“So what would you like to do tonight, Charlene?”

She didn’t fail to note Drey had said her name with just the right amount of sugar-coating to spike her hormone level up a notch, and couldn’t help wondering if it was deliberate. A man with as much skill and experience with women as he possessed had to know when he’d hit the jackpot.

She decided to call his bluff to see just how far he would take this and if he was trying to break down her defenses. “I don’t know, Drey. What do you have in mind?” she asked in a voice so soft and seductive it didn’t sound like her own.

She watched his eyes darken a little and saw the smooth smile that formed on his lips. “Something that might get the both of us in trouble. But I’m willing to take the chance.”

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

BRENDA JACKSON

is a die “heart” romantic who married her childhood sweetheart and still proudly wears the “going steady” ring he gave her when she was fifteen. Because she’s always believed in the power of love, Brenda’s stories always have happy endings. In her real-life love story, Brenda and her husband of thirty-seven years live in Jacksonville, Florida, and have two sons.

A New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author, Brenda divides her time between family and writing. She is retired from her thirty-seven year career in management at a major insurance company. You may write Brenda at P.O. Box 28267, Jacksonville, Florida 32226, e-mail her at WriterBJackson@aol.com or visit her Web site at www.brendajackson.net.

The Object of His Protection
Brenda Jackson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.

He catches the wise in their craftiness, and

the schemes of the wily are swept away.

Job 5:13 NIV

Special thanks and acknoledgment to Brenda Streater Jackson for her contribution to the Braddocks: Secret Son miniseries.

Dear Reader,

I enjoy writing continuities since they give me the opportunity to work with other authors. I also like writing books in which there is a puzzle to solve, along with penning a love story that centers on family secrets, skyrocketing passion and endless love.

In my story, Drey is a man with secrets. He is also a man who has an ingrained desire to protect, and he finds himself protecting Charlene Anderson. Charlene is equally determined to prove to Drey that she does not need his protection. Drey has a puzzle to solve, which weaves itself into a murder mystery that I hope you enjoy.

I love writing romance stories in which the hero and heroine are pitted against each other, but in the end, the mystery is solved and true love prevails.

I hope you enjoy Drey and Charlene’s story and their journey to finding everlasting love.

Brenda Jackson

Contents

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

Chapter 1

“I might as well come in since it doesn’t appear that you’re busy.”

Charlene Anderson didn’t need to look up to know who the deep, husky voice belonged to.

Drey St. John.

She did, however, glance over at the small heart-shaped ceramic clock sitting on her desk, the only part of her work area that wasn’t buried under paperwork. Drey was early although his visit wasn’t unexpected. He was a private investigator and she was a forensic scientist in Houston’s coroner’s office. It wasn’t unusual for him to drop by occasionally to harass her for forensic information that would help with the investigation of his current case.

“If you think I’m not busy, St. John, look again,” she said, not taking her eyes off the document she was reading. “Now get lost.”

She knew he wouldn’t go away. He never did. That didn’t bother her since she had a weak spot for the rebel private investigator and actually looked forward to seeing him, although she would never admit such a thing to him. His visits were the only high point in her rather dull life. At twenty-seven, she was focused on work, and no matter how you looked at it, dead bodies didn’t equate to great dates. Her social life was practically nonexistent, and of all things, she was still a virgin.

While attending Oklahoma State University, she had been too busy making the grades to get involved with anyone and had figured things would change once she finished school and got her career off the ground. She had been convinced, since she looked decent enough, that she would eventually meet some nice guy and get serious. That never happened. For her it always seemed to be all work and no play.

“Don’t you ever get tired of messing around with the dead?”

She glanced up. Speaking of dead…Drey was drop-dead gorgeous. Definitely a living-breathing specimen of a sexy male. Tall, dark and ultrahandsome. There was no doubt about the fact that at thirty-three he was every woman’s fantasy.

He had skin the color of creamy rich chocolate, and had dark hair and slanted dark eyes. All she knew about him was the tidbit she’d overhead from a group of women discussing him one day at lunch. According to them, his mother was half Chinese. If that was the case, she had passed a strikingly exotic look on to her son. Charlene had also heard that his middle name of Longwei meant “dragon strength” in Chinese. The name suited him because of his well-defined muscular physique.

“Not really,” she finally said, taking her eyes off him and attempting to return her focus to the document in front of her. “At least I don’t have to worry about the dead giving me a hard time.”

“Yeah, I would imagine they wouldn’t.”

She didn’t have to glance up to know he was no longer standing in the doorway but had come into her office. Her heart began beating twice as fast. The man had a way of getting to her. In addition to her erratic heartbeat, there was this unexplainable flush of heat that always overtook her whenever he was near, not to mention the way the air surrounding them always felt charged. He apparently didn’t pick up on such vibes, nor did he notice she did. He was too busy trying to pump her for information.

When he halted before her desk, blocking her sunlight, she decided to glance up, but took a deep breath before doing so. “And what got you out of bed so early this morning?” she asked, and immediately she wished she hadn’t when a vision of him getting out of bed—half naked—filtered through her mind. It was a nice vision but dangerous ground for her mind to tread on.

“I need your help with something.”

She rolled her eyes. “What else is new?”

“You’re the best there is,” he said, smiling. She wished he wouldn’t do that. He was sexy enough without the megawatt smile.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Drey.”

“What about dinner tonight?”

She placed her pen down and leaned back in her chair. “This must be some case if you’re willing to spring for dinner.”

She watched the emotions that crossed his face, emotions he rarely let show. He was angry and upset but was holding it in. Something about the case he was working on was bothering him. She could feel it.

“It is,” he finally said. “And the answers may very well come from a stiff brought here last week by the name of Joe Dennis.”

Charlene turned toward her computer and typed in the name. “Nothing has been done with him yet. He’s on Nate’s list to do later today.” Nathaniel Ganders was her boss. “What exactly do you need to know?”

His tensed features relaxed somewhat when he said, “Anything you can tell me.”

She nodded. He understood there were limitations as to what she could share, and she appreciated the fact that he had never asked her to cross the line in doing anything unethical. Not that she would. “In other words, anything out of the ordinary.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll take a look at the report when Nate’s finished. As you know, my boss is very thorough.” She cleared her computer screen and turned back to him. “I’ll let you know if I notice anything.”

“Thanks, and I’m serious about dinner.”

“But I’m not.” It hadn’t been the first time he had hinted at the two of them going somewhere to grab something to eat. She could barely handle her reaction to him now; she didn’t want to think how things would be if she had to share a meal with him. Besides, she considered him business and she didn’t mix business with pleasure. “Maybe some other time, Drey,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t happen.

“You said that before.”

Not that she was foolish enough to think that it mattered to him. “And I’m saying it again. I’ll call you if I learn anything.”

“Thanks, Charlie. I would appreciate it.”

Charlene glared at him, something she always did whenever he called her that. “Do I look like a Charlie to you?”

He smiled. “Hard to say. That lab jacket’s all I’ve ever seen you wear.”

Before she could give him a blazing retort, he turned and left.

The smile remained in place on Drey’s lips as he got into his car. For some reason he enjoyed getting a rise out of Charlene. In fact, the thought of seeing her today had pretty much kept his anger at bay, although it was creeping back on him now. He was discovering that being lied to all his life was something he was having a hard time dealing with.

Before starting the engine, he sat still a moment and stared out of the windshield, thinking about the conversation he’d had with his mother, Daiyu Longwei, a few days ago. The conversation had practically shattered his world when she had told him that Ronald St. John was not his father. Instead, the man whom Drey had considered his mentor, Congressman Harmon Braddock, was actually his biological father.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as his mother’s words flowed through his mind.

Sighing deeply, Drey started the engine, thinking that in essence, he was investigating his own father’s death. His own father’s murder, he immediately corrected, since he was convinced Harmon Braddock’s fatal car accident had been deliberate. Someone had wanted him dead and Drey was determined to find out who.

Something else he couldn’t put out of his mind was that the very people who had hired him to find the truth were Harmon Braddock’s offspring—and his siblings. He shook his head knowing they didn’t have a clue as to what his relationship was to them. At some point he would have to tell them, but not now. He wasn’t ready to go there yet. It was bad enough that he had to deal with it. Besides, how his own mother played into the investigation was still a mystery since it was well documented that less than an hour before his death, Harmon had tried contacting Daiyu. Hell, Drey hadn’t known the two knew each other and none of the Braddocks knew that Daiyu was his mother. He didn’t like withholding information of any kind from clients, yet that was exactly what he was doing.

He had known the congressman for a number of years. When Ronald St. John, the man Drey had adored as a father, had gotten killed in the line of duty as a police officer when Drey was fifteen, Drey had taken it hard since the two of them had always been close.

It was during that time that Congressman Braddock took an interest in him. And later on in life when Drey had felt himself getting tired of his own career as a police officer, it had been the congressman who had encouraged him to start his own private investigating firm and had gone so far as to keep him on retainer during those times he’d been trying to make ends meet. He would be the first to admit that over the years, Harmon had become the father figure that he’d lost.

To be quite honest, at first when he’d heard of Harmon’s car accident he had no reason to suspect foul play, even when the other Braddocks had. But now Joe Dennis’s death was raising his suspicions.

Drey brought the car to a stop at the next traffic light as he replayed the facts of the case over and over in his mind. Congressman Braddock had gotten killed in a car accident. The skid marks on the road had been consistent with a car losing control. It seemed Harmon was heading for the airport, which was another mystery since Gloria Kingsley, the congressman’s executive assistant, who’d known Harmon’s every move, hadn’t known about any planned trip.

Another thing that baffled everyone was why the congressman was behind the wheel when his personal driver, Joe Dennis, usually drove Harmon everywhere he went.

And now Joe was dead and according to the police report there didn’t appear to be any foul play. Someone just wanted him dead. Why? And exactly what had been the cause of death?

Drey had a lot of unanswered questions but at least he felt fairly confident the latter question would get answered soon enough, once he heard from Charlene. With that certainty, his thoughts couldn’t help shift to the efficient forensic scientist. They might bicker every chance they got, but they understood each other. He was as dedicated to his profession as she was to hers.

In the two years he’d known her, he’d never met another no-nonsense woman quite like her, and he found her to be sharp, intelligent…and definitely beautiful. The latter he tried not to dwell on too much. Seeing her in that lab coat all the time should have been a turn off; instead it was a total turn-on because he often wondered just how she looked beneath it.

But what he liked most about her was that she didn’t hesitate to give him hell if she thought he deserved it, and that made the verbal sparring with her that much more fun.

For some reason he had felt the need to see her this morning. Of course there had been that matter regarding Joe Dennis, but it seemed once his mother had hit him with the news of his parentage, he needed the lighthearted banter he and Charlene enjoyed to take his mind off things.

Lately, all of his relationships with women had been casual, just the way he wanted. He didn’t have time for any type of serious indulgence, and the last thing he needed was a woman getting too clingy. He could tell that Charlene wasn’t the clingy type. Besides that, their relationship was strictly professional. He had asked her out to dinner a few times, after the information she had given him had helped him solve a case, but she had refused and he hadn’t had a reason to push.

Frowning, he turned the corner onto the road that would take him to his office. Later, he would drop by headquarters to check the police report again on Joe Dennis’s death to see if he’d missed anything. Drey was determined to find out anything and everything that he could.

“I’m leaving to attend a meeting, Charlene. Don’t stay too late.”

She smiled as she glanced over at Nate Ganders as he slipped into his jacket. “I won’t. In fact I intend to leave on time today.”

When he tried smothering a cough, she said, “And please take my advice and do something for your cold. You’re passing germs and I can’t afford to get sick.”

Nate’s chuckle was the only sound he made before leaving the room. She stretched her legs, trying to recall just how long the two of them had worked together. Three years. He was an easy enough boss, although he could be demanding at times. The city had this thing about doing more with less, and amidst a number of budget cuts, the coroner’s office was operating on slim funds that could barely keep up with the number of suicides and suspicious deaths they handled each year. Her only saving grace was that Nate left her alone to do her job, and the nice salary increases she’d gotten each year let her know her hard work and dedication hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Nate was a pleasant man, and a good father to two children. And from the conversations Charlene had overheard, he was happily married to a woman he’d adored for over twenty-five years.

Seeing it was almost five o’clock, she stood up after logging off her computer. She then recalled Drey’s visit and what he had asked her to do. Deciding now would be the best time since Nate had left for a meeting, she went into the autopsy room to take a look at Joe Dennis’s chart. Nate had just finished performing the autopsy on Dennis, and the chart was still lying on the table. She picked it up and began reading.

“Trauma to the head, consistent with an attack from behind, as well as several other bruises to neck and shoulders.” She raised her brow at the notation that a key had been removed from the victim’s stomach. She glanced over at the key that was on the table. Why would anyone swallow a key?

Deciding that was definitely something worth mentioning to Drey, she left the autopsy room, determined to call Drey once she got home. She was about to exit the room when she heard Nate talking loudly to another man. Odd, she thought, because in the three years she’d worked with Nate, she had never known him to raise his voice. And why had he returned in the first place? Most of the time his meetings lasted for an hour or longer.

She decided it was none of her business. Besides, she’d better leave before Nate found something else for her to do. As she headed for the door, she couldn’t help noticing that the voices had gotten louder. She paused. Nate was definitely upset about something, but so was the man he was talking to. His voice was deep and sounded slightly hoarse. She could only assume, since she hadn’t been sitting at her desk when Nate returned, that he thought she had left for the day. Not wanting to eavesdrop on Nate’s argument any longer, she slipped out the door.

Drey heard his cell phone ring the moment he stepped out of the shower. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he quickly walked out of the bathroom to pick it up off the nightstand next to his bed. “Yes?”

“Drey, this is Charlene.”

He felt his stomach churn and immediately thought, not for the first time, that she had such a sexy phone voice. There was just something about it that made goose bumps rise on his skin. Wanting to curb the boost to his testosterone level, he said, “Charlie.”

She paused a moment, and he figured she’d done so to blow off a little steam, before saying, “I was able to take a look at Nate’s report on Dennis.”

The way she said the statement told him there was more. “And?”

“And I noticed a couple of things you might want to know.”

“Such as?”

“There was trauma to the head consistent with some sort of an attack from behind.”

Drey nodded. Not that the police had been much help, but he had paid a visit to headquarters after lunch hoping to learn something not on paper. For some reason it seemed everyone had closed lips. Usually they would loosen for a former member of their own, but today was not the case. And unfortunately, Detective Lavender Sessions, his former partner while on the force, was out of town. Like Charlene, Drey could always count on him to tell him what he needed to know.

“And there’s something else pretty strange about Joe Dennis.”

Charlene’s statement cut deep into his thoughts. “What?”

“He swallowed a key.”

“Excuse me?” Drey said, certain he hadn’t heard her right.

“I said he swallowed a key. One was taken out of his stomach.”

Drey rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Are you sure?” Immediately, he knew he had made a mistake in asking her that. In all his dealings with Charlene he had come to realize that she was a professional who knew her business.

“Of course I’m sure. Not only did I read it in the report, but I saw it myself. Nate hadn’t removed it from the table.”

Drey didn’t say anything for a moment; he was too busy thinking. Had Dennis swallowed the key to keep it from getting into someone else’s hands? Was the key a link to Harmon’s death? Those were questions he intended to get answered. “What sort of key was it?” he asked.

“Too small to be a door key. It was more like the size of a locker key or safe-deposit box key.”

He rubbed his chin again, his curiosity igniting. “I need a copy of that key,” he said, placing the phone on speaker so he could get dressed.

“That’s not possible, Drey. I don’t mind passing information on to you if I think it will help your case, but I draw the line at removing anything that could later become evidence.”

“And I’m not asking you to,” he said quickly.

“Well, what are you asking me to do?”

He could hear the agitation in her voice. The last thing he wanted to do was get her teed off, especially now when he needed information about that key. “I’m asking that you provide me a mold of it in wax. I’ve got a small kit that resembles a ladies’ compact.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, as if contemplating his request. And then she asked, “But what good is that when you don’t know what the key goes to?”

“I’ll find out. So will you get an indention of that key?”

“I don’t know, Drey….”

“Please.” If he sounded desperate, there was no help for it. He needed to know everything about Joe Dennis’s death, especially now that he knew it hadn’t been from natural causes.

He could hear her deep sigh and felt his heart begin to beat wildly in his chest. Even her sigh was a turn-on.

“Okay, fine,” she said.

He couldn’t help but smile. If he solved the case and was able to link it back to Harmon’s death, then he owed her more than just dinner. “Meet me tonight so I can give the kit to you.”

“Where?”

“You name the place. Better yet, if you give me your home address I can drop it off there.”

He heard the hesitation in her voice and was about to throw out another option when she said, “That’s fine, since I really don’t want to go back out tonight. I live in the Rippling Shores Condos.”

He knew the area. It was a newly developed subdivision of nice townhomes. “I know where it’s located. What’s the condo number?”

She rattled it off to him and he saved it in his memory. “I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

He smiled when, with not even a goodbye, she hung up the phone. For some reason he was looking forward to seeing her without her lab coat.

Chapter 2

Charlene glanced out the window and wondered for the umpteenth time why she had given Drey her address instead of meeting him somewhere. What had happened to her “do not mix business with pleasure” rule?

She was used to seeing him in a business setting, but now he would invade her personal space. The only consolation was that since he was dropping something off she wouldn’t have to invite him inside.

Satisfied with that, she glanced down at herself. Okay, so she had decided to change out of the frayed pair of shorts and T-shirt she had put on after coming home into a skirt and blouse. No big deal. It wasn’t as though he would see her in them. It was dark outside and all she had to do was poke her head out the door to get whatever he had to give her. Again, no big deal. She sighed deeply, thinking she was definitely making a lot out of things she considered to be no big deal.

When she heard a car door slam, her breath caught and for a moment she didn’t move. She inhaled deeply, trying to control her racing pulse. There was no reason to get nervous and jittery. Drey St. John wasn’t the first guy to come to her house…but she had to admit he was the first one in over a year, if you didn’t count the serviceman who dropped by a few weeks ago to take a look at her computer when it had gone on the blink.

She didn’t want to think about Carlos Hollis, the guy she had dated nearly two years ago. They had met at one of those financial seminars and she had taken him up on his offer to go somewhere for drinks afterward. They ended up going on a couple of dates after that, and when he began hinting that he wanted to sleep with her, she felt it was only fair to let him know up front that she was a virgin. He informed her that most guys were turned off by any virgin over the age of twenty-two, and to prove his point he never called her again.

Charlene heard the knock on the door and for a brief moment she contemplated not answering, which made absolutely no sense. There is simply no reason for you to be nervous, she told herself firmly as she headed toward the door. She reached for the doorknob and paused before turning it, convinced that even through the thickness of the wood that separated them she could breathe in Drey’s scent. At least it was the scent that she always associated with him, robust and definitely manly. Drawing in a deep breath, she opened the door slightly and saw how the glow from the porch light lit his handsome features before she acknowledged him. “Drey.”

“You shouldn’t have opened the door until you were absolutely sure it was me, Charlie.”

She thought about closing the door on him but decided she was a lot more mature than that. Instead, she opened it a little wider to place her arms across her chest and glare at him, or at least she tried to while attempting to downplay the heated sensations flowing through her. “The name is Charlene and I knew it was you.”

“And how did you know that? I note you don’t have a peephole in your door.”

There was no way she would tell him that his scent had been a dead giveaway for her. “I just did. Now, if you don’t mind, please give me what you drove all the way over here to deliver.” She reached out her hand.

Instead of placing anything in her hand, he took her hand into his and looked at it. The moment he touched her she felt a slow sizzle move up her spine and she kept her body still, not to let him know the effect of his touch.

“You have pretty hands, Charlie.”

She tensed at the compliment before pulling her hands from him. “Thanks, and how many times do I need to remind you that it’s Charlene?”

Drey then glanced back at her and noted her stance and felt his temperature rise. There was just enough light from the lamppost to see her outfit. The skirt and blouse looked cute. No, they looked exquisite, in a subtle sort of way. His gaze moved down to her long, shapely legs.

His eyes met hers then as he decided he owed her an explanation for his intense scrutiny just now. “This is the first time I’ve seen you without a lab coat and you look different.”

She lifted an arched brow. “Different how?”

“Different as in nice. Not that you didn’t look nice before, mind you.” Nice was too mild a word but he felt it would be out of place for him to say anything else. He doubted he could ever call her Charlie again without thinking how much like Charlene she now looked.

Whenever he dropped by the coroner’s office she would be sitting behind her desk and wearing her lab coat with her hair twisted on top of her head in a ball. Now she was standing up and wearing a skirt and blouse with a mass of long light brown hair flowing around her shoulders. In his opinion the entire package was sexy.

Desire flowed hot and heavy through his veins and he downplayed his rapid breathing when he said, “So, what’s a nice-looking girl like you doing home on a night like tonight? Why don’t you have a date?”

Charlene’s glare deepened. It was the same question her mother had asked her when she’d called earlier tonight. Nina Anderson-Smallwood-Caldwell-Olson actually thought a woman’s life centered on a man. But after four marriages Charlene wasn’t surprised her mother would think that. Her father was just as bad with wife number three. Since her parents seemed happy with their lives, she left them alone to do as they pleased and reminded them of their pledge on her twenty-first birthday to do likewise with her.

“I don’t have a date because I don’t want a date, so now give me the wax kit before I change my mind,” she said, extending her hand back to him, hoping he didn’t pull what he had before and take her hand again. His touch evoked feelings within her, unfamiliar feelings, feelings she could very well do without. When she was around him, a keen physical yearning seem to overtake her common sense, but she always fought to ignore it.

“Okay, here,” he said, placing the item in her hand. She glanced down at it. He was right. It did resemble a small makeup compact.

“You want me to show you how to use it?”

She looked up at him. Was he looking for any excuse to come inside? She immediately dissed the thought. Why should he? Besides, she was certain she wasn’t his type anyway. “No, I think I can handle it. It should be easy.”

“It is. But even if it weren’t I have a feeling you’d be able to handle it. In fact, Charlene Anderson, I think you can handle just about anything and anyone.”

Another compliment—one laced with sexual innuendo? Or was she imagining things? Letting her mind jump to all kinds of conclusions? No, she decided after looking into his eyes, she wasn’t imagining things. She might be a virgin but she wasn’t naive. They had a routine of giving each other a hard time, but she was smart enough to recognize the sexual tension that existed between them.

Even now.

Was he throwing out a challenge? Could she handle him? She wanted to wrap her arms around herself to ward off the yearning she felt, but then she quickly decided that she had a right to experience these things. She was a woman, after all, and Drey was definitely a man who could make an impression on a woman. She didn’t know any female who wouldn’t be affected by the sheer maleness of him. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Both showed off an ultrafine body, one that probably spent a lot of time in a gym messing around with all kinds of machinery with the sole purpose of staying in shape. She could tell that whatever clothes he wore he was well-toned and filled them out with masculine perfection.

She suddenly felt the need to retreat, instinctively aware of a need to protect herself from him and from the things he was making her feel. But then another part of her wanted to explore those feelings, to discover—up to a point—all the things she hadn’t experienced yet. Was she prepared for such a discovery?

“If you’re certain I don’t need to show you anything, I’ll be going.”

His words flowed through her mind, and her body picked up on the sensuality that laced his words. Again she wondered if she was imagining things. She studied his eyes. The slant in their shape made them look sexy and—Was that desire she saw in their dark depths? She shook her head, certain she was imagining things now. But then…

“Would you like to come inside for a drink, Drey?”

She inwardly flinched at the question, sure he had been asked that a thousand times by different women. He probably recognized it as the old “hit” line it was, one that had played out years ago, and was likely wondering if that was the best she could do. Unfortunately, it was. She didn’t want to give the impression that she was anywhere close to being promiscuous or an easy mark, because she was far from it.

“I’d love to come in and share a drink with you, Charlene.”

It hadn’t gone unnoticed that he had called her Charlene this time instead of Charlie. His words, spoken in what she thought was an overly sexy tone, reeled in her thoughts and caused her to focus once again on his eyes. He was staring at her intensely, as if she was a puzzle he was determined to figure out. The thought bothered her until she felt surprised he was even taking the time to do so.

On their own accord her eyes then lowered to his mouth. When she thought of that mouth pressed against hers, a warm sensation flowed low in her belly.

Without saying anything, she took a step back inside the house and he followed.

Drey found himself drawn to Charlene’s alluring sensuality as he stepped across the threshold into her home. With each step he took he felt something happening to him, something that could be perilous to his well-being as well as to his state of mind. Yet he was at a loss to stop it even with all the caution signs flashing at him.

He was used to women inviting him inside their homes with all kinds of intent and had always been careful to make sure it wasn’t a setup of the worst kind. When it came to his sex life he maintained control. There was never a discussion on the matter. He chose his bed partners as meticulously and carefully as he chose anything else. He wasn’t one to take anyone lightly. He could spot ulterior motives a mile away, and with the keen sense of a man who could most times read a woman like a book, he could figure out—even long before they could—if they wanted him.

Charlene wanted him but for what reason he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even certain if she knew. There was something about her, something about her invitation to come in for a drink that made him smile. Most women he knew just came right out and asked at the end of the date, “Would you like to come in for sex?” They didn’t beat around the bush about anything and usually by the time the door closed behind him they had stripped naked.

He glanced across the room at Charlene. She was fully clothed and the thought flitted through his mind that he would give anything to see her naked. Seeing her without her lab coat was an eye-opener. Removing her clothes was a boner just waiting to happen. Even now he could feel desire flowing through him. Heated lust that was increasing the flow to his brain up north and a certain other body part down south. Whether Charlene knew it or not, she was an extremely desirable woman. Why had she kept it hidden?

“So, what would you like?”

Her words pulled in his thoughts and immediately a vision flashed across his mind. Sexual imagery, hot and enticing, shot through his brain and threatened to short-circuit his nerve endings.

“What would I like?” he asked, shooting the question back at her, pausing to fully enunciate, sensually articulate every single word. He watched her tense as she realized she had unintentionally set herself up for that one.

She tilted her head at an angle he thought was sexy and glared at him. “What would you like to drink?”

He smiled, tempted to tell her sipping on her would satisfy him rather nicely, but decided not to do so. He might be wrong, way off base, but he had a feeling she was trying to downplay a certain innocence about her, while at the same time trying to prove something. What? And to whom?

“I’ll take anything you have,” he finally got around to answering. “But I prefer a beer if you have one.”

She nodded. “Yes, I have one. I’ll be back in a second.”

He heard panic in her voice and when she left the room he shook his head. Did she think he would pounce on her the first chance he got? She had been the one to invite him in.

He smiled thinking he might not pounce on her right away, but he intended to kiss her before he left. For a long time he had wondered how her lips tasted and he intended to find out tonight. Her lips had always intrigued him, had always turned him on even when they had been discussing dead bodies.

Dead bodies.

He remembered one in particular. Joe Dennis. His concentration should be focused on working his investigation and not working Charlene. He sucked in air, trying to get a grip. Instead he got a whiff of Charlene’s scent. It was all over the place. Jasmine.

He moved to the center of the room and looked around. She had a cozy place, nicely decorated, not overly furnished and crowded. It looked lived-in in a feminine way with splashes of pastel colors blended with the boldness of some darker shades. He noted that her preference in style leaned toward Early American while his remained staunchly Asian. He thought it was an interesting contrast.

“Sorry I took so long.”

He turned to face Charlene and swallowed hard, while fighting back the sensations that suddenly engulfed him. Compared to him she seemed to be a tiny thing, no taller than five three if that. His six-four height seemed to all but tower over her. And then there was the way she filled out her skirt and blouse. She was just as shapely up top as she was around the hips. Usually, he didn’t make a habit out of sizing up a woman’s breasts, but with the way hers filled her blouse he couldn’t help doing so. He had seen her many times, but because of the way she normally wore her hair, he hadn’t noticed the red highlights in her hair and what they did to her medium brown complexion.

“No problem,” he answered as he took the beer bottle from her, deciding he needed to remember the reason he was there and take care of it and leave. There was no need wasting time thinking about how good she looked or just how delicious he figured she would taste. He had an important case to solve and didn’t have time for anything else, especially anything involving a woman.

“You have a nice place,” he said before popping the cap off the beer bottle and taking a long, needed gulp. It immediately quenched his thirst but did nothing to wipe away his desire. He had focused on her mouth too many times not to know a sampling of her taste was what he really needed.

“Thanks. It’s just right for me. Not too big and not too small.”

It was then that Drey noticed she hadn’t grabbed a beer for herself. “You aren’t drinking anything?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t drink much.”

He licked his lips, aware more than ever of her femininity. And just to think seeing her without a lab coat and wearing regular clothes could have this sort of effect. “So, what else don’t you do, Charlie?” There, he figured calling her by the name she disliked would get her dander up and put back up the space he wanted between them. Thinking of tasting her all over wasn’t a good thing.

Charlene glared at him and said, “I definitely don’t do guys who can’t seem to get my name right.”

Too late Charlene was aware of how that sounded, which was pretty bad considering she’d never done a guy at all. But Drey didn’t know that. The way his brows rose indicated he was evidently intrigued by her statement.

“So,” he said, dragging out the single word and looking at her with those deep, dark, slanted eyes that made heat stir in the pit of her stomach. “Do you do guys who get your name right?”

Charlene’s glare deepened. The last thing she would admit to him was that she didn’t do guys at all. Carlos’s abrupt departure proved what guys thought of overaged virgins. “That’s none of your business.”

He placed the beer bottle on the table beside him before taking a step closer to her. The heat she felt earlier intensified into a hot flame. “And what if I were to tell you, Charlene, that I intend to make it my business?”

Charlene swallowed. He had taken that step with such confidence and style that if she didn’t know herself as well as she did, she would be tempted to believe him, especially with the way he said her name whenever he did get it right. She hadn’t realized just how close he was standing until she tilted her head and met his gaze, trying to ignore the strong, masculine shoulders the top of her head barely hit. “If you were to tell me that, Drey, then I would warn you that you would do better sticking to solving your cases since you have a better chance there,” she said, not wavering when she looked into his eyes.

A smile touched his lips and she knew he didn’t intend to heed her warning. “Are you saying that I don’t have a chance with you?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. She’d had enough of his game playing. “Do you honestly think I’m gullible enough to believe that you even want one?”

She gasped when suddenly she was pulled into his strong arms and her body was pressed against his hard, solid frame. She thought she would melt right then and there when his eyes bored down at her. Why did he always manage to get such a strong reaction from her?

“There’s nothing gullible about it, Charlene,” he said, leaning down just inches from her lips. “It’s what most people call sexual attraction. We got it. We’ve had it from the first. Now the big question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing.” She whispered the word from lips that suddenly felt dry.

“I disagree,” he said, smiling confidently with a challenging glint in his eyes.

And then his mouth swooped down on hers, snatching her next breath and replacing it with a demanding, hot mouth. She heard herself moan and tried not to return his kiss but found herself doing so anyway. The moment his tongue touched hers, she could swear her panties got wet. And she was certain that the room was moving. His kiss, intense and deep, was leading her down a road she didn’t know. All she knew was that he was taking her mouth with an expertise that had her following, no matter where he led.

Of their own accord she felt her arms wrap around his neck. Lifting her arms caused the tips of her breasts to press deep into his chest. It was as if the material of his T-shirt served as no barrier at all and for all her breasts cared, she was touching bare skin. The touch inflamed her nipples and sent a heated, electrifying charge all the way to the juncture of her thighs. She didn’t want to think about that. In fact, she didn’t want to think at all. She didn’t. She let his mouth have its way, while hers did the same.

Drey deepened the kiss thinking it had been long in coming and was bound to happen sooner or later. He was grateful it was now. He had so much drama going on in his life, disappointments and confusion about a lot of things concerning his birth. But he wasn’t confused about this, the way his mouth had latched on to Charlene’s, or the enjoyment he was getting from tasting her this way. In his book, she tasted pretty damn good. Too good. Her mouth was a temptation he’d better walk away from here and now. But he didn’t want to stop just yet.

The backfiring of a car in the distance took the choice out of his hands. With the sound came the return of his senses, but not before he let his tongue swipe across her lips for one final taste. He smiled. She looked as if she was shocked, not by the kiss but at its intensity. What he felt was resentment—toward whoever owned the damn vehicle that had interrupted them.

“I think you should go now, Drey.”

He sighed, not wanting to go but knowing she was right. If he stayed, the next move was to get them both naked. “All right.”

To get some sort of normalcy back between them, where he could take his mind off their kiss, he said, “Are you sure you know how to use the kit?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”

He lifted a brow, surprised she hadn’t given him some smart comeback. “Okay, then. I’ll check with you tomorrow.”

He turned and walked toward the door thinking this was the most excitement his libido had endured in a long time. Over the past year he had been too busy for a social life and Charlene just proved there were advantages to mixing business with pleasure at times.

He stopped when he got to the door and glanced back over at her. She was standing in the same spot staring at him. Just so she would know, he told her what he was thinking. What he had suddenly made up his mind about. “That wasn’t the last kiss we’ll share, Charlene.”

He saw her eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.”

He gave her an easy smile. “No, it wasn’t. In fact I won’t be totally satisfied until I’ve gotten the chance to taste you all over.”

And then he opened the door and left.

Chapter 3

Charlene held the phone tight in her hand as she let the caller on the other end have her say. This was certainly not turning out to be a good day. She had awakened that morning in a bad mood after a sleepless night, not having been able even to close her eyes without memories of Drey’s kiss intruding. What on earth had enticed her to go that far with him? And then his final comment before leaving…“I won’t be totally satisfied until I’ve gotten the chance to taste you all over.” Sensual shivers shot up her spine whenever she thought about it.

The irritated voice pulled her back to the conversation. Marsha Crenshaw was an attorney from the district attorney’s office inquiring about a body whose autopsy should have been completed that morning. It was on Nate’s list to do, but for some reason he was running behind schedule. In fact, Charlene had only seen him once that day and he’d seemed somewhat agitated about something.

“I’m sure the report will be finished by the end of the day, Marsha. If not, I’ll have Nate give you a call.” Charlene quickly hung up thinking the woman was getting pushier every time they talked. Rumor had it that she had lost so many cases that the particular one she was now working on was considered a must-win for her.

With Marsha off the phone and everyone out to lunch, Charlene leaned back in her chair to grab a quiet moment. Once again her thoughts drifted to what had happened last night between her and Drey. She would be the first to admit that the kiss had come as a surprise. She certainly hadn’t expected it, nor had she done anything to provoke it. What she had done was give him a smart comeback after he’d said that he intended to make it his business to know whether or not she did guys who got her name right. Things had gotten crazy from there and eventually led to a kiss she couldn’t forget.

Something else she couldn’t forget was agreeing to make an indention of that key. She had gotten busy earlier and it had slipped her mind. Thinking this would be a good time to do it since Nate was at lunch, she opened the drawer to her desk where she kept her purse. A few minutes later with the wax kit Drey had given her last night she entered the autopsy room where the records were located. She opened the huge file drawer and pulled out a folder with Joe Dennis’s name on it and was surprised the key was not in a plastic bag inside the folder. Wondering why, she began reading Dennis’s chart.

“What in the world…”

She blinked, certain she wasn’t reading the chart correctly. Nate’s report, the one that had been released to the police earlier that day, indicated Joe Dennis had died of a heart attack. The report contained no mention of the trauma to the head or the key that was found in his stomach. And speaking of the key, where was it? she asked herself as she quickly flipped through the chart. And why would Nate release a report that didn’t come close to the truth?

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for, Charlene?”

Charlene almost jumped at the sound of Nate’s voice, then breathed in deeply. She hadn’t expected him to return from lunch so soon. She glanced over at him and noticed he was looking at her rather funny. His smile, she noted, didn’t quite reach his eyes. He had caught her snooping in the file drawer containing the cases he had worked and he was probably wondering whose file she had. She saw no reason not to tell him since she was curious as to why he had falsified the information on Dennis’s autopsy report.

She cleared her throat. “I was reading your final report on Joe Dennis,” she said, placing the report back in the cabinet drawer and then closing and relocking it. She glanced up and saw a frown settle on his features.

“Why would you concern yourself with Joe Dennis’s autopsy?”

She heard the tenseness in his voice. She also heard a hardness that had never been there before, except for that one time she had overheard him arguing with some man.

“Just curious,” she said, refusing to let him know about Drey’s request. He’d seen Drey around but had probably assumed he was dropping by to see her for personal reasons.

“And you were curious because…” he prompted.

She met his gaze. “Because I saw the body, Nate, and I know Joe Dennis didn’t die of a heart attack. There was trauma to—”

“There was no trauma,” he all but snapped. “Are you questioning my findings?”

Yes, I am, Charlene thought. She was questioning his findings because he knew as well as she did that they were wrong. “All I know, Nate, is what I saw. Someone had hit Dennis over the head.”

“You are mistaken, Charlene, and that’s the end of it,” he said with a finality in his tone, while coming close to raising his voice. “And I would appreciate it if you never go checking behind me again.”

“I wasn’t doing that, Nate.”

“Weren’t you?”

Charlene really didn’t know what to say. All she knew, all she was definitely sure about was that the report Nate had issued to the police was wrong. Why would he do such a thing? Why was he trying to convince her it was right when she knew what she saw? And what about the key that had been taken out of the man’s stomach? There was no mention of it. She had a funny feeling about this and the intense way Nate was looking at her wasn’t helping. Still, she wasn’t dissuaded by his words. She knew what she saw and she intended to get to the bottom of it.

“Great,” she muttered as she headed out of the room. “I guess I was mistaken.” But she didn’t mean it. She needed to talk to Drey right away.

“Charlene.”

She stopped and turned to Nate before reaching the door. “Yes?”

“I think you should take some time off. In fact I strongly suggest that you do. You need time to clear your head since you’re imagining things.”

Charlene held back from telling him all the things that concerned her. She tilted her head and studied him and suddenly felt uneasy. There was a reason he wanted her gone for a while and they both knew it had nothing to do with her imagination.

“And it will be time off with pay,” he said, as if that meant something.

It was an effort not to tell him just what he could do with the time off with pay, but she bit her tongue to stop from doing so. Instead she walked out of the room.

A few minutes later after removing the items from her desk that she wanted to take with her she paused before entering Nate’s office when she saw he was on the phone. She couldn’t help but notice how quickly he ended the call when he saw her.

“Yes, Charlene?”

“I transferred my reports to Miller to work while I’m gone just in case someone needs a follow-up.”

“Okay.”

She inhaled deeply, then said, “What’s going on, Nate? Why are you—”

“I don’t want anything about Joe Dennis to go any further. You’re wrong in what you thought you saw,” he said, cutting in.

Forcing a smile, she said, “Fine. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Make it three and you might want to take the opportunity to go visit your parents while you have the time.”

Charlene frowned. Why was he suggesting that she leave town? “That sounds like a good idea, Nate. I’ll see you when I get back.”

As soon as possible, she needed to talk to Drey.

Drey studied the man who was standing at the window staring out as if he was in deep thought. Drey recalled just what he knew about Malcolm Braddock, other than his most recent discovery that the man was his half brother…something Malcolm didn’t know.

Malcolm assumed like his other two siblings—Tyson and Shondra—that Drey had been nothing more to their father than a mentee, someone Harmon Braddock had taken an interest in. They had no idea that their father had had an affair with his mother thirty-three years ago. It was the year before Malcolm had been born.

Although it had never bothered him before, now Drey felt a sense of loss that while he had gotten to know Harmon over the years, he hadn’t been given the chance to form any sort of relationship with his siblings. He inhaled deeply thinking there was still a lot of information his mother hadn’t told him. After she had dropped the bomb on him a few days ago regarding his true relationship with Harmon, he had left her office both confused and angry. He had deliberately avoided talking to her since that day, but he knew he could no longer avoid her. His questions needed answering. He had a case to solve and it was an investigation that had gone from business to personal. He was anxious to get that call from Charlene about that key.

Charlene.

His thoughts automatically shifted away from Malcolm to her, especially the kiss they had shared last night. He felt a tightening in his groin just thinking about it. Hell, he had barely gotten any sleep last night for thinking about it, replaying every aspect of it in his mind and finally drifting off to sleep with the taste of her still very much a part of his palate. It still was. The donut and coffee he’d consumed for breakfast hadn’t erased it.

And then there was the way she had felt in his arms, the way her body had automatically adjusted against his, raising his desire to a level it hadn’t been at in a while. Because of his workload, he hadn’t had time to spend with a woman, and last night Charlene had reminded him just how long it had been. A year, he had determined, was too long to go without female companionship, namely a good, hard roll in the hay.

He decided to get his mind off Charlene and back on Malcolm. He was still silently standing at his office window, evidently trying to make sense of this entire investigation and probably asking himself who would want his father dead.

Drey leaned back in his chair thinking that from the time he’d come to know Malcolm he’d always thought of him as a likeable guy. Drey was also aware of the rift that had existed between Malcolm and Harmon for years, namely because Malcolm thought that Harmon had “sold out” to play the political game. That was something Malcolm could not tolerate because of his ingrained sense of right and wrong. The man was extremely smart and in a lot of ways he reminded Drey of Harmon in that Malcolm was headstrong, he liked to debate and was passionate about his beliefs.

Something else that Malcolm seemed passionate about was the woman he was engaged to marry, Gloria Kingsley. Gloria had been Harmon’s executive assistant. Drey knew that Gloria had been instrumental in getting Malcolm to assume a leadership role in the Braddock family as well as to run for his father’s now-vacant seat in Congress.

The special election was to be held at the end of the month, and recent polls showed Malcolm was ahead of his opponent, Clint Hardy, who was running a negative campaign. With the election so close at hand, as well as the investigation into his father’s death, Malcolm pretty much had his hands full. No wonder he was standing at the window staring out, and had been that way since Drey had arrived almost ten minutes ago.

However, no matter the outcome of the election or the investigation, the one thing Drey knew for certain was that Malcolm would be marrying Gloria next month on Christmas Day.

As if on cue, Malcolm turned his head and looked at him, meeting his gaze. Drey wondered if there was anything—his facial bone structure, his strong chin or full cheekbones that would give his secret away and make it obvious to Malcolm that they shared the same blood. Drey knew there was not. Other than his skin coloring and full lips, most of his features were Asian.

“So, you think this key that was taken out of Dennis is connected to Dad’s death?” Malcolm asked, coming to sit back down at his desk.

“I would have to say yes since not too many people make a habit of going around swallowing keys.”

Malcolm nodded, then leaned back in his chair and made a steeple with his fingers. “I was standing over there trying to recall just when Dennis started working for Dad and if in the past I’ve ever had a reason to question his loyalty. But then it’s not like Dad and I were close over the last few years for me to get to know any of his associates or employees.” A smile touched his lips when he added, “Other than Gloria. She used to be quite a sticky thorn in my side.”

Drey raised a brow. “How so?”

“As his executive assistant, she thought my old man walked on water, refused to see his faults like I did. And she resented me for walking away from my father and my family.”

“Why did you?”

If Malcolm thought the question odd coming from a person who had no connection to the family, who was merely someone that he and his siblings had hired to investigate their father’s death, he gave no indication of it. Instead he said, “Despite my privileged upbringing, I’ve always been drawn to those in need and always wanted to help those less fortunate. A few years ago a bill came across my father’s desk that would have helped a lot of needy families—a bill that my dad himself had once championed. I couldn’t take any more of him not practicing what he preached.”

“So you walked away from the family.”

“Yes. Although I kept in touch with my mother and siblings, I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive Dad for what he did by turning his back on so many who needed him to make a difference. I loved him, but I just couldn’t accept the political behavior my father was practicing. In my eyes he was becoming involved in the dirty side of politics and I couldn’t turn my head and pretend he wasn’t.”

“What about Tyson and Shondra? Did they break their relationship with your father as well?” Drey asked, thinking that the Harmon Braddock whom Malcolm had just described was not the one he had known.

“Not as clean as I did. And unable to deal with the tension between me and Dad, they threw themselves into their careers.”

Drey nodded. “So you and the congressman were not on good terms when he died?”

Malcolm held his gaze. “No, and if your next question is going to ask me if I had anything to do with the accident—”

“No, I wasn’t going to ask you that, Malcolm. That hadn’t crossed my mind. I was at the funeral, remember? I saw how badly you took the congressman’s death. The two of you may have had your differences, but you loved your father.”

Malcolm didn’t say anything for a moment, and then, “Yes, I did.”

Before Drey could say anything else, his cell phone rang and he stood to retrieve it from his pocket and flipped it open. “Excuse me,” he said to Malcolm before glancing down at his phone. He was surprised to see his caller was Charlene. He hadn’t expected to hear from her until later that day. “This is Drey. What do you have for me?”

“Trouble. Can we meet somewhere and talk?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.