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Working Man
Melanie Schuster


Funny and feisty true-crime writer Dakota Phillips has almost everything she wants. She's still looking for the perfect man: very tall, very educated and very cultured–all wrapped up in rich chocolate brown. So far, her insecurities about her generous curves and her independent streak have kept her searching.Nick is a self-made mogul who works hard, plays hard and loves life's finer things. He's not perfect, but he makes Dakota feel beautiful, desirable–and maybe a little too vulnerable. Dakota can't surrender to a take-charge man, and Nick has worked too hard for everything to give up control. Moving on would be easy–except for a little complication called love.









Working Man

Melanie Schuster





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


To the wonderful women and two good-looking men of my

online group. Through the darkest days you were there for me,

when there is cause to celebrate, you’re there for me, and when

prayer is needed you’re always there. I wish I had enough room

to name you all, but you know who you are. Thanks for the

laughter, the friendship, the spiritual support and all the love.

And a special thank-you to Kim Patrice Tookas.

She knows why!




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14




Chapter 1


Dakota took a look at her reflection in the rearview mirror and cringed. “Good googa-moo, I look like the Queen of the Undead,” she said with a sigh. And it was true, although she had a good reason. Driving from Washington, D.C., to Chicago all by herself was a daunting task, especially since she was the sole driver of an SUV crammed full of books, clothes and a computer as well as a truly crabby cat. The cat, a large vain Somali female with big green eyes, let out a low yowl to remind Dakota how much she disliked car travel.

“Cha-Cha, I’ve heard it all before so please put a lid on it. We’re here, okay? I just have to stop to get gas and we can be on our way home, all right?”

“Rrrrrowrrr!” Cha-Cha’s response seemed disdainful at best, something that actually stung Dakota.

“You’re a mean ol’ critter, you know that? I just happen to be a very well-known writer and you should treat me with some respect, you hairy little snot. How do you think I pay for all that gourmet cat food and Evian water you consume? You’d better be nice to me or you’ll find yourself eating dry kibble from now on.”

As she often did, Cha-Cha seemed to understand exactly what Dakota was saying. She looked rather put out but clamped her jaws shut and curled up in her carrier while she feigned sleep. Dakota brightened as she saw a gas station that looked new and clean and, furthermore, boasted a mini-mart. She pulled up to a pump and got out of the car, gratefully stretching. She looked down at her wrinkled jeans and sighed. Nothing to be done about it now; she looked like a bag of rumpled laundry. She filled her tank with premium, muttering under her breath at the obscene total, and then went inside to pay for the gas and use the ladies’ room. It was all she could do to keep from screaming when she saw how really bad she looked. She wasn’t a vain woman, but she always liked to look her best, and today she was far off the mark. Way far off.

Her long black hair had gone wild from blowing in the breeze as she rode with the windows down much of the way. It was now a mass of wild ringlets à la early Chaka Khan. She didn’t have on a speck of makeup, although her classic features looked perfectly fine without it. She was wearing a pair of boot-cut jeans, her favorite Nike Shox, a pinstriped cotton shirt that bore the evidence of the hotdog she’d consumed earlier and worst of all, she didn’t have on a drop of perfume. Dakota loved smelling good and if she wasn’t mistaken, she now smelled like super premium gasoline as she always managed to get a drop or two on herself whenever she filled up her car, which is why she’d usually pay for full service.

Rummaging in her tote bag, she unearthed a huge blue-and-white batik cotton scarf she’d bought years and years ago on sale at Neiman Marcus. It had come to her rescue many times before and it wasn’t going to fail her now. Folding it crossways until it was about three inches wide, she tied it on like a headband and sighed at the result. With her big gold hoop earrings, her headband gave her a rather Bohemian air if one didn’t look too closely at the wrinkled shirt and the ketchup stain. “Aw, who am I trying to kid? I look like I just got off the bus from a six-month stint at a women’s correctional facility,” she said, putting her chic little glasses back on her slender nose. “It’s a good thing I’m going straight to my place and no one will see me.”

Casting a last look over her shoulder she groaned as she beheld the bane of her existence, her generous bottom. If she could just get rid of her big boobs and her equally big butt, she might have a passable figure, but it wasn’t happening, at least not today. She left the ladies’ room, paid for a bottle of Evian to share with Cha-Cha and strolled back to her pride and joy, her new Chevy HHR.

Her forehead puckered in anxiety as she got behind the steering wheel and stared at the map she’d downloaded from MapQuest. Map-reading was not one of her favorite things, so she concentrated on the page intently. Setting the creased paper aside, she put her vehicle in Reverse and turned to exit the station. She was waiting for a space to open up so she could merge into traffic when a loud thud sounded from the rear. The noise was accompanied by a jolt that shook her hard and sent Cha-Cha into a frenzy. She put the car in Park and turned it off while she collected herself. She was breathing hard with her hand over her bosom when suddenly a shadow crossed her. A deep voice asked if she was all right.

Dakota frowned. Her heart was still pounding and some bozo had the nerve to ask if she was all right. She took a deep breath and was trying to summon a polite answer when the voice sounded again.

“Hey, you in there? Are you okay or what?” The voice was still deep, but its owner sounded impatient. She ignored him while she shushed Cha-Cha, making sure her kitty wasn’t hurt.

“It’s okay, baby. Some big ape just smashed us up, but we’re fine,” she soothed, hoping it was the truth. With her heart still pounding and little pin-pricks of fear still jolting her, Dakota unhooked her seatbelt and unlocked her door. She turned sideways to exit the car, but her legs refused to support her. Suddenly a strong male hand reached down to help her and practically lifted her out of the vehicle. His muscular arms supported her for a long moment while she tried to gather her wits about her.

“I asked if you were all right. Can you hear me?”

The voice sounded even more impatient, which made Dakota’s temper flare up. “How do you think I am, considering the fact that you just slammed into the back of my car? Can you give me a minute to catch my breath?” she asked without a hint of her normal graciousness.

She glared at the man and found herself looking into his chest. She had to angle her head up to get a look at his face, which was obscured by his baseball cap and a pair of Cazal sunglasses. He was tall, too tall for her taste, and had big shoulders that were apparently carved out of the same granite as his big hard arms. For some reason this annoyed her even more and she jerked away from his grasp, making an exaggerated show of brushing off her blouse where he’d touched her.

“Look, lady, I’m sorry about what happened, but it was an accident. I don’t think there was much harm done,” he offered.

Dakota shoved her glasses up on her nose, a habit she had when she was upset, and right now she was boiling mad. “We’ll just let the police be the judge of that, shall we?” Without another word she stalked to the end of her beloved HHR and frowned when she saw that the left taillight was broken and there was a sizeable dent in the rear end. She glanced at his monstrous Cadillac Escalade and made an ugly face when she saw that the behemoth of a vehicle didn’t have a scratch on it. Figures, she thought viciously. She was about to dial 911 on her cell phone when the stranger spoke again.

“There’s no point in calling the cops because this accident happened on private property. They’ll tell us to exchange information and go on about our business,” he said in what sounded to Dakota like a condescending tone of voice. She was about to say something scathing when she noticed that the driver of the vehicle was a young, gorgeous woman. Slender, fair-skinned with short reddish curls and a look of horror on her face, she was hardly more than a girl and looked much too young for the big hulking man standing next to her.

She abruptly turned and walked to the front of the car where she dug around in her tote bag for her ever-handy notebook and pen. She wrote out her name, address, cell phone number, office number, the name and number of her insurance company and also got out one of her business cards. She thrust them at him and handed him the notebook so he could give her the same information. While he scribbled in the notebook, she cast another unfriendly look at the driver, who was, if she wasn’t mistaken, crying. Lord love a duck, Dakota thought angrily. It’s bad enough that she’s out with a man old enough to be her father, as soon as she does something stupid she starts bawling. Just pathetic.

She was so busy glaring she didn’t see the man offer her the notebook back. “Lady, are you sure you’re all right? We can take you to the emergency room or something because you don’t look so hot,” he said.

Dakota jumped slightly because she’d all but forgotten the man was standing there. She snatched the notebook back and said she was just fine. “I don’t need to go anywhere but home, thank you. I expect to hear from your insurance company tomorrow.” Without even a nod to him, she turned and got in the car, bending over slightly as she did so, affording him a good look at her voluptuous fanny. She happened to look in the rearview mirror and saw him staring at her with a big smirk on his face. It was all she could do not to back up and run over the big oaf. How dare he laugh at her because she wasn’t an anorexic size-zero like the little twit in his truck?

“See, Cha-Cha, that’s why I despise pretty men. They always think they have the right to judge women because of how we look. It doesn’t matter who we are or what we have to offer, they look at the outside only. Big macho doody head,” she muttered.

Cha-cha had heard it all before, chapter and verse. She was still upset about the small collision and was much more interested in getting out of the death trap on wheels her mistress seemed to love so much. “Mrrrroowww,” was all she had to say.

“Okay, baby, okay. We’ll be at our new house in a little while and I’ll cook you a nice little steak, how’s that?”

She continued to croon to the cat until Cha-Cha settled down into a nap. But Dakota’s mood wasn’t so easily gotten over. She was still pretty hot over her welcome to the Windy City. She hadn’t been in the city limits for a good ten minutes before she’d got rear-ended and had had to witness the same kind of mess that had caused her engagement to crash and burn. If Chicago was full of the same kind of men as D.C., she didn’t think she’d like it here one bit.



Nick Hunter leaned against the driver’s side of the Escalade and watched Dakota pull off. He shook his head and rubbed his index finger in the deep groove of the cleft of his chin, something he always did when he was thinking. That woman sure was mad, he thought. And she’s fine, too.

He smiled a lazy secret smile that only he understood. Most men wouldn’t agree, but a pretty woman with a hot temper equaled passion in Nick’s eyes. A sudden push in his back broke his concentration. The driver’s-side door was opening and a long slender leg was emerging. Nick’s smile disappeared as he looked at the young woman scrambling to get out.

“Hold it. Where do you think you’re going, baby girl? You wanted to learn to drive a stick and that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”

The young woman’s face looked even more dismayed and she gave him a fierce frown. “Uncle Nick, why do you insist on calling me that? I’m an adult, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Nick ignored her comment as he got back in the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt. “Well, put your narrow adult butt back in that seat and let’s get going. A little accident isn’t the end of the world, Ebony. If you drive a car you have to be prepared for these situations and you can’t let yourself fall apart. Close the door and turn on the ignition and let’s hit it.” He gave her a calm, uncompromising stare and she had no choice but to do as he said.

“If you weren’t my favorite uncle, I’d get out of this gas-guzzling monster and walk home,” she mumbled.

“Keep testing me and I’ll let you,” Nick answered with the grin that never failed to melt a female heart.

Ebony ignored him and concentrated on her driving until they reached her parents’ house, which took about ten minutes. She parked in the driveway and turned to Nick with a big grin on her face. “I did it! I’ll never do it again because it was a trauma from which I may never recover, but I did it!”

“Ebony, it was a fender-bender. A little bump, that’s all. Get over it,” Nick advised.

“But Uncle Nick, that lady was so mad! And I did smash up the back of her HHR, which looked brand-new. She was so mad at me, I could just feel it.” Ebony shuddered at the memory.

“She was mad because she was scared, baby girl. Getting bumped on the rear when you’re not expecting it can rattle you pretty good. She was just a little shaken up, that’s all.”

Ebony’s eyes widened and she tilted her head to one side. “You’re not just saying that because she was your type, are you?”

Nick cut his eyes at her before opening his door. “And what would you know about my ‘type’?” He stepped down and was halfway to the front door of his brother’s house before Ebony caught up with him.

“You know what you like, Uncle Nick. You like them tall and thick and curvy and you like a woman with a head on her shoulders and some spunk. You know that’s what you like,” she said smugly. “Are you going to call her? You have her name, don’t you?”

Nick tried to close the door on her as she continued to bait him, but she was too quick for him. “Where’s that paper, Uncle Nick? The one with all her information on it?” She spied it in his shirt pocket and snatched it out, unfolding it and making a dramatic show of reading it aloud.

“Her name is Dakota Phillips…” Ebony’s face paled and she looked stricken. “Oh God, I smashed into the back of Dakota Phillips,” she said, with genuine distress in her voice. She collapsed into the nearest chair and covered her face with both hands.

Nick stared down at his niece, who looked as though she’d just committed a major crime. He took off his baseball cap, tossed his sunglasses into it and put it on an end table. “So who is she, baby girl? You’re actin’ like you ran over Rosa Parks or something.”

Plucking the sheet of paper from her nerveless fingers, Nick stepped over his niece’s long legs to sit on the sofa. He leaned back and stretched his legs out to watch her performance. Ebony was just like her mother, intelligent, emotional and dramatic. Luckily, she was sweet and loving like his sister-in-law so he indulged her little histrionics because he found them amusing. “Why are you so upset, Ebony? I keep telling you it was just a little accident. That’s why people have insurance, to protect them when things get out of order through no fault of their own. I’m getting ready to call my insurance company right now and her ride will be fixed in no time. No big deal.”

Ebony dropped her hands and found her voice. “Dakota Phillips happens to be the greatest writer of true crime stories in the country, Uncle Nick. She’s brilliant. She’s beyond brilliant, she’s a true genius! She’s won all kinds of awards and prizes and she even got a genius grant from the National Endowment of the Arts when she was like, nineteen or something. All of her books are on the New York Times bestseller list and three of them have been made into movies. She’s been nominated for an Oscar for an original screenplay and she even has a Pulitzer Prize. And I destroyed her car,” Ebony moaned. “She’s the whole reason I decided to major in journalism and I almost killed the woman!”

Nick looked deeply interested in her babbling. “A Pulitzer Prize, huh? Is that anything like a Heisman Trophy?” he asked innocently.

Ebony made a sound of impatience. “Aww, quit playin’! You know what a Pulitzer is, Uncle Nick. Don’t act you don’t have a clue. I’m so embarrassed I could die. I’ve worshipped her for years and what’s the first thing I do when I get close enough to tell her how much I admire her work? I crash into her like a class-A fool.”

“Who crashed what? Did you do something to my truck?” A deep voice came from the dining room, followed by a man who looked a lot like Nick. It was his brother Paul, and the family resemblance was unmistakable. They were both tall, although Nick had about two inches on Paul. They were both light brown, although Nick was a good bit lighter. They both had curly black hair and chiseled features, but Nick had a deep cleft in his chin that Paul was lacking. And they both had gorgeous eyes, but Paul’s were hazel while Nick’s were green, a true, clear green that was mesmerizing, according to the many women who were attracted to him.

Paul looked from his daughter to his brother and back again, repeating his question. “Did you wreck my truck?”

“Daddy, your precious truck is in the garage. Uncle Nick was teaching me to drive his stick and I crashed into the back of this poor woman’s car and now my life is ruined.”

“Oh. Did you wreck his Escalade?” Paul asked with interest.

Nick was laughing at the two of them. Paul was always so calm and grounded and his wife and oldest daughter were so dramatic it was a wonder there was ever any peace in the house, but they all managed to get along just fine. “Man, it was a little bump on the fender but the lady’s taillight got broken and there’s a dent in the back. Ebony’s throwing a fit because it seems like the woman is some big-time writer that she has a thing for. She’s acting like it’s the end of the world for no reason,” he said with amusement.

Paul studied his younger brother for a moment. “She must be fine or you wouldn’t be grinning like that.”

Nick tried again to look innocent. “She’s attractive,” he said with a shrug.

Ebony heard her mother’s voice and went to get some real sympathy, seeing that she was getting nowhere with her two favorite men. As she left the room muttering, Paul raised an eyebrow at Nick.

“Okay, man, she’s fine as hell,” he admitted.

“Big girl?” Paul queried.

“Tall, thick, big juicy booty and a hot temper,” Nick answered. “And new in town. Car has D.C. plates on it.”

“You plan to see her again?”

Nick’s eyes softened as he thought about how hot and sexy she’d looked, all rumpled and angry. “I surely do. And as soon as possible.”



At that precise moment, Dakota was standing in the living room of her newly refurbished townhouse. She was staring around the place she had expected to call home and she wasn’t happy. Cha-Cha was running around their new abode emitting squeaks of discovery as she explored, but Dakota couldn’t move. This wasn’t the house she’d contracted for, the one for which she’d paid. This place was a mess.

There was still drywall in the kitchen, the floors hadn’t been sanded and finished in the honey oak she’d specified, the countertops and glass-fronted cupboards weren’t the quality she’d selected and everywhere she had looked there was evidence of shoddy workmanship. She was so angry she was past tears. She was at the point where she wanted to call her father and ask to borrow one of his hunting rifles, just for a little while. She wanted to find the sleazy developer who’d taken her for a ride and put a few bullets in him where they’d do the most good.

She jumped as her cell phone went off and then frowned deeply as she saw who the caller was. It was her brother Johnny and she had a few words for him.

“So how do you like your new home? Did Bernard do a great job or what?” he asked in a jovial voice.

“Your friend Bernard is a liar and a crook. This place is a mess and I hate it almost as much as I hate you at the moment. You told me this guy was trustworthy and reliable, which is why I went into this deal sight unseen. You told me that he was a good friend of yours as well as being your frat brother and that he’d do an excellent job. And you told me that you’d be checking in with him every time you were in Chicago on business. Well, if you were checking in with him you must have been blindfolded each and every time because anybody with an iota of common sense could see that this place is a dump,” she said hotly.

“Obviously, you never set foot in the place, which means that you lied to me. If you didn’t want to be bothered with me why didn’t you say so? I trusted you, which meant I trusted your sorry friend Bernard Jackson. I can’t believe you got me hooked up with someone who’s obviously a con artist. How could you do this to me, you…you…”

“Hold on, Dakota, hold it right there,” Johnny said hastily. “Are you trying to tell me that Bernard didn’t deliver what he promised? I thought he was sending you pictures of his progress and he had a virtual tour of the house online so you could see how things were going,” he said in a puzzled voice.

“And I thought I could trust you,” she returned angrily. “It seems we were both wrong. He was sending me pictures all right, and there was a nice little virtual tour that I monitored every day. But I don’t know where he got the pictures from and I sure don’t know what that tour was all about because what he was showing me wasn’t this dump. And if you’d done what you promised me you’d do, you would have seen it for yourself. Now the jerk won’t answer my phone calls. I went to the office at the address he gave me and it’s locked up. What kind of friends do you have, Johnny? And how could you get me involved with a sleazeball like him? When I think of the money I spent on this place…” Her voice finally died off from sheer exhaustion and rage, and she stopped talking because she couldn’t trust herself to speak.

If she hadn’t been so furious she would have realized how upset her brother was at her words, but she was way beyond listening at that point. It didn’t stop Johnny from trying to explain, though.

“Dakota, I apologize, I really do. Bernard is my fraternity brother and I thought I knew him pretty well, but it wasn’t like we’re best friends or anything. I really was in Chicago a few times for business, and each time I came I made an appointment to see him and to take a look at your place, but every time something came up and he couldn’t make it. I admit, that alone should have made me more suspicious, but I would never have expected him to pull a stunt like this. And when I get hold of his ass he’ll be sorry he ever tried to mess over my sister, you can believe that.”

Dakota was fighting back angry tears and didn’t bother to answer him. He continued to probe, though, asking Dakota when she had actually talked to him last, and getting more pertinent information that he hoped would lead to the man’s whereabouts. “Look, Cookie,” he said comfortingly, “I’ll find the buzzard if it’s the last thing I do. I don’t know what the hell made him think he could con my sister, but I’ll take care of him, don’t even worry about it.”

Hearing him use her childhood nickname almost did her in, but Dakota was no pushover. “Johnny, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t have to get involved. You’ve done more than enough,” she said dryly. “I’m not an investigative reporter for nothing. If I can track down a killer who’s been hiding out for ten years I can find a lousy, rotten no-good weasel and take care of him my damn self. I’ll talk to you later, big brother, I’ve got to get some stuff out of the car and get settled in for the night.”

“Get settled in? You’re not spending the night there are you? Why don’t you go to a nice hotel until this is all sorted out? That’s crazy, Cookie.”

“I have my reasons,” she replied in an icy-cold voice. “Let it go, Johnny. I can handle my business all by myself. And whatever you do, don’t tell Daddy. The last thing I need is him coming to town with a caravan of Teamsters ready to hunt that lousy ferret down and hang him. I want him alive and well for his court date because I’m going to sue him so tough his great-grandchildren will still be paying off his debts.” She added a few colorful and profane sentiments before getting off the phone.

Cha-Cha sensed her bad mood and came to sit in her lap. Dakota continued to sit on the floor for a few minutes stroking Cha-Cha’s incredible fur, sighing every so often. Then she shook off her angst and told Cha-Cha it was time to get busy. “We’ve got to get a few things out of the car and get something to eat,” she said as she tickled the big cat’s chin. “And then we have to get our plan in order. Ol’ boy picked the wrong sister to screw around with when he decided to pull this crap on me. Wherever he is, I hope he’s getting a good night’s sleep because it’s the last one he’s going to have for a long time.”




Chapter 2


Nick meant what he’d told his brother the day before. He intended to see Dakota again and as soon as he could arrange it. He’d called his insurance agent that afternoon and explained the situation, emphasizing that he didn’t want her to have to spend a single dime on the repair of her vehicle. “She’s new in town, so we need to make sure she gets the best body shop available to take care of her ride. It’s a new HHR, but I don’t really have that much faith in dealerships. When you talk to her company make some suggestions about repairs, okay?”

Nick’s long-time agent was smiling for all she was worth on the other end of the phone. She’d known Nick for years and had never heard so much concern and caring in his voice, but all she said was “Will do, Nick. I’ll make sure she gets nothing but the best.”

Satisfied that one thing on the agenda was taken care of, Nick moved to the next item. He was going to pay Miss Phillips a visit and he was even bearing flowers, something his sister-in-law had insisted on. He had to laugh when he remembered her exact words. Patsy was as sweet and Southern as she’d been the day Paul had met her some twenty years before and she demanded that the men in her family demonstrate good manners at all times. “Don’t go over there empty-handed with a mouth full of gimme and a handful of much obliged. Take her a nice plant or something. It’s the least you could do since you and my daughter managed to destroy her car and scare her to death.” she’d told him sternly. “And be extra nice to her because I have all her books and I want her to sign them for me.”

He was still chuckling when he turned down the street on which Dakota lived, but the mirth died away when he saw where she was living. Another B. Jackson Production, the sign read. Oh hell, naw. How in the world did she get caught up with that crook? He frowned deeply as he surveyed the brick town homes that lined both sides of the street. They looked fine from the outside, but if he knew anything about Bernard Jackson, he knew the interiors of the houses were shoddily put together with substandard materials and workmanship. They were pure-d crap, and every reputable builder in the state knew it. Bernard Jackson was one of Nick’s main business competitors, and to say he couldn’t stand the man was a masterpiece of understatement.

After a stint in the army, Nick had returned to Chicago and started his own construction company. He was a master contractor and builder, and had parlayed his expertise into a building firm with an impeccable reputation for expert work. Nick was into land development and real estate as well as residential and commercial building and he’d worked long and hard to make himself into one of the most respected men in the business. He did it by keeping every promise he ever made, by delivering every project on time and on budget and by working harder than anyone else in his company. He had nothing but contempt for men like Bernard Jackson, fast-talking con artists who won jobs by underbidding and then defrauding their clients by using cheap materials and taking shortcuts. The result was crappy houses that weren’t worth a quarter of what the clients ended up paying for them.

He particularly hated Bernard because he was a good-looking guy with a snappy wardrobe and a habit of preying on lonely women who’d worked hard to save enough money to refurbish their homes, or worse yet, who’d saved for years to make their dream of home-ownership come true. Bernard was also known to pay off inspectors and appraisers, so his underhanded practices made him rich, instead of putting him in jail where he belonged. For reasons he couldn’t understand, the thought of getting his hands around Bernard Jackson’s neck and choking the life out of him was very compelling to Nick at the moment. How a woman who was as smart as Dakota Phillips was supposed to be had got tangled up with that lying, conniving, thieving jerk he had no idea, but there was no way Nick was letting him get away with it.

By the time he pulled up in front of Dakota’s unit, he was hot as a firecracker. He glanced at Dakota’s bright-red HHR with the sad rear end and made a mental note to make sure she had transportation while it was being repaired. It didn’t occur to him that the body shop would see to that, he just didn’t want her to be inconvenienced. He was surprised to see her sitting on the front steps when he got out of his truck. She looked rather like a little lost girl sitting there with her elbows on her knees, staring down at her bare feet. Nice, pretty feet, too, with some kind of pinkish nail polish. No corns, bunions or other unsightly things were visible, which gave him a little thrill. Nick loved a woman with sexy feet. She was sexy all over, with her long curly hair flowing loose over her shoulders. She looked up at him approaching and he was thrown off guard by her look of utter hatred.

“Who the hell are you?” she said in a distinctly unfriendly tone of voice.

Nick kept walking until he was at the foot of the stairs. “I’m Nick Hunter. Remember the truck that bumped into you yesterday?”

Dakota looked blank for a moment and then frowned even more. “Oh yeah, I remember. That was the first of three horrible things that have happened to me since I got to this wretched town. Yes, I remember your girlfriend slamming into me like I was invisible. It was a fun day,” she said drolly.

A lesser man would have dropped off the flowers and scrammed, but Nick was too tough for that. He made a motion with his free hand and she actually scooted over to make room for him to sit next to her. “I came to apologize again for my niece’s part in the mishap,” he said, trying not to emphasize the word niece. Before she could react, he asked what the other two things were that had caused her to be upset.

“The second thing was getting here and finding my newly refurbished townhouse is a piece of junk. It’s a pile of crap from top to bottom and if I ever get my hands on the so-called builder I’m not going to leave enough pieces for them to bury. I don’t know how things are done in Chicago, but there are laws against fraud and misrepresentation in D.C., and when I’m through with that piece of slime he’s going to be intimately acquainted with every one of them.”

She didn’t raise her voice, but the calm, deadly words let him know she meant every single one. This impressed him, almost as much as her perfect complexion and her long silky eyelashes. “Well, that’s two things. What’s the third?”

Dakota looked at him directly for the first time, her face a mask of weary disgust. “My cat, the lovely Cha-Cha, managed to lock me out of the house. I came outside to get something out of the car and before I realized the car keys were in the house, I heard the door slam shut and a loud click, which meant that girlfriend put her big fat paw right on the lock. So I’m out here with no keys and no cell phone and she’s in the house laughing at me.”

Nick stared at her for a long moment and tried hard not to laugh, but when he turned to see Cha-Cha sitting on the windowsill looking innocent, he had to. He burst into laughter and surprisingly, Dakota didn’t seem to be offended. On the contrary, she shrugged. “Knock yourself out. If it was anyone else but me, I’d be laughing, too. You don’t happen to have a cell phone I can use, do you?”

Nick gave her a genuine smile this time and assured her he could do better than that. “Here, these are for you. Peace offering. You don’t need a phone, you need a man who knows what to do, and that happens to be me. Be right back,” he added as he got up and dusted his pants off before heading for the truck.

Dakota looked at the flowers and despite her miserable day, she smiled. They were beautiful: black-eyed Susans, purple freesias and some other blooms that were shades of pink that looked lovely with the bright yellow and purple petals. She turned to the window and waved them at her naughty cat. “Ha! I got flowers and you got nothing. Serves you right, little wench.”

She watched Nick retrieve something from his truck and was amazed that she hadn’t noticed how handsome he was. Tall, with creamy skin and a body she knew was hard and muscular from their brief encounter the day before, he was a real treat for the eye, especially now that he wasn’t wearing that cap and those sunglasses. All that curly hair and those green eyes, super bone structure and those perfect white teeth…if she were in the market for a man, she would have been knocked off her feet for sure. And the way he’d slipped in the information that the young beauty was his niece was real cute, but it wasn’t going to get him any points. The way she was feeling towards the male of the species right now just made him an interesting specimen, nothing more. She had no more interest in him than she would in a statue. Although, when he started walking towards her again she had to admit that he reminded her of a Thomas Blackshear statue come to life—perfect features, rich coloring, undeniable sex appeal and total masculinity. She had to suppress a trembling sensation as she watched him walk. He was just a little bit bowlegged and it was incredibly sexy. Damn him anyway, she thought. Damn all men. They’re all critters.

Nick had returned with a tool belt and a smile. Dakota was trying to look evil, but she was too taken with the sight of his long legs in his neatly pressed jeans and his broad chest covered with a nicely fitting blue T-shirt. Besides, she was curious. “So what are the tools for?”

“I’m going to get your door open and then we’re going to have a little talk with your cat. It’s not safe for her to be locking you out. Chicago is a big city and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” he said with a sexy twinkle in his eye.

She could feel her eyes widen at his flirtatious words, but she disciplined her face to stay neutral. Ignoring his flirting, Dakota turned so she could watch him work, sniffing the fresh scent of her bouquet as he took a few small tools out of the belt and went to work. He fiddled around with a small pick, and, in minutes, the door popped open.

“That lock is worthless,” he told her. “You’re going to want to replace it as soon as possible.” He opened the door and held his hand out to help her up. She took the hand he extended to her and tried to get up gracefully, but it wasn’t really possible. She suddenly remembered that she was not looking her best, in a pair of gray sweats that were so old they were legitimate antiques and a tattered sweatshirt that had once belonged to her father. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She gathered what was left of her dignity and invited him in.

As they crossed the threshold, Cha-Cha leaped from her post in the window and made a dive at Nick’s feet. Dakota clicked her tongue in mock disgust. “See how you are? You lock me out looking like a bag lady and then you try to put the moves on the man who rescued me. You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?”

Cha-Cha ignored her and concentrated on Nick, wrapping herself around his ankles and purring loudly. “You’ll have to excuse her,” Dakota told him. “She loves men, especially good-looking ones. She likes the sound of their voices or their smell or the feel of their hands or something.” As the cat sniffed Nick’s feet, she began to purr loudly until Nick bent down and picked her up, something that surprised Dakota. She hadn’t pegged him as a cat lover. He let Cha-Cha twine around his upper arms and nestle in his neck while she emitted a low rumbling noise interspersed with little squeaks of joy. Dakota rolled her eyes at the spectacle and looked around for something to put her flowers in.

She excused herself and went into the kitchen, only to have Nick follow her with his new girlfriend draped over his shoulder. “Thanks for the flowers,” she said as she looked around for a vase of some kind. There was nothing to be found but a bottle that had once contained mineral water. Nick surprised her again by taking the bottle from her hand and using his pocket knife to trim off the narrow top of the bottle, leaving an unorthodox but effective vase. She took it from him and looked at it. “Thanks again. That was a good idea,” she said with a smile. She turned the water on to fill the impromptu container and jumped when a loud rattling sound came out of the tap, followed by a bang and a gush of nasty-looking brown water. “Well, that’s just the cherry on the cake of my day. What else can go wrong with the Amityville horror?”

“You need to have your pipes bled. Whoever put them in should have done that before you moved in,” Nick said.

“If I ever meet him, I’ll be sure to mention that, right before I blow a hole in his butt,” she retorted. Cha-Cha appeared to have changed camps because she looked at Dakota with disinterest before giving Nick’s ear a contented little lick.

“You never met your contractor? How did that happen?”

“It’s a long, stupid and pathetic story and I’m sure you don’t have time to listen to it,” she muttered as she looked again at the drywall, the crummy workmanship on the counters and the cheap cabinet fronts. Something occurred to her and she turned her eyes to Nick’s. “By the way, what are you doing here anyway? You didn’t just run by to pick my lock, so I’m guessing you have another reason for being here.”

“Yeah, I do. Or I did. Let me take a look around here for a minute and then we’ll talk.”

Before Dakota could say another word, he left the kitchen with Cha-Cha clinging to his shoulder. In a few minutes he had toured the whole place, stopping in her bedroom and shaking his head. There was her unmade air mattress, a small lamp, a clock radio and her suitcase, opened to reveal some very pretty and colorful underwear. He stopped walking, causing Dakota, who was right on his heels, to bump into his back. “You spent the night here? You slept on the floor of this place all by yourself?”

The incredulity in his voice grated on Dakota’s already frayed nerves. “Yes, I spent the night here. What was I supposed to do, sleep in the car? The movers are on their way here with all my worldly goods and the driver doesn’t seem to be answering his cell phone. I have to be here when they arrive,” she said, brushing her fantastic hair out of her eyes.

“No, what you had to do is to find someplace to store your stuff until this place gets fixed,” Nick contradicted her. “It’ll be at least three weeks before this place is ready for you to move into, maybe a month. If your furniture is in here it’ll just make it that much harder to get the place done right,” he told her as he absentmindedly scratched Cha-Cha’s ears. She was practically singing with delight at his touch and it was really annoying Dakota for some reason. She abruptly plucked the cat off her perch and put her on the floor.

“Look, Rick,” she began.

“Nick,” he corrected her. “My full name is Nicholas DeVaughan Hunter, but everyone calls me Nick.”

“Okay, Nick.” Normally she would have been embarrassed about forgetting someone’s name, but it didn’t bother her this time. She was too busy reacting to his take-charge tone of voice. The last thing she wanted or needed was to be bossed around by a stranger. “It’s obvious this dump needs something. I’m thinking about a gallon of kerosene and a few matches, but that’s not really the answer, tempting as it sounds. The point is, I start a new job on Monday, I don’t know a soul in Chicago except my new employer and I have no idea where I’m going to find a reliable contractor to fix this place. I have no idea where the crook who did this to me is and trust me, I’m not going to rest until I find him.”

“So what’s your point? You need a place to put your stuff until this place is ready, you need a place to stay, and you need the best man in the business to get the job done,” Nick told her.

“I think we’ve already established that,” Dakota said dryly. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get any of these things, would you?”

“Of course, darlin’. There’s one man for the job and you’re looking at him.”

Dakota stared at him suspiciously, thinking that he was teasing her. He looked calmly competent and sincere, as though he meant every word. She opened her mouth to start interrogating him, and to her chagrin a huge growl started in her stomach and charged its way out of her in the noisiest way possible.

“You haven’t eaten a thing today, have you? You need some food, baby. I’ll go get us something and we can work out all the details while we eat.”

He didn’t wait for her answer; he just turned and left the room. She and Cha-Cha looked at each other with wide eyes. “Chach, girl, who was that masked man?” she murmured. “What in the world are we getting ourselves into now?” Her cat had no answer for her other than a soft purr as she wound her way around Dakota’s legs.



An hour later, Dakota was in a much better mood. The first thing she’d done when she heard the door close behind Nick was to dash into the bathroom and take a speedy shower. She put on a little makeup, put on her favorite scented lotion and matching perfume and managed to find a cute outfit, a pair of jeans with flowers embroidered down one leg and a soft-pink top with a deep scoop neck and three-quarter-length sleeves. She thought she looked much better than she had that morning, but she wasn’t aware of how sexy she looked or she might have put on something else. Since there was nothing to sit on, she dragged the air mattress downstairs to the living room and put it in the center of the room, smiling as she arranged her flowers nearby. She had put a throw over the mattress and it looked kind of cute, albeit makeshift and Bohemian in the middle of the empty room.

Nick returned rather quickly with two bags of food that smelled wonderful to a starving woman and her hungry cat. “I hope you like soul food,” he said. “There’s a place not too far from here that has the best food in Chicago.”

Dakota smiled the first really genuine smile he’d seen on her pretty face. “I eat plenty of it, how do you think my butt got to be this big?” She was so hungry she didn’t even think twice about what she’d just revealed to him, she was too interested in the food. “What did you bring us?”

Cha-Cha was going crazy, walking around Nick’s ankles in figure eights and making throaty sounds that signaled extreme hunger. “I brought some fried chicken, potato salad and greens. There’s some Crowder peas and cornbread, too. You’re gonna like their cornbread, it’s just like homemade. Your cat must smell that chicken, she’s going nuts,” he commented.

“Actually, it’s the greens she’s after. She’s crazy about them,” Dakota said as she walked to the kitchen to get Cha-Cha’s dish.

Nick admired her figure as she walked away. If soul food was what put that luscious behind on her he was going to make sure she had a steady supply from then on. She looked even prettier than she had earlier and he could tell she’d done a little primping while he was gone. It pleased him to see that she’d made the effort, although she would probably deny that’s why she’d done it. She returned to the living room, where the cat was now dancing around in excitement.

“Okay, we need to share with her or we won’t be able to eat in peace,” Dakota said with a smile. “Which one is mine?” she asked, looking at the bags.

Nick reached into the larger bag and took out two containers. “They’re both the same, so help yourself,” he said as she took one from him.

He watched with amusement as she put a small portion of greens in the cat’s dish. She used the plastic knife and fork to cut it up finely, and then added a small piece of cornbread, which she crumbled over the top. Cha-Cha fell on it as though she hadn’t eaten for days, purring loudly while she ate. While Dakota cleaned her hands with a small bottle of antibacterial cleanser, Nick watched the scene in amusement.

“I never saw a cat eat greens in my life,” he said, taking the bottle from Dakota and using it on his hands.

“Oh, she loves greens, grits and catfish. If you want to see her really go nuts, bring some chitlins up in here. She’ll gank you for them,” Dakota said before saying a quick grace and taking her first taste of the deliciously prepared food. “This is sooo wonderful! Thank you so much, Nick.”

Nick watched her eat and smiled with satisfaction. She ate daintily but with good appetite and was obviously enjoying every bite. He loved watching a pretty woman tackle a good meal, it was a wholesome and sexy sight that often led to some fantastic after-dinner sex, but he wasn’t crazy. He knew better than to put some cheap moves on her so soon. She was a different breed of woman and he could sense it, but it didn’t stop him from teasing her as he dug into his own meal.

“What you know about chitlins? You look like the beefWellington type to me. You don’t seem like the type who would eat chitlins or pig’s feet or anything real down home,” he said between bites.

Dakota rolled her eyes at him. “I could ask you what you know about beef Wellington, which I happen to despise. What do you think you know about me that makes you say something like that? Did you bring anything to drink? I’m not touching that water from the kitchen tap,” she said grumpily.

Nick indicated the other bag. “I brought us some sweet tea. And you just seem like the real sophisticated type, you know.”

Dakota reached for the bag, took out both tall paper cups and handed him one. She opened the other one and took a long draught before cutting her eyes at Nick.

“You know nothing about me. And I doubt that you’ll get to know me much better, so let’s just keep out of each other’s business, okay? Let’s talk about what you think you can do for this house, how about that?”

Cha-Cha was inching her way to Nick, trying for another handout. Nick obliged her with a little piece of chicken before fixing her owner with a long sultry gaze.

Dakota was suddenly uneasy with his scrutiny and looked down to see what he was staring at. “Did I spill something? What are you looking at?”

Those big pretty breasts of yours, he thought, but prudently kept that notion to himself. “I was just thinking about how to get your house in order. Why don’t you move in with me until everything is finished?” he asked quietly. He enjoyed the look on her face as she really did spill something; iced tea rolled right down her chin and splashed onto her bosom. As much as he wanted to lean over and lick it off, he didn’t miss her next words.

“Are you out of your mind?”



By nightfall, Dakota was fairly confident that the man was in full possession of all his faculties. While they ate their dinner, he’d explained to her that he was in the business and that his crew could get her house up to the proper specifications in short order. He also told her that he owned three storage facilities and that he could have her things stored there until the house was ready to be occupied. By the time they’d finished eating, he’d made a few phone calls, and when the movers arrived, he’d directed them to the storage place, and by the time she’d cleaned up after their meal, he was ready to prove to her that he meant every word of what he’d told her.

He took her to his offices, which were spacious and nicely furnished. He introduced her to his office manager, Leticia Banks, and showed her all his credentials, licenses and letters of thanks from grateful clients. Dakota had been impressed in spite of herself. Leticia, who was plump, pretty and well-dressed, had given her a sly smile.

“You look a little overwhelmed, sugar. Don’t worry about a thing, Nick can deliver on anything he says he can do,” she assured Dakota. “He’ll have you hooked up in no time.” She gave Dakota a sunny smile that didn’t seem to match the coolly assessing look in her eyes, but Dakota filed that away for later consideration. She was too busy trying to calculate how much more this was going to cost her and she was hoping she wouldn’t have to go to her father for additional funds. She had a big chunk of money tied up in the Amityville horror, as she was now calling her house, and she dreaded the thought of more debt. She’d been totally upfront with Nick about it, too.

“Look, I believe you. I think you can do what you say, but I’m worried about the cost,” she said earnestly as she sat in the comfortable chair that faced his desk. “I already have a bundle tied up in this situation and I’m not made of money. There’s not a money tree in my backyard waiting to be harvested,” she said with a sigh.

Nick had turned those mesmerizing eyes of his on hers and didn’t crack a smile. “Have I asked you about money? You worry too much, baby. I’m trying to help you out and you’re questioning every move I want to make.”

Dakota blinked her long lashes at him. If she didn’t know any better, she would swear there was something personal in what he said, almost something sexual. She stared back at him and once again she had to suppress a strong physical reaction to the man. Suddenly she remembered how he’d snickered when her big behind was getting back into her car after the accident and as angry as the memory made her, it gave her a kind of reassurance. Whatever he wanted from her had nothing to do with sex, he wasn’t attracted to her. For once her extra pounds had come in handy. At least she didn’t have to worry about him trying to get with her in return for his favors.

“I apologize for being slightly paranoid,” she said in a quiet voice. She shrugged her shoulders and added, “But you’re a businessman and a good one, from the looks of your operation. You didn’t get that way from giving people handouts and as far as I know, construction work doesn’t have a pro bono arrangement.”

Nick continued to stare at her for a long moment before answering. “Look, baby, it’s commendable for you to be honest about your situation and to be concerned about mine, but I got this, okay? I’ll get paid because I’m going after Bernard Jackson myself. And when I’m done with him, he won’t be able to do this same number on anybody else. People like Jackson give all black builders and contractors a bad name. You aren’t the first woman he’s swindled and you won’t be the last, unless someone puts a stop to it.”

Dakota was captivated by the change in Nick as he spoke. The intensity of his voice and his rising emotions made his voice even deeper and he seemed even more masculine than before, if that were possible. Her response to his firm declaration moved her so that she felt another massive tremor working its way through her body and she had to work hard to control the urge to fan away the heat he generated in her. Oh, this is bad, this is really bad, she thought. “You sound very sure of yourself,” she told him.

Nick leaned back in his oversized desk chair and linked his fingers behind his head. “I am sure of myself. I know what I can do and nothing comes out of my mouth that I can’t back up. That’s just the way I am. You’ll understand that when you get to know me better,” he said with a smile that bordered on cocky.

The smug look on his face was enough to snap Dakota back into her senses. She was about to say something smart when Nick excused himself to answer his phone. She took a good long look at him and had to admit she liked what she saw. He was too tall; she liked men who were about six feet, maybe an inch or two taller. She hated a man who loomed over her; there was something bothersome about it. But he was a handsome man, no question. She knew women in D.C. who’d pay to get a date with a man like Nick. Those cheekbones, that strong chin, that head full of beautiful black hair and especially those green eyes—he could have been a model if it weren’t for the fact that he was so broad-shouldered and muscular. Suddenly Nick looked up and caught her staring at him. He gave her a smile that could have melted an iceberg and this time she really shivered.

“Okay, Miss Lady, have I convinced you that I can be trusted? Are you going to allow me to do what I do and get your house in order?”

As if she had no will of her own, Dakota felt her head going up and down as she nodded yes. “But I’ll still need a place to stay. Are there any residence hotels nearby? Those executive suite places?”

Nick rose and came around the desk, holding out his hand to her as he did so. “Baby, I told you I’ve got it all handled. Come with me and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Lordy, what am I getting myself into now? she thought as she accepted his hand.

As though he could read her thoughts, Nick suddenly pulled her up out of her chair and touched her chin with the fingers of his free hand. “You gotta trust me, baby. I got this. Let’s go.”




Chapter 3


Dakota was just getting out of the shower when her cell phone went off. She pulled the luxurious towel around her body a little tighter and sat on the edge of the bed to answer it, smiling when she heard her sister Billie’s voice.

“So what’s going on with you? I’ve heard some disturbing stories,” Billie said with a teasing laugh.

“I see you’ve been talking to our brother,” Dakota said dryly. “That boy can’t keep anything to himself.” She sighed and tried to get more comfortable on the edge of the huge bed.

“I heard the brownstone you bought turned out to be in the projects and you were sleeping in your car, that’s all,” Billie said. “Is any of that true?”

“None of it! You and Johnny both need to quit exaggerating. I’m sure he didn’t say I was sleeping in my car,” Dakota said impatiently. “You two are so dramatic. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

Billie had a quick answer for her. “You’re going to keep being our favorite sister, that’s what. Johnny didn’t say anything like that, of course, but he was really pissed about that so-called friend of his. So what happened, exactly?”

“The brownstone is a mess, but I have a builder who’s going to get it hooked up. He’s also going after the guy who did the number on me, says he’s a bum and he’s done it to other people, too, mostly women. And I’m not sleeping in my car. I’m staying in a furnished apartment, as a matter of fact.” She waited two full beats and then added, “I’m staying in his apartment.” Her mischievous tone of voice did the trick as all she heard was a loud scream from the other end.

“You’re staying with him? Girl, have you lost your reason? No wonder you told Johnny not to tell Daddy! I should tell him myself, you idiot. You don’t know this joker from a can of paint and you’re staying with him? Are all the hotels in Chicago booked up or something?”

“Ooh, girl, you really need to chill. Look up the word overreaction in the dictionary and I’ll bet your picture will be there. I said I was staying in his furnished apartment, I didn’t say anything about him being here, too. He lives in a house, thank you very much, and he just happens to have several rental properties. This apartment is the last place he lived before moving into his home,” Dakota told her.

“Oh.” Despite her earlier outburst, her sister sounded a little disappointed that Dakota wasn’t cohabiting with a stranger. “Well, fill in the gaps then. Don’t keep me in suspense. Give, woman. Who is this man, where did you meet him and what makes you believe he’s not just another con artist? Johnny feels terrible about it, by the way. He’s big-time pissed-off at his so-called friend and he plans to do something about it. But tell all, dear. Inquiring minds need to know. Who is this man?”

“His name is Nick. Nick Hunter. He was teaching his niece how to drive a stick and she bumped into my rear end yesterday. I got out of the car spittin’ nails, you know how I am when I’m tired and cranky, and he’s there trying to make sure I’m okay. The next day he came over to bring me flowers to apologize and he saw the poor excuse for construction that louse Bernard Jackson left me. He looked the place over, went to get us something to eat and when he came back, he told me he could get it fixed.

“I didn’t believe him at first, but he took me to his offices and showed me all his credentials and introduced me to his staff and he even drove me by some of his projects. He also put my furniture in one of his storage facilities until all the work is finished,” she added.

Billie pounced on that bit of info. “He has more than one? Is he a dealer or a booster or something?”

Dakota laughed. “Get your mind out of the ghetto, child. He owns three storage facilities. He has about twenty rental homes and four apartment buildings as well as a bunch of other commercial property. He’s a builder, land developer, whatever. He’s a legitimate businessman, trust me.”

“You looked him up, didn’t you? As soon as he turned his back you got on your BlackBerry and you were digging into his past like a gopher, I know you,” Billie said with amusement.

“I did not look that man up,” Dakota retorted. She let a haughty silence build for about thirty seconds before admitting, “I called Harold and he did it for me.”

Harold was one of her best friends. They were both investigative reporters and Harold was one of the fastest and most thorough researchers Dakota knew. When she called him he was more than happy to jump on the Internet and pull up more information than she needed. “He’s legit,” Harold had informed her. “He’s a self-made man, and he’s very well-respected. Originally from Georgia, grew up in dire poverty, went into the army and came out with a burning desire to be a black Donald Trump apparently. Anyway, he’s considered to be one of the best in his field and he does a lot of community work, putting ex-cons to work, that kind of thing. Donates a lot of money, works with Habitat for Humanity and leaps buildings in a single bound. You can trust him.”

Dakota recited some of what Harold had told her and Billie gave a low whistle. “Whoa, sounds like he’s quite the man. Dare I ask what he looks like?

Dakota clicked her tongue in disgust. “He’s handsome,” she said dully. “Tall, fair-skinned, curly black hair, a body that could stop traffic and a deep voice that sounds like he gargles gravel every morning. He’s sexy,” she said dispiritedly.

Only her sister would understand why the prospect of working with a drop-dead gorgeous man would make a sane woman sound as depressed as Dakota did at the moment. Billie hastened to offer comfort. “Look honey, just because you were engaged to the world’s biggest fool doesn’t mean that all men are cut from that particular cloth. Lying, cheating, insincere cloth,” she mumbled. In a normal speaking voice she went on. “Just because that jughead did what he did doesn’t mean you have to spend the rest of your life distrusting men.”

“You’ve been watching Dr. Keith again, haven’t you? Look, I’m just trying to get my house fixed properly. This guy could look like Alfred E. Neumann and I wouldn’t care. The fact that I’m on an emotional hiatus which may prove permanent has nothing to do with this man, believe me.” Her words sounded a little too emphatic, even to her own ears. “He has green eyes, did I tell you? With long eyelashes.” Horrified, she covered her mouth even though no one could see her.

Billie, bless her heart, was trying gamely to change the subject. “So what’s the apartment like?”

“Like a pimp’s pleasure palace,” Dakota said succinctly.

“Quit exaggerating! It doesn’t look like that,” Billie said with a laugh.

“Oh, yes it does,” Dakota said promptly. “This is the tackiest place I’ve ever seen in my life.”



Earlier that day, while he was endeavoring to prove to Dakota that he was worthy of her trust, Nick had taken her over to his brother’s house to meet his family. He figured that if she met some sane, down-to-earth people who could vouch for him it would go a long way towards convincing her that he wasn’t an ax murderer or something worse. So they went to the house and everything was the very image of an all-American family on a Sunday afternoon. Paul was grilling in the backyard and Patsy, wearing an apron over her church dress, was stirring a big pan of fried corn on the stove. Ebony was putting the finishing touches on a tasty-looking tossed salad which she almost knocked off the table when she looked up to see the person standing next to her uncle.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, earning a stern look from her mother.

“What have I told you about taking the Lord’s name in vain?” She shook her head and patted her hands dry on a linen towel as she smiled at Dakota. “Come on in, sweetie. I’m Patsy Hunter, Nick’s sister-in-law. This is my daughter, Ebony, and she’s a little beside herself because she’s such a fan of yours. She’s read everything you’ve ever written.”

Ebony sat frozen in her chair, nodding her head like a bobble-head doll and then she found her voice. “Miss Phillips, I’m so sorry about yesterday, I really am. I feel really, really awful about it, I do. And I’m probably your biggest fan in the world,” she said sincerely. “I’m majoring in journalism because you inspired me so much and I’ve always wanted to meet you and I really hate that I wrecked your car to do it,” she ended with a sad face.

Dakota smiled at the young woman and went to the kitchen table in the center of the large sunny room to take a seat across from her. “That was the nicest apology I’ve ever gotten, although it was totally unnecessary. Driving a stick isn’t the easiest thing in the world to learn and you have nothing to be sorry about. I should apologize to you for being such a harpy yesterday. I was just overly tired, although that’s no excuse for making you feel bad.”

Ebony was beaming so brightly it looked as if her face was going to split. Patsy was smiling, too. She batted her eyes at Nick and said, “Well, this is the sweetest lady you’ve ever brought over here, Nick. I hope we see a lot more of her.”

Nick was leaning against the wall, watching the scene in front of him with amusement. Dakota was trying to control her face, but he knew she’d heard what Patsy had just said. He could have made it easy for her, but he was enjoying the little tableau too much. He liked seeing Dakota off her game for a minute so he could see the real woman behind the mask she wore for the public. She looked pretty and flustered and a little embarrassed and it was cute as hell. It gave him a feeling of power over her and he liked it, liked it a lot for some reason. And when Patsy insisted she stay for dinner, he wasn’t the least bit surprised.

Dakota protested, saying she didn’t want to impose, and Patsy and Ebony assured her it wasn’t an imposition in the least. Paul came in with a tray of grilled chicken and steak that smelled heavenly and in short order they were all sitting around the dining-room table enjoying a lovely meal. Ebony was questioning her about her work and Patsy was hanging on every word while Paul kept looking from Nick to Dakota and trying hard not to laugh. Nick knew he was eating her up with his eyes, but he didn’t care. Every so often she’d look at him with her pretty black eyes sparkling like stars and he loved every little sensation that resulted from her glances. For some reason he was comfortable around her, more comfortable than he could remember being in a long time and he enjoyed the feeling immensely.

She seemed to be having a good time, too. She answered all of Ebony and Patsy’s questions with genuine interest, and she had some words of advice for Ebony regarding her chosen major. “And I’ll help you get an internship next summer,” she promised the young woman. Ebony’s eyes welled up with happy tears and Dakota, who was seated next to her, squeezed her hand firmly.

“Don’t thank me. You may end up hating me before it’s over. It won’t be easy,” she cautioned. “But you’ll learn so much it’ll be worth it. Nothing beats on-the-job training. And by the way, I’d love to take a look at some of your writing.”

Ebony’s eyes had widened and she got up from the table, telling Dakota she’d be right back. As she was leaving the room, Dakota glanced at the clock on the wall and told Nick she needed to get back to the brownstone. “I really need to get back and see about my girl. She’s been alone way too long and there’s no telling what she’s gotten into. And I need to feed her, too. She’s probably starving by now.”

Patsy looked horrified. “You left your child alone at that half-done house?” she sputtered indignantly.

Dakota opened her mouth to explain, but Nick was already taking care of it. “Her ‘girl’ is her cat, Patsy. This cat is something else,” he said. “Her name is Cha-Cha and she looks like a fox. She’s kinda red with a big fluffy tail and big ears and big green eyes. She’ll follow you around like a dog and if you throw a ball or a stick she’ll go fetch it. And she eats greens and cornbread, believe it or not. Miss Cha-Cha is a hot mess,” he chuckled.

Patsy’s eyes widened and she threw her husband a quick glance before turning to Dakota. “What kind of cat is she?”

“She’s a Somali. They’re kind of rare, I guess. I’d never seen one until I was doing research for a book about this poor woman who was…well, let’s just say she met an untimely demise. Anyway, she was a breeder of Somali cats and her family was so happy that I was writing the truth about what happened to her, they gave me a kitten. She’s a handful, but I love her to death. They act kind of like dogs in a way because they’re very active and they rip and run through the house a few times every day. They’re also very smart and they can get into anything, cupboards, refrigerators, drawers, you name it,” she said.

“Yeah and they can lock doors, too. Miss Cha-Cha locked Dakota out of her house today,” he said with a sexy smile that was just for Dakota.

“She’s a mess, but I still have to feed her. I don’t like leaving her alone in a strange place for so long.”

Nick agreed it was time to go get Cha-Cha and take her to her new home. “I’ll even stop and get her some soul food on the way.”

Dakota smiled and shook her head. “You’re going to spoil her. She’s already crazy about you and you’re just making it worse.”

They thanked Patsy and Paul for the meal and Dakota offered again to help clean up. Paul said that’s why they had children. “Patsy kept asking me for a dishwasher so I gave her four,” he said with a straight face. “The other three are at their aunt’s house in Georgia. Good thing, too, or you wouldn’t have gotten enough to eat,” he added.

Ebony had been in the living room on the phone when the couple left, but when she came into the kitchen she saw her parents laughing. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Your uncle is smitten,” her mother said.

“Oh, I knew that yesterday. She’s so pretty, Uncle Nick went for her in a heartbeat.”

“You don’t get it, Ebony. Your uncle really likes this lady,” her father said.

“You think so?” Ebony tapped her lower lip thoughtfully. “I’m glad you think so, too, but why do you say that?”

Her parents looked at each other and laughed again. “Because your Uncle Nick hates cats,” Patsy told her.



After she and Billie ended their call, Dakota tried to get comfortable on the bed and found that the only was she could do that was to sit in the very center of it. She gazed around the room again, in awe of her surroundings. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Billie it was the tackiest place she’d ever seen. When Nick had opened the door to the place, she’d almost thought he was playing a joke on her.

They had gotten some dinner for Cha-Cha and gone back to the brownstone where Dakota had given the cat a lecture on her future diet. “You’re not going to be eating like this every day, so don’t get used to it,” she’d told her. “This is a special treat.”

While the cat quickly devoured her food, Dakota and Nick had put her few belongings into his truck and soon they were on their way to the apartment he insisted she use. “It’s empty and there’s no need for you to spend a lot of money for a hotel. Just relax, it’ll be fine,” he assured her. The building was ten stories high and it was a pleasant surprise to Dakota’s eyes. It had been built in the thirties and Nick had rescued the deco-looking structure by gutting the inside and restoring it to its former glory. Everything had been carefully modeled to retain the look of the era in which it had been originally built. He’d used exquisite skill and care in putting the building back together and Dakota was blown away by his ability and taste. She was still complimenting him on his workmanship when they reached the door of the apartment he’d once occupied. He’d thrown the door open with a flourish and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open and her mouth shut when she saw what was on the other side.

The interior of the apartment was nothing like the public areas of the building. There was nothing sleek or classic about the furnishings she beheld, unless someone just had a real jones for classic playa-playa decor. The walls were covered in a hideous royal-blue raw silk and there was a big plush rug in the same color in the middle of the living-room floor. It had the misfortune to be covered in faux zebra stripes, but the bizarre design didn’t disguise the fact that the rug, like the wall covering, was expensive. And the hardwood floors were beautiful, she freely admitted that. But the things that were arranged on the floor were awful. There were two floor lamps that looked as if they’d been hacked out of a glacier. They were composed of big, irregular blocks of crystal and they were overly bright to Dakota’s eyes, as well as being butt-ugly. The sofa seemed to be a mile long and it was cheetah-printed leather that Nick informed her was hand-painted. There were two chairs that made her want to bite the back of her hand to keep from screaming. They were made of gold velvet and they were shaped like high heels. Not the cheap versions, either, these were the originals that Nick had acquired at a gallery. The whole place was like the living room, full of very expensive tasteless items that made her flesh crawl.

The dining room had a gigantic table made entirely of glass. Not acrylic, the way most tables of that kind were constructed, but real glass. It looked like it weighed a ton and Dakota couldn’t imagine trying to consume a meal seated there. The chairs carried out the jungle motif as each one was made of pony-skin dyed to emulate some other poor dead beast. She took one look at the light fixture over the dining-room table and this time she did have to put her hand to her face. She’d never seen anything so repulsive in all her life and she’d spent a lot of time in morgues and at murder scenes. It was made of brightly plated gold fixtures and it had crystal dollar signs all over it. Big ones, little ones, medium-sized ones; they were everywhere. There were also prisms interspersed here and there and they caught the light from the hundreds of halogen bulbs that adorned the garish display and made dancing rainbows all over the mirrored walls.




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