Collared (Going to the Dogs) Read Online Free PDF Page B

code and the combination to the safe?”
    He looked so much like a cop, tough, knowledgeable, and dangerous. She wouldn’t want to face him from the wrong side of the law.
    “No, the safe was cracked. However, I found no forced entry, so yes, someone got into your penthouse using a security code. I’d like the name of the company who provides your security.”
    That statement was enough to clear her head in one startling blast of realization, and made her stomach churn with the next. “What are you saying?”
    He softened his features at what must be evident distress on her face. “That someone you know and/or who works for you robbed you.”
    “That’s not possible. All my staff is extremely loyal.”
    “Ms. Sinclair, whatever you think of me, I’m good at my job. I know what I’m doing. I would suggest that you change your security code tonight. And only give it to key personnel until we get this sorted out.”
    “Yes, of course. You’re right. Being outraged isn’t going to help.”
    He nodded. “I’m going to need access to all your staff. I’ll need a list. I’ll also need a list of your friends.”
    “What? Seriously, my friends?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    Harper swallowed hard. “All my staff. What exactly are you going to do?”
    He frowned. “Question them.”
    “Sure. About that? You look more like you’d be a hard-assed, scary interrogator. Not a kinder, gentler asker of questions.”
    His smile was wicked and it made her heart jump. Focusing on his mouth made her yearn, something she’d never experienced before. Yearning. Her life had been about having her every whim fulfilled. Oh, God! She was a brat.
    “I promise not to break out the blackjacks,” he said, raising his eyebrows when he noticed where she was staring.
    “Are you sure? With some leather across your chest, armored pants, and spiked mail boots, you’d look like a medieval torturer.”
    Harper felt a rush of heat just thinking about him in that outfit. Her eyes collided with his at the worst possible moment—exactly as that provocative thought streaked across her eyes. And he saw it. His amused gaze played with hers, his dark brown eyes drawing her nerves taut and raw. She couldn’t look away. Something hot and sultry arced between them like invisible lightning. His face was so classically beautiful, like a Roman god.
    But with those locks of hair lying on his temple, he looked more like a tough, kick-ass Roman god.
    He didn’t just look at her, he captured her gaze, held it—and her—spellbound. He gave her such a heated look she felt the fire lick her body, settling into her bones and cells.
    “Ah, wouldn’t you know it? My brass knuckles are at the cleaners,” he said.
    There was that trembling again. What the hell was that? Her knees felt weak.
    He stepped closer, and then the shaking felt like an earthquake, because the ground beneath her feet was shifting. He leaned down, and the smell of him, a combination of leather, just-showered clean, and a provocative, wholly male scent, made that shaking go from one on the Richter scale to a full-blown ten.
    He leaned down and got close to her ear. “You can picture me any way you want, honey. As long as I get to talk to your staff and friends.”
    “I have a pretty good imagination, detective.”
    He inhaled suddenly, then turned his face away from her and exhaled as if he was trying to gather his badly shaken composure. She was right there with him. He licked his lips, his pink tongue sliding along that full, sensuous, bottom lip she wanted to get between her teeth, god-like lips accentuated by the dark beard clipped close to his cheeks and upper lip. It looked so soft.
    He faced her again. “This is a rocky road.”
    “Oh, don’t tell me you mind a few bumps and bruises, detective.”
    Someone jostled him and pushed him roughly into her. He caught her against him to keep them both upright just as the music softened into a slow dance. She grasped his shoulders to