“Oh yes, YES! Oh baby, don’t stop!”

Cassie finished with a throaty groan for the benefit of anyone who might be listening in and blinked up at him innocently.

Dalton realized he had been holding his breath, and let it out slowly. “You do that too well. It’s damned scary.”

She smiled. “Most women can. You know, it wouldn’t hurt for you to make some noise, too. Make our roles more believable, if nothing else.” Her voice took on a husky tone. “After all, we’re supposed to be distracted right now. By each other.”

He was distracted, all right. His gaze drifted downward, lingering on her nipples as they strained against the lace of her bra. This business-only thing isn’t going to work.

“Cassie…” His voice came out ragged and broken. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

With that she pushed up against him, her breasts rubbing his naked chest and her tongue touching his lips. She gasped but didn’t resist when he began stroking her breast with one hand while the other toyed with the silky edge of her panties.

A slow smile curved her lips as his hand slid lower. He was determined to make her moan again, but this time it would be for real….

Dear Reader,

I have to admit I was nervous at first about writing for Blaze. I’d written drama for Harlequin American Romance, comedy for Duets and suspense for Intrigue, all involving a comfortable level of romance for me. But out-and-out sexy? Hmmm…

Well, this is my third Blaze title, and I’m hooked. I love the mix of sexy sophistication and comedy combined with the line’s fast pace. In Hands On, Cassie and Dalton sprang from my imagination as if they’d been waiting at the gate. I immediately felt as if I’d known them for years and wanted to help them realize they were meant to be together. I hope you enjoy their journey as much as I did!

Debbi Rawlins

P.S. Don’t forget to check out www.tryblaze.com!

Hands On
Debbi Rawlins

MILLS & BOON

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This is for Susan Pezzack,

for her keen eye and patience of a saint.

Thank you for being a true writing partner and

helping to keep me on the straight and narrow.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Prologue

“I THOUGHT you’d decided not to take that kind of case.” Cassie York made herself comfortable across the desk from her new boss, Jennifer Rodriguez Madison.

The phone rang before Jen could respond. She gave Cassie an apologetic smile and grabbed the receiver. “Madison Investigations.” She paused. “Today?” She didn’t bother checking her full calendar. “How about tomorrow afternoon, say around three?” She rubbed her eyes and yawned away from the phone. “Sorry, that’s the soonest I can meet with you, Mr. Rice. I’m squeezing you in as it is.”

While Jen got the potential client’s details Cassie got up and went to peek at Annie in her portable crib. Her chubby round face looked angelic, but that was because she was sleeping. When she was awake, she had a pair of lungs that could be heard all the way to Dallas.

With operating the new agency, being newly married and raising a child, too, Jen sure had her hands full. Cassie envied her in some ways. Jen not only had it all, but she was making it work, adapting along the way, balancing her time and responsibilities to suit both her career and her family.

Eventually Cassie would get to that place, but first she needed to prove herself. And Jen was about to give her the perfect opportunity.

“Sorry.” Jen hung up the phone. “Where were we?”

“You were about to explain Marianne Cummings’s case.” Cassie returned to her seat.

“Oh, right.” Jen pulled out her side drawer, leaned back in her chair and swung her legs up to rest her heels on the drawer. “I have to keep my feet up so they won’t swell like two balloons.” She rubbed her rounded tummy. “This baby wants out already.”

“Don’t you have two months to go?”

She nodded, making a funny face.

Cassie laughed. “Sounds as if it’s mama who wants that baby out.”

“That, too.” Jen’s lips lifted in a wry smile. “Okay, the Cummings case. This one’s important to me, Cass. Marianne is a dear friend, and I personally think the slimeball she married is out for her money and then it’ll be hasta la vista.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re taking this kind of case.”

Jen shrugged. “I have no problem with the decoy tactic. If a guy is happily married and not looking, he won’t take the bait. I only turned down the last one because I didn’t have enough staff.”

At least Jen didn’t say she now had a dumb blonde to fit the bill as decoy, Cassie thought. Of course she wouldn’t. They’d known each other for three years, and Cassie knew Jen respected her abilities beyond working as a secretary for a rival agency. She was just being touchy. Her experience with Chet had left her that way.

Jen smiled. “I know this is a disappointing case being your first one with us. You were probably looking forward to something meatier, but I really appreciate you jumping in. Like I said, I think Marianne is being taken for a ride. I’m glad she’s finally starting to get suspicious of Robert.”

“Why? What’s he done?”

“Long periods away from home. Says he’s on a business trip, but doesn’t show any income, secretive about phone calls, and she thinks he has a private mailbox. He’s never asked her for money, though, which is a bit of a puzzle.”

“She has a lot of it I take it?”

“More than she’ll ever be able to spend. Her first husband passed away two years ago and she was left with three homes, a healthy investment portfolio and too much free time to feel sorry for herself. And then up popped Robert Bask, twenty years her junior and as smooth as chocolate silk pie.”

Cassie shook her head. The age thing alone wasn’t a big deal in her mind, but the rest added up to trouble. “I’ll see what I can do. I assume you have some information on his routines and personal habits.”

“Right here.” Jen picked up a file folder and laid it in front of Cassie. “Of course he hasn’t been totally forthcoming about his whereabouts, but she does know he favors this one bar outside of town.”

“I’ll read this over and start tomorrow.” Cassie stood. “Thanks for giving me this chance to join the team, Jen.”

“Are you kidding? It’s me who should be on my knees thanking you. But I’m sure you’ll excuse me if I don’t get up,” she said with a wry grin and a hand on her tummy.

Annie chose that moment to wake up and let out a huge wail. Jennifer briefly closed her eyes and groaned. “On second thought,” she muttered, struggling to her feet.

“I’ll get her,” Cassie offered.

“Thanks but it’s feeding time and that makes me the most popular person in this little lady’s life.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Anyway, I want you to go get started on the case.”

“You’ve got it, boss.”

“Call me tomorrow.” She picked up her daughter and the baby immediately quieted. “Let me know how you’re going to handle the documentation. A wire would probably be best, but I’ll let you decide how you want to work it. Although frankly, I think your word will be enough for Marianne to give him the boot.”

“Let me think about it, but I’ll probably use a wire. I know they haven’t been married long, but just in case they end up in court.”

“Good thinking.” Jen got ready to feed Annie, and Cassie headed for the door. “I’m so glad you’ve joined us.”

Cassie stopped with her hand on the doorknob, pride filling her chest. She’d do the best damn job possible on this case. Jen would never be sorry she took her in as a rookie. And everyone—Chet, her father, her brother—they’d all see that she was more than just a pretty face.

1

NOT ONLY did the new assignment suck, but it had landed J. Dalton Styles in this little Podunk town outside of Midland, Texas. Penance. That was what this was about. For having the balls to get the job done no matter what. And politics. His boss wanted a promotion so bad he could taste it. Just wait till Hector needed a favor. Screw him. He’d have to ask another investigator to do his dirty work.

Dalton took a sip of warm beer. He’d ordered it for show, that’s what all the cowboys in the bar seemed to be drinking. But he was on the job, which meant no alcohol. One of the few rules he did adhere to. He’d seen enough good federal investigators lose their careers over drugs or booze.

And women. Bad marriages. Not him. He’d gotten out first.

Shit, who was he kidding? Linda left him for another guy. She’d claimed Dalton worked too much. Hell, he didn’t care. Good riddance. A wife and kids would be a burden. He’d been crazy to think he could swing it. That wasn’t his scene.

Neither was this assignment.

He drummed his fingers on the bar and looked at his watch. He’d already been here an hour, sporting this ridiculous Stetson, trying to blend in with the decor. Wearing the cowboy boots was no hardship. He wore one of the three pairs he owned all the time. The guys back in Chicago razzed him. He didn’t give a rip. He’d gotten used to them early in his career during his first Texas assignment.

That had been a hell of a good case. His first major bust. Two guys holding a woman hostage at a meth lab near the Mexican border. Dalton had taken them down before the hostage negotiator even arrived.

Eight years and three commendations later, he gets stuck with this fluff assignment. How ironic that he had to expose a con artist who bilked wealthy women out of their divorce settlements. Dalton figured if the women were that stupid to fall for a smooth-talking snake like Robert Bask, they deserved to be left penniless.

Let those rich ladies work for a living. Let them know what it’s like to push themselves for long hours, hoping to build a nest egg, telling themselves it was worth it, that someday they could start a family without worrying about making ends meet.

Linda hadn’t understood. She was a taker, not a giver. In fact, she’d taken everything but the coffee-maker when she left. And only because the thing didn’t work worth a damn.

The front door opened and he casually slid a look at the new arrival. Early thirties, and well-heeled judging by the guy’s seven-hundred-dollar snakeskin boots and the gleaming gold Rolex on his wrist. Same yuppie type, but this guy wasn’t his boy. Bask had blond hair and stood half a foot shorter.

Dalton rubbed the back of his neck. His source had assured him that Bask stopped here for a shot of tequila most evenings. It would be just Dalton’s luck that tonight the guy decided to hop on the wagon.

“How long you gonna nurse that thing?” The bearded bartender threw a towel over his shoulder, put both hands on the bar and leaned forward, staring at Dalton.

“Give me something else.” Dalton pretended to study the bottles of booze lined up against the mirror. “How about a shot of that tequila?”

“You got it.” The bartender got out a glass and poured a hefty portion of the amber liquid. He set it in front of Dalton. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“Nope.” Dalton pretended to take a sip, and stopped the guy when he started to remove the beer.

“You waiting for someone?”

“You writing a book?”

The man put both his hands up and stepped back. “Just trying to make conversation, mister.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m just a little edgy.” Dalton didn’t need to piss the guy off. Bartenders were often a good source of information.

The bartender chuckled. “Must be woman problems.”

Dalton shrugged. “Something like that.”

“I can always spot a rebound a mile away.” He nodded smugly as if he’d just solved the crime of the century. “I’m Jerry, by the way. I got a good ear for listening.”

Man, he wished the guy would shut up. But then again, maybe he had a big mouth to go with that good ear. “Get me another shot.”

Jerry eyed the glass Dalton hadn’t touched yet, but shrugged and went to get the bottle of tequila. As soon as he’d turned his back, Dalton emptied the liquor into his beer.

“Whoa! That was fast.” Jerry set the clean glass aside and refilled Dalton’s empty. “You must be having big trouble with the wife.”

He smiled and scoped out the pool table in the corner. Two guys played eight ball while getting shit-faced, even though the tall red-haired, lanky one looked too young to drink. “This is kind of a strange place.”

“The bar or the town?”

“Both.”

“Yup.” Jerry set the bottle of tequila aside and rested both elbows on the bar, leaning closer as if he had a big secret to tell. “This town is made up of the super rich and the poor slobs who made them that way. And nothing in between.”

“Odd for such a small town.”

“Not really. Lots of big cattle ranches and oil around here. Folks who owned the right piece of property got to be millionaires practically overnight. Most of them are still good ole boys. They’ve bought themselves fancy cars and boots, but they still come in here to drink beer on tap.” Jerry’s gaze darted to the newest customer who flirted with the busty waitress, and his voice lowered. “A few got their noses so high in the air it’s a wonder they don’t get nosebleeds.”

Lots of money. Rich widows. Rich divorcées. Perfect breeding ground for Bask. Now it made sense why he’d landed out here. Dalton brought the tequila to his lips and took a small sip for Jerry’s benefit. “Guess you don’t get many strangers around here.”

The bartender shrugged. “Some high-fallutin Dallas types looking to buy oil or beef.”

Or con artists. Damn, he wished he could come up with a way to swing the conversation toward Bask without raising a red flag. Jerry could probably give him an earful.

Jerry frowned suddenly. “What kind of business did you say you’re in?”

Dalton started to dish out his spiel when the door opened, drawing the bartender’s attention. Something inside Dalton jumped. It was Bask. Call it instinct, whatever, but he knew it.

“Wow! Never seen her before.” Jerry straightened. “What a looker.”

Dalton twisted around. A blonde in tight black jeans and a low-cut black T-shirt stood inside the door and looked around the bar. “Shit,” he muttered, and turned around to stare into his beer. He’d been so sure it was Bask.

Jerry narrowed his gaze at Dalton, and then let it wander back to the woman. “You know her?”

“What?” Distracted, Dalton took a sip of the tequila. This sucked. How much longer would he have to sit here?

“Excuse me.” The soft feminine voice was somewhere to his left at the other end of the bar. He caught sight of her out of his peripheral vision and started to turn toward her, when she said to Jerry, “I’m looking for a Robert Bask.”

Dalton froze, and then he pulled his hat down lower over his eyes and angled the opposite way. Who the hell was this woman? Bask’s next target? An accomplice?

“Well, ma’am, I know a Robert but I don’t know his last name. I believe he should be showing up at any moment.” Jerry was all southern charm. “Can I get you something refreshing to drink while you wait?”

“No, thank you. Oh, wait…maybe a diet cola.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“With a squeeze of lime. And a cherry, if you have one.”

Dalton slid off his chair as the woman amended her order twice. He headed toward the bathroom, looking for a back door or window. He needed to find out who she was before Bask arrived. Whether she was a mark or about to join the party, Dalton didn’t need her screwing up his investigation. Better he knew her role in Bask’s scheme.

Opposite the men’s bathroom was a door that led out to a short alley. Dalton let himself out quietly and then headed in the direction of the parking lot. Half a dozen cars he recognized. They’d already been there when he arrived. The black Lexus and the red Toyota had to belong to the yuppie and the blonde.

He glanced around, and then laid a hand on the hood of the Lexus. Only moderately warm. Luckily, the Toyota was at the far end of the lot, away from the bar and the street. As he’d suspected, the engine had just been turned off. Had to belong to the blonde. He checked over his shoulder, saw that it was clear, and broke into her car in less than two minutes.

Heavily tinted windows and no security system. Man, was this his lucky day. He slid into the driver’s seat, and cursed when he hit his bum knee. The seat was adjusted too far forward for his long legs. She looked to be about five foot five, while he was just over six feet.

He left it the way it was, and checked the visor and then the glove compartment for her registration. He found it stacked neatly with her owner’s manual and several maps.

“Cassie York, Midland, Texas,” he murmured. Until he ran a check on her, that information did him little good. He rifled through the glove compartment again, and finding nothing helpful, he flipped open the center console.

The small cubicle looked like a survival kit. Candy bars, granola bars, a hairbrush, two tubes of lipstick, a toothbrush in a plastic baggie and a small leather business card holder. He picked it up and read the top card.

“Goddamn!”

A private investigator? He looked out of the tinted window toward the bar as if he could see the blonde. Cassie York, private investigator.

“Shit!”

She was going to screw everything up. Bask would know his latest con was a bust, and disappear. And Dalton would be stuck following this guy for the rest of his sorry career.

No way. He got out of the car and practically sprinted to the back door. A dark blue Mercedes pulled into the lot just as he let himself in. With his luck, it was probably Bask, just because now he didn’t want him to show up.

Dalton swore when he creamed his finger in the door in his haste to get to Cassie York. He had to stop her. Whatever she had planned. No matter what.

CASSIE REALLY HATED playing the dumb blonde. But it worked. Every time. Men could be so stupid. She smiled at the bartender, and then sipped her diet cola from the straw he’d given her. Although it was more a salad bar than a soda. He’d dumped in cherries and orange slices and even a couple of green olives.

She wasn’t complaining, though. She’d skipped lunch to get here on time. One flattened Milky Way was all she’d had since her breakfast of dry cereal.

Hell, she’d starve for a week to get this assignment. Her first big case. Okay, so it was her first case, period. But she’d worked as an assistant to Chet, sleazeball private detective extraordinaire, long enough to know what she was doing.

Even Jennifer Madison had faith in her. Hired her in a heartbeat. Explained what an important case this was, how it was more than just another case, how it was personal. And Cassie wouldn’t let her down. As an added bonus, once Cassie cracked the case and put Robert Bask behind bars, she’d rub Chet’s nose in it.

She cringed, thinking about the one time she’d slept with him. Had she been out of her mind? Sure, he was good-looking, but he was so full of himself. Of course she’d been only twenty-two, fresh out of college and overly impressed with the well-dressed, fast-living Romeo. At twenty-four she was a lot wiser now.

And cynical.

“Can I get you something else, darlin’?” The bartender gave her a toothy grin.

Darlin’? God, she hated endearments. Especially from strange men. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to correct his grammar. Instead, she smiled and leaned forward.

She really hadn’t meant to give him a view down her scooped-neck Victoria’s Secret T-shirt. “Do me a favor, sugar.”

“Sure.” The guy eagerly leaned toward her.

She touched the end of his dark beard with the tip of her polished pink finger. “Don’t tell Robert I was asking about him.”

“Not a word.”

No one else had heard her inquire about Bask. Except maybe the man wearing the Stetson who’d been sitting at the bar when she came in. He’d apparently gone to the bathroom and didn’t seem to care why she was here. Good thing.

Too late it had occurred to her that she shouldn’t have asked about the guy at all. She should have just waited, acted coy once he arrived, waited for him to make a move. Cassie was his type, according to his wife. He liked twenty-something blondes with long hair, not too tall or thin.

But he’d married Jennifer’s friend, Marianne, who’d turned fifty-five two months ago, and had never had a blond day in her life. She had money, though, and Robert seemed to like that, too.

Cassie’s job was to test his faithfulness. Not her first choice of assignment. But the case was important to her boss. And if the guy turned out to be a gold-digging lothario, Cassie would expose him. With pleasure.

She took another sip of the cola and then fished out a cherry. At the other end of the bar, the waitress placed an order with the bartender, which gave Cassie a small break. The guy had hung around like a dog hoping for scraps.

She scooped out another cherry, polished it off, and then licked the sticky sweetness off her lips. She used the cocktail napkin to blot up the rest.

Pink lipstick smeared the white paper.

Darn it. She’d have to reapply it. Plus, she hadn’t checked her hair. It undoubtedly needed to be brushed. She sighed, and slid off the barstool. Some decoy she made.

She hoped the restroom was in the direction the man with the Stetson had disappeared, although he’d been gone a long time. As if her thoughts had conjured him up, he reappeared just as she stepped away from the bar.

Someone opened the front door behind her and sunlight streamed into the dimly lit room, illuminating the man’s face. Dark hair, dark eyes, rugged good looks, enhanced by the cleft in his chin.

He looked past her toward the front door, and then stared directly at her.

She averted her gaze and stepped to the side to give him room. Just as she was about to pass him, he grabbed her roughly by the elbows and pulled her against him. His rock solid chest muffled her gasp.

“Baby, I was afraid you wouldn’t show up,” he said rather loudly.

She pushed away from him, although he held on to her arms. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry for walking out last night. I don’t blame you for being angry.”

That he’d obviously mistaken her for someone else provided some comfort. At least he wasn’t some whacko who’d just flipped out. But when he started to walk backward, trying to take her with him, panic seized her.

She kicked him in the shins.

“Shit!” His grip slackened, but before she could jerk away, he regained his hold. He yanked her up close so that she had to tilt her head back to keep her nose from touching his chin. His eyes were dark with warning and sent a shiver down her spine. “Look, honey, I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

What was wrong with these guys in here? Why wasn’t anyone trying to help her? She parted her lips, ready to scream but the man slanted his head and covered her open mouth with his.

She couldn’t breathe. She tried to pull away, tried to close her mouth, but he used his tongue to keep her lips parted, her breath trapped in her chest.

His breath was warm and sweet and the kiss surprisingly tender, and for an instant she forgot she was being assaulted. When she finally gathered enough wits about her to try to bite him, he was too quick and eluded her.

His withdrawal gave her the opportunity to call for the bartender. She sucked in a much-needed breath but before she could yell, he whispered, “Wait. I can explain.”

Their eyes met. He had incredibly persuasive warm brown eyes. “Let go of me,” Cassie demanded.

He hesitated, his dark brows slightly furrowed. “Sorry, I can’t do that,” he said, and then startled her by picking her up and cradling her to his chest. “I’ll be back to settle up, Jerry. The wife and me need to talk outside.”

“The hell—”

He silenced her with his mouth, using his tongue to ensure her cooperation as he carried her toward the front door. The bartender winked and waved a hand. They passed the guy who’d walked in a moment ago. He watched them with mild interest, and no inclination to get involved. He looked just like the picture she had of Robert Bask.

The realization subdued her for the moment as her thoughts scrambled. This Neanderthal in a Stetson had just blown her cover. Bask thought she was married. But maybe that didn’t matter to someone like him…

They got outside and panic started to rise again. She twisted her body, and he lost his hold. She started to go down fanny first, but he caught her and set her on her feet.

She stumbled backward. “Stay away from me.”

He put his hands up, palms out. “It’s not what you think. I’m a federal investigator.”

“A what?” She stared in disbelief.

“With the Attorney General’s office.” He reached into his jacket pocket.

She took another step back. “Don’t move or I’ll scream loud enough to have half the county come running.”

His left brow rose in amusement. “I hope you weren’t counting on the half in there.”

“I scream and you wanna bet those boys come running?”

He sobered. “I’m reaching into my pocket to get my badge, okay?”

She let out a shaky breath. “You have two seconds.”

He promptly withdrew a small leather case, and then flipped it open. One side had a gold badge, the other a picture ID.

“What’s your interest in Robert Bask?”

Cassie stared at the badge. It looked authentic enough, and the picture matched. His name was J. Dalton Styles. She looked up into his dark probing eyes. “I don’t care who you are, or who you work for. You had no right manhandling me that way.”

His lips lifted in a smirk. “Manhandling?”

“That’s right,” she said, and slapped him across the face so hard her palm stung. “Now, we’re even.”

2

“WHAT THE HELL did you do that for?” Dalton rubbed his stinging cheek. The woman was a lunatic.

“You have to ask?”

“Obviously.”

“The only thing obvious to me is that our government had better add manners and etiquette to their training programs.”

He made a face. She had a great body, pretty face and slight southern accent that would ordinarily inspire thoughts of satin sheets and a good bottle of wine. But the woman was clearly a nut. “What does the government have to do with anything?”

“You work for them, don’t you?”

“Ah, Christ, don’t— Hey—” He grabbed her arm when she tried to leave. “This is serious. I need to know what your interest in Bask is.”

“I’m a private detective.”

“I know, but why are you after Bask?”

“What do you mean you know?”

Dalton darted a look toward the bar. No one had come outside but there were two windows from where they could be watched. “I checked you out. Your name is Cassie York and you work for Madison Investigations.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You couldn’t have known that.”

He shrugged. “Okay, so I don’t know about that. Tell me about Bask.”

“I meant, that quick. You couldn’t have checked me out. You—” She glared, her face turning pink. “Have you been following me?”

“Never laid eyes on you before today.” Damn, he didn’t want to admit he’d broken into her car. No telling what she’d do. “Look, we don’t have much time.”

She folded her arms across her nicely rounded chest producing a fair amount of tempting cleavage. “Tough.”

He bit back a curse. “Do you believe I’m a federal marshal?”

She blinked, and uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “Well, I did, but maybe I shouldn’t.”

Christ Almighty. “You saw my badge. The point is you’ve got to trust me.”

“Why?”

“Because Bask is scum, and you obviously want him just like I do.”

“Why do you say he’s scum? What’s he done to get your attention?”

“Can we discuss this later?” He glanced toward the bar door. “Before you blow this case?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “Me? I’m not the one who picked you up and kissed you.” Her face got pink again, and she swiped nervously at her hair.

“Shit!”

“There’s no need to swear.”

“Someone’s coming out of the bar.” He breathed a sigh of relief. It was one of the guys who’d been playing pool. “It’s not Bask. But you know damn well we’re being watched.”

She glanced over her shoulder. Dalton took the opportunity to check out her goods. But he wasn’t fast enough to get away with it.

She gave him a dirty look and pulled up her neckline. “I’m undercover.”

“Ah.”

Indignation made her eyes round and incredibly blue. “I’m supposed to be bait.”

He nodded, annoyed with himself. “Sure, you’re working for the wife. I should’ve figured that out.”

“I didn’t say that. I can’t tell you who I’m working for.”

“Look, Cassie, wouldn’t it make sense to work together?” he said desperately. He was so close. Days away from finally collaring this guy. And now he had to bargain with this nutty blonde.

She moistened her peach-tinted lips and furrowed her brows. “Work together how?”

Nutty, but damn pretty. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to use her. Bask would jump at the bait. “I don’t know. I gotta figure it out.”

She rubbed her arms with misgiving and nibbled at her lower lip. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought she was trying to make him crazy. Her lips were perfectly shaped, perfect fullness, and even when she wasn’t returning a kiss…

He promptly derailed his thoughts. He didn’t need his jeans getting all tight and uncomfortable. Besides, he had some fast thinking to do and that meant blood needed to flow up and not down.

“Look,” he said in a low coaxing voice. “At this point, our chances are much better if we work together, however necessary.”

The indecision vanished from her face. “By ‘at this point’ you must be referring to the mess you made in there.”

He gritted his teeth, and then forced a smile. “Right.”

With a smug curve to her lips, she said, “Okay, I’ll work with you as long as it’s not anything—weird.”

“Define weird.”

Concern darkened her face.

“Only kidding.” He checked the door again. All clear. “Well, we can’t shake on it. We’re supposed to be married. Couples who’ve just made up usually…” he shrugged and tried to keep a straight face “…kiss.”

She gave him an unexpectedly sweet smile. “Or maybe we haven’t made up. Maybe I’m still angry with you. I could slap your face again.”

He reflexively touched his cheek. It still stung. “I’ll pass.”

Regret briefly clouded her eyes. “What do we do now? Go back in? Wait for him to leave?”

The decision was taken out of their hands. Bask stepped outside, stopped to put on his sunglasses, and then looked their way.

“Show time.”

“What?” Cassie started to turn around.

He grabbed her hands and forced her to face him. “Bask is headed this way. Talk. We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Married stuff.”

“Oh, so we should keep arguing then.”

He snorted. Obviously she’d been married before. “Follow my lead, okay?”

She hesitated, and then gave a curt nod.

Bask had gotten within a few yards. Dalton pulled her closer and slid his hands around her waist. “Baby, you want to make this marriage work, don’t you?”

“Frankly, I’m not sure anymore.” She tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

He hauled her against him. “Come on, baby, we’re good together. Think about what you’d miss.”

She let out a dismissive laugh. “Not much, lately.”

He reminded himself this was only playacting. Nothing personal. “Then let me refresh your memory.” He slanted his mouth over hers and used her startled gasp to his advantage.

His tongue easily slid between her lips. At first she tensed, and then she opened more to him, her tongue tentatively touching his. She tasted like cherries and oranges and soft feminine mystique. Her soft full breasts pushed against his chest and one of her hands flattened over his chest.

She let out a soft whimper, and Dalton dove deeper, sliding his hands over her bottom and pulling her harder against his straining fly.

Someone cleared his throat.

Bask.

Shit! Dalton had forgotten about him.

He retreated slowly and met Cassie’s glazed eyes. “Did that help your memory, honey?”

She blinked, the fingers of the hand on his chest curling, her nails digging into him. Fire chased the daze look in her eyes. “This is what I’m supposed to miss?” Her breathlessness seemed to anger her more.

Made him smile.

“Bastard,” she whispered.

Bask cleared his throat again. “Excuse me, folks.”

They both looked at him. Cassie did a good job of pretending she didn’t know he was there. Her eyes widened and her cheeks got pink.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Bask said, the megawatt smile that had netted him illegal millions in place. “But I couldn’t help overhearing you two in the bar.”

“Yeah, so?” Dalton gave the guy a challenging glare.

Bask’s smile didn’t waver. “I may be able to help.”

“Mind your own business, pal.” Dalton turned away from him to look at Cassie.

She jerked away from him. “You don’t have to be rude to the man. After all, you did cause a scene he couldn’t help but overhear.”

“I caused a scene?”

“Too bad you didn’t inherit your mama’s manners as well as her money.”

Dalton forced back a surprised smile. She was good. “You leave my mama out of this. You never complain about the cushy lifestyle she’s provided for you.”

“You’re right. My only complaint is you.” She lifted her chin, turned back to Bask, and gave him a sugary sweet smile. “I must apologize for my husband’s rudeness. Please. You were saying?”

Bask homed in on her receptiveness. His body language even changed subtly. He angled toward Cassie and maintained eye contact, even mirroring a couple of her movements, a trick to further put her at ease. The guy was slick. No doubt about it.

“I’d like to give you my business card.” He plucked one out of the leather billfold he withdrew from his blue Armani sports coat. “My name is Robert Blankenship and I own Back to Basics.”

Before he could actually hand the card off to her, Dalton snatched it out of his hand. “I’ll take that.”

Cassie made a sound of disapproval.

“Actually, I was planning on giving you each one.” Bask presented her with a card and a wide smile, showing off his expensive caps.

“Thank you.” She gave Dalton a withering look, and then her gaze lowered to the card.

He’d already read it. Back to Basics was a marriage encounter resort. Bask promoted himself as the facilitator.

What a gig. Dalton had to admit the guy had smarts. How many rich, unhappy divorcées ended up crying on his shoulder while he emptied their pockets?

Cassie looked up at Bask, her blue eyes narrowed in confusion. Her lips formed this cute little pout that could distract a man from his objective if he weren’t careful.

“I don’t understand how this could help us.” She looked from Bask to Dalton. “What do you do at one of these things?”

Dalton couldn’t tell if she really didn’t know or if she was acting. He didn’t say anything but instead watched Bask spin his web.

“Well, there are usually five couples who go on a kind of retreat for a week. There would be one facilitator there, which would be me, and my assistant who would help guide you through the exercises.”

“We’re not going on any damn retreat, or doing any exercises. Come on, Cass.” Dalton grabbed her arm and tried to steer her away.

She reacted perfectly by jerking away from him. “Did you not just minutes ago say you wanted to save our marriage?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then I suggest you shut up and listen to the man.” She turned back to Bask. “Again, I’m sorry. Please go on.”

Dalton scrubbed the side of his jaw to hide his amusement. She was really getting into this role, especially when she got to blast him.

“No problem.” Bask gave them a combined smile, patronizing and annoying as hell. “I encounter this type of situation all the time. Either the husband or wife, but frankly mostly the husband, is resistant to any kind of therapy.”

Dalton groaned. “Therapy.”

Cassie gave him a dirty look.

Bask held up a hand. “Let me finish. Once I explain how our method for exploring and stimulating the relationship works, the husband usually comes around.”

Dalton glanced at his watch. “You have two minutes.”

“We believe that we must address all aspects of the union—spiritual, intellectual and physical. There is a beautiful meditation garden on the premises, a spa and pool and of course the physical contact can be done in private or anywhere for the less inhibited. All group sessions are—”

“Hold it.” Dalton’s interest peaked. “What do you mean by physical contact?”

Cassie’s interest was obviously aroused, as well. She watched Bask with wide anxious eyes.

He shrugged. “Physical contact can mean anything from massaging each other to sexual relations.”

Cassie coughed. “In public?”

“That’s entirely up to you.” Bask produced a reassuring smile. “Of course most couples prefer the privacy of their rooms.”

“Now, you’re talking.” Dalton made a show of studying the card. “You just might be hearing from us, Mr. Blankenship.”

Cassie opened her mouth to say something but her expression warned Dalton to cut the conversation short. He threw an arm around her shoulders and kissed her open mouth.

She sputtered.

Dalton gave Bask a leave-the-little-woman-to-me wink. Bask nodded and headed toward the dark blue Mercedes.

“Dammit!” Cassie shoved at Dalton’s shoulder when he wouldn’t release her.

“Now just calm down. Wait until he leaves before you start kicking up a fuss.”

“What I’m going to kick is your behind.”

“Fine. After he leaves.” Dalton furtively watched him climb into the car. The windows were so heavily tinted he couldn’t see the guy. But Dalton figured he was watching them, assessing what sort of candidates they’d make for whatever scheme he’d concocted.

“The hell with that. I’m leaving.”

Dalton grabbed her when she tried to go.

“Ouch!”

“I didn’t hurt you.”

Cassie’s lips did that little pouty thing, and she rubbed the area around the wrist that he held. “Yes, you did. You’re still hurting me.”

He didn’t believe it, but he promptly released her. Her smile had “sucker” written all over it. “Trying to make me kiss you again?”

The grin was instantly replaced with a glare. “Dream on.”

“It seems that’s the only way I get any cooperation out of you,” Dalton said, distracted by Bask pulling out of the parking stall and onto the street. “There he goes. Smug bastard.”

“We finally agree on something.” Cassie stared after the car as it made a turn and disappeared.

“At least I know where I can find him.” Dalton studied the card. “Marriage counseling. Pretty friggin’ smart.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “I guess now you make a call and then go arrest him, huh?”

He looked up in disbelief and stared at her. Obviously she didn’t get it. “Not exactly.”

She stuck her hands in the pocket of her black jeans. They were so tight he didn’t know how she had room for her hands, much less the rock she had on her left ring finger. “What did he do, anyway? I mean, I can pretty much guess but— Why are you looking at me like that?”

“That ring you have on your finger, are you married?”

She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. “I borrowed it from our client.”

“Think she’ll lend it to you for another week?”

“Why?”

He looked at the card again. “Do you know how friggin’ perfect this is?”

“Why?” she repeated, concern raising her voice.

“Why what?”

“Knock it off, Styles. I want a straight answer.”

“Oh, honey.” He slid an arm around her and smiled. “If we’re going to be married, you’re gonna have to call me Dalton.”

3

CASSIE SLAPPED at the nightstand, trying to find the alarm. The buzzer screamed relentlessly, until she finally opened one eye and shut the darn thing off.

She checked the time, blinking twice to clear the foggy blur…two-thirty.

Sunlight streamed through her apartment blinds. Okay, so it was afternoon. She knew that.

Yawning and stretching, she tried to focus on the ceiling. Afternoon naps were a rarity for her, but after two sleepless nights she hadn’t had much choice. Especially with her big adventure coming up in…

She glanced at the clock again—two-thirty-two. She groaned and rolled over to the edge of the bed. Dalton was picking her up in an hour and a half, and she hadn’t even packed yet. Not that she had to take much—T-shirts, shorts, jeans, maybe one casual dress.

Darn it, but she wished she’d talked to Bask herself and not had to rely on Dalton for information about the week they’d spend at Back to Basics. She’d actually tried calling Bask herself after talking to Dalton, but all she got was a recording.

Dalton Styles. The proverbial tall, dark and handsome, with his sable-brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. And sexy as all get-out with that strong chin that needed a shave. And holy cow! What a kisser!

She exhaled and shoved off the bed, thinking about how hot and insistent his mouth had been two days ago. More than one dream about him picking her up and carrying her away had messed with her sleep.

Good thing he annoyed the hell out of her or the next week would be impossible.

She got out the duffel bag she’d used during her college days. After four years of college plus another one in graduate school before she’d called it quits, the bag had taken a beating. Certainly not appropriate luggage for Mrs. Dalton Styles III. Maybe she ought to make him spring for a pricey Louis Vuitton garment bag.

The thought made her smile. Let him try to bury that in his expense account.

She didn’t smile for long. The luggage really was a problem. And since she’d been so busy working and hadn’t taken many trips, she hadn’t needed anything more. But of course, now that she was a full-fledged investigator, she’d probably have more out-of-town assignments.

The idea warmed her. The traveling part, she could honestly do without. She was Texas born and bred, and she liked it here just fine. But that she was actually flying solo now, and not just working as Chet’s assistant, forced to play the dumb blonde when it suited his case, made her giddy with excitement.

The phone interrupted her musings and she stared at it with the oddest combination of dread and disappointment. Was it Dalton? Had plans changed?

After it rang two more times, she snatched it up before the answering machine came on. “Hello?”

“Cassie, it’s Jennifer.”

Cassie cringed. She’d left a message for her boss this morning, hoping she wouldn’t get it until after Cassie was gone. “Hey, Jen.”

“This message you left me about Marianne’s case… I don’t think I understand it.”

Cassie sighed. “You probably do. I’m going undercover.”

Jennifer laughed. “What do you mean ‘undercover’?”

That hurt. Of course Jen didn’t mean anything. She’d probably laughed because the strange turn of events was so unexpected. Jennifer had confidence in her. She wasn’t like Chet or any of the others who overlooked Cassie as another pretty but not-so-bright blonde.

“Yesterday Bask showed up at the bar.”

“Great. Did he pass the test, or what?”

“More like, or what. The Feds are after him.”

“As in FBI?”

“I ran into a federal investigator who’s been following Bask. He was afraid I’d blow his investigation so he…” Cassie touched the corner of her mouth. Dalton’s kiss still burned on her lips. Stupid. Absolutely crazy to give it a second thought. The man was impossible.

“Cassie, are you there?”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “He ended up sabotaging my sting.”

“Okay, let’s back up. Why is he after Bask?”

“For fraud, basically, except they haven’t been able to prove anything yet.”

“It doesn’t matter as far as we’re concerned. I know Marianne. That he’s under suspicion will be enough for her to cut him loose. Her attorney can take it from here. Congratulations! I believe you’ve just successfully closed your first case.”

“Wait, I—” Words failed her. Her thoughts were in a sudden jumble stewed with panic and disappointment. “It’s not that simple. I can’t tell Marianne what I know and blow Dalton’s case.”

“Dalton? He’s the investigator.”

“Frankly, he’s a pain in the ass, but I wouldn’t feel right messing up his assignment.”

There was a long pause, and then Jennifer said, “You wouldn’t have to. Marianne and her attorney can be discrete while divorce papers are filed and this guy wraps up his case.”

Cassie walked with the remote phone to the kitchen for something to drink. Her mouth was suddenly drier than the Sahara. “Except without me, there won’t be a case.”

“For goodness sakes, why not?”

“See…this is confidential, okay? No telling Marianne.”

“Of course not.” Jen sounded annoyed.

In the background, the baby started to cry.

“Oops!” Jen cooed something to her daughter. “Cassie, could you hold on a minute?”

“Sure.” Gladly. Saved by little Annie. She needed a minute to organize her thoughts.

She poured herself a glass of water but eyed the bottle of chardonnay she’d had in the fridge for God knew how long. Her nerves were shot and she hadn’t even officially started her role as Mrs. Dalton Styles yet.

Why wasn’t she dancing a jig at the thought of getting out of this assignment? Thrilled at the thought of being able to tell that pompous ass to find some other patsy to play his wife?

Oh, heck, there were a lot of reasons. How much more anticlimactic could her first case be? However, if she were to help Dalton, wouldn’t that be good for the agency? Once Bask was arrested, the local news would surely pick up the story.

Due to her pregnancy, Jennifer had had to turn down business. One of the cases had to do with following and baiting a suspected philanderer. The wife who’d tried to hire the agency had been most unhappy that her case was denied. She’d accused Jen of all sorts of things from being a reverse sexist to an elitist who thought infidelity cases were beneath her.

News of the agency’s success would absolve them. And then of course, there was Chet. He’d see that Cassie had done a bang-up job all by herself. When he came crawling to her to work for him again, she’d tell him to kiss off.

“I’m back. Sorry.” Jennifer laughed softly.

Cassie smiled wistfully. Jen loved being a mom and that job always came first. All her detectives knew and respected that about their boss. Cassie wondered if her turn would ever come. Would she have a baby in her arms to coo to and kiss and cuddle?

Sometimes she thought that would never happen. Most of the guys she knew were still in party mode, into the bar-hopping scene, trying to stretch out another year of college so their parents would continue to foot their bills. A few were okay, just young and uncertain about the future, but a lot of them were jerks. Like Dalton Styles.

That wasn’t fair. She didn’t really know him. But he had manhandled her.

“Cassie, are you there?”

“I was just thinking about how good this is going to look for the agency when we help catch someone the Feds apparently have been after for a long time.”

Silence, and then Jen sighed. “What do you know about this Dalton guy? I assume you saw his identification?”

“Of course. I also checked him out. He was recruited out of college eight years ago. He’s earned numerous citations and two commendations for bravery and going beyond the call of duty.”

“Hmm, this seems like an odd case for someone of his caliber to be assigned to.”

Jen was too damn smart. Cassie leaned a hip on the kitchen counter and took a sip of water. She’d decided to skip the part about the reprimands Dalton had received for being a maverick, and for bending the rules as casually as you’d bend a straw. Jen didn’t need to worry.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Jen continued. “Bask isn’t supposed to be dangerous, is he?”

“No. He’s a snake who swindles lonely, vulnerable women out of money, but he has no history of violence.”

“Tell me again about this plan you and Dalton devised.”

“We’re going to pretend we’re married and go for marriage counseling at Bask’s retreat.”

“How will that expose him?” Jen was obviously holding the baby. Gurgling noises came across the line.

“Dalton thinks that Bask sniffs out a weak marriage where the woman would be vulnerable to him, and then manipulates the couple to split them up while getting the wife to become more and more dependent on him.”

“Yeah, okay. I can see that.” Jen paused to whisper something to the baby who was beginning to fuss. “Your message said something about possibly being gone for a week?”

Cassie briefly explained the encounter week, carefully editing out the parts that would put her and Dalton into intimate contact. The more she tried to leave out, the more she realized she was crazy for agreeing to this ruse. Not just crazy, terrified.

She would be stuck out in the middle of nowhere for a week with a man she couldn’t stand. A man whose kiss made her want to wrap her legs around his waist and not come up for air for a month.

Oh, God, this was not good.

“Cassie, I’m going to have to call you later. Annie needs to be changed.”

“Sure.” She hung up the phone with a shaky hand, her thoughts already elsewhere. It wasn’t too late. She could call Dalton and cancel. He was a resourceful guy. He could make his case without her.

She picked up the phone again and called the Marriott where he was staying, growing impatient when it rang too many times.

She wouldn’t let him talk her out of changing her mind. If he thought he could, he had another think coming. When Cassie York made up her mind, that was that.

“ARE YOU SURE you wrote these directions down correctly?” She stared at the scribble on the pad of Marriott paper. “Or maybe you just can’t read your own handwriting.”

“I can read it fine.” Dalton made a U-turn, their third of the afternoon. At this rate they’d be lucky to find the place by dark. “Obviously you don’t know a map from a grocery list.”

“That was a very sexist remark.”

“What? Men don’t shop?”

Cassie picked up her water bottle and uncapped it. “You can’t blame this on me. I wanted to stop at that gas station five miles back to ask for directions. But nooo…you don’t need to ask for help. You know exactly where you’re going. Ha!”

She tipped the bottle up to her lips, tempting him to slam on the brakes and watch her get drenched. If she was practicing her role as a wife, she was doing a damn fine job. She hadn’t stopped annoying him since they’d left Midland two hours ago.

“Do you want some water?”

He looked over at her. Damn, but she had pretty eyes. “Is that a trick question?”

Her sandy-colored brows dipped in a confused frown.

He was pretty sure she was a natural blonde. He was good at knowing that kind of stuff. “Why are you suddenly being so nice?”

Her confusion turned to surprise. “Suddenly being nice? I’ve been nothing but gracious and patient.”

He laughed.

“I’m serious.”

“You’ve criticized my driving. Steered us in the wrong direction twice. Took too friggin’ long at the convenience store just to irritate me—”

“Right. Everything I do is about you. You have saturated my thoughts. Taking too long in the store had nothing to do with the cash register jamming. It was all part of my master plan to irritate you.”

“And you talk too much. I don’t need a dissertation.”

“Screw you. Is that succinct enough?”

He smiled. “When?”

“That is so juvenile. I haven’t heard that comeback since junior high.”

“When was that? Last year?”

“Gee, another original.”

He shook his head with disgust. God help the man who ended up marrying her.

“Now, would you like some water, or not?” She reached into the small cooler she’d brought and got out another bottle of water.

“Yeah, I’ll have some.”

She surprised him by uncapping it before she handed the bottle to him. “You’re welcome.”

“Jeez, give me a chance. I was gonna say thanks.”

“Oh, wait.” She waved a hand excitedly, and he jammed on the brakes. “You’re missing the turn again.”

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t yell like that.” He took his foot off the brakes. “I thought I was about to hit something.”

“I didn’t yell.”

No way was he going to respond. She was a nut, three French fries short of a Happy Meal. “By the way, I didn’t miss the turn the first time. You forgot to tell me to turn, if you recall.”

“But you knew where you were going, remember? You didn’t need to ask directions.”

He glanced over at her just as she folded her arms across her chest. She had on another one of those scooped neck T-shirts like she wore the other day, only this one was a peach color that matched her jeans.

With her arms crossed as they were, the tops of her breasts plumped up above her neckline. She didn’t have a really big chest, but she was nicely rounded and perky. Just enough to make him crazy.

He forced his attention back to the road where it belonged, but then after a couple of seconds took one more look.

Cassie made a prissy sound. “What are you looking at?”

“I was thinking…maybe we ought to pull over and neck for a while.”

Her lips parted in disbelief and she shifted closer to her door.

“You know, just to get used to each other so we’ll be convincing once we get there.”

“Are you insane?”

He smiled. “Come on. Admit it. You want me.”

“How often does the government give their employees psychological tests?”

He laughed and then took a sip of water.

“You are one sick puppy.” She relieved him of the bottle.

He saw a sign for Bedrock and got serious. “We should be there in about twenty minutes. Let’s review our story.”

She nodded. “We’ve been married for only six months after meeting on a Caribbean cruise.”

“That was good thinking on the short time span for knowing each other. That’ll give us some leeway in case we botch our stories.”

Her lips curved in a pleased smile. “And thank you for thinking about the luggage. I’ll keep it in as good condition as possible.”

“No problem. It’s yours to keep for your help.”

“But it’s so expensive. I can’t keep it. No way.”

Dalton slid her a surprised glance. She meant it. She was willing to return a no-strings-attached gift. “Let’s get back to our story. I’m from Chicago, went off to Princeton and stayed in the East for a while, got married, divorced…we met on the cruise and after we got married I moved back to Texas at your insistence.”

She laughed. “At my insistence, huh?”

“You’re the one who’s from here. Why else would a born and bred Chicago boy move to Texas?”

She gave him a dry look. “You don’t have any sort of accent. Maybe we should say you’re from Dallas.”

“Better to stick as close to the truth as possible. That way we won’t get tripped up.”

“I suppose…”

“Why would it be important that I’m from Dallas?”

“You did say that I’d probably get the most grilling from the others, and I agree. Women talk about that kind of stuff, and men usually don’t. So since I would never marry someone from Chicago I’m just trying to customize the situation to what’s comfortable.”

He frowned. Surely he’d heard wrong. “You would never marry anyone from Chicago?”

“That’s right.”

“Dare I ask why?”

She straightened and pointed. “There’s our turn.”

He saw the Back to Basics sign just in time to steer the rented Jag down the long winding drive. “You have your story straight?”

“Like you said, I’m sticking to the truth, mostly anyway. I lived in Midland until I went to college. I graduated from Texas A&M two years ago with a degree in psychology. I’ve had a few different jobs, nothing substantial. I was still finding myself when I met you.”

He wondered which was the mostly true part. Was she still trying to find herself? He knew so little about her. Although he’d had one of his buddies back at the bureau pull a profile on her, he’d carefully stuck to general information, only asking about anything that pertained to the case and her ability to contribute.

About a quarter mile down the drive, a stately white mansion sprung up out of nowhere. Made sense that it was a home Bask had rented and called a resort. Easy to get out and hit the road when the time came.

“Are we in the right place?” Cassie squinted at the three-story house. “That looks more like a southern plantation home, certainly a private residence.”

The small discrete sign came into view informing them they were just where they were supposed to be. The front lawn stretched beyond the sign, the entire area loaded with flowers in reds and purples and golds. Dalton didn’t much care about flowers one way or the other, but it was a pretty awesome sight.

He glanced at Cassie. “Are you nervous?”

She shook her head, but her wide-eyed gaze and the way she wrung her hands concerned him. “This is the best-case scenario for a sting. Bask came to us.”

“I know. Anyway, this is going to be a piece of cake. I don’t even have to pretend I like you.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

She seemed too distracted to notice. “Can you believe the size of those lavender roses? And the hedges of heather, my goodness.” She finally looked at him.

“Another thing you should know about me, I love to garden. I’m already itching to stick my fingers in the dirt and swipe some clippings.”

Now, this was a surprise. He hadn’t figured her for the hands-in-the-dirt type.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not going to really swipe clippings.”

“I don’t even know what a clipping is.” He steered the car into the circular drive. The garages were probably around the back but this seemed like the logical thing to do so they could unload their luggage. Besides, having to move the car later would give him the opportunity to nose around.

Shrill laughter came from somewhere on the side of the house. They both twisted around for a look. A tall redhead opened the white trellis gate and ran through the garden in a tiny bikini bottom, no top, her enormous breasts bouncing with her laughter. Behind her a bare-chested man gave chase.

“Oh, boy,” Cassie swung around to look straight ahead. “Okay, now I’m nervous.”

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