Kitabı oku: «Hot & Bothered»

Reviewers love New York Times bestselling author
SUSAN ANDERSEN!

“This start of Andersen’s new series has fun and interesting characters, solid action and a hot and sexy romance…. The introduction of the heroines of the future stories whets the appetite for more.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Cutting Loose

“Snappy and sexy…. Upbeat and fun, with a touch of danger and passion, this is a great summer read.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Coming Undone

“Deft characters, smart dialogue, laugh-out-loud moments and sizzling sexual tension (you might want to read Chapter 15 twice) make this hard to put down…. Lovers of romance, passion and laughs should go all in for this one.”

—Publishers Weekly on Just for Kicks

“Andersen again injects magic into a story that would be clichéd in another’s hands, delivering warm, vulnerable characters in a touching yet suspenseful read.”

—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on Skintight

“A classic plot line receives a fresh, fun treatment…well-developed secondary characters add depth to this zesty novel, placing it a level beyond most of its competition.”

—Publishers Weekly on Hot & Bothered

“Sassy, snappy and sizzling hot!”

—New York Times bestselling author Janet Evanovich on Baby, I’m Yours

“Lively and fun!”

—New York Times bestselling author Susan Elizabeth Phillips on Be My Baby

“Sizzling, snappy, sexy fun.”

—New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Crusie on Baby, Don’t Go

Dear Reader,

I’m often asked which of my books I like best. It’s a question I can only shrug at and reply that’s like trying to choose your favorite kid. Each book owns a chunk of me, and I love them all equally.

That’s the Scout’s-honor truth…as far as the big picture goes.

In the narrower scope of things, I usually love the book I’ve just finished the best—primarily because it is finished, because it all came together despite my darkest midbook doubts when I was certain it never would, and because in the end my characters finally settled down long enough to let me write their story my way.

Still, I have a sneaking fondness for this book in particular. I’ll even cop to feeling the teensiest sliver of favoritism. John Miglionni had been building in my mind for the past two books, and I truly knew this guy by the time I sat down to write him. He’s a former Marine with a troubled past and a bad attitude when it comes to relationships. Give them a week, he maintains, and they start to stink.

Oh, boy. That’s just begging for a comeuppance, don’t cha think? So I gave him his worst nightmare in the form of Victoria Hamilton, the one woman to walk away from him before he was ready to see her go. Being thrown together with her again is blowing his ironclad notions about the interchangeability of women all to you-know-where and gone.

I just adore John and Victoria and their assorted family, friends and foes. And when all is finally said and done, I’m tickled pink with the way their story turned out. If you are, too, and you want to know how things turned out with Jared and P.J. once they grew up, check out their story in Coming Undone, in stores now.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Susan Andersen
Hot & Bothered

This is dedicated to that wild and zany,

Whitey’s-territory wedding party

To the bride and groom, David and Heather

To John and Sam, Uncle Chuck, Mom

and those dancin’ fools, Austin and David

And especially to Colleen and Dave,

for sharing it all with me

It was crazy fun, and I love you all

—Susie

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d like to acknowledge Marcine Egender, Co-Executive Director of StandUp For Kids in Denver, Colorado. Thank you so much for answering all my questions, and for your insight into life on the streets for today’s at-risk youth. I hope my interpretation of the facts you shared is in the ballpark. If not, the inaccuracies are mine alone.

Hot & Bothered

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

FORD EVANS HAMILTON OPENED his eyes and blinked the blurry room into focus. Pain splintered through his skull and throbbed along his nerve endings, and he lifted a cautious hand to probe the back of his head. It felt like an overripe cantaloupe.

What the hell had happened? Hearing muted voices, the clink of heavy crystal, he drew his eyebrows together. Was there a party going on?

Images flickered and floated on the peripheries of his mind and his brow grew smooth. Ah, yes. That’s right. There was a party—the one he’d thrown to watch McMurphy squirm. Well, McMurphy and one or two others, but the point was he had guests and he’d come into the library for a box of cigars to go with the after-dinner brandy. And…Jared had been there, right? Ford scowled as bits of their argument came drifting back and he suddenly recalled the shove his son had given him as the boy had stormed for the door. Jared was nothing but a blotch on the Hamilton name. Both his children were big disappointments.

The faint swish of fabric brushing against the Aubusson rug snagged his attention. He turned his head, wincing as fresh agony stabbed like a series of ice-pick thrusts from cranium to tailbone. He was going to make Jared rue the day he was born. Peering sourly at the slowly merging double image of the person kneeling by his side, he demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?” Then he pushed the question aside with an impatient wave of his fingers. “Never mind that.” He extended his arm imperiously, furious that he hurt all over. “Give me a hand.”

“Oh, I intend to,” the person murmured. “I plan on giving you a helping hand straight to hell.”

Then faster than Ford’s confused mind could process the facts, the razor-sharp silver-handled letter opener that usually rested on his mahogany desk flashed downward. And his heart exploded.

CHAPTER ONE

“COME ON, DARLIN’,” John Miglionni murmured to the curvy little redhead. “Just let yourself go. You know you wanna—it’ll feel so good.”

He sucked in a satisfied breath when she did as he urged. “Yes!” he whispered…and zoomed in the lens of his camcorder on the woman across the field as she finally swung herself up onto the back of a quarter horse at least fifteen hands tall. His client, Colorado Insurance, would be ecstatic, as this would go a long way toward putting a serious crimp in the woman’s multimillion-dollar disability claim against the company. The injury she had insisted under oath rendered her unable to ride her beloved horse was clearly fraudulent.

He kept his camera trained on her as she took the horse over the paddock fence and galloped across the high plains that spread out east of Denver. Once she was no longer identifiable through the lens, he packed up his equipment and headed down the road to where he’d left the dusty, beat-up old tan pickup truck he was using for this morning’s surveillance.

Forty-five minutes later he banged through the front door of Semper Fi Investigations, grinning when his office manager Gert MacDellar jumped and slapped a hand to her bony chest.

“Good Gawd, Almighty,” she snapped, glaring at him over the top of her rhinestone-studded cat’s-eye glasses. “You scared a dozen years off my life! And at my age, boy, I can’t afford to lose a single minute, much less more than a decade.”

“As if you aren’t gonna outlive us all, Mac.” John hooked a leg over the corner of her desk, perching a bun on its solid oak corner. He handed her the camcorder. “Download this for the Colorado Insurance file. Then tally up the final invoice to include three and a half hours for today.”

Her faded blue eyes, which were several shades lighter than her rigidly upswept hair, lit up behind the pristine lenses of her glasses. “You got her?”

“Yes, ma’am. Dead to rights.”

Gert whooped and plugged the high-tech digital camcorder into its docking station. Downloading its contents with one hand, she used the other to pull a short stack of pink “While You Were Out” slips from beneath a chunk of polished quartz. “Here. You had a few calls.”

John read the first slip, then slid it to the back of the stack. He handed the second message back to Gert. “Give this one to Les,” he said referring to the engineer he’d recently hired to handle the increased spate of product liability cases that had been coming his way. Scanning the next message, he narrowed his eyes and looked back up, pinning Gert in place as he thrust that one, too, at her.

“You know I don’t do domestic cases anymore.”

“Well, you oughtta,” she said unrepentantly, making no move to take the slip. “They pay very well.”

“Yes, they do. They’re also chock-full of highly charged emotions and invasion of privacy problems, and frankly I’m not interested in sneaking around taking pictures of people having quickies. Now, if one of the spouses is hiding assets on the other, I’m your man, and I’ll be more than happy to ferret them out. But if they just want someone to dig up dirt they can use to bury their partner, refer ’em to the Hayden Agency down in LoDo.” He dropped the message slip onto the desk.

Gert huffed and gave her lacquered updo a comforting pat, but she argued no further and John looked at the last note.

And smiled. “All right, now this looks much more my thing. Give me a runaway any day of the week.” Settling himself more comfortably on the edge of the desk, he gave Gert his full attention. “Tell me about this one.”

She perked up, her disgruntlement forgotten. “Have you read about that tycoon down in Colorado Springs who got himself stabbed through the heart with a letter opener?”

“Yeah. Somebody—Somebody Hamilton, wasn’t it?”

“Ford Evans Hamilton. His daughter, Victoria, is our potential client. Well, I actually talked to the lawyer, but you get my drift. Ms. Hamilton’s seventeen-year-old half brother, Jared, disappeared the same day Daddy bought the farm.”

“The kid kill him?”

“According to Robert Rutherford, the attorney, Ms. Hamilton, or Evans Hamilton, or whatever she calls herself, swears young Jared isn’t capable of that kind of violence. But he’s been in trouble before—and he’s definitely a person of interest to the police, so she’d like to locate him before they do. Apparently he has a tendency to give a lot of attitude when he’s cornered or scared and she knows that lipping off to the cops won’t improve his situation.”

Having suffered similar tendencies as a youth, John could readily identify with the teenager and he flashed his office manager a big, feral smile. “Then isn’t it lucky for her that her lawyer called in the best.” It wasn’t couched as a question.

“Lord, you are the cocky one.” Gert bared her own bright white dentures. “It’s one of the things I’ve always liked best about you.”

He laughed. “Aw, Mac, admit it, you like everything about me. We’re so compatible, in fact, I’m surprised we haven’t run off and gotten hitched by now.”

Her puckered mouth looked as if she’d sucked a lemon, but John knew the flush tinting her cheeks stemmed from pleasure, not disapproval. She loved being teased, but he was more likely to see her update her stuck-in-the-fifties look sometime in the new millennium than ever hear her admit it.

As if reading his mind, she gave him a stern look over the top of her glasses. “I swear you could go to a wake and end up flirting with the corpse.”

He slapped a hand to his heart. “Why, Gert MacDellar, I’m crushed you’d think so. You know I’d only do that if the corpse were female.”

Her lips quirked, which was no doubt what prompted the impatient flip of her fingers that waved him off. “Get out of here, you fool. Go call that lawyer back and make us some money.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He snapped off a smart salute. “I know how you love those billable hours.” Then he rose from the desk and headed for his office to talk to a man about a case.

VICTORIA KNEW SHE HAD TO get a grip. Sometimes, though, that was a lot easier said than done and, pacing the parlor of her late father’s mansion, she freely admitted her emotions were in chaos.

At the small, quiet core of her, she was simply glad to be back. As much as she loved the hustle and bustle and history-soaked atmosphere of London, it wasn’t home, and she’d never quite gotten past feeling like a dispossessed expatriate while living there. She’d only gone in the first place because her aunt Fiona was there and, more importantly, because she’d needed to get Esme out of Father’s range before he could screw up her daughter the way he’d screwed up her and Jared.

But as glad as she was to finally be home, the circumstances gave her no peace at all. Her father was dead. And not merely gone forever—which heaven knew would have been traumatic enough, given all her unresolved feelings for him—but murdered.

Damn him. Half the time he’d been such a bastard. Most of the time, really. But he’d still been her father, and no one deserved to die the way he had.

Yet, wasn’t it just typical of him to go out in a blaze of notoriety? He’d never minded that for himself, with his increasingly younger wives and his cutthroat business practices. But when she or Jared made even a fraction of the waves Ford Evans Hamilton had, he’d given them no end of grief. The two of them had been expected to be good little Hamilton clones always, and there was a part of her that was steamed her father had died on her before she could unload just once her opinion of his parenting skills.

Which of course made her feel guilty, which in turn rendered her so twitchy she could barely sit still for more than twenty seconds running. So here she was, waiting for her lawyer to show up with a private eye in tow. Dear Lord. Whoever would have guessed she’d live to see the day The Maltese Falcon intersected the life of an Evans Hamilton? Old film noir images of men in fedoras who referred to women as dames and legs as gams kept flicking through her mind.

A bark of laughter that sounded dangerously close to hysteria escaped Victoria and she slapped a hand over her mouth to contain it. Carefully, she regulated her breathing.

Okay, let’s try not to lose it here. She focused on a priceless piece of art showcased on one of the sitting room’s pale yellow, watered-silk-covered walls. Just don’t think about any of this too closely. Take it minute by minute, and let the details blur. And if that smacked suspiciously of The Ostrich School of Coping Skills, so be it. The only way she knew how to deal with this mess was one problem at a time. Anything else was too overwhelming.

The telephone rang and she started. Then, fed up with her raw, edgy nerves, she crossed to the small credenza and picked up the receiver. “Hamilton residence.”

“Victoria, dear, is that you?”

The voice hiccuped in and out in the telltale manner of a cellular phone about to leave its service range, but she was pretty sure it was her lawyer’s. “Robert? Is that you?”

His voice faded out.

“I’m sorry, I can barely hear you.”

“Oh. Hold on.” Then suddenly his voice came through with crystalline clarity. “There, I switched to a new channel. Is that any better?”

“Much.”

“I’m calling to let you know I won’t be able to make our appointment with the Semper Fi investigator. I’ve been called into court. I apologize Victoria, but I want to assure you that I’ve talked extensively with Mr. Miglionni and everything is in order. To get him started, you merely need to meet with him, tell him about Jared and answer any questions he may have. You do have the number for my cell phone, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. If you think I might be able to answer any of the questions you can’t, give me a call.”

“I will. Thank—” the call abruptly disconnected “—you.” She blew out a breath and set down the receiver. “O-kay. Looks like I’m on my own.”

Nothing new there. She’d been on her own most of her life.

It was about time, however, to be a little less reactive and get a lot more proactive. God knew she owed Jared that much, since she’d always felt that by leaving she’d sacrificed him to save Esme.

She took a firm grip on her emotions and walked to the sitting-room desk where she forced herself to sit. She began sorting condolence cards into one stack that could be answered by her father’s secretary and into another requiring a more personal touch. By the time she heard the doorbell ring a short while later, she felt far more composed. Heading for the front entry, she smiled back at the housekeeper when she heard the woman bustling down the hallway from the kitchen. “It’s all right, Mary, I’ll get it.” Reaching the immense mahogany door, Victoria pulled it open.

Bright afternoon sunlight poured into the foyer, blinding her and backlighting the man standing on the brick steps. The only thing she could tell for sure was that he was tall and lean. Not that seeing his features was necessary in order to give him her best social smile—she’d attended far too many upscale girls’ schools for manners not to be second nature by now. “Mr. Miglionni?” she inquired softly. “Please, won’t you come in?” Stepping back to allow him entrance, she extended her hand. “I’m—”

“Tori,” he acknowledged in a husky tone that feathered down her spine. Her hand remained suspended between them for a moment when he made no move to take it.

Then she dropped it to her side, but it was the use of her nickname that knit her eyebrows together. Only a few of her closest friends, Jared and Aunt Fiona ever called her that. Robert Rutherford must have somehow let it slip, however, so she smoothed her brow and gave the private investigator another polite curl of her lips. “Actually, I go by Victoria.”

“Un-frigging-believable,” he said hoarsely.

She didn’t see why and surely the vulgarity wasn’t necessary. Nevertheless, she needed this man’s help if she were to have any chance of finding Jared, she reminded herself. She took refuge once more in the lessons learned from years of etiquette. “I’m sorry—what must you think of me to keep you standing on the doorstep. Please, do come in.”

He stepped forward and bent to set something on the floor. The strong lines of a tanned throat flashed briefly into sharp focus and sunlight caught a sleek, black ponytail that unfurled over his shoulder with his movement. The thick rope of hair was so shiny it shimmered with blue highlights. Then he straightened and once again turned into an impenetrable shadow limned by the blinding sun…all except for the olive-skinned, long-fingered hand that he extended toward her. Just as she accepted the belatedly offered handshake, he took a forward step that rendered his features a bit less obscure.

And Victoria’s stomach dropped with a sickening swoop. Flabbergasted, she stared up into the coal-black eyes of the one man she’d never thought to see again. She snatched her hand from his warm grasp. “Rocket?”

Hearing herself say the only name she’d ever known him by, realizing the consequences that his presence could have for her, a lifetime’s worth of composure vanished. Oh, God, oh, God, this was the last thing she needed. She had to get him out of here. She had to get rid of him before—

He swung the door shut behind him and for the first time jumped sharply into focus, all wide shoulders, dark skin and flashing white teeth. She’d barely begun even the quickest of inventories, however, before he reached out to pull her into his arms for a quick, hard hug that lifted her Ferragamos clear up off the floor. Setting her back on her feet, he gripped her shoulders and stared down into her face.

You have to go, you have to go, you have to—

“Damn, girl,” he said, “it’s good to see you again.”

CHAPTER TWO

JOHN COULDN’T SEEM TO stop smiling. It wasn’t often anything caught him by surprise, but when the door opened and he’d seen Tori standing on the other side, she could have knocked him on his butt with a nudge from one well-manicured fingertip. For an instant he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes.

But a guy didn’t forget the woman responsible for making him take a good, hard look at the identity he’d chosen for himself as a boy and question if it were still valid for the man he’d become. So although the always laughing, sun-streaked brunette he remembered was now cool-eyed, sober and remote, it only took a moment for him to logically accept what he’d known without question on a deeper, more visceral level. His new client was indeed the beach-scented woman with whom he’d once spent the better part of a never-to-be-forgotten week.

Sliding his hands from Victoria’s shoulders down to her wrists, he noted that her skin was every bit as silky as he recalled. It was amazing, in fact, the way his body seemed to remember every single detail about her. Feeling incredibly pleased, he smiled down into her moss-green eyes. “I waited for you to come back, you know.”

She stood very still within his grasp. “Excuse me?”

“When you took off. The note you left only said that a family emergency had come up, so I waited to see if you’d be able to get back.”

“You were the one who set the ground rules of no last names and ‘this week only.’”

Because until I met you that sort of arrangement suited me fine. “I know.” But his brows furrowed slightly, for while her voice had been perfectly polite, there’d been something beneath the surface that he couldn’t quite identify. Accusation, maybe? Regret?

Whatever it had been was gone when she inquired coolly, “So what made you think I would have come back even if I could?”

“Wishful thinking, I suppose.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “I guess I just hoped you’d resolve whatever the problem was and come back, so I stayed on a couple of extra days, just in case.”

“You can’t seriously have expected me to return, though. Not when we only had two days left and you’d never said a word to indicate you had any desire to change the status quo.”

Before he could respond, she dismissed the subject with an abrupt wave of her hand. “That’s ancient history, however,” she said in the same reserved voice she’d used earlier. “So while it’s been very nice seeing you again, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’m in the middle of yet another family crisis and I have an appointment with someone I’m expecting at any moment.”

She was perfectly polite, but the message couldn’t be clearer, and this time he didn’t have the sun shining in her eyes to blame it on. What did you expect, Ace—that she’d offer to take up where the two of you left off? Get a clue. She hasn’t smiled once and if she were any stiffer beneath your hands, she’d be a surfboard. It didn’t say a hell of a lot for his detecting skills that he just now was getting around to noticing that little fact. His only excuse was that he’d been happy to see her.

Clearly, she was not as pleased to see him. He dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back. The barefoot twenty-five-year-old of his memory now wore mango-colored linen and a long strand of knotted pearls, and her wild, streaky-brown, waist-length hair was subdued in a cut that curved sleekly just above her shoulders. This was plainly no new transformation, either. It was much more likely that the Tori of his memory, the woman with the sandy feet, frayed cutoffs and tropical-print bikini tops, had been the real aberration.

For the first time since stepping through the door, he took his eyes off her and glanced around the foyer, taking in its sweeping staircase, black-and-white marble tiles and the opulent art on the walls. Then he turned back to give Tor—no, Victoria—a slow appraisal and his eyes narrowed at the sudden suspicion that popped into his head. “So, tell me. You and me that week—were you just slumming?”

“Please. It was a long time ago and I truly don’t have time for this right now. My appointment—”

“Is here.” Screw it. She was right; it was a long time ago and some things simply couldn’t and shouldn’t be resurrected. Not to mention that she had some heavy emotional shit going on in her life at the moment and he was here to do a job. Pushing every other consideration from his mind, telling himself she was simply another new client, he thrust out his hand. “John Miglionni, at your service.”

“No.” Horrified, Victoria simply stared at the extended hand. No way was she touching those long, lean fingers again—the sensory impressions from the first time were still too fresh. “You can’t be.” Shooting a glance at the mostly red tattoo beneath the silky black hair on his forearm, she shoved down the memory of tracing it with her fingertips and instead studied it just long enough to assure herself that the words Swift, Silent and Deadly still surrounded the white skull and crossbones on three sides. Then she looked back up into his dark eyes and, even as she recalled the name of his agency, said insistently, “You’re a Marine.”

“Former Marine. And as you said, ma’am, it’s been a long time. I mustered out of the service over five years ago.”

Ma’am? Victoria watched him bend down and pick up a computer case off the floor. Sure, he was here in a professional capacity—and she most emphatically did not desire to start up anything with him again. But, please. Ma’am?

He straightened again and regarded her without expression. “If you’ll lead me somewhere I can set up my laptop, we can get started.”

She should have been glad that he was suddenly all business. She was glad. The only reason she hesitated at all, she told herself, was because she wanted the man she knew as Rocket gone.

Unfortunately, she feared she had dire need of John Miglionni’s services if she wanted to locate Jared any time soon. Recalling that his was the name that had repeatedly popped up as their best chance of locating a missing teenager when Robert checked around, she blew out a long, resigned breath. “Please. Come into Father’s office.” It was better to get this over with. The sooner she did, the sooner Rocket-slash-John Miglionni would be on his way. Then any future dealings with him could be handled by Robert.

They settled into facing leather chairs a few moments later, and as he booted up his computer and pulled up a file, Victoria subjected him to a covert inspection. The only obvious difference that jumped out at her was the length of his hair, which was completely opposite to the military buzz cut he’d worn when she’d known him. It was longer than her own now, which should have lent his face a feminine aspect. Instead it managed to do just the reverse and accentuated his high cheekbones, hawklike nose and the spare angularity of his face.

A cell phone rang into the silence of the dark-paneled office. With a rumbled apology, he twisted with supple grace to paw through the leather laptop case he’d set on the small table next to his chair. Bringing the phone to his ear, he punched the talk button. “Miglionni.”

Watching him from beneath her lashes as he asked an occasional question, said several uh-huhs and scribbled notes on a legal pad, she concluded he was still as long and lanky as ever. Except for his wide shoulders, he had the type of body that looked deceptively skinny in clothing. She knew for a fact, however, that beneath the black silk T-shirt and immaculately pressed black slacks, were muscles hard as tungsten.

Her gaze skittered back to his slacks and lingered a moment on another long and lanky shape forming an impressive bulge to the right of his fly. She tore her eyes away. Damned if she’d let herself be dragged back into those memories.

More insidious and harder to ignore, though, was the recollection of how he’d made her feel. Good about herself. Safe. Free to explore her sexuality. He might have had a butterfly’s commitment to relationships, but she’d sensed a rock-solid core to him, and he’d treated her so nice. After a lifetime spent dodging Father’s verbal slings and arrows, she’d found Rocket’s rough-edged sweetness even more seductive than his sexual expertise.

Involuntarily, her lips curled up. Well, that might be stretching it a bit, since the two were so closely entwined in her memories. God knew she’d been a fool for his way of making her feel like the funniest, smartest, sexiest woman in the universe. Another female might have questioned how many other women he’d made feel the same way. Victoria hadn’t cared—at least at first. More accustomed to bracing herself for a caustic remark than fielding compliments, she’d discovered protectiveness and sweet-talking attentiveness to be her personal version of Spanish Fly.

“ROCKET!” SURPRISED laughter exploded out of her when sun, surf and sand suddenly whirled in a kaleidoscope of colors as he snatched her up off her feet and swung her in a half circle. She was vaguely aware of something whizzing past, but paid it no heed as she stared, mesmerized, up at the man holding her in his arms. She was five-ten, and hardly a fragile flower, but he was forever handling her with an ease that made her feel daintier than Tinkerbell.

“Sorry,” called out a voice and Victoria blinked when Rocket set her back on her feet as abruptly as he’d swept her off them. He bent to retrieve a volleyball off the sand. Her heart thudded in slow, thick beats as she watched the fluid slide of his muscles when he tossed the ball up and, with one powerful swing of his fist, sent it winging back toward the game they’d just passed.

That’s when her head quit whirling long enough to realize he’d just saved her from being knocked on her face by a serve ball. “You must have the reflexes of a cat.” She felt warm and secure, which in turn started nerves deep in her body to humming and she stepped close. “You couldn’t possibly have seen that coming.”

He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “I sensed it—felt it displacing the air, probably.”

She stroked her hands down the hair-roughed skin of his forearms. “That was just so…heroic.”

He made a rude noise, but it died in his throat and he went very still as she leaned her weight against him and pressed a soft, openmouthed kiss against his neck.

“I think an action so heroic deserves to be rewarded,” she murmured, pressing a second kiss a bit south of the first, humming in appreciation as her lips picked up a hint of salt from his skin. She settled her breasts more firmly against his chest and his arms wrapped around her to pull her closer yet. Feeling him begin to grow hard against her stomach, she smiled, wiggled subtly, and tilted her head back to look up at him. “Don’t you?”

His dark eyes were heavy-lidded as he stared down at her. “Damn, Tori,” he said hoarsely, and his hands clenched on her back. “When you do stuff like that, I just want to tear your clothes off and take you where you stand.”

She licked the little hollow at the base of his throat, feeling powerful when it made her tall, tough Marine shiver. “In front of all these people?”

“And their little dogs, too,” he agreed, regarding her with hot, reckless eyes. “So, darlin’, unless you’re prepared to let ’em watch, I suggest you take a quick, large step back and give me a minute to regain a little control.”

“I’M SORRY, I DIDN’T MEAN to keep you waiting.”

Victoria couldn’t have started more violently if someone had goosed her with a cattle prod. Feeling her face flame, she was relieved to see that Rocket had turned away once again as he returned his cell phone to the computer case. Taking a few quick breaths, she attempted to collect herself before he focused the force of those dark eyes on her.

“That’s quite all—” her voice sounded like Froggy and his magic twanger, and she cleared her throat “—right. May I offer you something to drink before we get started?” What on earth had she been thinking to let her mind go back there?

“No, thanks. I’m set.” Sitting back, he opened the thin computer on his lap and looked up at her. “Why don’t you tell me about your brother.”

“Oh. Yes. Jared. Of course.” She was mortified that for one brief instant she’d forgotten all about him.

Annoyance straightened her spine. She’d forgotten a lot of things and that was dangerous. Forcing herself to focus, she met John’s gaze head-on. “First of all, he didn’t kill my father. I want that understood.”

“All right. Can you tell me why you’re so certain of this?”

She leaned forward, but before she could say a word, the office door opened and her father’s fifth wife strolled in.

The busty blonde stopped when she saw them. Her gaze skimmed past Victoria with supreme disinterest, but John was apparently a different matter for she subjected him to a lengthy once-over. “Sorry,” she finally said. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

Tori suppressed a sigh. “Mr. Miglionni, this is my father’s widow, DeeDee Hamilton. DeeDee, this is John Miglionni, the private investigator Father’s attorney helped me hire.”

DeeDee’s big blue eyes grew even bigger and bluer. “Why the hell would you need a P.I.? As far as I can tell, the only even halfway interesting thing you’ve ever done is piss off your daddy by having Es—”

“Mr. Miglionni has a reputation as the man to call when a teenager is missing. He’s going to find Jared.”

“No shit? Aren’t you worried the cops’ll slap him in irons the minute you bring him home?”

Fury flared in Victoria’s chest. “Jared didn’t kill Father!”

The lush blonde simply shrugged.

“He did not.”

DeeDee looked bored. “Okay, fine. So why did he run, then?”

“Well, let me think. Could it be that he stumbled across his father’s dead body, and that he’s seventeen years old and it probably scared him to death? Or for all we know, he could have walked in while Father was being killed. Am I the only one worried that he might not have left voluntarily?”

“Yes.”

“For heaven’s sake, DeeDee, if you’ve spent any time with him at all, you must know he hasn’t got a violent bone in his body.”

“Yeah? So how the hell would you know? Except for the odd holiday or flying visit, it’s not like you’ve been around much during the two years I’ve been here.”

“You’re right, I haven’t. And I have to live with the fact that I left him to Father’s less-than-tender mercies. But that doesn’t keep me from knowing that a person’s basic nature doesn’t change. And Jared wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

“Maybe not.” DeeDee shrugged once again. “But who else had any reason to kill Ford?”

“My God, are you serious?” The laugh that escaped Victoria went a little wild, and ruthlessly she slammed a lid on the urge to give in to unchecked hysteria. “Considering Father’s personality, and the fact that he was killed in the middle of a dinner party he was giving to rub salt in the wound of a CEO whose company he’d just acquired in a hostile takeover, I’d have to say darn near everyone.”

She turned to include Rocket. “I realize it’s unkind to speak ill of the dead, but you might as well know up front that my father wasn’t a nice man. He liked nothing more than to toy with people, and from what I’ve gathered, none of the guests attending his little soiree the night he was killed had a clue if they’d still have a job come Monday morning. I’m not just talking about the employees of the company he’d taken over, either. No one could afford to relax around him. He was just as apt to can his own people as the ones from his new acquisition, if for no other reason than to provide himself a moment’s entertainment.”

“And here I thought my old man was the daddy of dys-function.” John had been watching the interaction between the two women with fascination, knowing they had no idea how revealing it was. But it was time for a more straightforward approach. He needed to start directing the conversation to where he wanted it to go.

It was clear the women weren’t overly fond of each other, and turning to DeeDee, he decided she couldn’t be more than a year or two older than Victoria—who, if he remembered correctly, would be about thirty-one now. As Victoria’s new stepmama, that had to make for some friction. He’d bet the main source of dissension, though, was the fact that you’d have to search hard to find two more dissimilar women. Even way back when, he’d understood that Tori wasn’t one of the party girls he was accustomed to picking up in bars. So when she’d allowed him to do exactly that, he’d noted her relative inexperience, then simply felt grateful to whatever karma had thrown him in her path at the exact moment she’d decided to cut loose.

DeeDee, on the other hand, had the look of a woman who knew her way around a wet T-shirt contest. Not that you could always go by appearances, he admitted, remembering when his friend Zach had first met the woman who’d become his wife. Still, there was an indefinable aura about DeeDee that said she knew the score, and at the very least, she struck him as the quintessential trophy wife.

He favored her with his most charming grin. “You have a point,” he said. “A homicide detective will always look first within the family for his suspect. Hell, any cop will be happy to tell you that nine times out of ten the victim is killed by someone he knew.”

Something about the smug look she shot Victoria rubbed him the wrong way, but he wasn’t stepping into the middle of that brouhaha. As a man, he knew better than to get between two women with opposing points of view. As a professional, he didn’t get involved in his clients’ lives, period, or anyone else’s who might be connected to a case. As far as he was concerned, in fact, the two of them could dive right into a knockdown drag-out fight, and he’d simply pull up a chair and enjoy the show. Especially if the ripping of clothing was involved.

He glanced at Tori’s svelte little sheath, then at her patrician nose poking ceiling-ward, and swallowed a snort. Sure, Ace, that’s likely to happen. Turning his attention back to DeeDee, he added, “Of course they generally look at the spouse first, since that’s who most often inherits the lion’s share of money.”

She curled her lip at him. “Lets me out, then. I signed a prenup that said if Ford divorced me or died for any reason during the first three years, I’d get bupkis—or next to it, at any rate. He was my golden goose, pal—it was in my best interests to keep him healthy.”

John glanced at Tori, who nodded. “He had all his wives sign the same prenuptial agreement, and it was set up in such a way that they only received a truly generous bequest if they lasted ten years.” She shrugged. “The only one who ever came close to lasting that long was my mother, but she died just before my eighth birthday.”

A shaft of light found its way through the shutters and shone directly in her eyes. It highlighted the gold flecks around her pupils, and he was irritated that seeing them gave him the urge to cut her a little slack and not pursue the next logical line of questioning. He gave her a flat stare to compensate. “So I’m guessing you and your brother inherited the bulk of Daddy’s fortune then.”

When she narrowed her eyes, he had a feeling it wasn’t against the light. But she said without inflection, “Yes. And before you ask, I was living in London when he died, and I’ve already told you that Jared couldn’t have done it.”

Hit men could be hired as easily from London as anywhere else, and John never trusted in the goodness of young men he hadn’t met. Since he had a hankering for this case, however, he knew better than to say so. He might be one of the best at locating missing teens, but he was by no means the only investigator qualified for the job, and his prior relationship with Tori was more likely a strike against him than anything that would work to his benefit.

But what the hell—when in doubt, project confidence, he always said. Besides, it wasn’t as if he actually believed she’d put a contract out on her old man. No, the woman he’d met this afternoon was more likely to freeze a man to death.

Seeing DeeDee watching the two of them as if this were improvisational theater, he leveled a look on her. “Would you excuse us, Mrs. Hamilton? My client’s paying by the hour and I’d like to get down to business with her.”

“I just bet you would,” she murmured, but then spun on her stiletto heels and sashayed out as blithely as she’d entered.

The moment the door shut behind her, he pinned his best no-nonsense look on Victoria. “Okay, look, I plan to look for your brother regardless, but I’d still like to know why you believe he’s incapable of violence. There’s probably not a person in the world who doesn’t have the capacity for it, given the right circumstances.”

“I simply can’t visualize what those circumstances would ever be in Jared’s case,” she said. “He’s scared to death of spiders, for heaven’s sake, yet he’s still the type of guy who’d perform a catch and release if one got in the house. Now, me, I’d rather see the damn thing dead.”

He remembered. She’d climbed up his back once, screaming Kill it! Kill it! in his ear when a hapless daddy longlegs had shown the poor judgement to venture across their bedroom floor in Pensacola. Irritably shoving the memory away, he focused on the facts. “Yet he’s been in quite a bit of trouble, if I understand correctly.”

“It’s true he’s been expelled from several schools. But always for things like drinking, or smoking or not knowing when to stow his attitude.” She leaned forward in her chair as if she could compel his understanding through sheer physical intensity. “When he was little, he was always running up to Father saying ‘Watch this! Watch this!’ All he ever wanted was the tiniest bit of his daddy’s attention, and his expulsions were just a continuation of the same. They were a way to get Father to pay him a little regard, if only in a negative way.”

“Tell me who his friends are.”

Victoria sat back. “That’s one of those good news/bad news things,” she said. “He has a habit of falling in with the malcontents, which as you can probably imagine contributes considerably to his problems. The good news is, he didn’t do that this time. Since there were only a few months remaining in the semester when he was bounced from his last school, Father decided to enroll him locally to finish out the year. Jared joined a baseball team, discovered he really liked the sport, and actually met a couple of nice kids on the team. The bad news, though, is that whenever he told me anything about them, he only referred to them as Dan and Dave.”

“That’s okay, just give me the name of the school.” He’d contact the coach and go from there.

She told him, and he was keying the information into her file when the office door opened once again. Brows furrowing, he glanced up. Now what?

A little girl with a long, wild, tangle of baby-fine brown hair that was held off her face by sparkling butterfly barrettes stood in the doorway. Casting him an intrigued glance, she ran over to Victoria. “Hullo, Mummy,” she said in a clear British accent, leaning into her. “Nanny Helen told me a ’tective was here to find Uncle Jared.”

Mummy? John felt his jaw drop as he watched Victoria wrap an arm around the little girl and hug her close. She was a mother?

“Yes, that’s true,” Victoria said. “So you really should run along, sweetie, and I’ll come see you just as soon as we’re finished.”

That “something” he’d heard earlier was back in her voice and he narrowed his eyes on Victoria. What the hell was it? Alarm? Wariness? He couldn’t quite pin it down.

“But, Mummy, I want to say hello.”

There was an instant of dead silence. Then Victoria succumbed to her manners. “Very well. Sweetheart, this is Mr. Miglionni. He’s the private detective Nanny Helen was telling you about. John, this is my daughter, Esme.”

His experience with little girls—or any kids her age, for that matter—was nil. But what the hell, a female was a female and John bestowed his warmest smile upon the little girl. “Nice to meet you, Esme. Love your butterflies.”

Her little hand went up to touch one of her barrettes in an ageless feminine gesture. “Thank you. My mummy bought them at Harrods.” A pleased smile curved her rosebud mouth and she stared at him with big eyes as dark as his own.

His stomach began to churn as a sudden suspicion splintered through him. Holy shit. Oh, holy, fuckin’ shit. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Hell, no. They’d used protection.

Which any fool knows is never one hundred percent fail-safe. He took a deep breath and got an iron grip on his emotions. “Harrods, huh? That’s a department store in London, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You look like you’re nearly grown up. Got your driver’s license yet?”

She giggled. “No, silly. I’m only five and a quarter years old.”

“Ah. I guess that is a little young.” The hot roil in his gut had turned to ice. He might not be the world’s greatest mathematician, but he could sure as hell add two plus two and arrive at the right answer. Especially when you factored in the kid’s eyes. Although it took every ounce of his self-control, he managed to keep the easy smile plastered on his kisser until the little girl skipped out of the room. But it dropped the instant the door closed behind her, and he swung to pin Victoria in place with furious eyes.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, lady.”