. By the time his gaze discovered the tinted panel in the mirrored ceiling, Brianne’s high heels were already clicking their way down the Moroccan tiles of the hallway floor.
Didn’t that go over well?
He was supposed to be investigating Florida’s biggest thief of the last decade yet he waltzed in here tonight making rookie mistakes left and right because Brianne Wolcott was involved in his case.
Sure, he’d wanted Brianne to find him tonight—he’d needed to talk to her. But he hadn’t meant for her to discover him kissing the cigarette girl or to record his antics on film. His mistake in not noticing the camera panel ought to damn well teach him not to wear sunglasses past dusk.
Brianne had been right. She had, without a doubt, caught him with his pants down.
But not for long. Aidan might have been surprised at the level of awareness she sparked in him, but next time they met, he’d be prepared. He’d think about baseball while he spoke with her, if that’s what it took to safeguard against inappropriate thoughts.
He was going to have a real conversation with Brianne now. A talk that didn’t involve sexual innuendo or past recriminations. A talk that focused solely on his case.
Chucking his shades in a cupid-covered trash can on the way out the door, Aidan rooted around his brain for enough baseball trivia to stifle all sexual thoughts while he talked to Brianne. As if that were possible.
He could read Baseball Weekly cover-to-cover and not find enough to distract him from mile-long legs and her I’m-in-charge strut.
Nevertheless, as he made his way through the lobby toward the offices at the back of the club, he started ticking off slugging percentages for the whole Marlins’ roster.

OBVIOUSLY, BRIANNE HAD been immune to the Good Fortune Potion. Having the FBI show up her first night in business definitely equaled bad mojo. Especially when the guy with the badge happened to be the object of an embarrassing ancient crush.
She wound through the darkened resort lobby on her way back to her office, all the while wondering why the federal investigator assigned to her smarmy stepfather couldn’t have been fifty and balding. Or a woman. Or even a guy who looked remotely like a Fed was supposed to—sharp suit, regulation haircut, clean-shaven.
Instead, she got all six-foot-four of non-conforming Aidan who looked more like a Hells Angel.
Sighing, she slipped into the safety of her office and cursed her predilection for rebels. Hadn’t she learned anything from dating that psycho guitarist in New York? Sure, his tortured music had appealed to her as a fellow social outsider, but maybe she should have taken the electric-blue highlights in his hair at face value. Jimmy had been out of control.
Not bothering to flip on the light, Brianne checked her monitors and slid out of her shoes, padding silently around the glass-and-mirror studio in her bare feet. Summer had puzzled over how anyone could work in an environment so coldly sterile, but Brianne had never been one to reveal too much of herself. She preferred her remote haven to the raucous party taking shape on monitor number one.
She turned up the volume on the video feed from the stage camera in the Moulin Rouge Lounge. The floor show was just getting underway with dancers in white-feathered headdresses that were far more elaborate than their skimpy costumes. Yet as Brianne absorbed the images of half-dressed women striking deliberately erotic poses, all she could think of was the even more enticing video in her possession.
The archived footage of Aidan Maddock prowling around Honeymoon Heaven.
Assuring herself she only wanted to look at it for a minute, Brianne flicked the appropriate switches on her control panel until the cupid quarters flashed up on the main screen. The gilded white room was vacant now.
Maybe Aidan had realized Club Paradise was exactly what the new ownership purported—a legitimate business out to recoup the losses of its former incarnation. All the women involved in rejuvenating the scandal-mired resort either wanted a chance to make back the money they’d lost when the Rat Pack left town, or they wanted an opportunity to prove themselves career-wise. Some of them were hoping for a little of both.
Brianne rewound the archived footage until she found the moment Aidan entered the room—only about five minutes before she’d discovered him. She smiled in spite of herself as she watched him in action. Instead of breaking out his fingerprint kit or high-tech phone tap equipment, Agent Maddock had pumped six quarters into the hospitality cabinet to earn himself a Milky Way bar that was probably a year old.
Then, as if testing the mattress, he’d bounced on the heart-shaped bed for a minute before peering into every nook and cranny of the saccharin-sweet accommodations.
Her gaze drank in the sight of his rangy body. He’d been that tall ten years ago, but his frame hadn’t been quite as solid. Muscles filled out his Harley T-shirt now, stretching the well-worn fabric in a way that made Brianne’s mouth water.
No doubt about it. Aidan Maddock still sizzled her from the inside out and no amount of her in-your-face bravado was going to change that.
She just hoped to God Aidan would never realize as much.
No sooner had the thought occurred to her, then the office door swung open behind her. An awful premonition flitted through her mind—a scenario she did not want to contemplate as she stared up at the big-screen version of sexy Aidan Maddock.
Please let it be Giselle with another round of Good Fortune Potions. Or maybe it was Summer ready to yell at her for watching television in the dark again.
Please let it be anyone except…
“Looks like you couldn’t wait to see me again after all.” A far-too-cocky voice filled the studio. A masculine bass that definitely hadn’t originated on her tape.
…Aidan.

2
BRIANNE REACHED FOR the remote to pause the videotape, but Aidan’s hand beat hers to the control.
“I’ll take that.” He swiped the electronic device behind his back, allowing the tape of himself to continue rolling. “I want to see the part where you walk into the room. I’ve never seen anyone make an entrance quite like you, Bri.”
The man could be all charm when the situation warranted. No wonder she’d fallen for him a lifetime ago.
Good thing she knew better now.
“My entrance isn’t until after Daisy’s.” Brianne tried not to notice when the curvy blonde sashayed her way across the television screen in her micro-miniskirt. “But by all means, enjoy the show until then. You wouldn’t want to miss the footage of your lip lock.”
Aidan hit the pause button on the remote, stilling the picture on the television just as Daisy entered Honeymoon Heaven.
“Actually, I’m not here for the show. I’m here to discuss Club Paradise.”
Brianne stiffened, recognizing the FBI-guy tone creeping into Aidan’s voice. “If you want to talk business, maybe you’d better make an appointment.”
“Does that mean if I want to talk personal, you’ll listen to me now?”
Was it her imagination, or had he somehow moved closer? The heat of his body warmed Brianne’s purposely sterile office. If she let him stay in here long enough, she had the feeling he could single-handedly steam all the mirrors and glass.
“I’m saying, make an appointment.” She held out her hand for the remote. “Can I have my equipment back? I’m trying to run a smooth operation here tonight—a fact you seem to be repeatedly forgetting.”
But Aidan was already walking away from her, keeping her remote hostage in the back pocket of his jeans. Damn the man.
Of all the places she wouldn’t touch, he couldn’t have picked anywhere more off-limits.
“You’re pretty interested in technology gadgets, aren’t you, Bri?” He trailed a finger across her master control board, an action that drove techno-types as insane as nails on a chalkboard.
“Touch my buttons and you’re dead, Maddock.”
“Seems like I’m already hitting all your buttons.” He gave her a wicked grin and dropped into a black leather chair in front of the control panel. “Seriously, I heard you studied some major technology while you were at film school. I thought you’d always wanted to be a director?”
With his big body sprawled across her office furniture and his thinly disguised nosy questions, Aidan might as well have hung his FBI shingle on her front door. Despite his lazy posture and casual approach, Agent Maddock was clearly at work.
Brianne sighed, sinking into the leather chair beside his. She didn’t stand a chance of getting any work done until she’d answered at least a few of his questions. “I am a director. As I’m sure a professional snoop like you already knows. I just happened to enjoy the engineering aspect quite a bit.”
His gray eyes held hers a second too long, reminding her of the best kiss of her life….
“You always were into electronic contraptions, weren’t you? Remember that remote key finder you gave me?”
Her cheeks warmed. Did he have to remind her of her schoolgirl crush on him?
She frowned, hoping maybe he’d think she gave useless widgets to everyone she met.
“It’s the envy of every Fed in my office,” Aidan continued, oblivious to her discomfiture while he warmed to his topic. “I left my keys in a Chinese restaurant once and that remote led me right to my beeping key chain. Of course, I had to dig through a little chow mein in the back alley to retrieve them, but it beat walking home.”
Brianne blinked, surprised at the genuine appreciation in his voice. “I’ve progressed since then,” she found herself saying before she could question the wisdom of sharing anything about herself with this man. “Now I can program a menu into my refrigerator so that it reminds me what to take out of the freezer every morning.”
“You’re kidding.” He looked at her like she’d just solved one of his cases. “You ought to work for the Bureau, Brianne. Sort of like Q in those James Bond flicks.”
She had to admire his skillful way of bringing the conversation back around to business. Frankly, she welcomed the distancing reminder of their opposite worlds. She’d been enjoying their conversation just a little bit too much. “Joining the Bureau isn’t going to make me start spilling secrets about Melvin Baxter. I have no idea where he is.”
His gaze met hers as she denied it, as if he was subjecting her to some sort of mental lie detector test.
“Do you think your mother has been in contact with him?” Aidan leaned forward in his chair and pulled her remote control out of his back pocket to study it, as if he didn’t place much importance upon her answer.
Brianne saw straight through the act. Aidan took his job seriously and he was on a mission tonight. She couldn’t buy into his cool FBI guy with a Fu Manchu facade this time around. Aidan might look laid-back, but she knew firsthand he tracked down his personal “most wanted” with single-minded focus.
“I don’t know, Aidan. Even if I did, I’m not certain that I’d discuss it with you.” Too much ancient history between them. Too much hormonal short-circuiting if she sat within touching distance. “Now, can I have my remote back? I’ve got work to do.”
He lifted one dark eyebrow, a quirky expression Brianne remembered well. Her eighteen-year-old self had tried for at least half an hour to raise only one eyebrow like that, and she’d ended up with a massive headache.
“And you think you can just snap your fingers and make the FBI disappear?” Aidan pitched the remote from hand to hand, never taking his eyes off her.
While she admired the man’s dexterity—and didn’t that give rise to intriguing questions about what else he did well with his hands?—Brianne couldn’t afford to allow him to distract her with his sleight of hand.
She snatched the device away from him in midair. “I might not be able to make you vanish this minute since I’m working solo tonight.” Besides, he didn’t exactly pose an immediate danger the way a drunken patron could if she took her eyes off the screens. “But I do know I’m entitled to go about my business while you’re here. Either cut to the chase about what you want from me, Aidan, or let me do my job.” She pressed a button on her recaptured electronic controller and flipped through several camera feeds to monitor the action throughout the club.
Of course, she needed to then follow through on her action and swivel in her chair to view the various monitors off to her side. A position which left her staring up at several small televisions along with an oversize, frozen image of Aidan and the cigarette girl, Daisy, on the middle screen.
She had larger-than-life Aidan on camera in front of her, and all-too-real Aidan emanating pheromones behind her.
A pretty powerful combination.
Good thing Brianne had gotten over her crush on him long ago or this situation might have presented a problem.
A shiver tripped through her while she waited— hoped—he’d give up. Maybe he could go search for Daisy Stephenson’s mouth again. Surely anything would be better than just sitting there behind her.
She could feel the weight of his stare along the back of her neck. She was also pretty damn sure she felt every one of his 98.6 degrees heating the boundaries of her personal space.
And he was getting closer.
Brianne didn’t know how she knew it, but the hair on the back of her neck stood on end with awareness. To turn around would be like acknowledging her curiosity. Something she definitely did not want to admit—even to herself.
But what was he doing back there?

TWO HOME RUNS IN THREE at bats.
Aidan rallied his quickly-splintering concentration to keep his mind off Brianne and his hands to himself.
Think baseball.
The Marlins’ first baseman had been on fire last night—moving his slugging percentage up to almost seven hundred, if Aidan’s math proved semi-reliable.
Which it probably wasn’t, given that the usual appeal of bases gained divided by at bats couldn’t compare to the allure of Brianne Wolcott’s auburn hair spilling over her barely-covered back.
Pale, satiny skin begged his touch while her killer strawberry curls shimmered in the reflected light of ten different televisions.
He might have persevered and calculated stats for the next guy on the roster if only Aidan didn’t remember exactly how smooth that creamy skin felt and how intoxicating her exotic scent had been from their long-ago, accidental interlude.
The faint perfume teased him even now, urging him closer to indulge his memories of Brianne.
As he leaned forward, his hand brushed a button on the elaborate master control board. The oversize screen in front of them came to life in response, setting Daisy Stephenson in motion again.
Saved by the cigarette girl.
Aidan pressed himself back in his seat, as far away from the temptation of Brianne as possible. What had he been thinking to let himself get so close?
Brianne pivoted in her seat, a half smile on her face. “Ready for your big screen debut?”
He welcomed the cool distance in her voice. Hell, he needed an Arctic blast to stay focused on business with Brianne around. He settled for jerking a thumb toward the television, confident his limited exchange with Daisy on screen wouldn’t reveal the woman’s connection to the Bureau. Brianne’s tape didn’t include the audio feed she had for some of the others.
Daisy had been more interested in jumping him than providing information.
“Maybe you can give me a few pointers on how I did.” Aidan needed an excuse to hang out with Brianne, some time to build a rapport with her again.
“Are you sure you can handle an assessment of your technique?” She folded her arms and peered down her nose at him, the ice queen in full battle mode.
Luckily, Brianne’s cool demeanor had never scared him off.
“Since when have I had an ego problem?”
She cracked a genuine smile, a gift all the more special because it was—in Aidan’s experience—so rare.
“You’ve got me there.” She turned back toward the screen just as Daisy flung herself into Aidan’s arms on the archived footage. “Prepare to be critiqued.”
Aidan scooted his chair forward to sit side by side with her, telling himself an essential part of his job was building relationships with people who might have key information on his case. His gut told him Melvin Baxter would be in touch with the ex-stepdaughter he’d always doted on, and Aidan was going to be there when it happened.
His job—his whole badass reputation within the Bureau—demanded it.
His decision to sit two inches from Brianne had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he wanted a better whiff of her perfume.
He stole a glance at her in the dull blue glow radiating from the wall of monitors. Some of the televisions caught the action on the dance floor, around the bars and in the back alleyway. But Brianne stared up at the video of Daisy and Aidan, head tipped to one side as if trying to make sense of the film sequence.
“You bumbled this kiss from the beginning.” She pointed one pale pink fingernail toward the central screen. “It’s all awkward angles and bad timing.”
“That’s not my fault. I got cast with the wrong woman.”
Brianne snorted, her gaze glued to the image of Aidan being clawed into submission by the voluptuous informant.
Okay, maybe he hadn’t exactly fought the woman off. But she’d taken him totally by surprise.
“I’m serious,” he protested, wishing his first meeting with Brianne after ten years didn’t have to take place during a fluke lip lock with an overeager coed. “I’m a foot taller than this girl. I need a leading lady with some major long legs.”
He couldn’t help but smile as Brianne strutted her way into the video scene right on cue.
“Weak excuses. You’d never make it in film, Maddock, no matter how much you flex those ripped muscles.”
Her eyes widened, almost as if she’d said more than she’d meant to. Aidan couldn’t help the slow smile that crept across his face.
She snatched up her remote and smashed the pause button. “Now, I think we can both agree I’ve humored you tonight. It’s time you either get to the point of your visit or you’re really going to have to leave.”
Shit. Aidan needed more time to convince Brianne he wasn’t the devil’s spawn she seemed to think him. Then again, maybe all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough to convince her she could trust him.
One botched encounter with her that night before she left for New York and he ruined the great connection they’d once had.
Unfortunately, it was time to play hardball because he sure as hell couldn’t walk away from his one and only lead to Melvin Baxter.
“Actually, I’m going to have to carve out a spot for myself at Club Paradise for a little while, so we might as well try to work together.” He scratched an idle hand across his chest, affecting a casualness he definitely didn’t feel. He flexed his bicep for her benefit. “You really think the muscles are looking ripped?”
He would have been golden if he could have teased another one of those killer smiles out of her. But as he met her stormy green gaze, he was pretty sure there would be no smiles forthcoming.
In fact, he was damn certain he was about to experience the brunt of Brianne’s new hell-on-wheels attitude.

A COLD, CLAMMY FEAR SETTLED in her gut, but Brianne would rather be cut off from her remote for all of eternity than let Aidan know. He wanted to settle in here? To work?
That could only mean the FBI had her under a microscope, a notion which scared her right down to the silver rings on her toes. If word got out the new club was being investigated, it would taint the place with an underworld feel she and her partners were working hard to overcome.
Thankfully, she’d learned a thing or two about acting in her time behind the camera as a documentary producer, and it wasn’t that much of a stretch to work up some annoyance at Aidan’s presumptuous, self-absorbed shtick.
“I’m not about to get into a discussion of your physique in light of your earlier comment.” She met his gaze levelly, hoping no barroom brawls would break out at the club in the moments she took her eyes off the security monitors. The scene inside her office promised to be more explosive anyhow. “What exactly do you mean you need to carve a spot out for yourself at Club Paradise?”
He leaned back in his chair as if utterly at ease with the notion, then laced his fingers over his reclining chest. “Melvin pissed off a lot of people with this latest stunt, Brianne. You know he took off because we were ready to nail him with racketeering charges?”
No, she hadn’t known. Didn’t want to know. She’d said goodbye to Melvin and all her mother’s other shady—but well-providing—boyfriends and ex-husbands ten years ago. Brianne was well into a new chapter of her life now.
Thoughts of Jimmy the guitar player niggled in the back of her mind. Had she somehow started her own parade of shady boyfriends?
“That doesn’t have anything to do with me or with Club Paradise.” She stood, eager to walk away from the implied intimacy of the darkened room and the proximity of their seating arrangement. She flipped on all the overhead lights, determined to chase away all traces of shadiness in her life. Starting now.
“Whatever business Mel was running out here, it’s not going on anymore. The women I’m partners with have so much collective fury at the Rat Pack that we could probably take down all of them if they were ever stupid enough to set foot in South Beach again. But they’re not. Mel is gone and he’s going to stay gone.”
Aidan blinked against the sudden deluge of high wattage filling the room. “And you think you can make it so by the sheer force of your will? Mel has connections all over town and a strong racketeering operation in place. He’s not going to walk away from that income forever.”
Why had her mother ever married such a loser?
Bad enough Pauline Wolcott-Baxter-Menendez-Simmons unabashedly married the men for money. Did she have to be so unconcerned with how they made it?
Brianne leaned against the master control board, strung tight and wishing she could appear half as at-ease as the agent lounging in her office chair. She set the remote control on the panel beside her. “He knows better than to contact me.”
“I disagree. And since I’m running this investigation, that means I’m going to hang out at the club, watch the surveillance cameras with you, and generally be your best friend for the next few weeks.”
Like hell. “I don’t think so, Aidan. One of our owners is an attorney, you know. If there’s a way to legally keep you out of here, Lainie will find it.”
He rose, unfolding his six-foot-four frame from his slouchy position in the chair.
To Brianne the subtle physical message couldn’t have been more obvious. He was no longer talking to her as an old friend. He was issuing FBI-guy orders in no uncertain terms.
“I don’t think Lainie is going to find an easy opponent in the justice system, Bri, but good luck. In the meantime, I’ll be here tomorrow night before you open.” He drifted closer, his shuffling walk landing him a scant foot from Brianne.
She had to look up at him to meet his gaze. One perk of her height was that she usually got to meet men eye-to-eye. She could have gained a couple of inches if she’d pried herself off the soundboard perch, but that would have put her much too close to Aidan.
“I’m not showing you my videotapes without a search warrant.” By God, she was going to lay down some rules here, too. If Aidan thought he could blithely walk through her door and charm her into doing whatever he wanted, he was dead wrong. She’d learned the hard way not to put her trust in this man.
“Why? So I can’t see the drunken three a.m. crowd pissing on the sidewalk on their way out of the club? Or so I can’t see the floor show for free? If Melvin’s not going to contact you, what do you care if I sit here and watch your tapes with you?”
That was the whole damn point. She didn’t care what he saw, she cared that he’d be sitting two feet away from her all night, every night. Besides, she needed to show him he couldn’t waltz back into her life and expect he could manipulate her like some infatuated teenager.
“Bring a warrant or you don’t see a damn thing.” She’d hold her ground on this one.
“Fine.” Nodding, he conceded her point. “But I’m going to be all the more demanding about what you have to show me if I go to the trouble of getting the paperwork.”
She scavenged up a few remnants of her New York attitude, the facade she’d needed to make it in the city’s competitive film industry. She leaned close enough to whisper, her chest hovering inches from his.
“Demand all you want, Aidan. I don’t think you’ll be able to obtain a warrant for what you really want to see.”
If there were any justice in the world, the fact that Aidan chose that moment to lick his lips would mean Brianne had the power to make his mouth go dry.
An idea that pleased her to no end.
“Good thing I don’t need the court’s permission for that particular show.” He picked up the remote control and pressed play, starting the footage of their meeting in Honeymoon Heaven. “Why don’t you sit down and watch the sparks fly between us on camera and then try to tell me we’re not going to end up seeing a whole lot more of each other before this investigation is through?”
He shoved the remote into her hands and headed toward the door.
And despite the staggering number of New York film producers she’d mouthed off to in her day, she couldn’t think of a single comeback to Aidan’s preposterous suggestion.
He turned at the door to shoot her a parting grin. “See you tomorrow, Bri.” He lifted one eyebrow in signature Aidan style. “But only as much as you are ready to show me, of course.”
Damnation.
As he disappeared into the hallway, Brianne wondered how she’d survive the next go-round.
Somehow she’d dropped a sexual gauntlet tonight and Aidan Maddock hadn’t wasted any time picking it up. If she was going to maintain her sanity over the next few weeks, she needed to get her mind off those mouthwatering muscles of his and back on her job.
Because Brianne had already revealed too much of herself to Aidan ten years ago, and she didn’t have any intention of making herself vulnerable to him again.

3
BRIANNE SLID FARTHER into the gurgling outdoor hot tub, allowing the bubbles to tickle her nose as she held her glass out to Giselle for more champagne.
To celebrate their first night in business, Club Paradise’s new owners had agreed to meet after closing for a soak under the stars in one of the many oversize tubs surrounding the main pool. Amid wafting steam and the thrum of the bubble jets, the four of them were sharing stories from trenches. Summer had lost one of the dancers’ outfits and the woman had trotted out topless, Giselle had gotten into an argument with a drunken patron who insisted she didn’t know how to make a proper Sex on the Beach, and Lainie had a run-in with the cigarette girl over leaving her station in the middle of the evening.
The last part came as no surprise to Brianne, of course.
Brianne raised her glass for a third toast, wishing she didn’t have to share her bad news with the happy celebrants. She smoothed a slick finger over the painted ceramic tiles on the rim of the hot tub, pausing on the image of a towering pagan god in the Atlantis-themed picture. The golden god’s knowing expression reminded her too much of a certain cocky Fed. She covered the picture with her beach towel, obliterating the pagan with Egyptian cotton, and decided she couldn’t keep her news a secret any longer.
Shoving a damp curl out of her eyes, she cleared her throat. “On a less happy note, we received a visit from the FBI tonight.”
Giselle choked on a sip of champagne while Summer nearly spurted hers across the pool.
Barely managing to swallow her beverage, Summer slammed her glass down on the ceramic tiles. “You’re kidding.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not. Remember the guy I told you about who’s been chasing down Mel forever?”
“Aidan Maddock.” Lainie sat up straighter, tense and wary. “He questioned me after Robert disappeared.”
“Me, too,” Giselle added, casting an apologetic look at Lainie. “And I’m used to huge, intimidating males with those brothers of mine, but I thought Maddock was totally scary. What did he want?”
“He pretty much told me he’s going to become a regular fixture at the club until he uncovers a lead to the Rat Pack. Mainly Mel.”
“Oh great.” Summer saluted the idea with a nearly empty glass. “We’ll attract lots of business with a Fed at the front door. Did you at least inform him our bouncers don’t wear three-piece suits?”
Lainie held out one manicured hand for attention, sort of Barbara Streisand style. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. I mean, pardon me for sounding like a bitter divorcée, but wouldn’t we all rejoice just a little if every one of the sleazeball Rat Packers got carted off to federal prison?”
Summer and Giselle, both of who had been dating former part owners of the business, looked ready to agree.
“But at what cost to the resort?” Brianne retorted, staring up at the stars as if there might be some answer contained in the limitless indigo sky.
And, a little voice inside her asked, at what cost to herself?
“We didn’t even know he was here tonight,” Lainie replied, plucking up her glass again as if the matter was settled. “As long as he sticks to the shadows, he’s not going to be chasing away business. Sure, we’re inconvenienced now, but in the long run, if this Agent Maddock catches the cheating bastards who ran Club Paradise into the ground, so much the better.”
Giselle and Summer were quick to raise their glasses to that sentiment.
Great. Brianne slid deeper into the tub and wished she could slink away from this problem as easily. Even her own friends thought it was a good idea to hang out with the only guy who had ever broken her heart.
Brianne sighed, but she toasted the plan along with everyone else, silently agreeing to help Aidan with his investigation.
She just hoped he could solve his case quickly because she had a real problem with men who tried to push all her buttons.

THE SOUTH BEACH STRIP was kicking into high gear by the time Aidan found an empty parking space near Club Paradise the next night. The club wouldn’t open for another hour, but he wanted to stroll through the grounds, get the lay of the land before he crossed swords with Brianne again.
Thanks to her and her knack for sexual innuendo, Aidan hadn’t slept the night before. Her implication that he wanted to see more of her had been dead-on accurate and his mind had obligingly created an image of naked Brianne for Aidan to drool over until the crack of dawn.
Now, tired and irritable, he faced the prospect of sitting next to her all night with as much enthusiasm as a suspect being read his Miranda rights.
Good thing Aidan knew how to focus on his job. As long as he ignored the sexual chemistry between him and Brianne, he’d be fine.
Winding his way through the palm trees and vacant cabanas on the resort’s flawless beachfront property, Aidan made mental notes of the terrain and tried not to remember he hadn’t been able to ignore the chemistry thing with Brianne when she’d been all of eighteen.
How could he ever pretend he wasn’t attracted to her now that she was every bit a consenting adult?
Well, maybe not completely consenting. Yet. Damn it, why did he keep thinking she might be if he applied a bit of effort to the task?
Tugging open a tinted glass door to one of the resort’s four connecting Mediterranean-style buildings, Aidan welcomed the Arctic blast from the air-conditioned interior. He’d been overheating from more than just the sultry Florida air.
A pop tune blared from the disco, bouncing through the marble and tile hallways to the small reception area between the hotel and the club. The sound would be more muted once carpets were installed, but for now, Aidan was subjected to a warbling soprano belting out bubble-gum lyrics along with the reigning pop princess who sang over the speakers.
Curious to see the source of that brazenly out-of-tune voice, Aidan peered into the club to find two women congregated with Brianne at the end of the low stage and a colorful blonde with braids in her hair sashaying down the runway like a model for hippie-wear. Her see-through skirts were layered so you couldn’t truly see through them, but the effect was intriguing, especially given their rainbow hues.
The singing woman taking center stage provided a perfect foil for austere Brianne on the sidelines in a chocolate brown, sleeveless cat suit. Brianne looked like a jewel thief ready for her next heist, minus only a ski mask. Her every move was elegant, her tall body as quietly graceful as the blonde was noisily ostentatious.
“Well, who do we have here?” The blonde stopped in mid-chorus, drawing the gazes of the three other women toward Aidan.
He could sense the slight stiffening of Brianne’s already perfect posture, feel the thread of tension emanating from her.
She laid down the clipboard she’d been holding, but she didn’t exactly run over to greet him. “Summer Farnsworth, say hello to Aidan Maddock, our very own federal agent.”
Brianne reminded him of the other women’s names. He’d questioned them both after Melvin and company took flight. The blonde on the runway stared down at him with unmasked surprise.
“You’re the FBI guy?” Her gaze roamed over his backward baseball cap and his white T-shirt that advertised a regatta from three years ago.
“That’s me. But I’d prefer if we kept that as low-profile as possible. Sort of an undercover thing.” He turned to Brianne and nodded toward the doorway. “Can I bother you for a few minutes?”
He needed to get this initial face-off with Brianne behind him so he could move on with his investigation.
She didn’t answer, but she picked up her handheld computer and sauntered toward the door, long legs perfectly outlined by the slim fit of her outfit.
Aidan took the opportunity to stage whisper to Brianne’s friends, “If anyone asks, I’m her new lover. It’s part of the cover.” Could he help it if his work provided fun perks?
“I heard that,” Brianne called over one shoulder, not even pausing as she plowed through the doors toward the hotel.
Aidan nodded to Brianne’s partners before he followed her, thinking he’d probably need to investigate them a little more fully. Summer Farnsworth and Giselle Cesare seemed like face-value women, but Lainie Reynolds might have a few things to hide. She’d been married to Robert Flynn, Melvin’s closest partner, when the Rat Pack had pulled out of South Beach.
Of course, he wasn’t thinking about anyone but Brianne by the time he caught up to her slim silhouette strutting down the hall toward her office.
“Wait up, Bri.”
She had obviously inherited the New York pace while living up north.
Brianne spun on him in the middle of the opulent corridor. Perfectly centered under a massive crystal chandelier, she stared him down and began her advance. Her high heels clicked an ominous tone on the Moroccan tile floor as she closed the space between them.
“If I’m going to allow you to invade my life over the next few weeks, don’t you think you could at least do me the courtesy of keeping up with me?”
She looked pissed, and he would guess that didn’t have anything to do with him not keeping up with her. Still, some demon drove him to provoke her.
“But how are we going to perpetuate the idea that we’re a couple when we can’t even stroll along side-by-side?”
The spark in her green eyes practically burst into flame.
“And how dare you put me in a position of having to look like your…” She gave him a thorough once-over, as if she couldn’t believe she’d have to attach herself to him even if it was only in rumors. “…lover. Did it ever occur to you I might object to such a ludicrous cover story?”
“You really think it’s ludicrous?” He peered down at his three-year-old regatta shirt, wondering if she had a point. Brianne definitely looked more uptown than Aidan ever would.
She continued to advance, backing him right into a marble table beneath a mirror the size of a swimming pool.
Not that he was complaining. He finally got a whiff of that perfume that had teased his nose all last night.
Sort of musky and dark. Almost as if she’d gone out and bought a bottle of sex stimulant and spritzed it on her neck.
“It’s utterly preposterous. Daisy, for one, is going to see right through it given that you were her lover just yesterday.” She pointed a finger dead center at his chest and held it a fraction of an inch from his sternum. “You could have told them you were my neighbor, my brother, my mechanic or my decorator, Aidan. Any of them would have been more plausible.”
“Your decorator?” He wasn’t totally certain he’d heard her correctly. He was too busy taking small breaths so the aphrodisiac she used as perfume wouldn’t bring him to his knees.
“Yes. My decorator.” The idea made her smile. Not the real Brianne smile, but the half-cocked version that made her look like a sultry pinup girl.
Okay. He was a politically correct guy and all. And he was pretty sure there were plenty of heterosexual male decorators in the world. But from the wicked gleam in her eyes, Aidan would stake his badge she was trying hard to insult him.
And she was doing a damn good job.
“But I bet I can pull off a convincing kiss a hell of a lot better than I can hang wallpaper.” He inched forward just enough to back up his claim.
Her eyes widened. The finger she’d been jabbing at him fell to her side. She even backed up a step before regaining her take-no-crap attitude.
“Don’t forget I critiqued your kisses, Maddock.” She pivoted as if to continue toward her office, deeper into the vacant recesses of the luxury hotel. “I wouldn’t be too sure how convincing they can be.”
Ten years ago, she’d melted in his arms so fast he’d almost forgotten she was just barely legal. He ground his teeth, knowing a gentleman would not remind her of the way she’d reacted the last time he’d kissed her.
But damn it, some sort of reminder was definitely in order. He would have easily squelched that seldom-used gentlemanly conscience if only he didn’t need to make some serious plans for his stakeout tonight.
Instead, he settled on a surprise move that served both his purposes. Catching up to Brianne’s hell-on-wheels walk, Aidan slipped an arm around her to halt her in her tracks.
He leaned close to her ear to speak, close enough to feel the rapid-fire pounding of a pulse gone rogue.
“Wait a minute, Bri,” he breathed against the shiny silk of her hair.
Right away, he knew he’d made a big mistake touching her. Not only did that brief contact fog his brain on the details of an investigation that had seemed so important two seconds ago, but having Brianne in his arms—even just for a moment—also made him start to rationalize ways he could instigate a hot, no-holds-barred encounter with her and still be true to his case.
An ill-advised thought at best. A surefire road to disaster at worst.
She remained perfectly motionless, almost as if she was afraid to breathe for fear of touching him any more. “What are you doing?”
He would take his hands off her any second.
Soon.
“I’m steering you in the other direction.” And proving to her she wasn’t totally immune to him, maybe.
Too bad what started out as a bid to save his ego had just bitten him in the ass.
He no longer had any idea who was proving what to whom. But he knew exactly how much he wanted Brianne right now.
“My office is this way.” She managed to say the words without moving an inch. “Along with all the surveillance equipment.”
Aidan needed to explain he wanted a walk-through of the whole property first. In his mind, he told her exactly that.
In reality, he breathed deep enough to get the full effect of her sex-in-a-bottle perfume.
In reality, he spread his fingers and thumbs a bit farther apart on her waist to cover a little more territory.
And in reality, he knew he didn’t stand a chance of letting go without just one taste.

IF AIDAN HAD TRIED a frontal approach, Brianne would have been prepared.
She would have fended him off with a few well-chosen words, maybe another decorator crack, and she would have been on her way to her office right now.
She hadn’t counted on this sneak offensive from behind.
Funny thing was, now that she stood so close to him, encircled in his arms and surrounded by enough muscle to bench press her several times over, Brianne didn’t feel like fending him off.
To fight against an attraction that had plagued her since high school seemed foolish. And damn it, she hadn’t spent ten years in New York’s balls-to-the-wall film industry only to run away from a little confrontation.
She’d take what she wanted from Aidan and move on. Follow the heat right into the fire of the kiss she wanted so badly and then get on with her life. Nothing like tackling your demons to excise them.
Aidan had started this sultry interlude. But she was going to finish it.
Right here, right now.
She didn’t give him a chance to retreat. Turning in his arms, she faced him in the deserted hallway, stared up into eyes she’d seen in more dreams than she could count.
But instead of allowing Aidan to come to her, as he always had in her overactive imagination, Brianne rose up on her toes to meet his lips with her own.
Consciously, she choreographed the moves as carefully as if she were behind a camera directing the action. This was not a kiss to indulge in for selfish reasons. This would be a tongue-tangle with a mission. Not only would Brianne demolish her old infatuation with Aidan, she also intended to wipe all memory of Daisy Stephenson from his mind while she was at it.
Her hands smoothed over his white T-shirt, appreciating the sculpted perfection of his body. Her fingers twined in his hair, tripped along the back of his neck.
He tasted like toothpaste and Tic Tacs—minty but warm. She anchored herself to him, savoring every inch of his hard masculine planes next to her soft, compliant curves. She couldn’t have molded to him any more perfectly had she been made of Play-Doh.
It would be a challenge to break away from the heat of his body, the seductive taste of a kiss she had been waiting ten years for. But she had no choice.
She had to walk away from him.
And then he touched her.
Perhaps she’d been so absorbed in playing out their kiss just the right way that she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t participating fully.
Until right now.
Aidan’s hands cupped both her hips, steering her exactly where she needed to be between his legs as they stood in the hallway. Brianne didn’t dare open her eyes to peek at their reflection in the swimming-pool size mirror because she had a feeling the image of them pressed together would be too erotic to bear.
But then, keeping her eyes closed proved to be an incredibly sensual experience as well. Without the distraction of her sight, Brianne seemed all the more in tune with her other senses. The slight evergreen scent of his soap mingled with the fragrance of her perfume, the heat of their bodies amplifying the normally subtle smells.
Aidan’s hands continued to hold her prisoner through pleasure. He ran his palms up her shoulders and outlined her collarbone with his fingers. The palms of his hands hovered a scant inch above her breasts, making them tingle and tighten in response.
But more intoxicating than anything else was the wet slide of his lips over hers. His tongue teased and tasted her, made her a full participant in her own seduction.
She could feel herself swaying on her heels, recognized the approach of a sensual tidal wave sure to drag her under. Still, she couldn’t take her hands off Aidan if she tried. Her fingers moved with restless energy over every available inch of him, cataloguing the shape and feel of his chest through his cotton shirt. She pressed him as close as possible to the needy greed of a body gone too long without a man.
Every ounce of her energy went toward remaining on her feet or she might have ended up sprawled across the Moroccan tile with Aidan Maddock.
Instead, a shrill rendition of a pop anthem reached their ears.
She was saved by Summer’s bad taste in music.
Brianne broke away, still reeling from the out-of-control mouth mating. Her heart slammed against her ribs as if she’d sprinted a mile. She simmered with need, her body on fire for more.
But she couldn’t let Aidan know. The man had already refused her once. She would make sure he never had that opportunity again.
It required every shred of her limited acting ability, but Brianne found her motivation in a hurry.
Aidan could never be a part of her life.
“That wasn’t too bad.” She fluffed her hair and called up a smile for Aidan’s benefit, hoping her knees wouldn’t cave right underneath her in the wake of that kiss. “Maybe all you needed was a little practice.”

4
THE KISS HAD OBVIOUSLY fried Aidan’s neurons because no way in hell could he have understood what Brianne had just said. Then again, blood blasted through his veins as if his body was fuel injected, so maybe he just couldn’t hear over the rush of red blood cells. And the warble of off-key soprano down the hall. “Run that by me again?”
Brianne cocked one hand on her hip, the hall mirror behind her reflecting the stance with an even more interesting view. Her green eyes stared him down even as her lips still trembled from their tongue tangling. “I suggested your kiss was a credible effort. But now I propose we move on to business and quit with the spin-the-bottle games. If you want my help, Aidan, you can’t try to downplay your mission with questionable charm. We both know what you’re really here for.”
Aidan took a step back, his hands raised to shoulder height to show her he meant no harm. The woman was hot as a pistol—just fired and smoking. He needed to start exercising a little caution around her or they were liable to both get burned.
He had no business kissing her or touching her. No right to prove that her tough-girl guise was all an act. He had the feeling that with another touch—maybe two—he and Brianne would find out exactly how much heat was left in their attraction to one another.
But he couldn’t afford to get wrapped up in her now. Not with his case riding on her cooperation and his residual doubts about her innocence in Mel Baxter’s shady dealings still looming.
“You think you know what I’m really here for, Brianne?” Right now, he was wondering himself. Sure, he needed to put Mel Baxter away as a matter of professional pride. Mel was swindling half of Miami by now, but Aidan still held a grudge that the guy had made off with half his grandparents’ life savings ten years ago when Mel dabbled in television evangelism.
His grandmother and grandfather had managed the monetary loss, but they’d never gotten to enjoy their retirement.
Still, Aidan didn’t have any idea if he was standing in Club Paradise right now because of them. Or because of all the Dade County bigwigs who’d lost money investing in the resort.
Aidan wondered if, deep down, he’d hightailed it over here tonight to see what it would be like to kiss twenty-eight-year-old Brianne as opposed to eighteen-year-old Brianne.
No comparison.
The woman must grow more potent with each passing year.
“I know exactly what you’re here for since you made it very plain to me yesterday.” She swiveled on one high heel and continued in the direction of her office, her shoes clicking a fast beat on the colorful corridor tiles. “You want access to the club and you want to view my videotapes. That won’t be a problem assuming you’ve brought the necessary paperwork.” She paused in her sexy strut. Turned her head in a way that sent auburn hair swishing over her shoulder. “You do have a warrant, don’t you?”
Of course she wouldn’t forget about that. Aidan had known better than to think he could roll right over Brianne Wolcott.
“About the warrant—”
She folded her arms across her chocolate-colored cat suit. The bare skin on her arms looked far softer than the expression on her face. “Forget it. No warrant, no tapes.”
Shit.
Aidan had practically begged a federal judge for the warrant in addition to presenting credible evidence for why he needed access to Brianne’s security archives. According to his informant, those cameras of hers had been running for nearly two weeks. Who knew what evidence they might have captured in that time?
But the judge was a notorious hard-ass and hadn’t been impressed. Leaving Aidan with nothing to sway Brianne other than his smooth-talking charm.
And from Brianne’s tight-lipped glare, Aidan suspected no amount of cajoling would help him in his cause tonight.
“I couldn’t get the warrant. But it’s just a damn piece of paper, Brianne. I need to be here if I’m going to find Mel.” His voice was loud enough that his words bounced around the wide hallways and tile surfaces.
“To you it’s just a piece of paper, maybe. But it’s a legal necessity to me.” Brianne’s voice whispered along the corridor, but her message was every bit as clear. “Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t have anything to do with men who circumvent the rules at every turn. I’m on the straight and narrow, and you need to be, too, if you expect me to cooperate with your investigation.”
Aidan skimmed a hand over his baseball cap-covered head, willing a good idea to pop into his brain before Brianne tossed him out on his ass. He needed to be here tonight. Call it gut instinct. Intuition.
But something told him Club Paradise held the keys to Mel Baxter’s whereabouts and Aidan’s case.
No way could he allow Brianne’s anger at him from a decade ago to overshadow his number one priority.
“If I leave the club tonight, Brianne, I can guarantee you I won’t be far away. And I won’t really be gone.” He took a step closer, ready to go toe-to-toe with her on this. He lowered his voice, unrepentant about using mild intimidation tactics on a woman who could probably teach him a few things about attitude. “Wouldn’t you rather have me in your sights so you know where I am and what I’m doing as opposed to having me in the shadows, watching you when you are unaware?”
He hadn’t meant to infuse the question with sexual overtones, but as the words left his lips the provocation was suddenly just there, not even remotely subtle.
Brianne didn’t betray a thing with her cool expression, but Aidan watched her shoulders rise and fall with the same bracing breaths he was taking to keep his hands in check.
Damn, but he wanted to touch her again.
“Surely you aren’t supposed to coerce innocent people in the course of your investigations, Agent Maddock.” In the background, the blaring pop music finally ceased. “Are you certain your superiors would approve of your approach?”
Hell no. But then again, Aidan had never advertised himself as a play-by-the-rules kind of guy. Sure, his unorthodox methods had landed him in the agency’s doghouse sometimes, but they had also accounted for a stellar track record on his cases overall.
“Maybe not. But if you don’t mention the coercion, I won’t dispute your status as an innocent person.”
Before Brianne could reply, Aidan heard the double doors of the club open out on to the corridor several yards behind him. Feminine laughter and a collection of clicking high heels approached.
“I’m a hell of a lot closer to innocent than you are,” she hissed between clenched teeth, no doubt attempting to hide their conversation from her advancing business partners.
“You must have a short memory, Bri,” he whispered back, only too pleased for the excuse to lean closer to her. “The steamy propositions you tossed my way as a wild eighteen-year-old were more inventive than any I’d heard before or since.”

BRIANNE HAD SPENT the last ten years cultivating a proficient poker face to negotiate with the heavy hitters in her male-dominated profession. But she had the feeling that—despite her best effort—her expression now was nothing short of panic-stricken.
She’d suspected Aidan would remember a few of the racier proposals she’d issued in her overeager youth. But she really, really hoped he wouldn’t remember one in particular.
A fantasy of hers—ancient, of course—involving Agent Aidan Maddock in his investigator role and Brianne in her suspect role.
Specifically, a strip search.
Cloaking any sign of her fears with an effort, Brianne recovered just as Summer, Giselle and Lainie reached them.
Summer flashed a thumbs-up as she cruised by in her rainbow-colored skirts and braids. She was a walking fashion emergency today but she still managed to look gorgeous. “I tested the club microphones in your absence, Brianne, and I’m happy to report they are working just fine.”
Giselle settled for winking at Aidan as she tapped past them too, but Lainie paused and donned her cool, face-the-public smile for his benefit.
“Agent Maddock, I trust Brianne has explained to you that all the partners behind Club Paradise are happy to extend our full cooperation to your investigation of the former ownership?” Lainie smoothed an already perfect strand of her blond hair behind one ear, her gold cuff bracelet glimmering in the lighting from an overhead chandelier.
Brianne sighed inwardly at her co-owner’s helpfulness.
Aidan responded with the full force of his charm. “Thank you, Ms. Reynolds. Brianne was just getting ready to give me a tour of the resort so I could get acclimated for making myself at home here over the next week or two.”
Had he told her he’d be here for that long?
“Excellent. Just let me know if you need anything else.” Lainie smiled with more efficiency than warmth, and it occurred to Brianne she probably hadn’t ever seen a full-fledged grin on the new CEO’s face.
One day she’d ask Summer more about Lainie’s story, but now as her partner departed down the hallway, she was too annoyed with Aidan to think about it anymore.
Aidan turned on her, his mask of polite good humor vanishing. His dark brows flattened into a fearsome slash across his forehead. “Care to tell me why you’re wasting our time arguing about whether or not I have your authorization to hang out on the premises when your partners have obviously already agreed on it?”
Unwilling to be cowed by the tough-guy act, Brianne decided the time had come for a little cold, hard honesty here.
“Has it ever occurred to you I might not want the object of an ancient and embarrassing crush glued to my side for two whole weeks?” She struggled to keep her tone even, level. Her work had taught her that women were more likely to be written off if they emoted too much. Men had the luxury of acting out when and if they so chose, but thanks to an age-old stereotype of the hysterical female, women had to pull the ice queen facade in order to make men take them seriously.
Usually, she was superb in that particular role. But oddly enough, the subject of Aidan Maddock still had the power to get her a little more riled than she cared to admit.
Aidan frowned. “You find an old crush on me embarrassing? You think I’ve gone downhill in the last ten years, Bri?”
A little exasperated sigh broke free.
After ten years of keeping her cool—even with the psycho guitar player former boyfriend—Brianne couldn’t believe Aidan was already getting under her skin.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. I don’t appreciate having to rub elbows with a guy I once threw myself at as if I were—”
“Some kind of lovelorn teenager?” he supplied.
She glared at him. “Some kind of blind and disillusioned kid.”
Aidan nodded. Placated her. “You’re right. I can see where the situation might be a little awkward for you.” Was he hiding a preening male smile underneath that pseudo-charm of his? “But now that we’ve established that I’m going to be welcomed here by the rest of the owners, why don’t we move on to a quick tour of the grounds and then I’ll make myself scarce.”

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