Twelve super-sexy books.

All the gorgeous military heroes you can handle.

One UNIFORMLY HOT! mini-series.

Don’t miss Mills & Boon® Blaze®’s first twelve-book continuity series, featuring irresistible soldiers from all branches of the armed forces.

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LETTERS FROM HOME by Rhonda Nelson (Army Rangers) June 2010

THE SOLDIER by Rhonda Nelson (Special Forces) July 2010

STORM WATCH by Jill Shalvis (National Guard) August 2010

HER LAST LINE OF DEFENCE by Marie Donovan (Green Berets) September 2010

SOLDIER IN CHARGE by Jennifer LaBrecque (Paratrooper) October 2010

SEALED AND DELIVERED by Jill Monroe (Navy SEALs) November 2010

CHRISTMAS MALE by Cara Summers (Military Police) December 2010

Uniformly Hot!

The Few. The Proud. The Sexy as Hell.

Christmas Male

By

Cara Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Dear Reader,

I loved writing Christmas Male for many reasons. First, it gave me a chance to wind up Blaze’s year-long mini-series UNIFORMLY HOT!, which features hunky military heroes. Second, it allowed me to tell D.C. Campbell’s story. You may remember him from my summer books, Twin Temptation and Twin Seduction.

Telling D.C.’s story also allowed me to revisit one of my favorite cities—Washington, D.C. I fell in love for the first time in our nation’s capital, so it will always hold a special place in my heart. And the holiday season is the perfect time for love to be in the air. Especially when there’s a legendary diamond involved…and two hot-for-each-other people who aren’t looking for a sexily-ever-after. But the holidays have a way of giving us all what we really want, even if we don’t know it yet.

May all your Christmas wishes come true!

Cara Summers

P.S. I’d love to hear from you. Please visit me at www.carasummers.com.

About the Author

RITA® Award nominee CARA SUMMERS is currently working on her thirty-fifth story, a new Blaze® romance. Her books have won several awards, including two Golden Leaves, three Golden Quills, an Award of Excellence, a Holt Medallion and a Lifetime Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. Who does she credit with inspiring her to become a romance writer? Her dad, who was always an avid reader of genre fiction, and her mom, who handed her a romance novel about fifteen years ago and said, “Try it. You’ll love it.” And Mom was right. Cara’s been reading and writing romances ever since! Visit her at www.carasummers.com.

To my niece and godchild Emma Fulgenzi, who is just the sort of smart, strong, independent woman I like to write stories about.

May all your Christmas wishes come true—and then some!

I love you!

Prologue

Washington Post—December 20 Is True Love In the Air?

THE RUBINOV DIAMOND EXHIBIT at the National Gallery has created a lot of excitement in Washington during this holiday season. Although whether people are flocking to see the stone because of its long, sometimes bloody history…or its acclaimed ability to bring lovers together, has yet to be discerned.

The brilliant blue diamond boasts a long and somewhat checkered history. After disappearing for generations, sometimes centuries, it always resurfaces—and always with a new owner. Like other large diamonds, rumors of obsession, murder and theft swirl around it. At one point, it is said that the diamond spent some time in the possession of pirates in the Aegean. More recently in 1999, master jewel thief Arthur Franks was credited with facilitating the Rubinov’s reappearance on the market. Neither story has ever been authenticated.

But what seems certain is that whenever the diamond reappears, a new love story is born.

According to the legend, the diamond’s power to ignite an intense attraction between true lovers dates back to ancient times. A few scholars argue the stone originated in Greece, and some even favor the theory that it was Aphrodite, the goddess of love, who first brought the stone to earth and gave it to a mortal she desired above all others.

Its current name, the Rubinov, was bestowed on it in 1917 when Count Peter Rubinov, a close friend of Tsar Nicholas of Russia, fell in love with one of the servants in the royal household and had the diamond made into a necklace for her. Shortly afterward, Count Rubinov, his lover and the necklace disappeared. Many believe it was through the power of the blue stone that they escaped when the Tsar and his family were put to death.

And Count Rubinov’s romance isn’t the only one. In another story, Helen of Troy was in possession of the stone when Paris first saw her, and it was his irresistible attraction to Helen that compelled him to kidnap her.

Another account claims that Merlin gave the diamond to Guinevere to solidify her relationship with Arthur. Instead, she wore it when she met Lancelot…

In more current stories, it is maintained that the Rubinov played a role in bringing Bonnie and Clyde together before they went on their bank-robbing spree. And though Britain’s royal family has always denied it, there are a few insiders who believe the Rubinov was briefly in their possession when Edward first met Mrs. Simpson.

According to my own research, Jacqueline Bouvier photographed it when it was last exhibited in Boston while she was dating John F. Kennedy. The picture she snapped of the necklace is still archived in the John F. Kennedy Library.

But the clincher as far as this reporter is concerned is the number of stories that have crossed my desk since the Rubinov Exhibit opened on December 15. Love is definitely in the air in our nation’s Capitol. The latest announcement came from Senator McNeil of Wisconsin, who insists that his daughter met her new fiancé in a chance meeting at the exhibit.

Regina Meyers, spokesperson for Gregory Shalnokov, the reclusive owner of the Rubinov, says Mr. Shalnokov is very pleased his diamond has contributed to the joy of the season.

Clearly, the Rubinov diamond is a matchmaker extraordinaire. This reporter’s advice: The clock’s ticking. If you want to make the legend of the Rubinov live on, run, don’t walk, to the National Gallery. The diamond is scheduled to return to the private collection of Gregory Shalnokov on December 23.

Chapter One

POLICE LIEUTENANT Fiona Gallagher looked up from her brochure to survey the crowd waiting to get a look at the legendary Rubinov Diamond.

The long line was being threaded through the exhibition room in a zigzag pattern similar to the ones used for security checks at airports. Her fellow viewers were a diverse group, ranging in age from small children to a couple just ahead of her who appeared to be in their eighties. She’d even spotted a couple of teens dressed in black and wearing red scarves and Santa hats in honor of the season.

Fiona had yet to figure out what the hell she was doing at the exhibition. In the five years she’d lived and worked as a police detective in D.C., she had yet to visit the National Gallery. Two or three times during her wait in line, she’d been tempted to leave. Diamonds with romantic legends surrounding them weren’t her cup of tea. True, her boss, Captain Natalie Gibbs-Mitchell, had been nagging her to see it. But Natalie always thought Fiona needed more in her life than just her job. Fiona didn’t agree. Her work in the high-profile crime division Natalie ran always gave her the challenges she thrived on.

Perhaps she’d come today out of boredom. She wasn’t currently working on a case. That bothered her a bit. Christmas was far from her favorite holiday, and she always depended on her job to get her through the season. But it wasn’t like she didn’t have things to do. She was running a toy drive at the precinct that would benefit the families of returning vets, and she had a meeting at Walter Reed hospital in less than an hour. After that, she had to make an appearance at a Christmas party, which meant she needed a change of clothes.

The Rubinov hadn’t even been on her mind when she’d left the station, but the next thing she knew, her car was at the National Mall. Curiosity had always been one of her strengths as a cop, but it seldom extended beyond the job. And she rarely acted on impulse.

As the couple in front of her moved on, Fiona got her first glimpse of the diamond. And she couldn’t seem to drag her gaze away from it. Had she ever seen a stone that blue? Legend aside, she couldn’t deny its extraordinary beauty. Even through the glass of the display case, the jewel in the center of the intricately carved necklace burned with a fire that seemed to grow even brighter as she looked at it.

As far as possessing the power to irresistibly draw two people together? Fiona’s logical mind balked at that. But she couldn’t fault the National Gallery’s decision to promote the romantic legend surrounding the stone.

Even in the midst of a busy Christmas season, the Rubinov Diamond had all Washington talking. And not about politics. Several people, including a prominent senator’s daughter, had attributed their engagements to the famous stone.

In her experience, true love was a rare thing. She wanted to think that her parents had experienced it, but since she’d lost them when she was four, she had too few memories to rely on. She certainly hadn’t spotted anything even resembling true love in the series of foster homes she’d bounced through before she’d entered the police academy.

Although…her captain was very happily married—and expecting her first baby. And Natalie’s sisters, Rory and Sierra, were happy in their marriages, too. But in Fiona’s view, the former Gibbs sisters were exceptions to the rule.

Was she secretly hoping to find what Natalie and her sisters had found? Was that what had lured her to the exhibition?

Dream on, Fiona. Christmas is a time for broken dreams.

Still, she couldn’t quite look away from the diamond, nor could she prevent feeling a little tug of longing.

She had to move on. Putting some effort into it, she tore her gaze away from the Rubinov diamond. It was only then that she noticed a man standing on the other side of the glass case. He was tall and dark haired with broad shoulders. There was something essentially male about him even without taking into account the officer’s uniform. She was vaguely aware that an older woman stood to his right, her arm tucked through his. The younger woman to his left said something, and when he smiled, Fiona felt her heart skip a beat.

Now she studied the three people standing directly across from her with the same intensity she’d looked at the diamond. They had their gazes locked on the necklace. Family, she thought. She pushed the tiny twinge of envy away quickly.

Without warning, the officer’s eyes lifted and met hers over the display case. For one instant, all she could feel was the impact of his gaze moving through her like a bullet—penetrating first skin, then muscle, blood and bone. Her mind went blank. Except for one word. Hers.

She felt a pull and knew only that she wanted to go to him, needed to…

When his gaze shifted back to the older woman at his side, Fiona realized that her heart was beating fast—as if she’d just raced to the top of a hill. And one of her hands had fastened onto the velvet rope in front of her. To hold on? To tear it away?

She could have sworn the fire in the diamond glowed more fiercely.

Ridiculous. She ordered herself to draw in a deep breath and let it out. This wasn’t like her at all. And the officer—whoever he was—was a complete stranger.

Icy panic shot up her spine. She shouldn’t have come here. It was always a mistake to wish for more than you could have. Without a backward glance at either the diamond or the man, she whirled away. Crumpling the brochure that told about the legend, she stuffed it into her coat pocket and barely kept herself from running out of the exhibition room.

Joy to the world…

The music poured out of the speakers in the sculpture garden at the National Mall, mixing with the chatter and laughter of skaters as they circled the ice rink. Usually, Army Captain D. C. Campbell loved Christmas music.

The song playing right now was a particular favorite. He’d always believed that spreading and receiving joy was the purpose, the mission of Christmas. But this year, he had to admit, the spirit of the season had eluded him. Not even the lights winking merrily on the National Mall were helping. Nor did the sight of his mother and younger sister, Darcy, skating arm in arm as they rounded the corner of the rink.

Using his cane to wave at them, D.C. gave himself a mental shake and turned to walk down the path toward Madison Drive. He knew exactly what his problem was—and he needed to solve it. He was bored out of his mind.

After his last tour of duty in Iraq, running the military police unit at nearby Fort McNair was as exciting as watching paint dry. It was a small base and occupied a scenic location in the Southwest section of the capital. The Anacostia River bordered it on the south and the Washington Channel on the west. The National Defense University was housed on the grounds, and D.C.’s main job was to oversee security. No problem there—since it ran like a well-oiled machine. Handling security had been a tad more challenging in Baghdad.

The other part of his job at Fort McNair was to investigate any crimes committed by personnel assigned to the base. So far the most exciting thing he’d done in the six months he’d been assigned there was to referee a fight that had broken out in the Officer’s Club.

Again, it was pretty easy work compared to what he’d done in Iraq. The upside was that it was risk free. You didn’t have to second-guess any decisions when you were signing requisition orders. No one’s life was on the line. Not his. Certainly not a partner’s.

He still felt guilty when he thought of David Eisley, the young private who’d been with him when he’d taken the hit to his leg. The soldier who hadn’t survived. But he was dealing with it. Risks, wins and losses—they were part of the job. Part of what had driven him to join the military in the first place.

At other times in his life, D.C. had embraced boredom. After a particularly rough day in a combat situation, a little tedium was welcome. Refreshing even. But enough was enough.

No doubt it was his state of mind that had fueled his imagination earlier that afternoon, when he and Darcy and his mom had been viewing the Rubinov Diamond. That had to have been why he’d had such an…odd reaction to that woman.

When he’d first met her eyes, the tightening in his gut had been unexpected. Raw and hot and sexual. That he might have been able to explain away. After all, she was a beautiful woman. The whiskey-colored eyes and the cameo face framed in a long fall of dark hair was enough to whet the appetite of any male with a pulse. And when she’d turned and strode away, the closer look he’d gotten at her body hadn’t disappointed him. Despite the fact she’d been wearing a short jacket and slacks, he’d gotten a clear impression of a lean, athletic body and miles of leg. Desire had punched through him again. Understandable. Enjoyable. But the intense and possessive urge he’d had to follow her was more than surprising. It was unprecedented.

He’d very nearly deserted his family to run after her. As it was, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her until she’d disappeared.

What would have happened if he had followed his mystery woman? The very nice fantasy that filled his mind helped him to fight off the increasing chill in the air as he continued down the path. The temperature had dropped steadily ever since the sun had set. But while they might warm him, distract him even, it was going to take more than interesting and pleasurable sexual fantasies to solve his current problem.

All he wanted for Christmas was an adventure. Was that too much to ask? Not anything major…he wouldn’t wish a crime spree on his base. But he desperately needed something to jar him out of his mind-numbing state.

Thanks to the leg injury he’d suffered on his last tour of duty, it wasn’t likely that he was going to see combat action anytime soon. Hell, he couldn’t even join his mother and younger sister on the ice rink. Pausing, he turned back to watch the skaters. He barely needed the cane anymore, and the leg itself was at eighty to eighty-five percent mobility. The problem was it wasn’t going to get to one hundred. His general had already had a conversation with him about transferring to a desk job at the Pentagon.

Problem was, a desk job didn’t appeal to D.C. any more than continuing on at the less-than-exciting Fort McNair.

D.C. tapped his cane impatiently against the ground as he watched his mother and Darcy skate by again. He’d always thought he’d be a military career man just as his father had been. At least that had been his father’s plan before he’d been killed in Bosnia. But a career in the army was out if D.C. had to spend the rest of his life on the fringes as he was doing today.

It came upon a midnight clear…

The lilting music had D.C. narrowing his eyes. Who said he had to wait until midnight for a little clarity? There was no time like the present. When January 15 rolled around, instead of signing up for another five years in the army, he could always resign. So what if he didn’t know exactly what he’d do next?

His older brother, who owned a security firm in Manhattan, had offered him a job. But in the last year, Jase had taken on a new partner and more recently a wife. No matter. D.C. would figure out something. He always did. The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin. He did like surprises. Wasn’t it the predictability of his daily routine at Fort McNair that was driving him nuts?

Having made the decision, something eased inside of him.

Finally.

This time, as his mother and sister rounded the curve, he smiled and waved at them. It was his day off, and he’d invited them to join him at the National Mall for some museum touring followed by skating at the sculpture garden. The visit to the National Gallery had been designed to tempt his mother into town. For the last twenty years, ever since Nancy Campbell had stepped into the job of single parent, he’d never known her to take much time off for herself.

So when she’d mentioned she’d love to see the Rubinov Diamond exhibit, D.C. had lost no time planning the day. According to the press releases, the Rubinov boasted a Cupid-like reputation of bringing together those who came in contact with it. But it was nearly equally famous for its history of frequently disappearing for long periods of time. When it invariably resurfaced, it was never possible to trace the relationship between the old owner and the new one.

It didn’t require highly trained investigatory skills to assume that there was often some sort of skulduggery afoot. D.C. suspected the diamond had, at various times, gone underground into someone’s private collection. He’d learned a lot about the temptations of private collectors when he’d been investigating an art theft case in Iraq, one that had involved some high-level military officials. It had been messy.

Who knew how long the Rubinov had been in the possession of its current owner, Gregory Shalnokov? The reclusive billionaire had admitted to owning it for the past ten years, but just how he’d come to acquire it was shrouded in mystery. D.C. knew that provenances could be forged.

Still, he figured he owed Shalnokov one when he’d seen the look on his mother’s and sister’s faces as they’d gazed at the diamond. D.C. shook his head. There was something about women and diamonds.

As far as he was concerned, the blue stone was just another rock, albeit one that supposedly had extraordinary powers. Truth told, he’d been more intrigued by the security on both the exhibition room and the display case than he’d been by the diamond. After a fair bit of prompting and a flash of his ID, one of the guards, a man named Bobby, had told him that the lock on the case was voice activated. Only Shalnokov could open it.

Interesting.

Over the years, the legendary diamond had attracted as many thieves as lovers. The article in the Washington Post had even mentioned the name of master thief Arthur Franks as having once had possession of the stone. While the female members of D.C.’s family had oohed and aahed over the diamond, he’d been wondering how a good thief might work a successful heist. And the fact that his mind had wandered down that path was pathetic proof of the level of his boredom.

Then he’d glanced up and looked into his mystery woman’s eyes. And for those next few seconds, he’d been unaware of anything but her. He couldn’t recall ever being that intensely aware of anyone before.

When his cell phone rang, D.C. glanced at the ID and grinned. Jase had been checking in with him once a week since he’d been assigned to Fort McNair. A classic case of big-brotheritis.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” D.C. asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do. But Maddie wanted me to call and remind you that you’re joining us for Christmas in the Big Apple.”

“And you don’t think I’m getting daily reminders of that from Mom?”

Jase laughed. “Okay. I’ll have to think up better excuses for calling. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” D.C said. “Really.” And he realized it was the truth. He was okay with the fact that his life after January 15 was a clean slate—something he had plenty of time to write on. It would be an adventure. And after all, wasn’t that what he was craving?

“You’ll figure something out.”

“I will,” D.C. said. He would.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

The song poured out of the speakers as D.C. pocketed his cell phone. His smile widened. The music seemed louder, the lights brighter, the evening merrier. He was still grinning and watching the skaters when he caught a movement in his peripheral vision. Turning, he spotted a figure at the far end of the garden just inside one of the entrance gates. The lights were focused on the ice rink, but he could still make out the white fur trim on the Santa hat as the person dodged behind one of the trees.

Earlier, when they’d arrived at the National Gallery, there’d been a couple of young people wearing red scarves and Santa hats in the museum. ‘Twas the season, D.C. supposed.

He kept his eyes on the festive figure as he darted to the next tree. Intrigued by the furtiveness of the movement, D.C. stepped onto the grass using trees and sculptures for cover as he zigged and zagged away from the ice rink.

Suddenly, the person ducked down along one side of the largest sculpture—the four-sided pyramid. Hiding, D.C. decided. But from what? The question had barely formed in his mind when a second figure suddenly appeared on another side of the sculpture and moved stealthily toward the first. Both figures were dressed alike—dark clothing, a Santa hat and a scarf.

In spite of the dim lighting, D.C. caught the glint of light on metal and watched. The second one raised his arm and springing forward, brought a gun down hard on the other one’s head.

D.C. pulled out his revolver as he broke into a run. “Stop. Police.”

The person holding the gun whirled and raised his weapon just as uneven ground made D.C. stumble and fall. He landed hard on his bad leg. Dispassionately, he heard a whiny thud and watched a chunk of bark hit the grass inches in front of him. Close, D.C. thought as he rolled to the other side of a tree. Very close.

Still on the ground, he ignored the pain in his thigh and took aim with his own weapon. But the figure was already racing away. The sidewalks on either side of the garden were still filled with tourists, and firing a shot would be too risky.

Hauling himself to his feet, D.C. dialed 911 and relayed his situation as he ran haltingly in the direction the armed man had taken. He exited the gate in time to see a figure wearing a Santa hat disappear into the backseat of an unmarked van. The Mall was lit brightly enough for him to see that there were two other people in the vehicle, one behind the wheel and another in the passenger seat.

The engine roared and tires squealed as the van raced away toward Fourth Street and peeled around the corner. It would be useless to give chase, D.C. thought. Even if his leg had been at one hundred percent, the van was moving too fast. He rubbed his thigh. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the sharpness of the pain was coming through. Loud and clear.

He turned back, and as he limped across the ground toward the fallen figure, he caught a few glimpses of the ice rink. Thanks to the volume of the music and the fact that the person with the gun had used a silencer, the skaters seemed blissfully unaware of the little shoot-out. He leaned down to retrieve his cane and then continued toward the figure on the ground.

The man was lying on his side, one arm flung out, a red scarf obscuring his features. D.C. knelt down beside the body. It was the hand that caught his attention first. The fingers were long, slender and delicate-looking. He checked for a pulse, found it steady. Carefully drawing the scarf aside, he confirmed his suspicion—this was a woman.

And he knew her.

Lying before him was Private Amanda Hemmings, General Eddinger’s administrative assistant at Fort McNair. Small world, D.C. thought.

Examining the fallen woman more closely, he noted the gash on the back of her head oozing blood. And the bruise on her forehead told him she’d hit it, as well, when she fell. He took her hand and patted it. “Private Hemmings?”

No response.

“Amanda?”

Silence again. She’d obviously been hit hard. Above the music from the rink, D.C. caught the faint sound of a siren.

What was Private Amanda Hemmings doing here wearing a Santa hat and red scarf? And why had someone attacked her?

It was a puzzle—and D.C. loved them. He was taking out his notebook and pen when he saw it—just two or three links of gold sticking out of one of the pockets in her jacket. But he’d seen those chain links before. Very carefully, he drew them out.

Excitement surged through him. There hanging at the end of the necklace was the Rubinov diamond.

BAH! HUMBUG!

Though she didn’t utter them aloud, the words blinked on and off like a neon sign in Fiona’s mind. Impatient and annoyed, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel of her car while she waited for a group of tourists to climb aboard the bus she’d been following down Constitution Avenue.

Even though it was nearly five forty-five and the sky had darkened over half an hour ago, the traffic around the National Mall hadn’t let up. She shouldn’t have taken this route. But she hadn’t quite been able to put that officer out of her mind. What was even more annoying was that each time she thought about him, the feelings she’d experienced returned—the shortness of breath, the rapid pulse. How could she be so intensely attracted to a total stranger?

She’d succeeded in coming up with a rational explanation for the…unsettling experience. It had been a combination of all the media hype around the diamond together with the Christmas season with its promises of wishes coming true. Add to that the fact that she was at loose ends because she wasn’t in the middle of a case, and it made sense that her imagination would react in such a strange way to the diamond…and the army officer.

And damn it, while she’d been thinking of him, her car had somehow found its way to the National Mall. Again.

She spared a glance for the tourists who had formed a line on the sidewalk that ran behind the sculpture garden next to the National Gallery. She seemed to be the only one in a hurry to get somewhere. She stared at them, willing them to pick up the pace as they slowly boarded their bus. It didn’t work.

Great! Fiona clamped down on the urge to lean on her horn. It wasn’t the bus driver’s fault that she was late. Nor could she blame him for the traffic snarl or because she was on her way to an obligatory Christmas party that she’d done her best to get out of.

Her boss, Natalie Gibbs-Mitchell, had refused to take no for an answer. And the fact that her captain was expecting a baby any day added what Fiona felt was a lot of unfair pressure.

When her cell phone rang, Fiona glanced at the caller ID. Speak of the devil…

“Don’t even think of chickening out on me,” Natalie said.

“I swear I’m on my way. I’m running late because I stopped by the National Gallery earlier today and saw the diamond.”

“And?”

“You’re right. It’s beautiful.” But it wasn’t an image of the necklace that filled her mind. It was the face of the stranger she’d seen over the display glass—that lean face with the ruggedly handsome features.

“And now that you’ve seen it, what do you think of the legend?”

When she felt the little flutter of panic, Fiona ruthlessly shoved it down. “I think the legend is making this one of the most popular exhibitions ever.”

Then she changed the subject. “I’m also running late because my meeting at Walter Reed hospital took longer than I expected.”

There was a beat of silence. “And that would be my fault?”

Fiona could picture Natalie on the other end of the call, her expression cool, her brows raised. The image made Fiona smile. “If the shoe fits…”

It had been her captain who’d put her in charge of the department’s Christmas toy drive. But it had been her own idea to recruit volunteers to patrol the high-traffic tourist attractions in D.C. In each location, they handed out brochures explaining the drive and describing where and how to drop off toys.

The response had been phenomenal. She glanced beyond the line of tourists. Even now, one of her volunteers might be passing out brochures somewhere on the streets that connected the Smithsonian museums. In spite of her aversion to all things Christmas, she was enjoying the chance to give a needy kid a better Christmas than she’d had.

“Everything’s quiet at the station. I checked,” Natalie said.

“Me, too.” Fiona was on duty tonight and she’d been hoping for a mugging or an assault. No such luck.

She had the police band radio on in the hope of a last-minute reprieve. There’d been a rash of snatch and runs plaguing the Georgetown area. Heck, she’d even settle for a domestic disturbance. It wasn’t that Fiona wanted a murder to investigate on the Friday before Christmas, but a little mayhem would have been perfect.

Along the sidewalk, the line of tourists seemed to be getting longer instead of shorter.

“You can’t work all the time, Fiona.”

“I know.” Natalie was hosting a Christmas party at the Blue Pepper, a popular bistro in Georgetown, and Fiona knew most of the people who would be there. More than that, she liked them—her colleagues, Natalie’s sisters, their husbands and friends.

It was the Christmas part that bothered her. As far as she was concerned, the best part of the holiday season was being able to put it behind her for another year.

“Fair warning. Now that you’ve been to see the Rubinov, Chance will probably grill you about its security.”

Fiona closed her eyes and bit back a sigh. Natalie’s husband, Chance, investigated high-profile art and jewelry thefts for an insurance company, and he’d consulted on the security setup for the Rubinov. So it only made sense that he’d want to get her take on how well the protection was holding up, given the crowds of people who’d been in to see it. At least, that had been one of the reasons Natalie had used when she’d nagged Fiona to go see the diamond.

But she hadn’t paid one bit of attention to the security while she’d been in that exhibition room. She’d been too caught up in the stone…and the man…

Ruthlessly, she once more shoved the image of the stranger’s face out of her mind. Ahead of her, the bus began to move.

“How much longer will you be?” Natalie asked.

Forever, Fiona thought. Please. She knew very well that wishes weren’t always granted at Christmas, but maybe…just this once. All she wanted was a case—one that would last through the holidays.

The bus in front of her coughed up exhaust and began to crawl forward.

“I’m moving now,” she said. “My ETA is twenty minutes.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Natalie said and disconnected.

The call came through as she was inching her way toward Ninth Street. Shots fired in the sculpture garden at the National Mall. She was only a couple of football fields away. Thank God.

Punching a number into her cell, she pulled onto a grass verge at the same time as she told the dispatcher she was nearly on the scene. Then she plucked her gun out of her evening bag and ran toward the well-lit ice rink.

Chapter Two

D.C. FELT THE PRESENCE of the other person before he saw or heard a thing. And he sensed danger. Neither surprised him. Combat experience honed a man’s perceptions. He didn’t glance up from the notes he was taking and didn’t slow the movement of his pen, but all his other senses went on full alert.

He was pretty sure that it wasn’t the man who’d taken a shot at him. Private Hemmings’s assailant had been too intent on escape. D.C. couldn’t hear anything other than the still-approaching sirens and the music from the ice rink. Still he felt the threat increase with each passing second. He’d only felt this way one other time. It had been in Baghdad. And he’d learned later that he’d been in the crosshairs of a high-powered rifle.

He let his gaze slide to his gun, which he’d set on the ground. His cane lay next to it. Either one would prove a useful weapon…if he could get to them in time.

“Don’t even think about it.”

D.C. let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. The voice was husky, authoritative and definitely female. It also meant business.

“D.C. police. Raise your hands and keep them where I can see them.”

D.C. did as he was told. As he lifted his gaze, the first thing he saw was the shoes. Cops were wearing interesting footwear these days. Hers were expensive-looking with killer heels and they were moving purposefully toward him. They should have slowed her down, but they didn’t. A black coat that flared out as she moved revealed a short red dress and legs that made his gaze want to linger. But the gun she held professionally in both hands was a bit distracting, especially since it was aimed at his most vital organ.

The moment he saw her face, recognition slammed into him like a bare-fisted punch. It was her. His mystery woman. Her face was as striking as he remembered. Delicate features and porcelain-colored skin contrasted sharply with a stubborn chin and a slash of cheekbones that suggested strength. A cop’s strength?

Finally, he met her eyes head-on. He registered their color—aged whiskey. Then his cataloging slammed to a halt as he experienced the same raw, primitive desire he’d experienced earlier.

Evidently, lightning could strike twice. His eyes narrowed as she stopped in front of him. He was pretty sure that the danger he’d sensed earlier had nothing to do with the gun and everything to do with the woman.

Who the hell was she?

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP.” Fiona was happy to see that her weapon was steady. Because she wasn’t steady at all. From the first moment she’d spotted him kneeling next to the body, she’d recognized him. And she’d experienced the same intense, impulsive urge to go to him that she’d felt earlier. Instead, she’d halted in her tracks and taken a moment to gather herself before she’d moved toward him.

The 911 caller had identified himself as being in the military police and had promised to stay on the scene. The gun on the ground next to him and the way he was scribbling in that notebook suggested he was a cop. Still, she’d have to make sure. That was when he’d glanced up and met her eyes. She’d very nearly stopped dead in her tracks again.

Who the hell was he? And how could he have this kind of effect on her?

“Mind if I use my cane?”

“Just give the gun a wide berth.”

“I called this in. The victim here is a woman. She’s taken a blow to the back of the head and she may have hit her forehead on the edge of the sculpture when she fell. She’s unconscious. Her breathing and pulse are steady.”

As he spoke, he rose in a smooth series of movements that told Fiona he’d practiced it often. She noticed more details than she had in their earlier encounter. He was larger than she remembered, well over six feet with broad shoulders and a swimmer’s body that went well with his lean face. But it was his eyes that grabbed her attention.

Again.

They were the darkest gray she’d ever seen. His gaze was direct and very intense. Not much slipped by those eyes, she could tell. And staring into them was a mistake. The pull he seemed to effortlessly exert on her tightened, and she barely kept herself from walking into his arms.

Impatience bubbled up. She had a job to do, and she would think of how he affected her…later. Better still, she wouldn’t think of him at all. “You want to tell me the rest of what you know, Sergeant?”

“It’s Captain D. C. Campbell.” He moved a hand toward his pocket, then paused. “I have ID.”

Which she should have asked for already. “Go ahead.”

As she inspected it, he continued, “I’m currently stationed at Fort McNair running the military police unit. It’s my day off, and I’m here on an outing with my mother and sister. They’re skating.”

Fiona thought of the two women she’d seen with him in the exhibition and recalled her impression that they’d been related.

Narrowing her eyes, she slipped her revolver into her evening bag. “You want to get to the good part?”

“Sure thing.” Humor flashed in his eyes.

Even as she knelt beside the body to verify the pulse, the sirens stopped. D. C. Campbell kept his report on the altercation between the two people he’d observed detailed, yet concise. One person had mugged another person on the National Mall.

“Did her attacker get away with anything?”

“No. He took one shot at me, then seemed to lose his nerve.”

The woman was lying half on her side, her face in profile, and something tugged at the edge of Fiona’s mind. She located a wallet and was about to check the victim’s ID when he said, “I know her.”

She glanced up at him. “Who is she?”

“She’s my general’s administrative assistant—Private Amanda Hemmings.”

A memory clicked into place in Fiona’s mind. She remembered the young blonde woman in uniform who’d stepped into her office, bubbling with enthusiasm, so eager to help with the toy drive. Fiona frowned down, first at the ID and then at the woman. She still looked young and very defenseless. Something tightened around her heart. “I know her, too. I only met her once. She’s one of the volunteers helping with the D.C. Police Department’s toy drive. That’s the reason she’s wearing the Santa hat. The hats were her idea. All my volunteers are wearing them.”

“The man who attacked her was wearing one, too.”

Spotting two uniforms hurrying toward them, Fiona frowned, then rose, pulled out her ID and held it out to them. But she never took her eyes off of D.C. “He was wearing a hat, too? That’s odd. I wonder what was behind the attack.”

“I have a clue.”

When he pulled the necklace out of his pocket, she stared. Even in the dim light, the large blue diamond in the pendant glowed. Without thinking, she cupped her hands and held them out. “It’s the Rubinov, isn’t it?”

“That would be my guess.”

As he placed it in her hands, his fingers brushed against her palm. It was a momentary contact—accidental, casual. But Fiona felt the impact—a stirring mix of heat, pleasure and promise—right down to her toes. Closing her fingers over the necklace, twin impulses grabbed her. One to step forward, the other to turn and run.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw two medics hurrying toward them with a stretcher. But before she turned to deal with them, she met D. C. Campbell’s eyes again. There was a heat in them that nearly matched the fiery glow in the center of the diamond. There was no physical contact between them anymore, but her skin still burned where his fingers had brushed against it. Neither of them moved.

“Interesting,” he said, letting his gaze drop briefly to the stone, which she still held in her outstretched palm. “You’re aware of the legend.”

“I am.” She had to push the words through a very dry throat, and the effort had her lifting her chin. “I believe in legends about as much as I believe in Santa Claus.”

“It will be interesting to see where this leads.”

Nowhere, Fiona thought as she fought a pump of panic. But she didn’t say the word aloud. Instead she turned her attention to the medics. She’d handle D. C. Campbell later.

OH, IT WOULD DEFINITELY lead somewhere, D.C. thought. Two people didn’t experience the kind of connection they’d just felt and walk away from it.

D.C. stepped away from Amanda Hemmings, giving the medics room to check her over. The older of the two, a plump woman in glasses, glanced at him. “You find her?”

“I saw it happen,” D.C. said. “She was struck on the head from behind with a gun and fell down hard. Looks like she hit her head on the edge of the sculpture. She’s been out ever since.”

“Good to know.” The woman went back to her job.

D.C. glanced over at the ice rink. From his position, he could see that some of the skaters had lined up along the edge, their curiosity aroused by the sirens and the flashing lights. One of the uniforms was taping off the scene while two others were keeping those still strolling along the Mall from entering at the other side of the garden. He couldn’t see either his mother or his sister, although he would soon, he suspected. Once they spotted him in the middle of this, they’d be right over.

Taking out his cell, he punched in the number of his general, Myra Eddinger. While he filled her in on what he knew so far, he kept his gaze on the mystery woman who’d taken charge of the crime scene. She radiated competence the way she radiated sensuality. Even at a distance of twenty or so feet, the intensity of the pull he’d felt when he’d first seen her still hummed and sizzled like an electric current in his blood.

“You’re sure the necklace is the Rubinov?” General Eddinger asked.

“Either that or an excellent copy.”

“Best guess,” Eddinger demanded.

“It’s the real McCoy.” His gaze never wavered from his mystery woman because it was what he was feeling for her that was fueling his certainty. He wasn’t totally sure he bought into the legend, either. But something was definitely happening between them. If the necklace hadn’t been involved, he might have chalked what he was experiencing—what they were experiencing—up to some really excellent chemistry.

But he could have sworn that the blue stone had brightened when he’d placed it in her hand—just as it had brightened in the display case when he’d first seen her.

And when his fingers had brushed briefly against her palm, what he’d experienced had gone beyond desire to something that bordered on recognition.

She shot a look his way, and the moment their eyes met, everything else faded. General Eddinger’s voice became a hum in his ear. The faces of those standing on the edges of the scene blurred. And the light dimmed as if he were on a stage set. In that instant, there was only her.

He was only released from the spell when she turned away and put her cell phone to her ear.

“Are you still there, Captain Campbell?”

“Yes. Our connection faded just for a moment,” he lied.

“If you’re right on this, then Private Hemmings has played some role in the attempted theft of the century. Everything I know about her tells me she wouldn’t have done anything purposely to steal that diamond. I want to know just how it ended up in her pocket. So I’m going to make a few phone calls and arrange for you to work along with the Washington police on this case. I’ll expect you to get to the bottom of it.”

“Yes, sir.” And that’s what he should be focusing on. But for a moment his thoughts were directed on the woman he would now be working with. Knowledge was always power.

She wasn’t as tall as he’d first thought. Maybe five foot four without the killer heels. And then there were those legs. Looking at them for more than a few seconds was enough to stimulate some very interesting fantasies. The current one was generating enough heat to keep him toasty warm.

D.C. gave himself a mental shake. She was still distracting him from more important things—such as following General Eddinger’s orders. If what he suspected was true, the Rubinov diamond must have been stolen from its display case shortly after the exhibition had closed at 5:00 p.m. He and his family had been in the last group to view the necklace.

It must have been almost five as they’d followed crowds toward the exit doors. He searched his mind for the details of what he’d seen as they made their way out. The one thing he did recall was a tall woman with straight blond hair having a heated conversation with an older woman and a group of youngsters. As they’d passed by, his mother had frowned. When he’d asked her about her reaction, she’d said that the blonde was acting like a bully. Some of the kids had needed to use the bathrooms, but the woman had been adamant that the restrooms were closed.

D.C. smiled as he recalled the incident. Nancy Campbell had strong ideas about how children should be treated.

Afterward, they’d come directly to the sculpture garden and his mother and Darcy had gone in to get skates. No alarm had sounded.

D.C. shifted his gaze to Amanda Hemmings as she was being carried away to a waiting ambulance. How in the world had she ended up with the Rubinov diamond in her pocket?

“Lieutenant?” It was a seasoned-looking man in a uniform who called out, and D.C.’s mystery woman strode toward him. The man had to have at least fifteen years on his lieutenant, and though D.C. couldn’t catch what they were saying, there was an ease in the way they communicated that suggested respect on each side.

So she was a lieutenant. And he didn’t even know her name. Amusement moved through him. He was definitely slipping. Putting all his years of investigative training to use, D.C. managed to extract not only her name, but a little background information, as well, from one of the uniformed men taping off the area.

Her name was Fiona Gallagher. She’d been working in Washington for five years, she was well respected, and she had a reputation for doing everything by the book. Before that, she’d worked in Atlanta. She’d been transferred to Washington specifically to work in the high-profile crime unit. D.C. stored the information away, then shifted his position so that he could lean against one of the sculptures. His leg deserved a little TLC after his abortive run after the armed man. But the initial pain he’d felt was already easing.

Finally, he refocused his mind back on the diamond. Of course, the necklace that he’d taken from Amanda Hemmings’s pocket could be a fake. His gut instinct aside, its authenticity would have to be checked out—the sooner the better.

He knew someone who might be able to help with that—an insurance investigator who just happened to make his home in Georgetown. It had been five years ago when he and Chance Mitchell had worked together to close down a highly efficient art theft ring in Baghdad, and he’d been meaning to look the man up.

And he needed to know more about Amanda Hemmings. Since he was going to be stuck in the sculpture garden for a while, D.C. decided that he’d put his brother to work. He’d learned from experience just how efficient the men at Campbell and Angelis Security were at running background checks.

As he punched in a number, D.C. cast another long look at Lieutenant Fiona Gallagher’s long legs.

“YOU SAID YOUR ETA was twenty minutes,” Natalie said. “That was almost an hour ago.”

Fiona swore silently as she glanced at her watch. “Sorry, I should have called sooner.”

The fact that her captain’s voice was threaded with concern rather than annoyance had Fiona mentally kicking herself. She hurried to give Natalie a detailed report on what had delayed her.

What she didn’t relay was why she hadn’t wound things up at the crime scene as quickly as she should have. Captain D. C. Campbell was distracting her. Each and every time she’d scanned the area or the faces of the curiosity junkies who’d gathered along the crime scene tape, her eyes had returned to him. Once she’d even caught him gazing back at her, and she’d felt that same mind-numbing flash of heat. That fact alone was enough to tempt her to look at him again—just to see if his effect on her was diminishing.

So far it wasn’t.

“So let me summarize,” Natalie said. “One of our toy drive volunteers was the victim of a mugging at the National Mall. We don’t know who her assailant was except that he, too, was wearing a Santa hat. Nor do we know who his two pals in the van were. And it looks like the four of them may have tried to pull off the heist of the century by stealing the Rubinov diamond right out of the National Gallery.”

Fiona frowned. “The question is how?”

“Chance will be all over the how part.”

“I’m betting they had inside help. How else could anyone get a well-guarded diamond out of the National Gallery without setting off an alarm? Maybe Amanda and/or her assailant were just supposed to bring it out of the gallery. Who would suspect a toy drive volunteer?”

“And Hemmings decided at the last minute to take the diamond and run?” Natalie asked.

“Or she had a change of heart?” In her mind, Fiona could almost see Natalie in the middle of a party at the Blue Pepper, jotting the possibilities down in her notebook. In the background she could hear chatter and Christmas music.

“I need to talk to her,” Fiona said. “The medics weren’t able to bring her around before they transported her.”

“Hemmings’s involvement could cause some public relations problems for the army,” Natalie murmured.

“Yes.”

“I have to say I’m a bit jealous. If I weren’t so close to my due date, I’d be tempted to work at your side on this one.” She paused. “So, what do you think of your Captain Campbell? Is he good?”

“Yeah,” Fiona said. She had to give him that much. She scanned the area again, playing back the scene D.C. had described. If what had happened here was some kind of a falling-out among thieves, it was thanks to him that they had the diamond.

But she could see the direction Natalie was heading in. “I don’t need a partner.”

“The army is going to want in on this,” Natalie said briskly. “First, we’ll have to make sure what you have is the real Rubinov.” There was a beat of silence. “Hold on. I’ve got a call coming in from the commissioner. It never ceases to amaze me how fast news travels in our nation’s Capitol.”

Politics. Fiona bet she knew exactly what the call from the commissioner was about—and that her boss had seen it coming. The army was going to want in on the investigation. They had a right, Fiona supposed.

Whirling, she narrowed her gaze on D. C. Campbell. He’d evidently been a busy boy while she’d been directing traffic and gathering information. In less than an hour, he’d reported to someone who’d gotten the commissioner’s ear. Not an easy feat to pull in the last few days before Christmas.

He was standing over near the ice rink, and he’d been joined by the same two women she’d seen with him earlier in the exhibition room. Both were tall and striking-looking and bore a strong family resemblance to Campbell. As if they had a will of their own, Fiona’s eyes strayed to D. C. Campbell. Even now when he wasn’t gazing directly at her, there was still that little skip of her pulse to deal with.

“Fiona, are you still there?”

Dammit! Disgusted with herself, Fiona turned away and refocused her attention on Natalie. “I’m here.”

“The commissioner got a call from a General Eddinger at Fort McNair. The bad and the good news, depending on your perspective, is that you’re going to be working this case with Captain Campbell.”

“Figures.” It was logical that they work together. And Fiona didn’t like to waste time fighting logic.

“The army does have a right to run their own investigation,” Natalie said.

“But it would be more efficient if we worked together.”

“Exactly. I can hear the lack of enthusiasm in your voice, but I learned during the few times I’ve worked with Chance that two heads are often better than one.”

“You’ve worked with Chance?” It was common knowledge around the department that Natalie and her sisters were daughters of a professional thief. But Natalie had never before mentioned that she and Chance had worked together.

“Ancient history—back when we first met. We were paired up for the first time on a high-profile case for the department. After that, I worked undercover with him on a case on my own time. Our mission was to steal back a diamond. We fell in love on the job.”

Another pump of panic had Fiona placing a hand against her chest just where she’d tucked the Rubinov away for safe keeping. She had to get a grip.

“Now—” Natalie’s tone turned brisk “—I want you to bring the diamond and your Captain Campbell to the Blue Pepper.”

Fiona frowned. “I was going to go to the hospital and check on Private Hemmings.”

“I’ll send a couple of uniforms over there to keep us updated. By the time you get here, Chance will locate someone who can authenticate the Rubinov.”

When Natalie disconnected, Fiona frowned down at the phone. She could tell that D. C. Campbell was looking at her by the tingle of awareness that moved through her. The nip in the night air contrasted sharply with the heat that shot through her veins. It was as if his mere presence heightened all of her senses. And she was stalling. Logic was one thing. Her reaction to D. C. Campbell was another.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like men. She did. In the right time and place. So far, she’d been able to keep them on the fringes of her life. Enjoyable, but not essential. And she wanted to keep it that way.

Gut instinct warned her that Captain Campbell was not a man kept easily in his place. Already, he’d slipped into her mind and was staging an assault on her senses.

Not that she was going to admit it had anything to do with the Rubinov or its legend. What she was feeling was just a trick of chemistry. There’d been a time in her life when she’d had stars in her eyes and she’d believed in wishes and dreams. It had been Christmas time then, too. There was something about the season that made her lose track of reality. But she could handle this…situation. She would handle it and D. C. Campbell, as well.

Straightening her shoulders, she raised her gaze to meet his and strode forward.

Chapter Three

LIEUTENANT FIONA GALLAGHER walked the way she drove—purposefully and fast. They’d come to Georgetown in separate cars, so he’d had time to observe the competent way she threaded her way through Washington traffic. Because of the season, parking was at a premium. They’d parked their vehicles several blocks away from the Georgetown bistro where her boss had summoned them.

She’d said nothing since she’d joined him at his car, where she’d passed along the news that as soon as Amanda Hemmings had reached the hospital, she’d been rushed in for X-rays, but hadn’t regained consciousness yet. Fiona had delivered the information in a matter-of-fact voice, but if D.C. read her correctly, she wasn’t any happier about the news than he was. Many of their questions might be answered if they could just talk to Amanda Hemmings.

In spite of her killer heels, the lieutenant strode along the sidewalk at a fast clip. For now, D.C. was willing to let the silence stretch between them.

The twenty-minute drive from the Mall had given him some time to think about how he was going to handle her. Professionally. General Eddinger had already made the arrangements. Like it or not, he and the lieutenant were going to work together on this case. The question was, how did he want it to play out? In his experience, there were two ways to work with a partner: around them or with them. And he bet he knew exactly what choice Fiona Gallagher had already made.

They’d nearly reached a corner when she realized she was outpacing him and slowed down until he caught up.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“No problem.”

It wasn’t the first example of her thoughtfulness. Earlier at the sculpture garden, she’d arranged for one of the squad cars to drive his mother and sister to Union Station so they could catch the eight o’clock train back to Baltimore.

As they crossed the street, D.C. took her arm and felt her stiffen.

“I don’t need help crossing the street, Captain.”

“Maybe I do.”

The look she shot him was cool and assessing. “I don’t think so. You don’t impress me as a man who needs much help with anything.”

D.C. smiled. “Thanks, but you’d be wrong. I want your help solving this case. And my guess is that you’re not happy at the prospect of working with me.”

“Your guess is correct. But don’t take it personally. I don’t have a history of working well with partners.” Stepping up on the curb, she turned to face him. “My last one was shot.”

Her tone was flat, but D.C. saw the flash of pain in her eyes and understood. “He’s alive?”

“Yes. It was a shoulder wound. He’ll be returning to work in a few weeks.”

“You’re lucky. My last partner didn’t make it. He died in the same little skirmish that sidelined my leg.” The words were out before he could stop them. He hadn’t talked about David’s death. Hadn’t been able to—not even to his family.

“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand, linked her fingers with his.

For a moment, silence stretched between them again. The understanding in her eyes eased the tightness around his heart.

“Let’s hope we both have better luck this time,” he said finally as she freed her hand and continued to walk. “In the meantime, I think it might be good if we got to know one another. Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m a cop.”

“C’mon, Lieutenant. You know a lot about me. Turnabout’s fair play.”

Stopping, she turned to him. “I don’t know anything about you.”

“You’ve met my mom and sister. You’re practically part of the family. They liked you, by the way. They really appreciated you getting them to Union Station. But showing them the Rubinov—they’re not going to forget that.”

Nor was he going to forget that moment when she’d pushed her coat aside and pulled the necklace out of the front of her dress. The gesture had left him with a vivid image in his mind of exactly where the diamond had been nestling.

“Next time my big brother calls to check up on me, I’ll let you talk to him. Jase is ex-navy and special ops, and he runs a security firm in New York. I called and asked him to run a background check on Amanda Hemmings.”

She was studying him now, her eyes narrowed. D.C. had the uncomfortable feeling that he was on a slide under a microscope.

“I’ll even tell you my deepest and darkest secret.”

Her brows arched. “And that is?”

“What D.C. stands for.”

Fiona suddenly felt the corners of her mouth twitch. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Tell me if you change your mind.”

The man was charming. She had to grant him that. And that charm might help while they were questioning suspects. He might prove useful in other ways, too—especially with that brother who could run background checks.

“We can either work around each other or together,” he stated.

“True.” And on the drive to Georgetown, she’d already decided on the former, hadn’t she? She’d put on a good front, cooperate when he asked, and do her own thing.

“Working around each other is going to cost us time. And this is an important case. If we’re right and you’ve got the real Rubinov tucked near your heart, we’re dealing with the kind of theft that might have made history—if it had been successful. We need to find out why it didn’t work out that way. And how the legendary diamond ended up in Amanda Hemmings’s pocket.”

“There had to have been someone on the inside.”

“Agreed. My brother says that there isn’t a security system in the world that can’t be hacked into. But it would take a real pro to crack the one at the National Gallery. My gut feeling is that Amanda Hemmings isn’t that person.”

She nodded. “She was working for or with someone.”

“Or she’s an innocent pawn,” D.C. countered. “In any case, we’ll have to look at the owner. Gregory Shalnokov is a very rich man. My experience with the rich is that they’re never rich enough. If he puts the stone on display and orchestrates a successful robbery, he gets to have his cake, in this case the Rubinov, and eat it, too, when he collects the insurance money.”

Fiona found herself agreeing again. They would have to scrutinize Gregory Shalnokov.

“And to prove that I’ll make a valuable partner, I learned from one of the guards that the display case housing the Rubinov could only be opened with Shalnokov’s voice.”

She stopped short and turned to stare at him. He hadn’t had to tell her that. Not that she wouldn’t have eventually discovered it for herself.

As if he read her mind, he said, “If we’re going to be partners, it’ll save time if we share everything.”

“Okay.” As the first snowflakes began to fall, the wind stung her cheeks. Turning up her collar, she started down the next block. “Right now, the only suspect we’ve got is Private Hemmings. That’s going to be a PR problem for the army.”

“True.”

“I’m worried that you might have an agenda—to prove Amanda Hemmings innocent.”

“I won’t lie to you. That’s the outcome my general would prefer.”

She slanted him a look. “That could interfere with your objectivity.”

“It won’t. What about you? You’re also going to have a bit of a PR problem if one of your volunteers used her work to help out with the theft.”

“That won’t keep me from digging out the truth.”

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem. How’s the food at this restaurant we’re going to?”

“Excellent. But we’re not going there to eat.”

D.C. sighed. “A man can dream. What’s your captain like?”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil your first impression.”

“Fair enough.”

For half a block, they walked again in silence. And it was oddly companionable, Fiona realized. The street was quiet. At seven-thirty, residents had either left for the night or were celebrating the season with family and friends. Lights twinkled on shrubs, and Christmas trees glowed in the windows.

They were still a hundred yards from the corner when two figures rounded it and headed toward them. They wore jeans and hooded sweatshirts. Both male, Fiona decided. And young. Each was using earphones and one was texting a message. The Georgetown campus was only a short distance, so they could be college kids. But it was a little early on a Friday night to be heading back from one of the watering holes on P Street that students favored.

“Trouble,” D.C. murmured.

His instincts were aligned with hers, and adrenaline spiked through her. “A couple of hours ago I was practically praying for a little snatch and run.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

The two young men were drawing steadily closer.

“Look.” He spoke softly as he slipped his hand around her upper arm. “Let’s make it easy for them.”

“I’m not giving them my purse.”

“Of course not. We just want to throw them off guard. Follow my lead. When I turn you, bring your purse up between us.”

Without waiting for a reply, he pulled her close until only her evening bag separated them. Even while she slipped her hand in and grasped her revolver, she was intensely aware of other details. Other sensations. His chest was hard as a rock, and he was taller than she’d thought. In her heels, she still only came up to his chin. His hand was large enough to wrap completely around her arm. Even through her coat sleeve, she could feel the pressure of each one of his fingers. And she was pretty sure she’d need a crowbar to dislodge them.

“What are you…” Her whispered words trailed off as he bent his head closer. For one instant, she was sure he was going to kiss her. Every nerve in her body went on full alert. She should have moved—pushed him away. But she was helpless against the wave of longing that moved through her. For one instant, she lost track of every thought. All she wanted was to feel his lips against hers.

At the last moment, he angled his head and whispered in her ear. “Can you get your gun out?”

Ruthlessly, she focused. “Already did.” They were about to be mugged. In her peripheral vision, she saw a figure crossing the street. “There’s one behind us.”

“You handle him. On a count of three. One…”

He wasn’t giving her any time to argue. The other two were close enough that she could hear their footfalls on the pavement.

“Two…”

She didn’t like the plan. She was the one with the gun and he was outnumbered. What if…?

“Three.”

Even as she stepped away and brought her revolver up, she angled her stance so that she could keep D.C. and the other two in her peripheral vision. Still she barely caught the flash of movement as the cane struck one of the young men in the arm. He yelped in pain.

“Hands up,” she said to the one who’d approached from behind. This close she could see he was young, not more than fifteen or sixteen.

“Whoa.” He threw his hands out in front of him as if to ward her off.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fiona saw the cane flash again. This time a startled cry was followed by the sound of something clattering to the sidewalk. Then the two men D.C. had used his cane on turned and fled.

“Don’t shoot, lady!” The young man she had her gun aimed at whirled and ran, too.

She pivoted around fully in time to see the other two disappear around the corner. Only then did she lower her weapon and slip it back into her purse.

“Good work,” D.C. said.

“No, it wasn’t.” Anger, relief and annoyance had her voice tightening. “I had the gun. And you were outnumbered.”

“All’s well that ends well.”

It was only then that she saw the revolver lying on the sidewalk. They’d been armed. She never should have agreed…Slipping a hanky out of her pocket, she bent down to retrieve the weapon. “We let them get away.”

“They were kids.”

“Kids with a gun.”

D.C. merely shrugged. “We’ve got it now, and they’ll think twice before they try their little snatch-and-run game again.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Relax. It’s Christmas. Don’t you believe in second chances?”

She met his eyes. “What I believe is that we need to lay down some ground rules if we’re going to work together.”

“I’m not big on rules.”

“I am.” Fiona whirled to pace three steps away. Though she had a temper, she prided herself on keeping it in check. When she thought she had it together, she turned back and bumped into him. In the instant before they separated, she felt the sear of flames at every contact point. The intensity of the sensation shocked her, and she wanted badly to turn and run. Ruthlessly, she clamped down on the impulse. “Let me put it this way. You’re army. You’re used to giving orders. Usually, I’m not so good at taking them.”

“Meaning?”

“I should have handled the two coming toward us. You should have taken the one who was alone. But you didn’t give me a chance to tell you that. We have very different styles.”

His expression sobered as he studied her. “I can’t change my style. But you’re right. Part of my job in the army is to give orders. I can work on that. I’d even be willing to take turns.”

She hadn’t expected him to admit anything. Since he had, she felt compelled to add. “In this case your particular style worked.”

His smile was slow and engaging. “Admit it. You’re really not annoyed because we scared them away instead of arresting them.”

She lifted her chin. “We have a bigger case to work on.”

“Agreed.” He took a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. They were still standing close together—nearly as close as they’d been when he’d pulled her to him. She felt that knife-edged longing begin to build again.

Above the tang of smoke in the air, she caught the scent of his soap. Basic and wonderfully male. All she had to do was move, take a tiny step forward, and she could experience again the hard press of his body against hers. Just thinking about it had the searing heat returning. Her gaze drifted to his mouth. His lips were thin and very masculine. They would be hard and demanding. And she relived that instant when all she’d wanted was to have his mouth pressed to hers.

“You’re worried about what’s going on between us,” he said.

Oh, yeah, she was worried about it in same distant corner of her mind that wasn’t consumed with the desire to frame his face with her hands and drag his mouth to hers.

“You’re wondering if it will interfere.”

It already was. It was interfering with her ability to think about anything but D. C. Campbell. A sudden surge of impatience helped her regain her balance, and she dragged her gaze away from his mouth. “We’re both adults. We can ignore what we’re feeling.”

The fingers toying with her hair moved to trace the line of her jaw. “I’m not so sure.”

As her pulse scrambled, then raced, Fiona once more found her mind in tune with his.

In a lightning-fast move, he thrust his fingers into her hair. “Why don’t we test the waters?” he asked as he covered her mouth with his.

Fiona froze as a riot of sensations flooded her system. Her blood pounded, her skin heated, her bones melted. One part of her mind rejoiced. Finally!

She couldn’t seem to control the response that sprang out of her, wild and wanton. Her arms wound around him and she pressed closer and closer until every plane and angle of his body was molded to hers.

She felt very small against him, very fragile and gloriously feminine. She relished the unusual sensations. His mouth was so demanding, his taste so dark and compelling. So male. Greedy for more, her tongue moved aggressively against his, seeking, searching. As she heard his moan, felt his heart pump against hers, arousal and excitement shot through her. Never had she felt this alive. Urgency built with such speed, such intensity that she couldn’t control it. Didn’t want to. There was nothing but him—his arms, his lips, those sleek, hard muscles. Nothing but him.

Test the waters. That’s what he’d promised himself when he’d lowered his lips to hers. But he’d expected resistance, anticipated it. Perhaps he’d even wanted it. If she’d just struggled a little, he’d have known how to handle it. But when she’d melted against him, he’d discovered he’d never been in more dangerous territory in his life.

He could drown in her. Willingly. But not quietly. He felt as if he were being sucked into unknown depths by a riptide. This woman could take him places he’d never been. He found the idea intriguing. Irresistible.

The sudden urge to touch her was overwhelming. He wanted to slip his hands beneath her coat and run them up her sides, molding, teasing, tormenting. He imagined slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her dress and moving them up those strong thighs until he found and probed her center. Just the thought had needs exploding violently, painfully.

In some small, rational corner of his mind, D.C. knew that if he started to touch her, he wouldn’t be able to stop. But the street was quiet, and fewer than ten paces away, shadows blackened the space between two old Georgetown homes. All he had to do was to draw her into the darkness, and he could have her. He could take her up against the wall of the house before either of them regained their senses. It would be crazy and wild. And wonderful.

Only one thing held him back. The undeniable certainty that she could drain his control away as easily as she could pull the plug on a bathtub full of water. Fear sliced its way through all the other sensations. With it came the same gut feeling of danger that he’d sensed when he’d been taking notes in the sculpture garden. Tearing his mouth free of hers, D.C. drew air into his lungs, hoping it would cool the heat radiating through him. This woman had the power to change his life.

Very carefully, he set her away from him. For a moment, he felt winded, as if he’d raced to the top of a very high cliff.

And he’d very nearly jumped off.

It gave him some satisfaction that she looked as if she, too, had been blindsided by the kiss. Her eyes were dark and clouded, her mouth moist and swollen. And he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. But if he did…

Clamping down even more tightly on his control, he said, “Fiona, are you all right?”

Admiration filled him as he watched her eyes clear and her focus return. “You…shouldn’t have done that.”

“Maybe not. But I’m not going to apologize.”

Her eyes flashed. “Did I ask for an apology?” She whirled, but he snagged her hand before she could move away.

“Look on the bright side. At least now we know what we’re dealing with. We just have to decide what we’re going to do about it.”

The look she shot him was very cool. “Don’t get your hopes up, D.C.”

He laughed then and felt a little of his tension ease. “A man can dream, Lieutenant.” And he was pretty sure that the dream was going to come true—whether they wanted it to or not.

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