Lindsey Dameron, desperate for money after a divorce she never saw coming, has a new job with a private investigator. Her assignment? To blend into suburbia and uncover suburban secrets--not stumble across a dead man and a missing socialite.
Local pariah and former defense attorney Ethan Wayne needs to clear his name before he's arrested for the disappearance of his soon-to-be ex-wife and the murder of her lover. But all he can afford is Ace Investigations, and the only person available is a woman who looks more like a soccer mom than a private eye. She doesn't even have a license.
Lindsey hates lawyers, Ethan needs a real investigator. But when a reward is offered for his missing wife, they team up to find her, and agree to split the reward. Will they succeed before Ethan is arrested and Lindsey loses the only home she's ever known? Or between dodging bullets and explosions, will they find love, instead?
PRINT ISBN 1-60154-308-5
(232 pages) Sensual
Ethan took a deep breath, his hand on the door to Ace Investigations. The dingy office at the end of a dilapidated strip mall discouraged him. If the man couldn't pay the rent at a better location, what kind of investigator was he?
Of course, if he'd had pricier digs, Ethan couldn't afford him. He just hoped the old man was good enough to help Ethan clear his name.
What the hell, he had nothing to lose. He pushed open the door and walked in. A silver bell attached to the top of the door announced his arrival. An old wood desk sat at one side of the room, empty except for a combination phone and fax machine. On the other side of the room sat a mustard yellow couch with sagging cushions. Nappy green carpet covered the floor.
Ethan squinted in the dim light filtered through the dirty windows. Was the place closed?
“Hello?” He took a couple of steps toward the only other door in the room. “Is anyone here?”
The door swung open and lust hit Ethan like a punch in the gut. Slim and sexy. A brunette with long hair and longer legs stood in front of him and stared, her hands on her hips.
“What do you want?” she asked. Her chin thrust out, but her eyes cut toward the door and he realized she had to be nervous. Alone with a strange man between her and what was probably the only exit.
Ethan held his hands out in front of him. “I'm looking for Frank Harris. Dana Fields sent me.”
“We're closed. Come back tomorrow.”
Her attitude triggered the anger he'd been pushing back since his conversation with Detective Lawson. “If you're closed, you should lock your damn door. A woman alone in this part of town isn't safe.”
“I thought the door was locked and who says I'm alone?”
Ethan waved toward the almost empty parking lot. His Accord and a small SUV sitting right outside the door were the only two cars. “Forgive me. I didn't realize so many people in this town walked.”
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