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Hide and Seek
Samantha Hunter


Double lives, sexy secrets! Jennie Snow, aka former Mafia princess Maria Castone, lives a secret life. In exchange for her testimony, the witness protection programme gave her a new identity – and a new job as part of crack computer team The Hot Wires. Green-eyed cop Nathan Reilly is young, arrogant and head-over-heels for Jennie. But his hot pursuit of her is sharply derailed when Internal Affairs orders him to make her the subject of a top secret investigation.Now it’s up to Nathan to uncover the truth – but will what he finds be enough to suppress his powerful desire for Jennie?







“Undress me, Jennie.”

“With pleasure.”

The two simple words rocked Nathan to the core: he could get off on her voice alone, he thought. The fire between them was daunting.

Somehow she managed to undo all the buttons on his shirt while he kissed her deeply, his hands everywhere. He couldn’t stay away from her as she peeled his clothes off and shed the rest of hers.

Within moments they were both completely bare. She was even lovelier than he’d imagined. Curved and full, she was beautifully formed, her skin a satin olive tone that bespoke her Italian heritage. Maria indeed. The dusky aureoles of her nipples accentuated perfectly rounded breasts with velvet brown tips that would be heaven to taste.

“You’re amazing,” Jennie said as she stepped forwards, pressing against his painfully hard shaft.

“I was just thinking the same about you,” he whispered. Emotion swamped him.

The mood had shifted, and she looked at him, open and vulnerable. Conflict suddenly twisted with passion in Nathan’s gut – how could he make love to the woman he was secretly investigating?


SAMANTHA HUNTER

lives in Syracuse, New York, where she enjoys the luxury of writing full-time. When she’s not writing, Sam likes to work in her garden, quilt, cook, read and spend time with her husband and their dogs.



Dear Reader,

Who doesn’t have a few secrets of their own, right? But most of us don’t have secrets like the ones Jennie Snow and Nathan Reilly are keeping. She’s a former Mafia princess turned cop; he’s investigating her on the sly, all the while fighting his attraction to her.

I knew when Jennie Snow popped up on the pages of my last HOTWIRES book, Flirtation, that she had to have her own story. Jennie needed a hero with a nature as passionate as hers, as well as someone brave enough to help her face her past and her future. Good thing Nathan Reilly showed up. This book explores some of my favourite themes – family, deception and dealing with the past. And, as Jennie discovers, we’re all fortunate when we find someone to stand by our side when we face difficult moments.

Stop by my website www.samanthahunter.com, or drop me a note to find out what’s coming next.

Happy reading,

Samantha Hunter




HIDE & SEEK


BY

SAMANTHA HUNTER




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


For Milene, Jane and Vivian.

“The bird a nest, the spider a web,

[wo]man friendship.”

—William Blake


1

JENNIE SNOW GRIMACED over the top of her laptop screen, trying to focus on the work in front of her but failing miserably. Nathan Reilly was to blame. He stood outside the windows of the climate-controlled HotWires offices, deep in conversation with a detective. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

Though it was uncomfortably cool in the office—the computer crime labs were kept at low temps to protect the machinery that populated the room—she became uncomfortably warm every time she glanced in Nathan’s direction. He was hard to ignore.

Nathan wasn’t overly tall or burly like so many of the men she’d grown up with—he had a nice, solid build and was just the right height to meet her eyes when they shared a level glance. If she were held against him, all of their important parts would mesh perfectly. And meshing with Nathan was becoming more of a possibility, though she’d been struggling hard to deny it.

He’d been seducing her for the past three months with his sexy glances and clever conversation. Not to mention the flowers he kept sending her. They were never the same type of flower. Nathan always managed to surprise her. However, the accompanying card always asked the same question: “When?”

She’d put him off for as many good reasons as she could think of. First off, he was five years younger than she was: twenty-eight to her thirty-three. Plus, he was relatively new to the job, having only been with HotWires for under a year, and he was busy building his career.

Lastly, Jennie never formed close romantic ties with any of the men she’d known, and there’d been a few over the years. She wasn’t a nun. Still, she couldn’t allow herself to become involved in anything more serious than a casual relationship. For a multitude of reasons. Though Nathan was getting more and more difficult to resist.

She pulled absently at the soft cashmere neckline of her sweater and heard a distinctly female chuckle come from the desk to the left of hers. The chuckle was sarcastic as hell, and Jennie knew she’d been caught in the act of lusting openly.

Sarah Jessup-Sullivan, one of the original members chosen to join the prestigious computer crime unit, followed Jennie’s gaze with a mischievous, knowing look, and laughed again.

“You’ve got it soooo bad for that man. He’s hot stuff. Admit it.”

“I’ll admit no such thing. You just go for Irish guys.”

Sarah sat back, crossing arms over her stomach, which was back to being washboard flat even though she’d just given birth not quite two months before.

“Only one, thank you very much. Actually, before Logan, I was much more attracted to the macho Latin type, Italians, Hispanics. I’d never dated an Irish guy, though there are plenty of them in the city. Logan was my first.”

“And the last. The only.”

“Yeah.”

Jennie smiled at the soft look that warmed Sarah’s face as she spoke of her husband and baby. Sarah wasn’t an overly sentimental woman by nature, but marriage, and then motherhood, had smoothed her rough edges without making her any less formidable. Sarah was one of the toughest cops Jennie had ever met, yet she somehow managed to preserve her hard-ass image in the department even when she showed up wheeling a stroller and carrying a diaper bag.

They were the only two female members of the unit. The HotWires—a nickname reflecting the group’s high-tech specialties—had been around for almost seven years. It had been started by Ian Chandler, who was still the head honcho of the group. He’d hired them all. Not only was the unit expanding locally, there was also growing demand for similar units across the country. Ian had his hands full, but stayed in the thick of it even as his job involved more and more administrative duties.

And while Jennie enjoyed close friendships with her male colleagues, it was nice to have a female friend around, even if Sarah was frequently gone on assignment. Jennie didn’t work out in the field very much; she’d had the training, but her expertise in mapping crime was more useful in the background of the action. If Sarah was Batgirl, Jennie was more like Alfred.

Having Sarah back was great. Jennie knew that while Sarah loved her baby, Caleb, she was thrilled to be back in the saddle again, too.

“It’s great that Logan has the time to spend with Caleb so you could come back to work so soon.”

“I know—his shop is doing well, and he loves being Mr. Mom.”

“He’s so devoted to you both, you’re lucky. Don’t you miss being home, though, just a little?”

Sarah appeared thoughtful for a moment, and shook her head resolutely. “I went crazy for the two months I was home. I love them both to bits, but I felt like I would crawl out of my skin if I couldn’t get out of the house. Logan is much more of a homebody.”

“It works then. And he’s not upset about the risks you have to take in this job?”

“Sure, it still comes up now and then. But he knows I wouldn’t be happy doing anything else.”

“Quite the man you found.”

“You said it. I love him, and I love that he can understand how much I love my work, too. Not all women are so fortunate.”

Jennie nodded, not entirely sure she completely understood, but pleased for Sarah anyway. Jennie loved her work, too, but that was because it was all she had. Marriage and family were out of the question for her. If she had what Sarah had, she might quit and contentedly stay home, baking cookies and taking walks in the park…enjoying her children and making a home for her family.

She sighed, and pushed that fantasy aside. Right now, she should be concentrating on bringing Sarah up to speed on current cases.

Sarah, whose sharp observation skills missed little, caught her ogling Nathan again.

“That poor guy has been after you nonstop for months. When are you going to give him a break?”

Jennie grinned, knowing her answer was going to set Sarah back a few feet.

“Friday night.”

Yup, she thought with satisfaction, as Sarah leaned in, her hand grasping Jennie’s forearm.

“Are you kidding me? You two are finally going out on a date?”

“It’s just dinner.”

Jennie couldn’t help smiling, though she remained conflicted about going out with Nathan. On one hand, she had a very good list of reasons why this shouldn’t happen. However there were two very influential items that undermined all those good reasons: one, she liked him; two, she was lonely.

Jennie was used to attracting a certain amount of male attention. Sometimes she even enjoyed it. She had the normal urges that healthy women had, and she liked to work them off with a good-looking guy from time to time. And Nathan certainly fit that bill. But maybe she’d made a big mistake accepting his invitation to dinner.

She might be fooling herself that she could keep this under control. She enjoyed having a nice no-strings-attached relationship with a man occasionally. But she’d just celebrated her thirty-third birthday—alone. The years were slipping by, and what did she have to show for them except her work? Her work was challenging, and it helped her deal with her past and feel as if she was making a difference in the world. All the same it didn’t keep her warm at night, that’s for sure.

She considered another good reason to cancel the date—the problems a romantic entanglement could create in the office. She’d already had an affair with one of her colleagues, though that had been over for years. E. J. Beaumont was now a happily married man. Jennie was good friends with his wife, Charlotte, and was godmother to their second child, Annie. A relationship with Nathan would be hard to keep under wraps in such a small unit, and Jennie didn’t want to start being known as the office good-time girl. In a police station, where women were so outnumbered, it was important to keep your professional image intact.

Nonetheless, Nathan was just too good to resist; and in truth, his pursuit of her, the flowers—and the seductive glances those amazing gray-green eyes cast in her direction when she was least expecting them—had finally crumbled the fortress she’d built around herself. There were several ways to access a system, Sarah always said. You could take a subtle and stealthy approach; you could wage an all-out attack, or you could convince the system or the people who ran it to give you what you wanted.

The last option, social engineering was Nathan’s specialty.

With dual degrees in psychology and criminal science, he could have had his choice of any number of good jobs within regular law enforcement. He’d done his doctoral thesis on how computer hackers exploited the human element of technology, using human habit, weakness and error to get what they wanted. Hackers took advantage of one human trait in particular: the tendency to trust others. People were inherently trusting; they wrote down their computer passwords because they never really thought anyone would look through their desk or their e-mails. They left the systems open thinking no one would take advantage. They gave the waiter their credit card at lunch thinking the young man or woman would never steal the number when they were out of sight.

Nathan had provided a simple example at a recent seminar. A hacker comes to a reception desk, knowing the name of several people in your office, their office numbers and even things like the fact that someone just had a baby. He or she says they’ve come to deliver a baby gift, and asks to come by, just to drop off the present. Chances are, you agree. People want to help; they want to trust.

And that simple fact put hackers one step closer to getting what they needed. Once they were in, they could take it to the next step and find their way into company computers, networks. It happened every day.

Jennie wondered if this was what Nathan was doing to her—wearing down her resistance, charming her with his flirting, getting by her barriers because he’d somehow convinced her to let him in. He’d never pressured too much, but he’d never really stayed out of sight for long, either. Of course, she thought of him when she woke up and saw the latest flower arrangement on the dresser. He engaged her in conversation that had no romantic slant whatsoever, but his eyes sent a whole different message. He pursued her and yet waited for her to decide to come to him.

The difference was, she knew it, and she knew herself well enough to be sure she wouldn’t give him anything more than she wanted to. She was a mature, experienced woman, after all. Right? But that’s what scared her, a little. She’d been alone for a long time, and that loneliness made her vulnerable. Was she only seeing what she wanted to see, or worse, what he wanted her to see?

She shook her head to clear the cobwebs of her thoughts. Hacker talk. Most things in this office came down to hacking, even love. They had to be careful, or they’d be paranoid about everything, and she already had too much of that in her life. She glanced at the poster over Sarah’s desk: F.U.D. Fear. Uncertainty. Doubt. It was a hacker mantra, but it also was a real part of Jennie’s life. Maybe she’d let too much FUD in over the years.

“So where are you going?”

“Huh?” She’d been caught zoning out again, and felt the color creep up into her cheeks.

“Dinner. Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I told him to keep it casual.”

“My first date with Logan wasn’t a date, either. It was casual, too.”

Jennie rolled her eyes and laughed. “Stop distracting me, please? Let’s get back to work.”

Sarah’s brow creased in consternation. “Yeah, right. I don’t think I’m the distraction. But, yeah, okay, back to work, if you can take your eyes off of your Irish loverboy.”

Although Jennie enjoyed the banter, she felt the familiar tug of sadness that never quite went away. She wished, especially in moments when she felt close to someone, as she did with Sarah, that she could tell them the truth about herself.

Sarah had no way of knowing that Jennie’s entire life was a lie—her name wasn’t even Jennie Snow. Didn’t anyone ever notice how strange it was that an obviously full-blooded Italian women had such a WASPy name? But few people ever questioned it.

For those who had noticed over the years, she’d repeated the story she’d been given by the Witness Relocation Program—she’d been adopted. She was an only child, both parents dead. That much usually stopped people from inquiring further out of respect for privacy.

Jennie didn’t think about it much, but there’d been a time in her life when all she wanted was to meet a nice guy, have a solid job and have a bunch of beautiful babies. Though she’d gone to college and wanted to have a career, she’d always imagined she would eventually have a full family life.

Until she’d discovered the travesty that was her own family—at sixteen she’d wandered into the small, fenced backyard of their city home to check on some abandoned kittens she’d brought home, only to find several of her male relatives beating some poor man half to death because he’d owed them money, and he wouldn’t—couldn’t—pay. So they’d seen to it that he’d paid in broken bones and bruises—a message he could take with him for the next time he borrowed more than he was good for.

Her rosy view of life, the idyllic vision of her supposedly close Catholic family, had been shattered. She had never revealed what she’d witnessed, but she’d started noticing all the little things she never had before that night. Her dad, her uncles, her cousins…all belonged to the mob. Everything she’d grown up believing in was a sham.

She’d spent several painful years trying to live with her secret, allowing her parents to assume she remained clueless about the family’s ties to the mob, even as she’d watched her two brothers be slowly subsumed into “the life.” All she’d wanted to do was get out, get away and forget it all, starting her own life over somewhere else. And she had.

During finals of her junior year in college, she’d gotten word that both her father and her youngest brother, Gino—a gentle, sweet soul who hadn’t really belonged in that life—had been killed in a gangland slaying orchestrated by her Uncle Bruno, her father’s own brother. Jennie had vowed to do what she could. She’d gone to the FBI, and she’d offered them every bit of information she could in hopes Bruno would be punished for his crimes. In the end, all he’d ended up serving was seven years, and then he’d been paroled for “good” behavior. What a joke.

Jennie had entered the Relocation Program, where she’d changed her appearance, her life and her name. While they’d wanted to shuffle her off to the Midwest, she’d insisted on staying on the Eastern Seaboard, working for the government as a computer cartographer—a Graphic Information Systems specialist—who mapped organized crime activity. She believed wholeheartedly that her uncle would never look for her right under his nose. For some reason, all the guys thought everyone in Witness Protection headed to the heartland.

Here, she could also keep better tabs on them. She could devote her life to helping the authorities stop their activities for good. And that’s what her life was about—and at least she had a life, though it wasn’t perfect. But whose was? She saw people every day who had worse lives than she did, so she wasn’t about to complain.

Her thoughts wandered back to Nathan. How could she ever marry, or have children, knowing that it would all be a lie? How could she ever endanger their lives with her secrets?

Temporary affairs and light engagements—a man in her bed, but not in her life—was all she could look forward to. It had to be enough.

Sarah had no idea, and Jennie knew it made it difficult for her female friends to understand why she cut herself off from love and family. She let them think what they wanted. EJ and Ian were the only other people who knew, or who would ever know. They kept her secret safe. Sometimes it was a relief having someone who knew the truth, someone who could understand, even though she never discussed it.

She’d been living this kind of life for over a decade. Lately, she’d been yearning for more in a relationship. Between sex-only flings and marriage, there were all kinds of degrees of intimacy. She hoped she might find something in the middle with Nathan.

NATHAN STRODE OVER to his desk, sliding the laptop bag from his shoulder and onto the chair, then perused his appointment book and the stack of new files on his desk screaming for his attention. He’d let Jennie presume he hadn’t noticed her watching—but every covert brush of her gaze had touched him through the windows that separated them. Still, he couldn’t look her in the eye—not yet.

He turned his attention to a seminar he was giving later that week on protecting personal security information—it was astounding how many corporate breaches came down to someone being careless with a password. It was difficult, because part of his work was teaching people to be suspicious, to be conscious of how people might be manipulating them. For the HotWires, he functioned as a kind of “profiler” for techno-crimes.

On top of that, he had no fewer than two critical meetings today. The morning had completely gotten out of control, the new assignment that had just landed on his shoulders throwing him for a loop. After the unexpected meeting that had waylaid him on his way into the building, he hadn’t even known if he could show up at the office and act normally. But Internal Affairs insisted that he needed to keep a regular schedule, not arouse any suspicion. Nathan had to put the skills he studied in others—in criminals—into practice, and lie to everyone around him. It didn’t come naturally.

He was still processing what they’d told him, and he didn’t want Jennie to figure out that anything was wrong. She’d catch on, though, if he didn’t go say something. He never just walked by her, as he did this morning. He was acting out of character already, and he had to get a grip.

He went over to her, hoping he looked casual—normal—but the way his skin prickled and his body hardened just seeing how the soft waves of her dark brown hair rested on her slim shoulders told him he was in trouble. He valued his sense of cool—hard-won in a family filled with quick Irish tempers, but he felt anything but cool right now. One of his grandmother’s favorite sayings came to mind: If you dig a grave for others, you may fall in it yourself.

“Thanks a bunch, Nanna,” Nathan muttered under his breath.

He saw Sarah get up, grabbing a sheaf of papers from her desk before she walked over to him, glancing back at Jennie to see if she was looking. As she came closer, she swatted him hard with the rolled-up papers.

“What the heck are you doing, Junior Mint?”

Sarah was bestowing her best glare upon him, but he stood his ground, used to dealing with his four temperamental sisters. Sarah was a total ballbuster on a good day; when she was after you, look out. Usually Nathan was able to give as good as he got, and he knew that had earned him a measure of respect in Sarah’s eyes.

“Motherhood is obviously softening your temperament, Sarah.”

“Why did you just blow her off like that?”

“I didn’t blow anyone off, Lady Amazon,” he used the nickname which Sarah sometimes found charming, and sometimes she didn’t—this was one of the times she apparently didn’t. He sighed, planting his hands on his hips. “Besides, what do you know about me and Jen?”

The look she pinned him with clearly said idiot.

He grinned, pleased that apparently Jennie had been talking about him—it was the only way Sarah could know that he’d finally convinced Jennie to go out with him. He certainly hadn’t made an issue of his feelings within the workplace—at least, he prayed he hadn’t.

“I know enough.”

“Listen, I had a tough morning and I’m just getting myself together. It’s nothing to do with Jen. Give a guy a break, will ya?”

Sarah’s sharp blue eyes narrowed as if she was dissecting his every thought to see if he was being truthful. And of course, he wasn’t. But he wasn’t the only one in the office living a lie, either, was he? Everything had become such a frickin’ mess so quickly, but he had to get a handle on things, and fast. He didn’t manage to do that quickly enough, because Sarah seemed to pick up on his stress, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

He shrugged, piling on another lie. “Just some things at home. It’s okay, but it took some of my time this morning.”

“Family’s important, Nathan—if something’s wrong, you can ask Ian for a few days off. He’s great about that. Besides, there’s nothing major going on around here at the moment.”

If she only knew.

Hell, if Sarah knew what he was up to, she’d remove all of his limbs slowly and painfully, and then she’d reassemble them in different places. But he had to get her to back off. He shook his head, pretending to check over a memo left on his desk.

“I don’t need time off, I’m just a little frazzled about being late. But everything’s fine.” He took a step closer to Sarah, making quick eye contact, and whispered, “To tell you the truth, though, I’m a little nervous.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows, and she stepped forward, looking him squarely in the face.

“About what?”

Her voice had lowered to a whisper to match his, a common and reflexive phenomenon that happened between people to increase the building of rapport. When you wanted to draw someone closer, you lowered your voice. When you wanted them to give you their full attention, or to be more comfortable with you, matching their tone was the most effective way to accomplish it. Voice and tone were incredibly powerful tools when you knew how to use them, as so many hackers did when they were chatting someone up to get information they needed.

He shrugged, sliding a furtive look in Jennie’s direction. “Friday night. We have a date. I don’t want to give her a shot at canceling.”

Actually he was the one thinking of canceling; he’d thought about it all the way upstairs to the office. He’d rehearsed in his mind what he would say, and how he would say it. But in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to break his date with Jennie.

Sarah shot him a skeptical look, and Nathan knew he’d been made. “Don’t try your little con-artist tricks with me, Reilly.” She poked him in the chest, hard, for emphasis.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and…ow.”

“Just stop playing games and go say good-morning. The woman hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you got here. It’s making me nuts how you two are dancing around this—just get it over with already, will ya?”

Sarah turned and strode off, and he wondered exactly what she and Jennie had said to each other. As he approached Jennie, her scent washed over him. He was so damned attracted to her.

He’d been on cloud nine about that fact until this morning. What he had learned today should have put him off completely, dampened his desire for her—something—but it hadn’t. He wanted her. Bad.

She had presence and a womanly sensuality that the twenty-something women he’d dated up to this point lacked. He hadn’t so much as asked another woman out since he’d set his sights on Jennie, so his long-denied libido was arguing aggressively with his common sense.

He idled down to stand beside where she sat, leaning back against her desk and tilting a little sideways to get her to look at him. It was their morning ritual. A dance of sorts, as Sarah had described it.

His mom had always said that he seemed to like things more when they weren’t easy. Probably his stubborn nature, which Ma always blamed on his father. Of course, his ma was twice as stubborn as any of them, though she’d never admit it.

He reached out, pushing a silky curl back behind Jennie’s ear. Her breath hitched a little—she wasn’t immune to him—and he smiled.

“Hey, gorgeous. Thirty-two hours and counting.”

“Morning, Nathan.”

He loved the way she said his name, even when she was trying to sound completely unimpressed. If Sarah hadn’t told him otherwise, she could have pulled it off.

He watched her closely, taking in her full sensuous lips, her flawless olive skin and those eyes…he would talk nonsense with her all day just to watch her expressions change, to study how her mouth moved. For a split second, he imagined her full lips moving under his and sucked in a breath.

“Thank you for the dahlias, they’re gorgeous, though I have no idea where you managed to find dahlias at this time of year. It must have cost a fortune.”

“Well worth it.”

“What, just to have dinner with me?” Her tone was one of disbelief.

“No just about that.”

She sat back in her chair, watching him with a curious gaze. “Nathan, why are you so intent on dating me? You’re a handsome young guy. You must have girls falling at your feet.”

“But not the one I want. Not yet.”

She laughed, and he ignored the emphasis she placed on young—he might be a few years younger, but he was more than up to the task of making Jennie Snow feel like the woman she was. To him, the age difference meant nothing. When he was fifty, she’d be fifty-five—so what? Wouldn’t matter then, didn’t matter now.

As if she could read his thoughts, her expression became more serious. “Nathan, you know this is just dinner, right?”

Glancing around to ensure no one was listening, he leaned forward. He took her hand and pulled it up to his mouth, where he feathered a kiss over her knuckles, a move that sent fire scorching down into his gut, and beyond.

“Let’s just see what happens, Jen. We’re attracted to each other. You know it. I know it.” He held her gaze, returning her hand with a smile, and saw a slight one of her own form. She couldn’t deny the attraction that was between them. She didn’t say another word.

He loved what she did to him. How just touching her had wiped his mind clear of everything but the need for her.

All the same there was no way for him to ignore what he had just been informed of—Jennie Snow was not Jennie Snow at all, but former Mafia princess Maria Castone. There was also a chance she was a Mafia mole planted in their department, a spy.

“Nathan, what’s wrong?”

He swore silently to himself for allowing his troubled thoughts to show. It could be dangerous for both of them.

“Nothing at all. I guess I’d better get to work before Ian has my ass for getting a late start.”

She continued to look at him with that perceptive gaze—the woman could see too deeply; he’d have to be careful. As much as the assignment to investigate Jennie sucked, he didn’t want to blow it. With any luck, he had the opportunity to prove her innocence, and he hoped to hell that she was innocent.

He didn’t care about her past, who she was. But if she was a mole, if she was passing information back to her family, then they both had a serious problem. Because in spite of everything they’d told him, and everything he knew, it didn’t stop him from wanting her.


2

“SO DO YOU KNOW anything new about the puttana?” Bruno Castone stuffed his face with his favorite rigatoni and sausage, then chewed slowly, intently. He looked over expectantly at his nephew, Tony, who winced—just slightly—at Bruno’s use of the slur in reference to his sister. It didn’t escape Bruno’s notice.

“What? You have a problem with my language? She’s not your sister anymore, she gave that up when she ran to the feds, turned against us.”

“She might’ve been pinched. We don’t know she went willingly, Uncle.”

“There’s no other way to go. She could have come to me, come to us, but instead I ended up a guest of the state thanks to her. She took seven years of my life.” He cleared his palate with a glass of Chianti, and set his fork down on the table a little too hard, repeating his question. “So, do we know? Did you find her?”

“Not exactly, though we have a plan. They’ve got her hidden somewhere, deep. We’ve leaked some information to see if we can flush her out.”

Bruno’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of information? How come you didn’t clear this with me, first?”

Tony shook his head, his tone reassuring. “Misinformation, I should’ve said, Uncle. Don’t worry so much. I thought that if we ‘accidentally’ leaked that we were getting information from inside their program—from someone who was only pretending to be a witness—they might lead us to her. We have our inside guy whisper in a few ears, and he’ll see what they do with the information. If they think she’s been reporting back to us all this time, they’ll contact her and, bingo, we find her.”

Bruno was silent for a long moment, then smiled widely, satisfied by the news and the pasta. “You’re a smart guy, Tony. I always said that’s what we need nowadays, guys who have smarts, more than your father and I had. We had to live by wits and fists. You stay on this, and tell me the second anything changes. Paul G. is on my ass, and I don’t need one more problem.”

“Paul making any moves on us?”

“He’s always hemming me in, questioning my every decision, especially since I got out. It’s been six years, and he still keeps on me about every little thing.”

“Because he never okayed the…hit.”

Bruno frowned; his nephew never could talk about the hit on his father and his brother. For a while Bruno had considered taking Tony out, as well, as an added precaution. He was glad he hadn’t. Over the years the kid had proven to be an asset, apparently preferring to stay alive over revenge. Smart, like he said.

“Paul’s the big boss. I just don’t need any more heat from him if any of this goes south. It’s your neck on this one.”

“You got it.”

As Tony turned to leave, Bruno almost stopped him again. Something in his gut bugged him. Maybe it was that small sign of doubt that Tony still was sympathetic to his snitch sister’s plight. Or maybe he was imagining things. They were in a touchy business. For now, he’d trust Tony. He picked up his fork, stabbing the pasta ferociously, imagining what he planned to say to his niece before he killed her.

JENNIE HATED THIS. She wasn’t the type to fuss over what she was wearing, but she’d just spent an hour and a half trying on every pair of jeans she owned and nothing felt right. This date with Nathan was driving her nuts. She never should have agreed to it. Too late now. He would be here in twenty minutes, and she had no idea what they were doing, or what to wear. She went through her closet one more time.

It was late October, Halloween was only a few days away. The evenings were cool but the colors were still warm; the foliage was close to its peak, reds, yellows and oranges creating the colorful burst before the grays and whites of winter blanketed the city.

This was always one of her favorite times, even more so than Christmas or Fourth of July. She loved the sweetness of the cusp of the seasons, the bounty of the harvest, the crisp smell of the air. When she was a child, she’d play in huge piles of leaves that she and her brothers would rake next to a hill that sloped down the western side of their home, and when it was big enough, they’d run and jump from the top, landing in a cushion of musty-smelling leaves, delighted. That seemed like another lifetime. Had she really ever had those experiences, or had she just dreamed them?

Shaking off the memories, swallowing the knot in her throat, she grabbed a wool skirt the color of ripe apricots and tugged a white chenille, V-neck sweater over her head. There. She wasn’t going to change again, or even look in the mirror, for that matter. She was comfortable, and she’d go with that.

No sooner had she applied her lipstick than the bell rang. She was annoyed at how nervous she was. Her pulse picked up as she approached the door.

Well, maybe she had a right to a few nerves. She was a confident woman, but it wasn’t every day that some younger, handsome man was showing up at her door. A man who looked at her with such wicked intentions that she felt like a girl again. She took a deep breath. This was stupid. It was only Nathan, for God’s sake.

When she opened the door, her nerves plus a thousand screaming hormones went on alert causing her to go mute. Decked out in dark-gray wool pants and a blue silk shirt, polished from head to toe, Nathan was flat-out gorgeous.

“Maddon’.” She lifted her hands to her lips, unsure if she had whispered the familiar Italian epithet or thought it. But, no, she had spoken. Words tumbled from her lips, and they weren’t the ideal words she would have chosen, but the brain-mouth connection had obviously broken down completely.

“You’re all dressed up. You look amazing. I’m way underdressed. I thought we said we’d do something casual.”

“This is casual, and you look amazing, too.” He took a step forward, his gaze moving over her so intently she forgot to step back and suddenly they were closer than they’d ever been. She wondered if they’d make it out of the apartment.

“Let me just change this sweater.”

She started to turn, feeling like an idiot for needing to escape. Then suddenly she found her hand captured by Nathan’s. The next thing she knew, he’d tugged her back against him, so they stood fully flush against each other, her back to his front. She thought she’d stopped breathing, except that she was surrounded by his scent, and he smelled fabulous.

His cheek brushed her hair, and his mouth was by her ear. “You don’t need to change. You’re beautiful.” His lips graced her earlobe and she thought her knees were going to buckle. “You’re perfect, Jen.”

Although she could hardly think, the one thought that surfaced was that she wished it had been her real name that fell from Nathan’s sexy lips. Maria, not Jen.

She pulled away, simultaneously aching and panicked at the thought. She could never afford to think that way. Jen was her real name. There was no other. Why was her mind torturing her this way, tonight of all nights? She felt oversensitized as if every nerve ending were exposed. She didn’t understand why he had such a strong effect on her. It wasn’t as if she were some quivering virgin. It wasn’t as if he were the first man to touch her, or look at her that way. Yet he felt like the first one—suddenly she couldn’t remember any of the others—and that set off danger signals deep inside. She laughed nervously, pushing her hand through her hair.

“You move fast, I’ll give you that.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking abashed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. You do look perfect. I wanted you to know I meant it. You always look great. Tonight you’re glowing.”

He smiled and was transformed from charming to devastating. Was this really Nathan from the office, whom she’d resisted for so long?

He wanted her to believe that he thought she was beautiful? Hell, she felt like the cherry on top of a sundae when Nathan looked at her. Ripe, delicious and as if he was about to pop her into his mouth, whole.

Heat traveled up into her face at the image, and she tried to think of something to say.

“You may want a coat, though. We’ll be on the water, and the air could be chilly.”

“Okay. I’ll just be a minute, then.” She excused herself so that she could get a coat, though she was feeling so warm she wasn’t sure she’d really need it. For the first time in years, she said a short prayer as put on her coat, asking that she could get through this evening without making an idiot of herself any more than she probably already had.

She walked back into the hall, stopping short, startled to find Nathan wasn’t there. She heard movement in the other room, what sounded like a drawer opening and shutting, and headed in that direction—what was he up to?

She found him rearranging some flower vases by the window over her desk, and studied him for a moment before querying.

“What are you doing?” Her tone was sharper than she intended. She didn’t say anything else, waiting for his response. He turned, smiling in an embarrassed manner at being caught—caught at what, though?

“Sorry, Jen. I noticed you had these on the table in the hallway. They don’t get enough light there, so I just moved them near the window. The blossoms will last longer that way.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t quite sure what else to say, flustered by her first, defensive instinct at anyone touching her things, rummaging around her apartment. It was only Nathan. Still, she thought she’d heard a drawer opening. It must have been him moving the flowers.

She was so rattled, she couldn’t be sure what she was hearing. She’d lived a careful life, protecting her privacy for so long, that she didn’t know if she could ever trust anyone completely. That well-worn reasoning, however, didn’t stop her from feeling ridiculous.

“Are you ready? We have reservations for seven.”

She nodded, turning to the door first, though every gut instinct she had told her to wait until he walked out in front of her—why was she being so antsy? She tried to shake it off again, brightening her voice. She was going out with a handsome, younger man for a night on the town. She was just nervous about it, and that was all. She needed to relax.

“On the water? Where are we going?”

“I chartered a private dinner boat—we’ll have a four-hour cruise around the Bay. Dinner is provided, we just have to sit back and get to know each other a little better, I hope.”

“Ian must be paying you better than the rest of us.”

He just laughed, and didn’t elaborate. She was touched that Nathan was going all out to impress her—he was really pulling out the stops. Whatever he hoped could come of this probably wasn’t going to happen.

It was the probably that bothered her—making room for doubt—not so long ago it would have been definitely.

He knew how to get under her skin, though it wasn’t an entirely uncomfortable feeling. He stopped on the sidewalk halfway to the car, turning her to him, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders.

“Listen, we’re just going to have a nice time. No expectations, so relax. I just wanted to do something special for you.”

“You do things all the time, the flowers, now this…”

“I do it because I want to, not because I’m trying to pressure you. There is no pressure, okay?”

She felt the knot in her chest loosen a little, and she smiled up at him; his irises were dark in the dusky light of the evening. He stepped a little closer, and she swallowed, feeling her breath come a little faster. Her tongue darted out to moisten dried lips, and he groaned a little.

“I know it’s more traditional for the kiss to happen at the end of the date. Let’s just get that particular pressure out of the way now, you think?”

She found herself nodding, not entirely of her own volition, though she didn’t have much time to think about it. His mouth met hers. It was a gentle first kiss, an introduction, a question and a promise of what might come later. It startled her to realize, when he pulled back, that she wanted more.

Much more.

Damn.

He smiled and took her hand, though she could see the pulse at the base of his throat beating faster than before. Smiling in spite of herself, she followed him quietly to the car.

“SO YOU HAVE FOUR SISTERS?”

Nathan lifted his glass of Chardonnay as if inspecting the color, looking over the top of the crystal at Jennie’s features, warmed by the candle lantern on the table between them and relaxed by a good dinner and several glasses of wine. How did she get even more lovely every time he looked at her? The little voice in the back of his head had been sending warnings every ten seconds that he was walking on thin ice pursuing this woman whom he was also investigating. He took another sip from his glass, washing them away.

She was very likely innocent—he’d never seen a single thing in the time he’d worked with the HotWires indicating Jennie was a mole. On top of that, Ian Chandler and E. J. Beaumont were no one’s fools. Unless they knew, the voice chided. Was he being naive? He wrenched his mind back to her question.

“I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.” He set his glass down, unable to take his eyes off her. “Yes, four. Mary, Kathryn, Shelly and Gwen, in that order. I’m the only boy, and the youngest.”

She laughed then, her face lighting up. “You poor guy. They must have had such fun with you. Did you find yourself being the victim of dress-up parties at a young age? You must have been like a little doll to them.”

He shook his head, grinning. “I learned early on how to defend myself from all that. Dad helped. Said he wouldn’t have his only son growing up girlie. Of course, he made sure his daughters could hold their own, so he wasn’t a complete sexist.”

“So you’re the baby. Your parents kept trying for a son?”

“No, they were just really Catholic. No birth control and the like. Mom actually had a few miscarriages in between each of us, which accounts for the intervals in our ages, but I was her last, at forty-two. When I get on her nerves, she tells me they played with the idea of naming me, ‘Enough.’”

As he laughed with her at the joke, he studied her carefully, as well. The family life he’d grown up in shouldn’t be completely unfamiliar to her—or to Maria Castone, anyway. She’d also been raised in a Catholic Boston family that adhered to traditional values, when it came to religion and reproductive traditions, in any case. It was a subtle form of fishing, a way to find out what was going on under the surface. She didn’t bite, however.

She didn’t even blink, showing no sign of connecting with what he was saying. She was very good at keeping it all hidden, then again, she’d had lots of practice. The warning voice started humming again, and he shut it off.

“You don’t often see large families like that anymore.”

“People can’t afford them, not that we could, either. It was a stretch a lot of the time, but there was plenty of love to make up for what we didn’t have.”

“That’s nice.”

“How about you? Sisters or brothers?”

He thought he saw something flicker briefly in her eyes but then it disappeared—whatever it was, it was sad.

“No, I was adopted. An only child of older parents. They’ve passed on now.”

“So you’re all alone?”

When she shrugged, he saw the tightening of her facial muscles, the way she averted her gaze. Whatever the truth was about why she was here, and what she was up to, she wasn’t thrilled with this topic of conversation. The pain of the secrets she carried inside, no matter what they were, created a flicker of hope that she wasn’t the criminal they were making her out to be.

If she had been separated from her family for all this time, completely cut off through the protection program, he couldn’t help aching for her.

He didn’t know if he could live the way Jennie had had to live. He wished he could say something, tell her he sympathized. He couldn’t. Not yet anyhow.

Her tone was neutral, though, when she replied. Practiced, like a speech she’d delivered many times before. “No, I’m only alone when I want to be. Family is not the only way to fill your life.”

“That’s true, I suppose.”

“You know, I never did ask, but what did you do before you came to the HotWires unit? I know you have psychology and criminology degrees, right? How’d you end up working in a tech unit? Why aren’t you out there doing all that profiler work we see on TV shows?”

He paused, unsure whether he should go along with her blatant change of the subject, taking the focus off of herself. But this was a date, not an interrogation. He frowned, hating how business was interfering with what should have purely been pleasure. He shoved thoughts about the investigation aside and went along with her.

“Well, you know I grew up in Boston, and that I’m Irish.” He added the last with a smile and an affected brogue he’d picked up from his grandfather, who had been determined to give up neither his native language nor his accent even though he’d lived in America twice as long as he’d lived in Ireland. Grandad used to joke that the accent got him laid twice as often as his American friends without one, and Nathan could confirm that he’d used it in college with similar results.

“I went to college there, no need to move out of the house and spend more money when you have some of the best schools in the country outside your back door. Not to mention the best ballpark in the world.”

Jennie arched an eyebrow, but she had a sparkle in her eye that charmed him. “You love Boston?”

Was the sparkle because she’d grown up in their beloved city, as well?

“With all my heart. Miss it, so I try to get back often enough. Have you ever been?” He asked the question with a slight sinking feeling—so much for leaving the investigation behind. And the question dulled the sparkle she’d had.

“No, can’t say that I have. It sounds like a lovely place, though.”

“You should visit sometime.”

“Maybe I will.”

Nathan blew out a breath at the sudden formality of their exchange, like two strangers on the street. Her defenses were firmly raised—she didn’t give anything away, unless you looked closely and saw how her eyes changed.

“Anyway, I only ended up with a dual major because I had no idea where I was going. My Dad and Grandad were lawyers, so I felt pressured to go in some kind of similar direction. My real love, though, was psychology, how people react and behave, and why. It ends up the two were pretty complementary, especially when Kevin Mitnick came on the scene, and the whole social-psychological side of hacking became popular. It was always around, as you know—he made it a real phenomenon. I bumped into it at just the right time to write my thesis on it, and the rest was history.”

“And you just ended up here?”

“Eventually. Took a few detours first.”

He was tired of talking about his life when he had this wonderful woman sitting just a few feet away. He wanted to know more about her, and not as an investigator. This night was fleeting, and he didn’t know if there would be another. As the boat turned, starting its slow trajectory back toward shore, the waiter reappeared, delivering espresso and mouthwatering slices of tiramisu. Jennie sat back in her chair as she eyed the dessert.

“I’m so stuffed. This was delicious. It’s amazing how the saltwater air will stimulate your appetite.”

He knew she was talking about the confection on the table in front of them, yet Nathan felt her words stir a different kind of hunger, tightening every muscle in his body with desire. His appetite was definitely stimulated. Down, boy, he commanded himself, striving for control.

Thankfully, Jennie didn’t seem to be aware.

“It’s such a beautiful night to be out on the water. Thanks for thinking of this.”

Abandoning her dessert, she stood, and walked to the rail, looking out over the water. Nathan took his plate and a spoon, joining her. Maybe if his hands and mouth were otherwise occupied, he’d be able to keep them to himself.

He rested against the rail, gazing out over the calm waters of the Bay, dark now as the moon set low in the sky. Looking down he grabbed a chunk of cake with the fork, and lifted it to Jennie’s lips. She drew back slightly, shaking her head, but he smiled and wordlessly urged her to indulge. He could barely keep his hand steady as she leaned in and formed her amazing mouth in an O around the end of the fork, slipping the cake into her mouth in such an unconsciously sensual move that he nearly dropped the utensil over the rail.

Instead, he placed it and the plate on a nearby table and reached out, pulling her up against him, glad the “first date” kiss had been gotten out of the way earlier so that he could take his first real kiss now. Taking her lips against his, he slid his hands into that seductive mass of curls, as he’d imagined doing so many times. He sank into the sensual taste of her mixed with the sweet cream and chocolate of the dessert.

Nathan was gratified to feel her hands slide around his waist, her fingers digging into the small of his back. As he felt her nails press against his skin through the thin material of his shirt, his entire body turned into one, long cord of need. Scooping her closer, he deepened the kiss, breathing into her.

Jennie knew she shouldn’t be letting it happen, still the moment he’d pulled her in and sealed her mouth in that kiss, she was lost. She’d kissed her share of men, but she’d never been at the mercy of the touch of someone’s lips. From the moment Nathan’s mouth had captured hers, she could only get closer. Her resistance crumbled, she needed to touch him. He felt so good. Solid, warm and completely delicious.

When his deep moan rumbled through her, and she felt every hard, lean part of him aligned with every soft, receptive part of her, she slid her hands down to his backside. She always was a sucker for a nice male butt. As her palms cupped the strong muscles there, she purred against his lips, her fingers unable to resist the urge to explore.

“Jesus, Jennie…” Nathan’s breathing was labored against her mouth, his eyes sparkling with wicked promises as he looked down at her, his arms tight around her, inadvertently drawing their pelvises closer together in the process. Suddenly she heard the clinking of dishes and silverware and remembered they weren’t alone. Sliding her eyes to the side, she saw the waiter clearing the table, the young man’s gaze discreetly looking away from them.

She laughed softly, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “Wow. I completely lost track of where I was…who I was….” She laughed again, incredulous at the mind-blanking desire that she’d tumbled into.

“As long as you remembered who I was.”

The comment was softly spoken against her ear, and she could hear the subtle doubt, the tension, in his voice. She supposed she couldn’t blame him—she’d spent so many months putting him off, how could she explain suddenly falling into his arms without so much as a murmur of protest? She was a big girl; she took responsibility for her actions, and she never led guys on. She was very attracted to Nathan; it was why she kept the flowers he sent until the blossoms faded.

Looking up at him, she sighed, framing his face with her hands. He was so damned handsome.

“No, I knew exactly what I was doing, and with whom, Nathan. And I…”

Hope glinted in his eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling horrible about all of the deception in her life, and wishing she could just blurt it all out, come clean just once, with this special man. He was so open to her, so ready to take a leap that she didn’t know if she could ever take. What was it she’d been about to confess, to admit? Was she ready?

“What, Jennie? You can say it. Remember what I said. No pressure, I promise.”

His fingers traced a lazy path along her back, and he stepped back slightly, as if to show her that he was willing to give her room to breathe. The gesture was almost as powerful as a touch, because she knew he meant it. She watched as the docks came into view, their magical trip was almost over. She knew she couldn’t tell him the truth about her life; to do so would just endanger his life.

Or maybe she wasn’t being so noble, really; the truth was that if she told him everything, he might change his mind about her, and she needed to be with him. At least for tonight, she needed to forget all the reasons she shouldn’t do this. She wanted something special, something for her that might create a memory she could hold close no matter what the future was. Looking up into his eyes, she took the leap.

“Nathan, I don’t kiss a man like we just kissed because I feel pressured into it—I’m way too old for that in case you haven’t noticed.”

Five years didn’t seem like much, but with everything that had happened in her life, she sometimes felt as if she was decades older. Not right now; not with Nathan. He made her feel…young. New. Happy.

But shouldn’t he want some woman his own age, with no past, no baggage? She held his gaze as the boat slowed. The way he looked at her…she had no doubts that he wanted her, and she was determined to focus on that for now. It was enough.

“I’m glad tomorrow’s Saturday,” she whispered, leaning in, giving in to the impulse to move her hands over the well-defined muscles of his back. He was slim and strong. A shudder of desire flooded her as she allowed herself to feel things she’d been fighting for a while.

“Why’s that?” His voice was husky with desire as he asked the question, her touch affecting him. The knowledge made her smile as she answered.

“So we can sleep in.”

She lifted her mouth to his again, and felt him relax and harden all at once, his body hot against hers as he kissed the breath from her all the way back to the pier. She hadn’t met any men her own age or older who could kiss half as well. She preferred to think he’d come by the talent naturally, rather than having had too much practice.

By the time the boat docked, they were both overcome with the need to find somewhere private, and Nathan hastily squared things with the waiter and took Jennie’s hand, hurrying her gently from the boat and back to his car.

Once inside the sleek little Mustang, they combated the small space over the gearshift, all over each other again until laughingly, they parted, but never stopped touching completely as Nathan raced back to Jennie’s apartment. She smiled, anticipation buzzing through her in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Appreciation welled with desire as he pulled up into a parking spot in front of her building and cut the engine. He was willing to come to her place, to go where she felt familiar and comfortable. She had a feeling she’d only discovered the tip of the iceberg when it came to finding out how special Nathan Reilly really was.


3

IMAGES OF THEM FALLING in the door and tearing at each other’s clothes raced through Nathan’s brain as he tried to keep to the speed limit, but Jennie’s hand tracing erotic messages on his upper thigh made it hard to hold back. He needed out of this car, and out of his clothes, soon.

After the frantic rush to the apartment, as soon as they stepped inside the door, breathless and laughing, everything slowed down. They stood, facing each other, saying nothing, and he crossed, taking her hands in his.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

The simple response was all he needed. With a gentle tug she was in his arms again, and the passion lit even more brightly than before. Now that they were alone, now that Nathan was where he’d dreamed of being for months on end, he found he didn’t want to rush, as urgent as the need was.

He’d always preferred hard, fast sex, reveling in the urgency and the energy of the act, yet there was something about Jennie that made him hold back and savor every move, each touch. It was a new kind of intensity, born of waiting so long for her, he supposed. He slipped a finger beneath the shoulder of her soft sweater, sliding it under the bra strap, and eased it down, smoothing the tender skin of her shoulder. She was so soft.

Leaning in, he buried his face in her neck and inhaled her scent, then darted his tongue out for a taste, loving the way her head fell back and how she seemed to purr as he nuzzled her, investigating all those secret spots he’d wondered about for so long. The hidden silk behind her ear. The visible pulse at the base of her throat that hammered as he lifted his other hand to her waist, sliding it up and down her spine, causing her to bow her body into his, issuing an erotic invitation when she pressed against him just so. They fit perfectly, as if they were made to be this way. The idea moved him profoundly.

When she began her own exploration, yanking his shirt free and sliding over the skin of his lower back and then up, he momentarily closed his eyes, reminding himself he wanted to go slow, though his body was starting to disagree with that plan. Her seductive touch, still somewhat tentative, as if she hadn’t quite made up her mind, convinced him that slow was the right choice.

The bulge in Nathan’s pants that nestled so sweetly against her abdomen made Jennie’s imagination spike with images of driving him over the edge. A part of her held back, still feeling, for the first time in a long time, like a liar. It didn’t seem to matter that the lies were to protect herself, to protect others. Would he still be here if he knew the secrets she kept?

Now wasn’t the moment to worry about it. She felt more aroused than she ever had, and yet her worries were not quite quenched.

“Jennie, you can change your mind if you want. I don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to,” Nathan said. His breathing was labored and she smiled, lifting her hand to slide the pad of her fingers over the fine film of sweat that had formed on his brow.

Nathan had some serious self-control, another plus, in her book. But she wanted him to go wild with her. And she knew just how to make him do it.

“I don’t want to stop, Nathan. It’s just that I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect to feel so much so fast and, well, I’m a little worried about the fact that we work together. Sex complicates things.”

That much was true, she thought, though it was becoming less and less important as he touched her in all the right places.

“Let’s not think about work tonight.”

She nodded, agreeing, glad at least to be able to tell the truth to him about some things, “It’s also been a while for me.”

“Then we need to make this extra special, don’t we?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. It feels pretty special to me already.”

She could have kicked herself for her impulsive response as an answering flicker of passion, and some deeper emotion, passed over his expression. She couldn’t lead him along, she cautioned herself; she didn’t know how much she could give to him. Though the crazy thudding of her heart was urging her to give him everything. She’d wanted something special, right? Something more? Well, this was it.

Nathan was special, she could feel it in her bones, and not being a woman of half measures or tepid emotions, she couldn’t deny her response to him. Permitting this to mean more than just sex was a risk. Her entire life was about risk, so what was she waiting for?

“Where’s your bedroom?” His question was posed on a hushed breath, but she had other ideas. She wanted to let him know she was in this, one hundred percent.

“I want you now, Nate. Here.”

The comment was filled with such sexy promise he didn’t argue, but dived in to obey her command with a gusto that nearly dropped her to her knees as he kissed her with the full force of masculine desire, holding nothing back. She answered him with equal fervor, and they moved across the small living room toward the sofa.

When his hands slipped up underneath her sweater and massaged her nipples, tweaking and pinching the tender nubs, she wondered if she would even make it to the couch. She gasped as her body coiled inside at the sharp sensations his touch created, feeling a spill of release quickly approaching.

“You’re amazing…so beautiful…so responsive…”

His encouragement wiped out the last of any doubts she had as she let go completely, winding her hands through his hair and urging him downward. Happy to comply, he shoved the sweater up over her head and brought his hot, searching mouth to her breasts. It took only moments before she cried out, coming hard as he sucked, arching into him as ripples of pleasure racked through her. When he raised his head, lifting a hand to push some hair from her brow, his hand was shaking.

“Holy shit, Jen. I can’t believe you came like that….”

“I’m so—”

He shook his head vigorously, his skin ruddy with desire.

“It was so hot…can you do it again?”

Jennie smiled at the wonderful question, her body turning liquid under his mouth and hands as he applied his mouth to her skin again, searching out every tender, excruciatingly sensitive spot. Where had he learned to be so thorough with a woman’s body?

“I can almost guarantee it,” she answered, giving herself over and forgetting everything but the way he made her feel.

“UNDRESS ME, JEN.”

“With pleasure.”

The two simple words rocked him to the core; he could get off on her voice alone, he thought, still reeling that just his touch and his kiss had pushed her over the edge. It was daunting, the fire between them hotter than anything he imagined, and anything he’d ever experienced before. He was ready for more. He wanted it all.

Somehow she’d managed to undo all the buttons while he kissed her. He couldn’t stay away from her, even just for the few moments it took for her to peel his clothes off, and to shed the rest of hers. That final act of confirming she wanted this as much as he did, of committing to the moment, moved him even more than her strong physical response had.

She peeled the shirt from him, dipping to suck on one dark nipple, enchanted with his chest and running her fingers over the light sprinkling of chest hair. His cock twitched impatiently, hungry for those caresses and kisses to cover him there, too. But he had to stop her before he lost it and completely embarrassed himself.

Within moments, they were both completely bare; facing each other in the warm light of the room, taking in the sight of each other’s bodies. She was even lovelier than he could have ever imagined. Curved and full, she was beautifully formed, her skin a satin olive tone that bespoke her Italian heritage, the dark triangle of silken hair at the V of her legs thick and soft and tempting him to touch, to taste. The dusky areolae of her nipples accentuated perfectly rounded breasts with velvet brown tips that had been heaven to taste.

“You’re amazing,” she said as she stepped forward, breathing the words into his mouth, pressing the cleft of her moist sex next to his painfully hard shaft. He drew back, looking up into her face.

“I was just thinking the same about you.” He couldn’t take his eyes from her as he responded, trying to cover all of the bases before the inevitable progressed. “Anything else we should get out in the open before this happens?”

“No. I’m good. On the pill, and no problems to speak of. You?”

“I was tested during my physical when I joined the team, and haven’t been with anyone since.”

She looked amazed at what he’d just revealed. “You haven’t slept with anyone since you joined HotWires?”

He lifted his hand, brushing the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “Well, at first I had the move and settling into the job, the new city. And then I saw you. I didn’t want anyone after that.”

Her eyes turned molten, telling him how affected she was by his confession, and he was glad it hadn’t scared her off. It was true—one morning he’d seen her laughing with Sarah over coffee. The sun had been shining through the window behind her, and her expression had been lit with amusement at whatever story Sarah had been telling.

He’d been rooted to the spot, watching, reminded of something his dad had told him about a similar moment when he’d met Nate’s mother. About his grá mo chroí, or the love of his heart.

Though he’d noticed her right away when he joined the team—she was a beautiful woman—he hadn’t been looking for a relationship. He was all about work, and it was clear she wasn’t interested in getting involved with anyone. Nevertheless from that moment on, seeing her standing there in the sun, Nathan hadn’t wanted another woman. Afterward, he’d started sending her flowers, and stopping by her desk just to tell her jokes to see her face light up with that smile. He wanted to make her smile almost more than he wanted to breathe.

The mood shifted, and she looked up at him, open and vulnerable. Conflict suddenly twisted with passion in his gut—how could he see this through when he was keeping some major secrets? How could he make her trust him when he was investigating her, looking into her life to see if she was a criminal, a traitor to his friends?

Because he didn’t believe it. He had good instincts, and there was no way he could feel this way about someone who was dirty. Ian and EJ were smart, thorough. They would never have taken her on if she was less than what they believed her to be. He was going to prove she was a victim here, innocent.

The thought soothed his guilty conscience as she apparently was tired of waiting and lifted up, gently pressing her lips to his, her breasts caressing his chest while she explored his mouth in an intimate yet demanding response. She wanted him; he wanted her. At the moment, it was that simple.

Lowering slowly, he lay back on the sofa, pulling her down on top, having her set the pace, control their loving—this time. She took him inside while their mouths still mated, easily and without hesitation, and his low rumble of excitement filled her as she sheathed him completely, rotating her hips slowly and encouraging him with her own moans as he gripped her backside tightly, helping her move.

“Jennie, you’re so warm inside, so soft….”

She gasped, holding on as he lunged beneath her. Not one to stay passive, he gripped her hips firmly, helping her ride him harder as she wove her hands into his hair, kissing him deeply as they both began shuddering with release. Gasping in ecstasy, he drove inside of her, losing every final bit of control, and loving every second.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT for breakfast?”

“You.”

Jennie rolled over, and nipped his shoulder playfully. It had been one of the best nights of her life, and it was the weekend. She’d never awakened in bed with a man and just lounged, wondering what the day had to offer—if he would want to spend the day, and maybe another night—with her. No, the usual protocol was up, shower, a kiss in thanks and out. However, not this time; not with Nathan.

She found herself suddenly a little wary—would he want to leave? Would it be too much if he knew how much she wanted him to stay? Too clingy? Too fast?

Her hand caressed his chest. Working lower, she curled her fingers around his stiff cock and elicited a groan, a good sign he wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

They’d made love several times throughout the night, and he’d always managed to make sure that she’d remained in control in one way or another.

Or maybe he was just a guy who enjoyed a woman being in control; the notion surprised her. In fact, her mind started to race with all the delightful possibilities being the dominant sexual partner presented. Her imagination took flight as she continued stroking and caressing him. Surprisingly, he reached down, stilling her hand.

“How about breakfast?” he asked again, smiling, his voice uneven—she’d obviously been having an effect. She pulled back, relenting.

“You’re really hungry, huh? For food?”

“You’ve given me quite a workout. Do you have anything here, or do you want to go out?”

Flustered by his apparent rejection, she tried to play it cool and sat up, making sure he couldn’t see her face in the meantime, just in case her expression gave too much away.

“I have some stuff in the kitchen.”

As she started to get up, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, kissing her soundly.

“I’ll go. You relax.”

“But—”

“I’ll cook. You save your strength. You’re going to need it.” His smile was promising, his erection still full. She warmed, hating how relieved she felt.

“Maybe I’ll take a shower then.”

“You go ahead. If I finish soon enough, I’ll join you.”

Nathan winked and stood up, watching her with a smile. It would have been so easy to give in, but he really was hungry. And if truth be told, he needed a moment. The events of the night before had been powerful, socking a punch to his emotions that he’d never felt before, and he’d awoken knowing he was in a serious bind.

Heading into the living room where his pants lay crumpled on the floor, he put them on, not bothering with his shirt. He bent over, picking up a withered blossom that had fallen from a vase of flowers, lifting it to his nose and still detecting the sweet scent. He thought about bringing flowers to bed, and rubbing that scent all over Jen’s skin. His cock twitched at the thought and he sighed—he was a goner.

Memories from last night assaulted him, followed by a wave of disgust at what he knew he had to do—and this was the perfect opportunity. He heard the shower come on, and took a deep breath, his smile fading. It was too easy to forget about what he’d learned, too tempting to just set it aside and refuse to do the department’s dirty work. A twist of shame knotted in his chest—he cared about her, nevertheless he had a job to do. What a shitty wall to be backed up against.

If what they said was true, then Jennie’s—Maria’s—existence could be a threat to all of their lives, no matter how impossible that seemed. And if by investigating her possible guilt he could prove she was innocent…that idea alone motivated him to move forward, his heart pounding.

He whispered her real name, closing his eyes and feeling the sound of it cross his lips. He’d always liked her as Jennie, but last night, she’d been Maria—dark, exotic, stunning.

He stood, peeking around the doorway to reassure himself that she was still in the shower, and walked to her dressers, lifting the tops of the small, decorative jewelry boxes, checking the bottom for hidden compartments and doing the same in her drawers and closet.

Moving swiftly and efficiently, he made his way back out to her desk, checked the drawers, her desktop, under the blotter—and found her password scrawled on the back of a restaurant receipt, buried in a sentence reminding her to make reservations next time.

It was clever—anyone else looking wouldn’t have any idea, thinking it was just a note on the back of a receipt, but Nathan spotted the acronym that formed with the first letter of each word, and added in the amount of the bill at the end—presto. He turned on her computer—the password worked, and he quickly shut it down. No time for that now.

Poking around a bit more, he found nothing else. Had he really expected to? Jennie wasn’t stupid; she wouldn’t leave evidence lying around. A thorough search through her computer files might expose something more. Still, he couldn’t repress his relief that at least so far, he’d found absolutely nothing to substantiate the claims against her.

He heard the water shut off and hurried into the kitchen, whipping open the refrigerator door and in the process nearly sending the items inside flying out.

Luckily, he was swiftly able to throw an assortment of foods on the table—fruit, cheese, jam, some bagels and half of a grocery-store Danish she had left. He found the coffee on the counter, started a pot. He could hear Jennie shuffling around in the bedroom, drawers opening and closing. A few minutes later she walked into the kitchen, fresh in her white satin robe.

“This looks wonderful—thank you.”

“Let me get the coffee—it’s almost done. Black, right?”

She looked up, her gaze curious. “How did you know that?”

“It’s how you took your espresso last night. And I’ve seen you drink black coffee at the office, remember?”

She shook her head, and laughed. He’d have to be careful. She was always “on”—it was a hazard of the job.

“I’m not used to anyone noticing things like that. Or being so sweet.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to cook anything.” He meant that more than she could know.

“This is great. I don’t always eat breakfast. Much of the stuff I buy goes to waste, so it’s nice to share it with someone.”

They sat, and suddenly the easy banter disappeared, and things felt a little awkward. Nathan wasn’t sure what changed. They silently ate their breakfast. Finally, Jennie’s shoulders sagged, and a sigh escaped her lips.

“What’s wrong, Jen?”

“Nothing…I don’t know. It’s been amazing, last night, now, sitting here with you, but—”

“Too much too fast?”

“I don’t know. I like being with you. I want this, but I’m not sure I can promise you anything more than this, Nathan. And we should make that clear before things get any more…involved.”




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