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She put on a black
top with shoestring straps and a pair of black pants over a thong. It would be
much easier to put on her red slippers with the big bunny heads on the toes but
she thought it might ruin her image so she put on lace up black boots instead.
    When she returned, Dave still sat in the
couch, his fingers drumming against his leg. Nick stood, studying the books in
her six-foot bookcase, one big hand resting on the top shelf. He looked up as
she approached. His eyes skimmed across her bare shoulders to her braless
breasts. She refused to cross her arms.
    "Maybe the towel was better,"
he said so quietly she barely heard him.
    "Tell me how Mollino died," she
said, staying at arms' length from him because any closer and she was afraid
she'd be sucked in by his force field.
    Nick gave her a run down of the morning's
events and their lack of evidence. "So we need your help. Those photos—"
    "Didn't turn out." She shook
her head. "I think there's something wrong with my camera."
    Nick swore.
    "How about an eye-witness account,
then," said Dave standing behind her, invading her personal space. She
took a step closer to Nick to get away.
    "Sure," she said, looking up at
Nick. She was right about the force field—she was well and truly sucked in. He
stared down at her, eyes in the shadows of his thick lashes, a muscle working
in his left cheek. The intensity of his stare, the stillness of his body and
his close proximity sent her nerves into red alert.
    "But I'll only give it to Nick. Alone,"
she added with a smile. She wasn't going to talk in front of that little jerk
O'Connor. She remembered him now. A year ago he'd tried to intimidate her into
his bed after he warned her away from a witness they were protecting. She'd
refused, instantly disliking him, and he'd given her a hard time for weeks
afterwards. Later, she heard the rumors he'd spread down at the police station
but she didn't care. None of it was true. Not where he was concerned anyway,
although she couldn't say that for all of the rumors.
    "No way," said Dave.
    "Get out," said Nick and Dave
snorted, stomping to the door.
    Good. Because Lucy wanted to see how far
Detective Nick would go to get his witness to talk. And by the time she was
through, she was going to make sure she had this man begging to help end her
dry spell.

CHAPTER
4
     
     
    "Why alone?" asked Nick, not
taking his eyes off Lucy. He couldn't even if he'd wanted to. She looked
incredible. When she'd opened the door wearing only a towel he'd forgotten why
he was there. So much smooth skin. The towel covered next to nothing, barely
skimming her butt cheeks and enhancing the swell of her breasts by pushing them
up. He wanted to taste her ripeness but Dave's presence had stopped him from
doing anything.
    But Dave was outside now and Lucy's
clothes covered little more than the towel. For some reason she didn't feel the
cold and the strappy little top she wore showed off the lush shape of her
breasts, unencumbered by a bra, and enough cleavage to make a man weak at the
knees. Then there was the tight black pants. The place where butt met thigh had
never looked so good. He had to look away or he was going to embarrass himself
in front of this siren.
    "Because I don't like him. He's a
creep."
    "And I'm not?"
    "You could be. I don't know you well
enough yet."
    "I would have thought after last
night, you did." He crossed his arms and leaned against the bookcase
crammed with an eclectic collection of fiction and non-fiction. "Look,
Lucy, I was happy for Dave to leave right now because I've got something I want
to say before we go on."
    Her bright blue eyes widened. "Sounds
intriguing."
    "I want to apologize for my behavior
last night. It wasn't necessary and I was being a..."
    "Jerk?"
    "Something like that."
    To his surprise, she smiled. "That's
okay, Nick, I'm a big girl. I can handle your opinion of me."
    "But you shouldn't have to. I hate
men who judge women like that. It's not me." Until recently. Ever