Sleeping with the Playboy Read Online Free PDF Page A

Oh, it’s Christine.” Beep.
    â€œHi, gorgeous. Where’ve you been? Call me when you get a chance. I have tickets to Die Tageszeiten on Saturday night, and no one to go with.” Beep.
    There was one message from Mark, then four more like the first—more women sounding desperate and needy, wondering why Donovan hadn’t returned their calls.
    Pitying those poor women, Jocelyn shook her head and slid back into security specialist mode. She returned to her computer to note the names of the women, and decided to ask Dr. Knight about them in the morning.
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    At 4:45 a.m., the baby monitor that Jocelyn had positioned by the front door woke her instantly. She heard the sound of a key in the lock. She sat up and grabbed her gun.
    Slipping out of bed without making a sound, she glided out of the room and made her way down the hall. A woman was sneaking in, quietly closing the door while she made an effort to be quiet. Before she had a chance to turn around, Jocelyn was behind her with the gun pointed at her head. “Hold it!”
    The woman screamed and jumped.
    â€œPut your hands on your head!” Jocelyn ordered.
    Dr. Knight’s bedroom door flew open and he came hurling out. Jocelyn kept her eyes on the intruder. “Get back in your room, Dr. Knight.”
    â€œNo, no, it’s okay!” he said. “This is my housekeeper!”
    Only then did Jocelyn feel her own heart racing and the searing sensation of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She lowered her weapon. “I thought you said she came in the morning! It’s 4:45 a.m.”
    â€œShe likes to start early.”
    Jocelyn’s shoulders went slack. “You could’ve told me! What was I supposed to think when someone sneaks into your penthouse at this hour?”
    Dr. Knight moved toward the woman at the door. “I do apologize, Mrs. Meinhard. I’m so sorry. Thisis Jocelyn Mackenzie. She’s a security specialist. I hired her last night. Jocelyn, this is Brunhilde Meinhard.”
    Shakily, the older woman turned around. Her gray hair was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. Her glasses were large with clear, plastic rims—the old-fashioned kind from the eighties.
    Jocelyn, feeling guilty for frightening the poor woman, held out her hand and gave her an apologetic smile. “Hi.”
    With trembling fingers and a limp, fishlike grip, Mrs. Meinhard shook Jocelyn’s hand.
    Suddenly uncomfortable in her skintight tank top and pajama bottoms, Jocelyn nodded politely and pointed toward her bedroom. “Well, now that I’m up, I’ll go get dressed.”
    Neither Dr. Knight nor Mrs. Meinhard said a word. Jocelyn turned away from them.
    In her bare feet, she padded down the hall, and to her chagrin, all she could think about was one thing: Her client wore pajama bottoms to bed. And Lord, what a chest.
    She was in deep trouble.

Three
    A n hour later, showered and dressed, Jocelyn walked out of her room with her gun holstered under her arm, her blazer buttoned over it. She went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, and met Mrs. Meinhard who had already taken care of that and was now polishing the brass knobs on the white cabinetry.
    â€œGood morning, again,” Jocelyn said.
    Mrs. Meinhard regarded her coolly. “Morning.”
    Jocelyn poured herself a cup of coffee and watched the housekeeper scrub the hardware. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but Dr. Knight hired me to do a job, and that’s what I was doing.”
    Saying nothing, the woman continued to scrub.
    â€œI guess you weren’t here when the attack happened,” Jocelyn continued, taking a sip of coffee, “but is there anything you noticed that was out ofplace when you came in the next morning? Anything out of the ordinary that you might not have told the police?”
    The woman straightened and folded her cloth. She spoke with a thick,