Читать книгу Tough As Nails - Jackie Manning - Страница 10

Tall, willowy, and dressed in a summery, watery-blue silk dress, Brianna looked as he remembered her: warm, sexy and completely off-limits.

“Hello, Michael.”

Her smoky contralto was nearly his undoing. For one brief, overwhelming moment, he didn’t move. All he wanted was to look at her and absorb every changed detail about her. He knew how her skin felt beneath him. Knew the intimate places she’d loved him to touch, and her sounds of pleasure when he did.

“Brianna.” His voice was huskier than he would have liked. Not trusting his voice now, he pointed to one of the leather chairs that faced his desk. She nodded, then eased gracefully into the seat, the motion sending her shoulder-length, silvery-blond hair shimmering in the afternoon light from the window.

His fingers twitched as he remembered brushing that hair until it shone like moonlit waves of satin down her back. When he’d first known her, she wore her waist-length hair parted in the middle and loose. She had looked like what he imagined a storybook princess to be. His golden princess, he’d called her, and she’d laugh in that rich, throaty way that always went straight to his heart.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” Her voice held no hint of emotion, but he noticed her fingers grip the strap on her leather bag.

Her gaze swept his office, more out of politeness than curiosity, he would guess. “Nora told me you were doing very well.” She smiled. “I’m glad for you, Michael.” Her eyes held his. “And you’re looking well.”

The proper boarding schools had taught her to be gracious under pressure. He wondered if she really gave a damn how he was doing, business or otherwise. But he let the comment drop. “And so are you.” He swallowed. “How is Nora?”

The smile she gave him warmed her eyes. “Nora’s fine, thank you. She left this morning for Denver to visit her sister for several weeks.” Brianna hesitated, and he couldn’t quite believe that his wife—his ex-wife—was really sitting in front of him.

Hell, they were chatting away as though nothing had happened seven years ago. But his palms were damp and his throat felt as if he’d swallowed a basketball.

“I’ve been back in the city for two years, Brianna. I hardly think you just happened to find yourself in my neighborhood.”

“Of course.” She fixed those moss-green eyes on him, and he could see reluctance and something else.

“You’re right. I’ll get to the point.” She slipped her handbag strap from her arm and withdrew a large envelope from inside the bag. “I’m a psychologist now, with an office here in the city.”

Over the years, he’d kept track of almost everything about her through her aunt. Nora mentioned that Brianna had finished her doctorate, opened her office and became engaged to a London plastic surgeon. Nora also told him when Brianna’s engagement had been broken, and he cursed himself for the relief that news had given him.

“Most of my clients are women and teenagers from the city family-violence shelter.”

He noticed her hands tremble as she slid the envelope across the desktop toward him. He leaned forward, curious what would bring her to see him.

“Over the past two weeks, I’ve received four anonymous envelopes, each containing one picture.” As she spoke, Mike lifted the flap and pulled out three black-and-white photographs, all eight-by-ten glossies, and laid them across the front of his desk. “There’re only three here.”

“I left the last one with Lieutenant Jeffries at the local precinct on my way here. It was slipped under my door early this morning.” She averted her gaze from the photographs, as though not wanting to face the evidence.

“Did Jeffries say he was running it for prints?”

“Yes, although I doubt if the lab will find any. The other photos were clean, too.”

Mike nodded, then studied the pictures. Each one focused on Brianna in full close-up. The first picture showed her in a parking garage as she slid behind the wheel of a Jeep Wrangler hardtop. “Your car?” he asked.

She nodded. “I rent a parking space at a garage across from my office building.”

Anyone could have easy access to her car, especially using a zoom lens, and not be seen, Mike thought. The second photo was taken in a crowded restaurant. Brianna was in the center of a circle of women, laughing. On the table, a basket of brightly wrapped gifts hung from the beak of a tall, smiling stork.

“A colleague’s baby shower,” she said. “That was taken two days before the photo arrived.”

Mike’s gaze lingered on the next photo: Brianna, drinking wine with a good-looking, dark-haired, bearded guy at a cocktail bar. “Your boyfriend?” He hoped the question sounded motivated by professional rather than personal curiosity.

She shook her head. “No. He’s Larry Cunningham, a colleague.”

“A psychologist?”

She nodded. “Yes, we share an office suite.”

Are you sleeping with him? She looked as if she was ready to bolt from the room, so he didn’t ask, but he’d have to know sooner or later.

He put the photograph alongside the others. “The picture Jeffries still has—where was it taken?”

“I’m at the outdoor market near my apartment.” She shrugged. “I’m sniffing a cantaloupe.” She almost laughed. “Honestly, Michael, I can’t see any connection between these pictures, unless he’s trying to show me that he knows my schedule.”

“Ever consider that the stalker might be a woman?”

Her eyes widened, then her lips pressed in thought. “Possible, but I think unlikely.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs to the side of his desk. “Why? Do you think you know who’s behind this?”

Her mouth tightened. “My first thought is Billie Ray Bennett. He’s an ex-con with a history of violence against women. He’s angry at me because I helped his girlfriend, my client, finally leave him. She’s living in another state, safely away from him, Thank God.”

“And Bennett believes you’re the reason his girlfriend left him?”

“Exactly.” She waved her hand. “Classic denial. It’s easier for batterers to believe the problem is with those who help their victims escape than to accept responsibility for their own abusive behavior.”

Mike pulled a compact computer from his pocket and tapped at the keyboard. “Okay, Bennett is a start. Anyone else?”

She took a deep breath and raked her fingers through her hair. “I—I really don’t know.”

The crack in her confident shell tore a hole deep inside him. He wanted to gather her up, hold her close the way he did all those years ago when she’d awoken in his arms during a lightning storm, terrified and shaking.

But he wasn’t her husband anymore. He wasn’t the man she chose to keep her safe at night. She needed his professionalism, like any other client. A professional arrangement.

“Do you feel up to filling out some forms?” He was glad his voice sounded neutral.

“Forms?”

“The usual questionnaire. Address, phone number. That sort of thing.” He shrugged. “It can wait till later if you’d—”

“Then you’ll take my case?” The surprise in her voice was genuine.

He took a deep breath. “I can suggest one of the other TALON-6 partners if you’d rather not work with me.”

“I-I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Then why did you come?” Damn, he hated the sarcasm in his voice.

“If you want the truth…” Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her. “Nora refused to leave New York if I didn’t make an appointment with you.” Her mouth quirked. “I was afraid she might be in danger. You know how stubborn Nora can be.”

A family trait, as he remembered. Mike’s gaze dropped to the photographs. So Brianna was here only because of her aunt’s insistence. He swallowed, unsure how he felt about that.

“I don’t think I’ll have any problem working with you, Michael.” She leaned forward, her voice throaty. “What’s past is past. We have our own lives. I don’t foresee any difficulty, do you?”

Foresee any difficulty? Hell, that’s all he could see. But dammit, if she could work with him, then he’d sure as hell do his part. “No. No difficulty.” He even managed to smile. “Let me make a few calls while you fill out the questionnaire Bailey gave you.”

He got to his feet as she nodded her understanding. He watched her rise, and when she stood, the sunlight from the window fell across her face and hair. For an instant, she looked as she had the first time he’d seen her, years ago.

He’d been nineteen and caddying at the Cape Hope Country Club. All eyes had turned to her as she led her three male golfing companions from the clubhouse and stepped toward the sunlit tee.

The largest of the men, the senior caddy Mike had seen around the club, had said something clever, and her smoky laughter was his reward.

Mike could only stare, his heart hammering through his veins as she strolled to the first tee, the men in giddy pursuit. Dressed in a sleeveless white T-shirt and shorts that enhanced her sun-bronzed arms and legs, she appeared not to have noticed that she’d captured every male eye on the course.

“She’s Brianna Kent, Harrison Kent’s daughter,” Dr. Parker had warned before taking a swing with his driver.

“Harrison Kent? Of Kent Paper Industries?”

“Hmm. The same. You so much as talk to her, and you’ll lose more than your job, son.”

How right you were, Doc, Mike thought as he pushed back the thought. He’d lost the job, the woman and his very soul.

After Brianna left his office, a trace of her perfume lingered. Mike shut his eyes against further memories that stirred in his brain.

Damn him, he was a fool to take her on as a client. But she was being stalked. Who knew what kind of crazy might be after her? She needed his help, and no one did his job as well as he did. And regardless of all that happened between them, Brianna knew it, too.

And maybe she was right; the past was past. They both were happy in their own lives. Why the hell not take her on as a client?

Piece of cake.

THE THREE-PAGE TALON-6 client questionnaire had taken Brianna only a few minutes to complete, but she lingered over the last sheet, purposely stalling. She needed time to pull herself together. She needed to calm the feelings that had been stirred up when she’d seen Mike again.

Her fingers still trembled as she noticed her unnaturally scrunched handwriting. If Mike remembered her normal flowing script, he’d know how nervous she was. She hoped he’d think her anxiety was due to the idea that someone was stalking her, not from seeing him again.

She thought she’d prepared herself to see him again. But when their eyes met and he’d flashed that heart-stopping grin, the years tumbled away. Memories of their kisses and being together rocked away that safe harbor she’d built for herself. She’d felt as breathless as when she’d first seen him.

She mentally shook herself. Her nerves were shattered from worry and lack of sleep. That was all. Besides, what woman wouldn’t be affected by Mike Landis? He had always possessed that easy charm that made men envy him and women want to throw themselves at him, regardless of the consequences.

The years had honed his good looks into white-hot sexuality. He’d always been broad-shouldered and muscular, but now he moved with a masculinity that was wickedly attractive—that is, if she was interested. And she definitely was not. She’d been around that hairpin curve and had the skid marks to prove it.

No longer was she that naive, overly protected daddy’s princess, attracted to the town’s bad boy. Now she was a clinical psychologist who knew about life and the sex drives that motivated smart people to make foolish mistakes. She understood his dangerous side, too. His obsessive need to prove himself by overcoming any challenge.

Seven years ago, she’d been that challenge. The daughter of the wealthiest man in town, she was everything the son of the town drunk couldn’t have.

She suspected his penchant for danger had been further honed by his experiences with Special Forces. The framed picture hanging on the wall beside his desk of those haunted, grim-faced soldiers came to mind. Even with his face camouflaged with paint, Mike stood out as the team leader.

She felt a tinge of envy. Mike shared something with those men that she had only dreamed of sharing with him as his wife. She knew he would connect with them, need them and trust them in ways he’d never been able to with her.

The cords of her neck throbbed. She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her head. Damn, why was she putting herself through this torment? She pulled herself up and got to her feet. With the questionnaire in hand, she hurried to the secretary’s desk. The sooner she got this over with the better.

MIKE FINISHED his conversation with Police Lieutenant Sam Jeffries, hung up the phone and stared out his office window on the twenty-first floor. Ribbons of bumper-to-bumper traffic crawled along the streets of midtown Manhattan. Millions of people, and one of them held a camera, watching, waiting, stalking Brianna. Waiting for the right moment to…to what?

Dammit, Bria. What have you gotten yourself into?

From what Lieutenant Jeffries had confirmed, the company that installed and serviced the security systems for Brianna’s apartment building was highly reputable. Mike recognized the company name and agreed.

The apartment manager had told Mike that the timer on the video cameras had stopped last night at 11:54 p.m. The repair crew had found a timing-delay loop spliced into the building computer system. Whoever had done it required sophisticated know-how and equipment. He doubted this was the work of Billie Ray Bennett, unless the guy worked for the CIA.

Mike took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate. But the image of how frightened Brianna had looked beneath that cool demeanor kept eating at him. If they’d been friends, he would have pulled her into his arms and promised her that he’d keep her safe.

But they weren’t friends. No, she was a client, and she’d made very clear that’s all she was. Hadn’t she said that she didn’t foresee any problems working with him?

He rubbed his chin, grudgingly admiring that ability in her. No doubt she’d realized long before she decided to leave him that their marriage had been the worst mistake in her life. On that they could agree.

He glanced at the photographs of Brianna in front of him, forcing his mind onto the case not the woman.

What kind of mind would go to such trouble to stalk her? He took a deep breath and moved back to his desk. If she agreed, he’d begin the case immediately. Once he installed the electronic equipment in her home and office, it wouldn’t take long to find the answers. But his experience told him they didn’t have much time. Whoever was behind sending her these photographs wouldn’t be satisfied for long with only scaring her. More than likely, the stalker already knew that she’d gone to TALON-6.

A rap sounded at his door, then Brianna entered. “Your secretary said it was okay to come in.” She handed him the questionnaire before taking a seat.

“I just spoke with Lieutenant Jeffries,” Mike said, glancing over her form. “The police lab wouldn’t get to the fingerprint results for a while. I took the liberty of asking him to forward the photograph to the crime lab I use. We’ll get the results faster.” He glanced at her. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”

“Of course.”

“Jeffries will need your written authorization.” He pushed the standardized form across his desk at her. “If you’ll sign this, I’ll fax it right out to him.”

“Great.” She picked up a pen, glanced over the agreement, then signed her name. When she sat back in her chair, he noticed her fingers were clenched. “I want to make one thing perfectly clear, Michael.” Her eyes were wide and serious.

“My coming to you like this is strictly business. If we work together, I don’t want…” She ran her tongue along her lower lip. “What I mean is, I don’t see any reason to mention the past. I hope we can agree to this.”

He felt a spark of anger. She really meant that she was able to put the past behind them, but she wasn’t so sure about him.

Dammit, if she wanted it all business between them, then that’s what she’d get. “The past is forgotten.” He waved his hand as though brushing at a fly.

She leaned back and crossed her legs. “Good. Now, I’d like to know what you’re planning to do.”

He rubbed his thumb along the compact computer on his desk. “I’m expensive. I use the latest technical equipment, much of which is continually being updated by my team and me. I’ll assess your home, your office, then come up with a figure.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fair.”

“Bottom line is that I’ll do whatever needs to be done to see that you’re protected.”

Her gaze leveled with his. “I want to be kept informed of what you plan to do, and approve any actions you take beforehand. Agreed?”

He took a deep breath. She had no idea what she was asking. But he figured she needed to feel in control. “Of course,” he said finally. Somehow they’d work out the details. “In the meantime, I’ll need a complete list of your clients, plus a—”

“That’s confidential information.”

He glanced up from his notes to see her eyes snap with challenge. For a moment, he felt a touch of envy for those in her life she defended so staunchly. “Your clients are all suspects, Brianna. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t take that approach.”

“I know my clients. Almost all are battered women. None of them would be capable of this.”

Mike leaned back in his chair. “Sorry, but I’ll need to see that list.”

She sighed. “If you insist, I’ll go over my client list with Dr. Cunningham. He deals more with criminal psychology. I’ll have him profile any of my clients whom he believes might be the stalker.”

Mike’s gaze fell to the bearded man in one of the pictures on his desk. “That Cunningham?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Let me know when you talk with him. I’d like to sit in—”

“Mike, that’s impossible. My patients’ records are confidential.”

He knew enough not to press her, but he’d see those records, with or without her help. He decided to change the subject.

“First, I’ll take some measurements of your home and apartment—”

“Why?”

Was she going to challenge his every action? Damn, of course she was! They could never agree on anything.

“TALON-6 needs to know the dimensions and cubic yards of space in each room.” He was pleased with the neutral tone in his voice. When she still looked confused, he added, “To determine the range for the audio and special listening devices we may need.”

“Oh.”

“I’d like to start immediately. I’ll schedule a complete debugging surveillance for phones and all vehicles. Do you want to start with your office or apartment?”

“You can’t believe my apartment is…bugged. That sounds so dramatic.”

“The stalker knows your schedule. These pictures prove he knows when you’re going in and out. We can’t leave anything to chance.”

“Of course. Do what you must.”

Mike turned the pages of the questionnaire that Brianna had filled out. “I see you haven’t been a recent victim of burglary. You haven’t experienced any unusual interference on radios or TVs, at home or at your office. You haven’t received any electronic gifts such as alarm clocks, lamps, boom boxes, CD players—”

“That’s what I wrote on the form.”

Her voice sounded tight. Although she was calm on the outside, he could sense she was wound tighter than a six-day clock. He wished he could make this easy but he couldn’t.

“Gifts are an easy way for the stalker to get electronic equipment into your home or office without detection,” he said finally. “You’re certain you haven’t overlooked something?”

She shrugged. “I’ve received flowers, presents for my birthday. The usual gifts from friends and colleagues. That’s all.”

“I’ll want a list of all gifts you’ve received in the past twelve months.” He frowned at her look of dismay. “It’s important or I wouldn’t ask.”

She brushed her hair from her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not making this any easier for you. I—I guess I’m still in denial.”

“It’s perfectly natural, Brianna.” God help him, but he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away the worried crease between her eyes.

He forced his attention back to the form. She had checked off that she hadn’t had any recent repairs or redecorating done in either her home or office. He had other questions, but they could wait until she was less tense.

“I’ll start by having security devices installed in the halls and entranceways to your office and home—”

“But my apartment building already has surveillance cameras. The stalker got around them.”

“My devices won’t be detected, and they are tamper-proof.” He glanced at his watch. “Ready to go home for the day? Or would you like to stop off at your office first?”

“Michael, I have clients scheduled until four o’clock. Then I have a mountain of reports to finish. Can’t we wait until tomorrow?”

He stood. “You don’t have to be at home while the equipment is being installed.” He grinned when she shot him another questioning glance. “We’ll go to your office. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready to go home.”

She shot him a look of exasperation. “That’s not necessary. I’ll give you my key, and when you’re through with the apartment, you can drop it off with my secretary at the office.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t mention on the form that your secretary has access to the keys to your apartment.”

She sighed. “Well, my secretary usually doesn’t, but sometimes—”

“She either does or she doesn’t.”

Brianna’s eyes snapped. “I forgot. So shoot me.” He could see her composure slip away. No doubt she felt it had been a mistake to come here. “I don’t need a bodyguard. All I want is to identify the stalker on video so I can press charges against him.”

“Brianna, I’m not trying to scare you, but from what the police said, whoever is stalking you has the expertise—”

“Please, I don’t need to hear how much danger I’m in, okay?”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

He studied her. Beneath that stubborn pride she was terrified for her life and she hated that he knew it.

Her mouth tilted at the corners. “Okay, I’m scared.” Her eyes snapped green fire. “Satisfied?”

“Nothing wrong with being afraid,” he said gently. “It’s what you do with your fear that’s important.” He tucked the compact computer into his jacket pocket and grabbed an attaché case from the bottom desk drawer. “Let’s get a taxi and start at your office.”

BRIANNA FELT her insides shake when Mike slipped beside her in the back of the taxi. After giving the driver the address of her office building, she leaned back and willed the butterflies in her stomach to go away, to no avail.

Maybe she was entitled to react foolishly where Mike was concerned. She’d known it would be hard to confront all those memories. How silly to have remembered him as that rebellious young daredevil. She glanced at him as he clicked his seat belt into place.

One thing hadn’t changed. He’d always been able to see right through her, long before she was aware of her own true feelings. Her thoughts went back to that time so long ago, in that backwater town in Maine. She’d been a college sophomore, spending the summer with her father in Maine. She’d first seen Mike when he’d caddied at the local country club.

Mike had worked for her father, or sort of. Harrison Kent III had been owner of Kent Paper Industries, and Mike had worked there on a hydro-pulper. He lived with his father on Mill Street, the row of company houses the paper-mill employees rented.

She’d been nervous that warm, late-June afternoon when she found out where Mike lived and went to see him. She had planned to ask him if he’d volunteer as lifeguard for the country club’s annual children’s charity.

She located him in the backyard of one of the typical two-story clapboard houses that were built more than fifty years ago. Mike’s jaw dropped when he saw her, then he quickly recovered when he crawled out from under the body of an old-model, yellow Trans Am.

He was naked except for a pair of faded denim shorts. She took a deep breath, trying not to appear unnerved at the sight of him. Serves you right for not calling him before dropping in, she chided herself.

“I was running errands for my aunt and thought I’d stop by.” Although it was true, the statement sounded lame. The disbelieving look he gave her only increased her nervousness.

He eyed her sideways as he wiped his large, tanned hands on a clean rag. “Don’t tell me. You just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “Why, yes, I was.” Her tone sounded defensive. “I just dropped off some proofs for my aunt at the printer’s, which is only two blocks from here.” She was talking too fast, and she forced herself to be cool.

Her gaze glued to his brilliant blue eyes, although she was aware of his stunning, sun-bronzed torso. She wanted to stare at the fascinating way the black whorls of hair covered his hard muscles and funneled into a dark V past the button of his jeans.

His expression turned cold and flat. “What are you doing here?”

He was obviously upset that she’d come unannounced. If she had a lick of sense, she’d never have come.

“My aunt wanted me to ask you if you’d volunteer at the country club. They need a lifeguard for one weekend a month.” Nora hadn’t exactly asked her to ask Mike, but Brianna had seen his name at the top of the proposed list of candidates. “The summer program for underprivileged children is in high gear, and—”

“I told your aunt that I’d do it when she asked me last Saturday.”

“Oh.” Brianna felt like a fool. “I saw your name on the list and…” She took a deep breath to recover. “Nora didn’t tell me.”

His bottom lip quirked in disbelief. “Your aunt is quite a lady. She and the Judge have done a lot for me, and I owe them, big time.” His blue eyes darkened and he lowered his stare to her breasts. She felt caged by his look, and a delicious weakness coursed through her.

“Why did you really cross the tracks to come all the way down to Mill Street, Brianna?”

She stepped back, not wanting to admit the truth, even to herself. “I—I told you.” His dark look made her feel like a groupie at a rock concert. “Obviously my aunt either forgot or wanted to confirm that you hadn’t changed your mind,” she lied. She turned and almost ran toward her car. When she reached the backyard gate, with his long strides he had caught up with her.

Mike folded his arms across his broad chest, biceps bulging. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“I—I was curious.”

“About me?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Didn’t your country-club friends fill you in on all the details? Did they tell you my old man is a drunken bum? That my mom ran off when I was two? That I’m no good? Didn’t they warn you to leave me alone?”

She met his gaze evenly. “I make up my own mind.”

“And have you?”

“Yes.”

He waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he added, “If you’re trying to make your old man angry, I’m not your guy.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m not about to risk my job at your old man’s paper mill just so you can prove to Daddy that you’re a big girl. Now that you’re eighteen and inherited your mom’s money.”

He must have noticed her look of surprise. “Oh, yeah. The country-club gossip doesn’t limit itself to just Mill Street, Brianna. The Kent family is gossiped about, just like everyone else.”

“If you’re trying to make me uncomfortable—”

“Nothing like that. I don’t care what you’ve got to prove, just leave me out of it.”

“You self-centered jerk. How dare you think I’m interested in you. If you believe for one minute that I’m here to…to…” She watched a muscle clench in his jaw. She was frightened and excited by the sudden change in him.

His gaze dropped to the low neckline of her jade-green sundress. She’d carefully chosen the outfit before coming to see him. She knew the color complemented her golden tan and brought out the green in her changeable eyes. She knew the cut of the bodice accentuated her high breasts and narrow waist.

She went very still as he pulled her into his strong arms. Her breath caught as his mouth, hard at first, covered hers in a hot, openmouthed kiss. She wanted to wrench free, to prove that she was outraged, but instead, her body leaped to life and she felt her outcry melt beneath the heat of his kiss. She opened for him, her body full of sharp, exciting sensations.

Her arms circled his neck as her tongue twinned with his. She’d been kissed before, many times, but nothing like this.

Beneath the thin cotton of her dress, she felt his heart hammer with hers, and she was aware of the hard bulge in his jeans pressing against her.

He wanted her. The thought thrilled and frightened her as she drew him closer.

Just as suddenly, he released her. “That’s why you came here.” His voice was husky. “And we both know it.”

He turned without looking at her and stormed toward the house.

Breathlessly, she stared after him, rigid with anger. Then she dashed to her car, never more humiliated in her life. He’d known why she’d tracked him down long before she’d known, herself. That was a trait of Mike’s that had continued to amaze and infuriate her.

But he’d been wrong about one thing—she’d been attracted to him because of who he was, not because her father would disapprove of her dating him. Yet she knew that a part of Mike believed she’d married him to prove to her dad that she had a mind of her own. If she could have convinced Mike, would it have made a difference?

Hell no. She’d never been able to tell Mike anything. Well, as his client, she wasn’t about to let him get the upper hand.

“…your reports?” Mike’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“W-what reports?”

From the seat beside her in the taxi, he’d been studying her. His blue eyes were bright with unreadable emotion. “The mountain of reports you said you have to finish. I asked if you can work at home on your reports.”

She was aware of his subtle aftershave, spruce or maybe desert sage, and she felt a jolt of feminine response. God, he was so handsome. She fought to remember what he had asked her.

“The reports. Yes. Yes, I’ll bring them with me.” Her mind felt scattered. Maybe it was a good thing she wouldn’t be working late at the office tonight.

She turned her head to glance out the taxi window and was surprised to see the cab pulling to a stop in front of her office building.