Three smoldering classics from New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

UNCOVERED

Firefighter Harris Black is startled to stumble across nude photos of a woman…and handwritten notes about him. Who is this mystery woman? Harris hires a P.I. to trace her, never suspecting he’s already found her.…

TAILSPIN

Lumberyard owner Buck Boswell prides himself on his way with women—but his prickly neighbor, Sadie Harte, seems immune to his charms. Is she really as aloof as she acts, or can Buck convince her to take a chance on the guy next door?

AN HONORABLE MAN

Lieutenant colonel Hamilton Wulf’s career ambitions cost him the one woman he ever wanted—Liv Avery. Now he’s determined to win back her love…even if it means risking his life.

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

“Foster hits every note (or power chord) of the true alpha male hero…a compelling read from start to finish.”

—Publishers Weekly on Bare It All

“A sexy, believable roller coaster of action and romance.”

—Kirkus Reviews on Run the Risk

“Bestseller Foster…has an amazing ability to capture a man’s emotions and lust with sizzling sex scenes and meld it with a strong woman’s point of view.”

—Publishers Weekly on A Perfect Storm

“Foster rounds out her searing trilogy with a story that tilts toward the sizzling and sexy side of the genre.”

—RT Book Reviews on Savor the Danger

“The fast-paced thriller keeps these well-developed characters moving.… Foster’s series will continue to garner fans with this exciting installment.”

—Publishers Weekly on Trace of Fever

“Steamy, edgy, and taut.”

—Library Journal on When You Dare

“Intense, edgy and hot. Lori Foster delivers everything you’re looking for in a romance.”

—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz on Hard to Handle

Dear Reader,

I’m so excited that Harlequin HQN is reissuing one of my favorite short stories. Readers often tell me that they laugh while reading my books. But when writing them, I’m never sure if the content is as funny as I intend it to be or not.

In Uncovered, I know it’s funny—because I still laugh just thinking about it. Once you read it, you’ll know what I mean—and I’m certain you’ll sympathize with the heroine even while cheering her on.

In Tailspin you’ll meet my little fur baby, Tootsie—renamed Tish for the purposes of the story. She’s my adorable little Chihuahua—now my only doggie, since Brock passed away (you met Brock, aka Butch, in Riley)—and she rules the house with her very tiny paw. All the cats love her, and bow to her demands. When we first got Tootsie, she was exactly like the dog in this story...right down to her fascination with bugs.

An Honorable Man is unrelated to the other stories, but given my love, gratitude and respect for the military, it’s also a favorite.

I very much hope you enjoy the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

To catch up on all my books, be sure to check my website, www.lorifoster.com!

All my best,

Hot in Here

Uncovered

Tailspin

An Honorable Man

Lori Foster

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Uncovered

Tailspin

An Honorable Man

Uncovered

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

CHAPTER ONE

BECAUSE IT WAS DRIZZLING out, Harris Black pulled on a windbreaker before he headed outside to jog. Streetlamps left long slithery ribbons of light across the wet blacktop drive. After the heat of the mid-August day, the light rain had a sauna effect, making the air downright steamy.

He preferred jogging at night for two reasons: less human and automotive traffic, and Clair Caldwell.

Clair lived in the apartment building across the lot and always joined Harris in his evening run. For a dozen different reasons, Harris liked her a lot.

Unlike most women, Clair enjoyed the same things he enjoyed—televised sports, running, and junk food. Not once had she ever forced him to sit through a romantic comedy, thank God. But once, on a lazy Saturday afternoon, they’d watched the entire Alien series, back to back, without budging from the couch.

Clair’s job fascinated him. When two well-respected private investigators relocated their offices close to Chester, Ohio, the town they lived in, Clair had jumped at the chance to work for them as a receptionist. She was an adventurous sort and enjoyed the excitement of the job. But her duties went beyond secretarial. She was a computer guru, helping with online investigations, and an all-around know-it-all. She always had entertaining stories to share.

By the same token, she liked to hear about his work and his friends. Being a firefighter left him open to a lot of bawdy jokes, and Clair seemed to know them all. She teased him about the fires he put out, the length of his hose, and his specialized gear. But when he was serious, she was too, automatically picking up on his moods in a way no one else ever had. Even with his best friends, Buck, Ethan and Riley, he had to put on the occasional front. No one wanted a morose or moody friend, even if he’d just spent hours fighting a fire that sometimes didn’t have the best conclusion. They always wanted to joke him into a better mood.

Not Clair. Once, after a really grueling car fire that resulted in two deaths, Clair had just sat beside him on the couch and held his hand. They’d stared at the television, but Harris knew neither of them was really paying any attention to the movie.

What mattered most about Clair, though, was the no-pressure tone of their relationship. He saw her when he wanted to, yet he never felt he had to call. Oddly enough, because of that, he called and hooked up with her often.

They hung out without any implied intimacy to muddy the waters. She didn’t care if he shaved or if he ate Twinkies for lunch or if he stayed out all night with the guys. At first, her disinterest had bugged him, but after Ethan and Riley had up and married, Harris became leery of smiling women—and with good reason. The females had detected a nonexistent pattern of matrimony, and they pushed him constantly, to the point that he’d about given up dating.

Which meant he was celibate and that sucked, but it beat dodging topics of “happily ever after.” Nothing messed up good sex like a woman grasping too far into the future.

With Clair, sex was never an issue. It just didn’t come up. They were friends, totally at ease with each other, but neither of them ever crossed the line. It was such a relaxing relationship that he spent more time with Clair than with his buddies. Of course, Ethan and Riley now preferred the company of their wives, anyway.

As Harris stepped out from beneath the building’s overhang, a fat raindrop landed on his nose. Given the heavy static in the air, he knew it’d be storming before they finished their run. He sprinted across the lot at the same time that Clair’s doors opened and she strolled outside. Harris stared toward her with a smile.

Her personality put her somewhere between an egghead and a jock; she loved sports of all kinds, and was almost too smart for her own good. But no matter what the situation, and despite a lack of feminine flair, Clair always looked stylish. Granted, it was her own unique style, but her appearance was always deliberate, not one created out of lack of taste or time.

A few weeks ago she’d cut her glossy, dark brown hair shorter, and now she wore it in a stubby ponytail that looked real cute. She’d attached an elasticized band to her black-framed, oval glasses to hold them on her head while she ran. Somehow, on Clair, the look of an athletic librarian worked.

With her hair pulled back that way, Harris noticed for the first time that she didn’t have pierced ears. In fact, he realized he’d never seen Clair with jewelry of any kind. Odd. In this day and age, he thought every grown woman had her ears, if not other body parts, adorned. But then he’d always known Clair was different from other women.

At five feet five inches tall, she would be considered medium height except that she was all legs. Very long, sexy legs that even in clunky running shoes looked great. Tonight she had those gams displayed in comfortably loose, short shorts. Like Harris, she’d made a concession to the rain and wore a nylon pullover.

Harris looked up at the black sky. There was no moon, no stars to be seen through the thick clouds. Branches on the trees bent beneath an angry wind. Debris scuttled across the road. “Looks like we’ll get one hell of a storm tonight.”

“Backing out on me, sugar? Afraid you’ll melt in the rain?” She swatted him on the ass. Hard. Then took off.

Grinning, Harris followed. “Paybacks are hell, sweetheart.”

To tease him, she put a little extra sway in her backside for a few steps, then she got serious again. They ran side by side, silent except for the slapping of their sneakers on the damp ground and the soughing of their steady breaths. Within fifteen minutes, the drizzle changed into a light rain. Clair said nothing, so Harris didn’t either. He could take it if she could.

After about a mile, Harris glanced toward her. She wore a concentrated expression, and her short ponytail, now darker with rain, bounced in time to her long stride. “Anything interesting happen at work today?” he asked.

She scrunched up her brow. “Dane caught a guy screwing around on his wife.” Disgust dripped from her tone. “Dane was pissed when he came in to file it. Said the wife was real sweet and better off without the guy, but that she was bawling her eyes out.”

“Shame.” Harris didn’t want to marry, but if he ever did, he knew he’d be a faithful hound. He thought spouses who cheated were lower than slugs. If you wanted to screw around still—as he did—then you shouldn’t say the vows.

Clair pushed a little harder, her feet eating up the ground with a rhythmic slap, slap, slap. “I wouldn’t cry.” Her hands balled into fists and she picked up her pace even more until they were running instead of jogging.

“What would you do?”

The seconds ticked by and she slowed, gradually going loose and limber once again. With an evil, anticipatory grin, she said, “I’d take a ball bat to him. Then I’d leave him.”

“Effective.” Harris laughed. “But I think that’s illegal.”

“Yeah. Well, I’d find some way to make him pay—”

A slash of white lightning illuminated the entire area, followed by a crack of thunder that seemed to rip the night. They both pulled to a startled halt.

“Wow.” Clair propped her hands on her knees, breathing hard, wide-eyed in awe of Mother Nature’s display.

“This is nuts. Come on.” Harris grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the main street. “Time to head back.” Normally they’d take the long route to extend their jogging time, but now Harris just wanted to have Clair safely out of the storm.

She didn’t protest, but then that was another of Clair’s assets—sound common sense. He’d found it rare for people to have both book smarts and everyday logic. But Clair had both, which was another reason he liked her so much.

They were within minutes of their apartments when the rain turned into a deluge, soaking them through to the skin in a matter of seconds, making visibility nil. The sewers couldn’t handle the flow and the streets filled like creek beds, washing icy water up past their ankles. With the help of the wind, the rain stung like tiny needles, making Harris curse. Trying to protect Clair with his body, he steered them toward a closed clothing shop and into a dark, recessed doorway. The opening was narrow, forcing them close together. Clair didn’t seem to notice the intimate proximity.

Her hair was plastered to her skull, her entire body dripping. She shivered, but she didn’t complain. “You think it’ll let up soon?”

Another fat finger of lightning snaked across the ominous sky. The accompanying thunder shook the ground beneath them. “No. But we’ll wait here a few minutes to see.”

With a sigh, Clair pulled off her glasses, now beaded with rain. Lifting her pullover, she located a dry patch on her T-shirt beneath, and wiped them off. In the process, Harris got a peek at her belly. Not much of a peek, considering it was dark as Hades and she stood so close her elbows kept prodding him. He narrowed his eyes, straining to see her better.

She noticed him peeking—and flashed him, yanking both her pullover and tee above her breasts for a single split second. Startled, Harris shot his gaze up to her face.

She grinned. “There, did that take care of your curiosity?”

He almost strangled on his tongue. “No.” It took his brain a moment to assimilate what he’d seen, and then he asked, “Is that a sports bra?”

Laughing, Clair elbowed him, harder this time so that he grunted in discomfort. He crowded closer still, stealing some of her warmth and hindering her more violent tendencies.

“Yeah, as concealing as a bathing suit top, so put your eyeballs away. You didn’t think I’d actually show you anything important, did you?” She tsked. “The rain must have made your brain soggy.”

“I saw a flash of white,” Harris argued, “and didn’t know if it was boobs or cloth. Can’t blame a guy for wanting clarification.”

“I don’t have enough boob to go around showing them off.”

In the crowded confines, with icy rain blowing in against his back, there was no way to get comfortable. Harris flattened one hand on the wall behind her and leaned in a bit, inching farther away from the storm—and closer to Clair. With his gaze zeroed in on her chest, he murmured, “You have enough,” and he meant it.

“Spoken like a loyal friend. Thanks.” And before Harris could say more on that topic, she went on tiptoe to look over his shoulder. “Hey, the rain’s letting up a little. Looks like the worst of the storm is moving away from us. Let’s get home before we freeze.”

The rain was cold, and with it, the temperature had dropped by at least ten degrees. Not that Harris was especially chilled. Discussing a woman’s upper works with her, even a woman he wasn’t intimate with, had a decisive effect on his libido. Given that the woman was also pressed up against him—well, he was having some surprisingly lascivious thoughts. But then, he’d been on a month-long, self-imposed dry spell. Under those circumstances, just about anything could turn him on.

Maybe on his next day off he’d have to break down and take his chances with a little one-on-one comfort of the female kind.

Together, he and Clair continued on their way, not jogging now, but not exactly taking their time either. Since Clair stayed silent, Harris had too much time to think. About her boobs.

He gave her body a surreptitious look without turning his head. The cold had tightened her nipples, and with her clothes wet and clinging, there was no way to miss it. His pulse sped up a bit, doing more to warm him than their jaunt.

The snug sports bra didn’t allow for much jiggling, but he judged her to be a B cup. Plenty enough there to fill his hands. Well, not his hands, but some other guy’s... No, he didn’t like that thought either. Not that he had any claim on Clair other than friendship. But the idea of her snuggled up and intimate with some faceless, nameless bozo didn’t sit right. Harris shoved the disturbing image away and concentrated on her comment.

Why did women assume men were only drawn to pinup models? A woman was a woman was a woman. Each different, each sweet and soft in her own way.

“Hurry up, slowpoke. I swear, my granny could move faster than you.”

Maybe not so sweet, Harris admitted to himself with a grin. But definitely soft. He fell behind another step and took in the sight of Clair’s full bottom. No lack of curves there. Yep, even egghead jocks were soft when you looked in the right place.

Clair turned to face him, walking backward. “Want a cup of hot chocolate? I’m going to make me some.”

Her glasses were beginning to fog over, her ponytail was more out of its band than in, and water dripped from her ears.

Harris shook his head. “Can’t. I’m on first shift this week. I need to get home, shower, and hit the sack.” As a firefighter, Harris had a rotating schedule. The good part was that every third week he got extra days off, and the third week was rolling around.

“Okay.” They were only feet away from his apartment building. Clair turned back around to head across the street. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Harris took swift advantage. The moment she presented him with the opportunity, he landed a stinging swat on her behind. Given that her shorts were wet, it had a little more impact than he’d intended.

Her hands slapped over her butt in shock. Before her gasp of outrage had a chance to fade away, Harris darted to his side of the street, barely muffling his chuckles. “Good night, Clair!”

He bounded up the steps to his apartment, but waited at the door, watching as he always did until Clair had time to get inside. She rubbed her bottom as she climbed her own steps, muttering and casting him dirty looks. Moments later, a light came on in her living room, then Clair was at the window, waving to him. Harris waved back.

At first, Clair had objected to his protectiveness. But he’d worn her down until now she did the routine by rote. While he waited, she went in and checked out her place, then waved to let him know she was safely inside. Alone.

One of these days she’d have a boyfriend to look after her. But until then, Harris didn’t mind keeping watch. In fact, he insisted on it.

Within half an hour he was showered and stretched out in bed, his hands folded behind his head. He should have been relaxed, but instead his naked body hummed with tension. He listened to the drubbing of rain on the windows, the continual rumble of thunder, and he watched the strobe effect of the lightning on his ceiling.

Storms always made him horny.

Touching women’s butts made him horny.

Was Clair making him... No. He scoffed at himself, even laughed out loud in the silence of his dark room. That was just nuts. He wouldn’t think about her that way.

Determined to get to sleep, he closed his eyes, metered his breathing—and saw again that flash peek of Clair’s belly and sports bra. He groaned, and gave up the fight, allowing himself to ease into a very vivid dream where he stripped Clair naked, kissed her from head to toe, and loved every minute of it. The dream was both disturbing in its intensity and comforting in the rightness of it.

Sometime during the night, the storm knocked out the electricity. His internal clock woke him to a dark house and street, and the continuation of the storm. Without being able to make coffee or catch the morning news, he headed into work early. And good thing, too, because not five minutes after he dashed through the pouring rain into the station, the fire alarm went off. Lightning had struck the back of an abandoned building and someone saw smoke.

When Harris caught the address of the building, his heart shot into his throat. It was his block—right next door to Clair. Not since his first year as a firefighter had he suffered the debilitating effects of fear, but damn it, he felt them now. Even with the drizzling rain, the high wind could spread a fire quickly. Without electricity, Clair might sleep late, unaware of the danger. Worry plagued Harris all the way to the location.

But the moment the fire engine blared onto the street, Harris saw the crowd. Umbrellas formed a large canopy around the area, as if everyone had crawled from their beds and braved the weather for a show. Clair still looked sleep-rumpled under her cheery red umbrella, but she was fully dressed and in charge of things. In typical Clair mode, she urged curious onlookers farther away from possible harm. Harris was so relieved to see her he nearly fell off the truck. But knowing she was safe, he put her from his mind to do the job he’d been trained to do.

The storm was a real bother. Even through his Bunker Gear of fire-retardant jacket and trousers, helmet, and pull-on boots, he got soaked. The fire hadn’t done too much damage yet, mostly to the exterior rear wall where the lightning had hit.

The abandoned structure had been up for lease for over six weeks and wasn’t in the best of shape anyway. There were already broken windows in back and debris everywhere. In the process of putting out the blaze, a forgotten metal Dumpster in the back alley got knocked over. It was packed full, but luckily, not with the type of trash that got more disgusting with time. Mostly papers, probably from the previous businessman. In less than an hour, they had everything taken care of. The rain had let up and the sun even struggled to shine through the gray clouds.

Harris pulled off his helmet, wiping soot and rain and sweat off his face. He was contemplating all the mess, both from the spilled trash and the damage of the fire, when Ethan, a fellow firefighter and one of his best friends, let out a whistle. Harris turned, saw Ethan riffling through a shoebox from the Dumpster, and raised a brow. Usually that absorbed expression on Ethan’s face was reserved for his wife, Rosie. Harris went to investigate.

“Whatcha got?”

Without looking up, Ethan said, “Pictures of a naked woman.”

“No shit?” Harris forgot his fatigue for the moment and muscled his way next to Ethan. Yep, sure enough, that was an unclothed female. A very sexy, naked female. “Wow.”

Harris picked up one photo of her reclining facedown on a twin bed. Her mussed hair was long enough to hide her face, but who cared when she had a beautifully bare backside on display? Harris tried, but he couldn’t look away.

“Check out this one.” Ethan handed him another.

The same woman, judging by the shape of her body, was stepping into the tub. Again, she had her face averted as she moved the shower curtain aside, but this shot showed her entire body in profile. Breasts, belly, long sleek thighs. Harris let out a slow breath. “Hello sweetheart.”

“Wonder if she lives around here,” Ethan commented. “Or maybe she was the last one to lease the building.”

“The last person here was a guy. I never met him, but I saw him occasionally.” Harris peered toward the shoebox Ethan held. “Any more pictures in there?”

“One more—of her pulling on her panties.” Ethan laughed. “You still can’t see her face, but it’s a damn fine rear shot.”

Feeling strangely territorial, though he didn’t know why, Harris snatched the photo away from Ethan. “Let me have that.”

“Hey, I was going to keep it.”

“No way. You’d just show it to Buck and Riley.”

Ethan raised both brows. “So? How come you get to look and we don’t?”

“You must’ve forgotten, but you and Riley are married now.”

“I’m still swimming in marital bliss, so how could I forget?” He grinned as he said that.

“Then think what Rosie will do,” Harris murmured while studying the photo with rising heat, “if she catches you ogling some strange naked woman.”

Looking much struck, Ethan said, “She’d probably kill me. Here.” He shoved the entire shoebox into Harris’s arms. “There are notes and such, too. Maybe an address, since you’re so interested. And so single.”

Wincing, Harris said, “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up the campaign to get me hitched, too?”

“No, I like women too much for that.”

“Ha ha.”

“But Rosie wants you and Buck both married so I can’t be around any of your single female friends.” With a lot of satisfaction, Ethan added, “She’s a jealous little thing.”

“She trusts you.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t trust the women you two date.” Ethan strode away, giving orders as he went.

Harris didn’t bother to reply to that jab. Buck might still be going strong, but Harris hadn’t dated anyone lately. Rosie could rest easy on that score.

Now the woman in the picture... If he could look her up he just might be interested. Strolling over to lounge against the back wall of the alley, Harris held his helmet under his arm and rummaged through the shoebox. Unfortunately, he didn’t find any addresses, but he pulled out one folded sheet of paper. Confusion reigned around him, but he gave all his attention to the feminine script on the note.

I’m sorry for just leaving a note. I know you wanted me to call, but there’s no point. You’d just try to convince me to go with you, but it’s over. It’s not you, so please don’t think of this as an insult. You knew how I felt all along.

I’m hung up on Harris.

Harris’s eyes widened. Talk about coincidences. How many guys could there be with that name? It wasn’t like a Tom, Dick or Harry.

It’d be tough for any other guy to measure up to him. If being a firefighter isn’t heroic enough...

Harris nearly dropped the shoebox. Coincidence, hell! She was talking about him. Suddenly feeling on display, he glanced around the surrounding area, but no one paid him any attention. The crowd had dispersed. Those who’d stopped to watch the firefighters work were now scuffling back into their homes. The other firefighters were chatting, bitching about the weather, generally just hanging around.

Harris swallowed hard and went back to reading.

...he’s also funny. He makes me laugh all the time. And he’s so generous. You don’t notice it at first, because Harris likes to clown around, but he’s really very sensitive to other people.

No shit? Harris blinked in disbelief. She thought he was sensitive?

He works hard and he’s proud and I love him.

Again, I’m sorry.

She loved him. Wow. Harris looked, but there was no signature, damn it. He turned the note over, but no, it was blank. Who had written it? The idea of a secret admirer tantalized him, made him feel warm and full and anxious. He lifted another photo, the one of her stepping into her panties, and smiled. Sweet. Very sweet.

“Slug. Shouldn’t you be helping out instead of snooping through the garbage?”

Startled by the verbal intrusion, Harris glanced up and got snared in Clair’s disapproving green gaze. Her hair was loose, parted on the side and hanging in blunt lines to just skim the tops of her shoulders. She had her head tipped forward a bit to look at him over the rim of her glasses. Her eyes were twinkling at the pleasure of insulting him. Obviously, she didn’t consider him sensitive.

“It’s not garbage,” he grumbled.

“No?” She went on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder.

Harris held the photo out of reach. “You don’t want to see this, Clair.”

“I do too.”

“I doubt that.” He grinned, imagining her reaction if he showed her. “They’re photos.”

“That’s private. You shouldn’t be looking either.”

“Someone threw them away.” He shrugged. “Free for the pickings.”

Hands on her hips, she demanded, “Let me see, Harris.”

Prodded by the devil in him, Harris decided why not? With a flourish, he handed her the photo.

Her face went beet-red and she gasped so hard she nearly strangled. “Harris!”

“Hey, I’m not the photographer.” He winked. “I just found it.”

“That’s...that’s obscene.”

“You really think so?” He took it back from her and stared some more before murmuring with great sincerity, “Nice ass.”

“Pig.”

Laughing, Harris searched through the box. “Here’s another.” He handed her the one of the woman getting into the shower. In that pose, she had one shapely leg bent, one arm raised. Gorgeous.

Clair narrowed her eyes and accepted the photo. After several moments scrutinizing it, a small frown pulled down her brows. But at least this time she didn’t choke.

“And one more.” Harris gave her his favorite, the one of the woman reclined in bed. He thought she might be sleeping, she looked so boneless and relaxed. Her back was smooth and graceful, rising up to a plump rump, then tapering down again to long thighs and shapely calves.

Clair stared so long that Harris cleared his throat. “Anytime you’re done with it...”

“Oh, sorry.” She looked bothered about something, then glared. “I can dispose of those for you if you want.”

“Not on your life.” Harris held the photos protectively out of her reach. “I’m keeping them.”

Clair’s mouth fell open. “Keeping them? But that’s...lecherous! You don’t even know that woman.” And then in a smaller voice: “Do you?”

“Nope. But I know she has a major case for me.” He tapped the letter. “Says so right here.”

Clair went white. She tried to grab the note. “You just said you don’t know her.”

“I don’t. Yet. But she obviously knows me.” Harris opened the paper and pointed out his name. “Harris the firefighter. Gotta be me, right?” He folded it and put it back in the shoebox for safekeeping. “So actually, this pertains to me. I have a right to this stuff.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m in lust.” Harris touched her nose. “But then, you wouldn’t know about that, would you, Clair?”

Her back snapped straight. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying that you don’t date much. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get to work.”

Smiling sweetly, Clair said, “Want me to hold that shoebox for you?”

“No.” Harris laughed at her fallen expression. “I’m going to run it over to my place and lock it inside, safe and sound.”

The way her jaw worked, Harris thought she might be grinding her teeth. “So you can stare at the photos and fantasize tonight?”

“Don’t sneer, Clair. It makes you look like a prude.” As he walked away, Harris heard Clair call him a choice name. He glanced around in time to witness her stomping toward her apartment. Too bad Clair didn’t understand about lust. If she ever turned all that emotion loose in the sack, she just might be magnificent.

Harris caught his train of thought and growled. He’d better find his mystery lady soon, because lack of nookie was making him crazed.

He needed a woman—his mystery woman. Sexy. Provocative. And she thought he was sensitive. What more could a guy ask for?

CHAPTER TWO

THANKS TO THE DUAL effects of worry and mortification, Clair suffered through an endlessly long, sleepless night and was dragging as she headed into work the next day.

Thank God Harris hadn’t recognized her.

Just thinking about his expression as he’d stared at her—Clair shuddered in agonizing horror. This was too unbelievable. If she ever found Kyle, the jerk she’d dated, the jerk who’d taken those pictures without her knowing, she’d strangle him.

During the darkest hours of the night, memories had flooded back on Clair, memories of Kyle begging her to let him photograph her, and the distinct recollection of her saying a firm, unequivocal no.

But she also recalled him showing off a teeny tiny camera, one he used to take photos without anyone knowing. At the time, he’d claimed it was to get candid, rather than posed shots of people for his gallery. And he had taken some, but to her knowledge, he’d never shown one without a signed permission slip and financial compensation.

At least he hadn’t put hers in the gallery. But to throw them away behind the building...had the idiot never heard of a paper shredder? And to include her notes with them! Clair pulled into the lot where she worked and took a moment to cover her face with her hands. The only saving grace was that she hadn’t signed any of the notes. If Harris had seen her signature at the end... Well, she honestly didn’t know what he’d do.

It had taken Clair a moment to realize she was the subject of the photos. Her hair had been longer then, and her face hidden. But she had recognized herself. Harris, however, had been utterly oblivious to that fact. He plain and simply didn’t see her as a sexual woman, which emphasized how little attention he paid to her femaleness.

That had been really frustrating over the past few months, but now she was more than a little grateful. She only hoped he never showed the photos to anyone. Even if no one ever guessed her identity, she couldn’t bear the thought of people seeing her in the raw.

Because moping wasn’t something she enjoyed, she shoved her car door open and stepped out into the blistering day. If the humidity had been bad before the storm, it was ten times worse now. Immediately her shirt stuck to her back, and even through her dressy, flat-heeled sandals, she could feel the scorching heat of the blacktop. As a concession to the weather, she wore a sleeveless cotton shirt and loose, flowing skirt. She slung a canvas bag over her arm and started in.

She’d use the day at work as a distraction to get her mind off nude photos, thickheaded men, and her jackass ex-boyfriend. At the moment, there wasn’t anything she could do about any of them, so it was best not to dwell on it.

Cool air-conditioning rolled over her the moment she entered the building. Though she was early, Dane and Alec, the P.I.s she worked for, already had a client in the inner office with them. They’d relocated from the city so they’d have more free time for their wives and kids. But it seemed their small town was rife with drama, and they often stayed busy. At least here, though, the cases were seldom all that threatening.

Clair could hear their quiet conversation, see the movement of male bodies through opaque glass. She put her purse away and turned her computer on, then went straight to the coffeepot.

She already had things underway when Dane stuck his head out the door. “Clair, would you mind bringing in some coffee?”

“Not at all. It’ll be done in two more minutes.”

“Thanks.” He ducked back inside.

Making coffee wasn’t in her job description, but small requests never offended Clair. It helped that Dane and Alec were consummate gentlemen and didn’t take her, or her talents, for granted. As often as not, they carried coffee to her.

A few minutes later, with sugar, powdered creamer and three mugs of steaming coffee on a tray, Clair used her foot to tap at the door. Alec opened it. He looked darker and more intense than usual, but then Alec could be a poster model for tall, dark and dangerous.

He gave her a nod. “Nothing like caffeine to kick off the day.”

Clair smiled. “Tough case?”

“Different, that’s for sure.” He took the tray from her and she started to exit the office.

“Hey, Clair.”

At the sound of Harris’s voice, Clair froze in midstep. Oh no. Please, no. Slowly, wincing with dread, she pivoted stiffly to face him.

He was at Dane’s workstation—the cursed photos spread out on the surface.

Oh. Dear. God.

Heat rolled from her chest right up to her hairline, making her dizzy with the shock of it. For a single moment, Clair thought she might faint, especially when Dane picked up the shower shot for a closer look.

Alec rejoined the men, staring at her naked body with a frown. “Do you see any distinguishing marks? Moles or scars or anything?”

Clair’s knees trembled, threatening to buckle.

“No. No jewelry either.”

Did she have time to run out and get her ears pierced?

Dane shook his head. “Just lots of smooth skin. Maybe we should have these photos blown up.”

Clair staggered back against the door. Blow them up? Blow them up! As in, make them...bigger? Her throat closed and she couldn’t draw breath, couldn’t say a single word. She tried to get out a denial, to dissuade them from that horrendous plan, but all that emerged was an appalled squeak.

Harris glanced her way, did a double take, then rushed toward her. “Damn, Clair, you okay?” He caught her arms and physically forced her into a chair. Good thing too, because she was about ready to sink to the floor. Maybe through the floor if she got lucky.

Over his shoulder, Harris said to Alec, “I think she’s been in the heat too long this morning. You got a cold cloth or something?”

Alec was a man of action. Within seconds, he had a pad of paper towels, dripping with icy water from the rest room.

All three big men loomed around her, Harris trying to slap the wet towels against her face, Dane fanning her with a stack of papers, and Alec taking her pulse.

They’d seen her naked.

It wasn’t to be borne. Never in her life had she known such bone-deep humiliation, and it numbed her.

Harris reached for the top button of her blouse. “I’m going to loosen her clothes. She still looks too pale.”

That brought Clair around. She shot to her feet, staggered, got steadied by six big hands, and shoved away from them all. She waved a fist with credible intent. “Touch my clothes and I’ll brain you.”

Harris straightened. He still looked concerned. “You’re all right now?”

She wanted to die. “I, uh...you were right. It was just the heat. I’m fine.”

Dane cocked a brow. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Clair stared at him, aghast that he’d come to such a conclusion.

Alec nodded. “Celia stayed light-headed when she was pregnant. Especially when she got too warm.”

Laughing, Harris said, “Clair’s not even dating, so unless you can get pregnant from a toilet seat, I don’t think that’s the problem.” He again tried to reach for her top button.

Clair swatted at him. “I’m not preg—”

“She dates,” Dane argued. “Okay, not much, but I know a few months back she was seeing some guy.”

Harris scowled. “She was?” He turned to Clair. “When were you dating? Who was he?”

Ohmigod. No way in hell was Clair going to talk about Kyle. Not with his photographic efforts spread out in all their lack of glory on Dane’s desk. She swallowed, found her voice, and rasped, “Enough. From all of you.”

They stared at her. Three pairs of discriminating, curious eyes. Eyes that had just been looking at her in the most revealing poses.

“My personal business is none of your concern.” And before Harris could object, Clair added, “We jog together, Harris. In no way does that entitle you to pry.” Even if you have seen me in the nude.

Harris’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Keeping secrets?” His hot stare threatened to bring on a swoon. “I’ll find out, you know.”

Over her dead body! She tucked in her chin and summoned her most serious, meanest voice. “You’ll leave me alone.”

Dane cleared his throat. “So you two are good friends? I thought you were just neighbors.”

Harris kept his gaze trained on Clair. “I told Dane and Alec that I learned about them through you.”

Alec gave her a fierce, speculative glance. “You make me sound fearsome, Clair. I’m not sure if I should thank you or not.”

She rolled her eyes. Alec Sharpe lived up to his reputation and he knew it. Marriage and kids hadn’t softened him. He was still dark as the devil and so strong and imposing that even in his mid-forties, he intimidated men with a mere glance. Dane wasn’t much better. Both men were walking icons of masculinity. Not that Harris seemed intimidated. No, if anything, he’d bonded. But then, in her opinion, Harris fit right in.

Dane put an arm around her. “Harris is right, Clair. You still look a little shaky. You want to take the day off?”

So they could get back to perusing her photos? Not a chance. “Of course not.” Inspiration struck and she said, “You want me to take something to the developers for you? You mentioned enlarging some photos.”

“I can do it on the scanner,” Alec said, ruining her chances to steal the photos. “You just rest up and regain your breath. You sound wheezy.”

Dane steered her toward her desk. “If you really want to help, you can do a search and find out who leased the building where the pictures and notes were found.”

Alec picked up the photo of her putting on her panties, making her go pale, then red-hot again. “Assuming the last guy who lived there took them, we can hunt him up and ask him about the...model.”

All three men grinned, and their humor in light of her disgrace rubbed Clair the wrong way.

“You know damn good and well that woman wasn’t modeling.”

“Probably not,” Dane agreed. “But neither was she objecting.”

Ready to blast him for his misassumption, Clair opened her mouth, but snapped it shut again. How could she explain without giving herself away? No, she hadn’t objected because she hadn’t even known the pervert was looking at her, much less that he had a camera. She’d only slept with Kyle twice, and both times were disastrous.

She hadn’t realized how disastrous until she saw the sneaky photos.

Clair closed her eyes. “All right. Sure.” She’d hunt from now till the end of time without giving them Kyle’s name. If they had a name, Alec and Dane would find Kyle. And then the jig would be up.

In fact, if she forced herself to face reality, she knew they’d eventually find him even without her help. They were good. Better than good, they were the best. They were, as she’d often bragged to Harris, awesome. If enough opportunities arose for her to sabotage their efforts, she maybe had a month. Less, if they did some of the computer work themselves, as they occasionally did.

Harris paced to a window overlooking the back lot. “I hope you can find him. It’s driving me nuts not knowing who she is.”

If Dane and Alec hadn’t been in the room, Clair would have kicked Harris in his sexy backside for that remark.

“We’ll find him,” Alec assured Harris. “Even if we don’t, we’ll figure out who she is. She had to be local, someone you come into contact with, maybe on a daily basis. Eventually someone will recognize her.”

Spots danced in front of Clair’s eyes. She gasped, drawing a lot of male attention. In a raw whisper, she pleaded, “Don’t tell me you intend to show those photos to people?”

“No.” Dane’s statement allowed her heart to slow to a more normal pace, until he added, “At least not yet. We’ll try other routes first.”

“What other routes?”

He shrugged. “We’ll hunt for the owner.”

And with any luck, she’d find Kyle before they did and rip his heart out—or at least his tongue, so he couldn’t tell them about her.

“We’ll talk to photography shops to see if anyone remembers developing any photos like those.”

A dead end for sure, since Kyle did his own developing. Not that it mattered, because by then her photos would have made the rounds of the neighborhood.

“But eventually it might come down to going door-to-door and asking about him or her or both.”

“That’s an invasion of her privacy,” Alec explained, “so a last resort. But if all else fails...”

Clair knew that if she didn’t get out of there right then, she was going to be sick. She plastered on a very false smile. “Well then, by all means, let me do my best to find him on the computer first.” She went to her desk.

Unfortunately, Harris followed on her heels. “You feeling better?”

No, never. “I keep telling you, I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

She stared at him, adjusted her glasses, and said with succinct finality, “I’m. Fine.”

Harris held up both hands. “All right, all right. Don’t get in a temper. I have to get to work and I wanted to make sure you’re up to jogging tonight, that’s all. If you’re not, then I don’t want you to push it.”

She didn’t want to. She wanted to hide. But any variance in their routine right now might tip him off. She forced another fake smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

He nodded, still watching her curiously. “Great.” He started backing toward the door. “I’ll see you then.”

Once the door closed behind him, Clair started to relax, but Alec didn’t give her time. He came out of the office with the pictures in hand.

Straightening in her chair, Clair said, “He left them with you?” Maybe she could swipe them after all. Or spill coffee on them. Or...

“Not a chance. These are copies we ran off when he first got here. Your friend Harris is carrying the originals in his front pocket like a lovesick swain.” Alec smiled. “Funny guy.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He has a secret admirer and he’s hooked. It’s understandable. Not only is the woman attractive and sexy as hell—”

“Being naked does not necessarily make her sexy.”

Alec’s slow smile looked positively wicked. “Yeah, it does.”

Well, hell. Clair slumped under another wave of embarrassment. So all it took was a little nudity for a guy to find a woman sexy? How stupid was that? What about her personality? What about her interests?

Alec seemed to read her mind. “She said some pretty profound things about him in her notes, too. Any guy would be intrigued.”

Profound? She’d only spoken the truth.

“I’m going to enlarge and enhance these,” Alec said, tapping the copies against his thigh, “to see if I can pick up any details.”

Details—like her identity? He disappeared into the backroom. Heart in her throat, her stomach in knots, Clair kept her eyes on that door for a full five minutes until Alec returned—carrying a stack of 8 x 10 photos.

The one on top was of her right shoulder, boob, and ribs.

Clair gulped. He’d taken each photo and divided it into fours, then enlarged each piece. When put together, her buck-naked body would be poster size.

Worse and worse and worse. But Alec didn’t so much as glance at her on his way back to talk to Dane, so he still hadn’t recognized her.

It took her a few more minutes of slowly dying inside before she realized Dane must not have recognized her either. No one budged from the office. There were no outbursts of hilarity, no accusing stares. They were probably too engrossed with ogling the oversize photos.

And here she’d always considered Dane and Alec astute. What was she, invisible? Clair pulled off her tortoiseshell glasses and looked at them. Like Clark Kent’s specs, were her glasses an ingenious disguise that instantly afforded her anonymity?

The door opened and Clair hastened to shove her glasses back on, almost poking herself in the eye. Her face burned. Much more blushing and she’d be permanently scalded.

Both men looked at her with expectant expressions. Clair shriveled inside, until Dane prompted, “Make any headway?”

She hadn’t even started. “Oh. Um, no. Not yet. I’ll keep looking.”

“Thanks.” Dane and Alec headed for the door.

“Where are you two going?” In a panic, Clair left her seat and rushed after them. Surely, they weren’t going to show those pictures around now.

Alec barely slowed. “I have to appear in court, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

Dane paused. “I’m working on a missing person.” He stopped and faced her with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay, Clair?”

Did they have to keep asking her that? “Of course. I just forgot, that’s all.” Reluctantly, she asked, “What about the photos?”

“Harris is impatient, but we’ll spend a week or two exploring alternatives before we show them to anyone.”

Thank you, thank you, thank you. “I think that’s best.” She couldn’t help adding, “Can you imagine how embarrassed she’ll be if she finds out that you showed them?”

On his way out the door, Dane laughed and pointed at her. “A good reason to never pose nude, huh?”

Or date photographers with sneaky streaks and lack of moral fiber. Clair groaned. With everyone gone, she ran into Dane’s office—and stumbled to a horrified halt. She pressed a fist to her mouth. They had the photos up on a pegboard. Pieced together.

Adrenaline carried her to the board in a flash. It took Clair all of thirty seconds to snatch them down and hide them under a stack of files, but she didn’t dare destroy them. That’d look too suspicious, and what was the point? They’d only make more.

She dragged herself back to her desk and collapsed in her chair, her face in her hands, her stomach roiling. Sooner or later, they’d know it was her—and then she’d have to quit and move to Outer Mongolia.

Unless... She swallowed hard and tried to think beyond her embarrassment. It wasn’t easy, but she tried to take an objective view of the situation.

First, Alec claimed Harris was smitten. And Harris had acted obsessed with the “mystery woman.” Heaven knew she’d been obsessed with him forever. But he hadn’t shown any sexual interest, and she was too proud to throw herself at him. So they were friends. Clair knew he liked her as a person, but she’d assumed he didn’t find her attractive in “that” way.

But judging by his rapt expression when he’d looked at the photos, he definitely liked what he saw.

So, secondly, what did she have to lose now? Not her modesty. After today, she had no modesty to protect.

And as to her pride...well, pride didn’t help much when you saw your own behind in an 8 x 10 glossy, held on a presentation board with a thumbtack.

Maybe, just maybe, if she worked this right, she could use her newfound knowledge of Harris’s interest to make him fall in love with her—before he found out she was his secret admirer.

It was either that or tell him straight up that he’d seen her naked and that she’d written those notes. He’d know all of her secrets then, leaving her soul as bare as her body. But if he felt the same, it wouldn’t be nearly as embarrassing.

She’d probably have to seduce him, and that wouldn’t be easy because she couldn’t take off her glasses and she definitely couldn’t take off her clothes. If she did, he might make the connection too soon. It’d be a tricky bit of business, but she’d figure something out. Maybe she’d just ensure they only got romantic in the dark. That might work.

Given Alec and Dane’s expertise, there wouldn’t be any time to waste. She’d jump-start Harris on their new relationship tonight. If she was good enough, maybe he’d even give up on the mystery woman and she’d never have to tell him anything at all.

* * *

HARRIS WAITED IMPATIENTLY for Clair to present herself. The storms had left the night air fresh and clean. It felt good, but it was warm. Deciding against a shirt, he wore only black jogging shorts with socks and running shoes. The shorts had a single back pocket to hold his apartment key—and the photo of his secret admirer reclining on the bed. He hadn’t wanted to leave her behind.

Not that he intended to show it to anyone. He appreciated Dane and Alec’s efforts to uncover the woman’s identity, but already he felt protective and possessive of her. He didn’t want anyone else, especially anyone male, to see her.

Something about her, some vague intangible thing, seemed familiar to Harris. He wished he could pin it down. Maybe she reminded him of someone. But who? While he stretched, preparing to run, his mind churned.

Work had been uneventful, which was a relief after the fire the day before. Unfortunately, that had given Harris too much time to think—about the notes, the sexy photos. And about Clair’s old boyfriend.

Neither Dane nor Alec would give him any details on the guy. They claimed not to have any. They said they knew Clair had dated, because she’d gotten a few calls at work. Period. Nothing more. They didn’t understand why he cared. Hell, he didn’t understand either.

But why hadn’t she told him? They were friends. Close friends. Didn’t friends share that kind of info?

Harris’s internal grumbling got interrupted when the entrance door to Clair’s building pushed open and she stepped out. The streetlight reflected off the lenses of her glasses. She, too, had trimmed down to the barest covering. Dressed in snowy white cotton shorts and a tank top, she looked...good. Real good.

She smiled at him, adjusted the white band holding her glasses in place and joined him at the street. “Ready?”

Harris studied her. He figured it was the combined effects of sleeping alone, his mystery woman, and hearing about Clair’s boyfriend that had him seeing her with a new perspective. “How come you’ve never gotten contacts?”

Bending this way and that, stretching her arms high, Clair asked, “Why? You don’t like my glasses?”

“I didn’t say that.” Watching her flex was getting to Harris. She was a supple little thing. Funny how he’d never noticed that before.

Clair straightened, then stared up at him with her big green eyes, magnified behind the lenses of her glasses. “I tried contacts once, but they bugged me. I think my eyes are just too sensitive. Besides, I like wearing different frames.”

“I noticed that.” Tonight her frames were red, a stark contrast to the white shorts and tank. What she lacked in jewelry she made up for in eyewear.

“I have as many pairs of glasses as I do bras.”

Harris did a double take. Bras? Why the hell did she have to mention her unmentionables? His besieged brain launched into a series of visuals: Clair in something white and lacy. Clair in something black and slinky. Clair in something barely there.

Clair in his bed.

She said again, “Ready?”

Oh yeah, he was ready all right. For all kinds of things. His gaze dipped to her breasts, but he didn’t see any telltale signs of lace through her tee. “How many bras do you have?”

Laughing, Clair shook her head and started walking at a pre-run clip, leaving him two paces behind her. “What is this? Twenty questions?”

“It just occurs to me that I don’t know you that well.” He tried, but he couldn’t seem to get his gaze off her ass. Was she sashaying just a bit? Putting a little extra swing in the swing and sway?

Turning to walk backward, depriving him of his preoccupation with her behind, Clair frowned. “You know me better than most people.”

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” Harris took satisfaction in pointing that out.

She turned her back again and started moving a little faster. “What’d you think, Harris? That I was a virgin? A nun? A misanthrope?”

“A misan-what?” Harris trotted to keep up.

“Misanthrope. You know, a hater of men.”

“No.” He was sure of one thing. “You like me and I’m a man.”

Over her shoulder, she smiled at him, a smile unlike any he’d ever seen from Clair before. “That you are.”

Harris’s eyes widened. Was she flirting? Did Clair even know how to flirt? But her voice was different, too, sort of soft and playful. He caught up to her. “So who was the boyfriend?”

“No one important.” They began jogging in earnest, gliding along smoothly. “Just a guy I knew who seemed nice enough and interesting enough to pass the time.”

“You weren’t serious about him?”

She snorted, giving Harris all the answer he needed—though why he needed an answer, he couldn’t say.

They loped on in silence, past the dark, quiet park, along deserted streets where older homes sat back in majestic splendor, along the levy where a concrete path had been poured.

Their movements were fluid, well timed to match. They had a great rhythm together. Harris groaned. He could just imagine setting the pace in bed, and how easily Clair could keep up.

“So how many bras do you have?”

Her laugh got carried away on the evening wind. “At least one for every day of the week.”

He thought about that. “A special one for each day?”

“No, just variety. Different colors, different fabrics.”

Like French lace or slinky nylon or maybe... “What are you wearing tonight?”

“We’re jogging, sweating. So it’s plain old comfortable white cotton.”

Somehow, when he pictured it on Clair, cotton didn’t seem the least plain. He was wondering about her panties, whether they matched the bra or not, when Clair slowed, veered off the pavement to mosey into the grass, then leaned her shoulders against a thick maple tree.

That far from the street, the light of lampposts barely penetrated.

Immediately, Harris was beside her. “Hey, you okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “Just a little tired today.”

She’d been pale earlier, unsteady on her feet, and now she was tired? Clair never got tired. Hell, usually he was the first to get winded when they ran, and he knew he was in extremely good shape. All firefighters were.

Come to that, so was Clair, and he didn’t mean healthwise, although that applied too. Her white shirt and shorts reflected the scant moonlight, emphasizing certain swells and hollows, making her body look more feminine than ever.

She bent one knee, stuck the other leg out straight. The pose showed off the length of her long legs, causing Harris’s mouth to go dry. Her dark brown hair, hanging loose tonight, lifted a bit with a gentle breeze. His fingers twitched with the need to smooth it back into place. He resisted.

Still with her eyes closed, Clair smiled.

“Why,” Harris asked, full of suspicion now, “are you smiling like that?”

Her eyes opened, her head tilted. “Like what?”

“Like you have a secret.”

For a single moment there, Harris thought he saw alarm flicker in her gaze. Then she straightened away from the tree. “Don’t be absurd. Can’t a woman smile?”

“Sure.” He propped his hands on his hips. “When she’s got a reason.”

“I’m happy,” Clair snapped, in a very unhappy tone. “I feel good. The air’s fresh, your company, before just now, wasn’t too heinous, and so I smiled.” She shoved past him. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Harris caught her arm and pulled her around. She slammed into his chest, but quickly back-stepped. “You get mad too easy, too fast.”

She relented just a bit, tugging free of his hold and folding her arms around her middle. Sounding mulish, she said, “I’m not mad.”

“No? Then what?”

She stared up at him, one expression after another crossing her features before she stalked in a circle around him. Harris turned, keeping her in his sights.

“You told me I wouldn’t understand about lust.”

Oh hell. First bras and now this. Except for the racing of his heart and a twitch of male interest, Harris went very still. “Yeah.” Shut up, Harris. Let it go.... “And?”

“You were wrong.”

He shouldn’t have pushed for an explanation. “I am, huh?”

She nodded. “I’m...antsy. The guy you were asking about? We broke up two months ago.” She peeked up at Harris, all innocent temptation. “I haven’t been out with a guy since.”

No way could he have this conversation. Not with a platonic girlfriend. Not without a bed around. He took a step back. “Right. Gotcha. Maybe a, uh, run will help.”

“No. I need to find a new guy.” As if she hadn’t just dropped a verbal bombshell, Clair turned away and headed back to the sidewalk. “In the meantime, running just exhausts me so I can sleep at night instead of fantasizing.”

Fantasizing! Well, yeah, so all women probably fantasized, same as men. But Clair? Harris stomped after her. “What the hell does that mean, you have to find a new guy? You make it sound like shoe shopping.”

She ignored his furious blustering to say, “Come on. Let’s finish our run.” Rather than wait for him, she took off, forcing Harris to catch up.

Because he was annoyed now, it took him only two long strides to reach her side. “So where do you intend to look for this new guy?”

“I dunno.” She glanced at him over her glasses. “You got any suggestions?”

Of all the nerve. “You can’t tell me you’re horny, then expect me to help you find a guy.”

She whipped around so fast he nearly plowed over her. They bumped. Hard. Harris had to catch her arms to keep them both on their feet.

Giving her a small shake, he groused, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Me!” She pushed him away, almost landing him on his butt. “I didn’t say anything about being horny—how crass is that?”

“You think antsy sounds prettier? It means the same thing.”

Clair gasped. “It does not.”

Disgusted, Harris stared into her sexy green eyes and taunted, “Then I was right. You don’t know anything about lust.”

Her pupils flared. The seconds passed with the impact of a ticking bomb. He could feel the tension building, stretching almost to the breaking point—and she attacked.

One second Harris was standing there, smirking at her, and then he was flat on his back in the cold dank grass, little rocks prodding his spine, mosquitoes buzzing with delight at the feast thrown to them.

And Clair, well, Clair had an unshakable grip on his skull and her mouth was plastered to his, hot and wet and demanding. Somehow, with the prodding of her tongue, he opened and she plundered, licking and tasting, stealing his objections and melting them with her heat.

Astounded, instantly aroused, Harris cupped her head, felt the silkiness of her hair, the warmth of her skin. He tipped his head for a better angle and let her deepen the kiss more. Clair, he thought. This was Clair straddling him, Clair kissing him with so much passion. Her breasts flattened on his chest, her thighs shifted against his, wrenching a deep groan from him.

Then she was gone.

Moon and stars filled Harris’s vision. His lungs labored to draw in more cool night air. His body burned. Confused, he pushed up to his elbows. Clair stood over him, hands on her hips, her glasses askew, her white shorts now dirty.

“That,” she said, “is lust.”

Harris nodded in complete and total agreement. “I’ll say.”

She offered him a hand, and when he took it, she helped haul him to his feet. Looking down into her earnest face, Harris scrambled for something to say, some way to get back into that full-body contact. But before a single idea could form, Clair touched his chin, his jaw, gently, softly.

Harris went mute with anticipation.

She stepped up against him, cuddling into him, wrapping her arms around him. After a long, meaningful stare into his eyes that scorched him clean through to his bones, she went on tiptoe and kissed him again. This kiss was as different as night and day from the first. It was purposeful, sweet, and it consumed him.

Like a slow burn, she involved his entire body, her small hands touching up and down his bare back, over his shoulders, as if in awe of his muscles and strength. Her feet moved between his, which aligned her soft belly with his groin. She pressed, proving she was aware of his erection.

Her breasts brushed against him, teasing, taunting, until he felt her stiffened nipples and growled.

She made small sounds of pleasure and hunger too, her tongue now shy, loving.

Loving?

With a pat to his rear, Clair pulled away. He watched as she slowly licked her lips. “And that,” she whispered, “is antsy.”

Breathless, hot, more than a little ready, Harris reached for her. “I don’t think I quite understand yet. You better do a little more explaining.”

CHAPTER THREE

CLAIR’S QUICK BACK STEP kept her out of reach. “If that explanation didn’t suffice, then nothing will. You’re hopeless.” She turned away.

Did women always have to be so confusing?

Neither of them jogged this time. Hell, just walking was tough for Harris. He had a major Jones and she just didn’t seem all that affected. Except for the wobbly way she walked. And the way she breathed too deeply.

He couldn’t just let it go, so after half a dozen steps, he cleared his throat and ventured into murky water. “So...that was just a lesson, huh?”

“Think what you will.”

She sounded all prickly again. Clair never got prickly with him. He wasn’t used to it and didn’t have a clue how to deal with her in this mood. “How about you just explain it?”

One shoulder lifted in a halfhearted shrug. “Men get horny and want to get laid. Women get antsy and want to touch and be touched, to cuddle and be affectionate.” She cast him a quick look. “And then make love.”

He raised his hand. “I’ll take either one.”

“I wasn’t offering.”

“Yeah, you were.” When she turned to face him, Harris chastised her with a look. “I’m a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but I’m not a complete dolt. You’re coming on to me.”

She didn’t reply to that one way or the other.

He needed verification, damn it. “I’m willing, Clair.”

The incredulous look she gave him didn’t bode well. “Willing? Oh great, bring out the band. Harris is willing.” Her laugh reeked with sarcasm. “How did I get so lucky?”

Figuring her out wasn’t going to be easy. “Bad word choice? Should I have said happy to oblige? Anxious? Maybe desperate?”

Her eyes narrowed behind the lenses of her glasses. “Are you?”

“After those killer kisses, what do you think?”

She reached around him to pat his ass again—right over the pocket that held the photo and his key. The woman sure had a thing for his rear.

“I think you’re desperate to find your stupid mystery woman and I’d just be a way to pass the time.” She crossed her arms over her chest, going all stiff and angry.

Uh-oh.

He took too long trying to figure out what to say, because she demanded, “Isn’t that right?”

Harris held out his hands. “C’mon, Clair. I can’t just forget about her. But hell, I don’t even know her.”

“You told me you didn’t know me that well either.”

They were a good mile from home, which ensured no matter what he said she couldn’t just stalk off in a temper. That gave Harris small comfort, though, when he didn’t know what the hell to say. “Up until a few minutes ago, I didn’t know you were interested in...that.”

“That?” she asked meanly, curling her lip, being deliberately derisive.

“Sex. Me.”

“The two combined?”

“Exactly.” He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, slowing her furious stomp to a more sedate pace. When she didn’t object, he decided to just hang on to her. Touching her was nice. At least now it was. Before she’d kissed him, he hadn’t really noticed how it felt to touch her. Realizing that, he said, “I need a few minutes to adjust, that’s all. Neither of us has thought that much about sleeping together.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Was that a confession? His interest sharpened to an ache. “You’ve thought about me?”

“You’re not an ogre, Harris. Most of the time, you’re not too moronic. I’m not with anyone else. Do the math.”

Harris chewed over those critical and questionable compliments, and didn’t like the conclusion he came to. “So like your ex-boyfriend, I’d be filler until something better came along?”

She laughed. “Harris, honey, do try to remember your own credos, okay?”

Honey?

“You don’t want to be anything more than filler. You don’t want a woman getting ideas of forever after. You’re totally against marriage.” She waited two heartbeats, then prodded him. “Right?”

“Uh, yeah.” But somehow that didn’t seem to be the point right now. “So you thought about, what? A quick fling?” He could start with that, maybe work up to more....

“You weren’t listening to my instructions a minute ago, were you?” Typically Clair, she turned to walk backward so she could see his face. “I thought I was more than clear that men want it quick. I want it slow and easy. I want to—”

He swallowed hard.

“—take my time.” She continued pacing backward. “But there’s that mystery lady occupying you right now.” Her sigh was absurdly long. “So we can just go on being sexless buds. No problem.”

No problem? What about his boner? That was a definite problem. And his curiosity, which was so keen he suddenly felt obsessed with knowing Clair intimately. And there was a strange excitement he’d never felt with any other woman, too. Maybe it was the way she insulted him so energetically. “I may never meet that woman, Clair. I mean, I know Alec and Dane are good, but that doesn’t guarantee they’ll find her.”

“And if they did?”

How should he answer that? The mystery alone made him want to approach the woman, to talk to her, to find out how she knew him and why she hadn’t ever told him how she felt. There was her sex appeal, and the notes, her sincerity and admiration...

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Clair reached out and clasped his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “Come on. No more lagging. Time to run.”

“I don’t think I can.” He’d never run with a hard-on before. It didn’t seem all that comfortable.

“You can,” Clair assured him, “or you’ll be heading home alone, because I’m not walking. I’m tired and I want to get to bed.”

“So you can fantasize,” Harris accused. Possibly about him. The way her hand tightened shored up that belief.

“Maybe.”

He did not need to hear this. She dragged him along, never once releasing her hold on him, and in a few minutes, they were jogging again. At the pace she set, it didn’t take them long before they were on their own street. This close to the burned building, the lingering scent of smoke still hung in the air. It reminded Harris of his reaction when he’d feared Clair might be involved in the fire. His reaction had been extreme, and that was before she’d been flirting with him.

He also thought of the shoebox he’d found, and the tantalizing prospects it had presented. Harris was strangely aware of the photo in his back pocket, and Clair’s hand in his.

Two women, both of them making him nuts.

What the hell was a guy supposed to do?

* * *

CLAIR STOPPED in front of her steps. So far, Harris seemed more than a little interested in sex, but she wanted more than that. She wanted him to want her, in and out of bed. She felt manipulative, teasing him and then pulling back. Making comments that she knew would get him thinking about sex. But she didn’t know what else to do.

And already it was working with Harris. He wanted her now—but he still wanted her alter ego, the Naked Lady, too. Somehow, she had to get him to give up the fantasy prompted by those stupid photos.

Feeling awkward, Clair said, “It’s early yet.”

A light sheen of sweat dampened Harris’s bare shoulders and chest. He had his hands on his hips, breathing deeply, watching her. “You pulled our run short.”

Clair shrugged, adjusted her glasses nervously. “Want to come up?”

His gaze sharpened. Like a blue laser, his gaze pinned her in place. Slowly his hands dropped from his hips and he took a step closer. “Are you playing with me again?”

Man, he was still primed, ready to jump the gun—apparently ready to jump her. “I’ve had you up to my place a dozen times, Harris. For drinks, a snack.”

His hands came to settle on her waist. “For more?”

Despite her urge to say yes, Clair laughed. “We’re both sweaty and you have to be up early.”

“I’m never too tired for—”

“Will you send me in alone if I say I just want to talk?”

For a brief moment, his hands tightened, then the heat left his eyes and he released her with a sigh. “What the hell. I always enjoy talking to you.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Lead the way.”

Her apartment was dark when they first went in. Clair turned on lamps as she headed to the kitchen. “You want something to eat or drink?”

“Just some water.” He trailed behind her, far too close, in Clair’s opinion.

She filled two glasses with ice, then got the spring water from the fridge. “So tell me what the attraction is.”

“To you?”

He looked perplexed enough that Clair wanted to hit him. “No, not to me. Far as I know, you’re not attracted to me.”

He cocked one brow, then looked pointedly at her body. “I’d be more than happy to prove you wrong on that.”

Clair groaned. “So then why do you want the woman in the photos so bad? She gets naked and that makes you so interested you can’t let it go?”

He immediately shook his head. “She does look hot, no way around that. I mean, any woman who’s comfortable being naked is okay in my book.”

“Really?”

He grinned. “Hell yeah. If it was up to me, all women would stay naked. At least when we were alone together.”

That had Clair blushing a bit, especially as Harris let his gaze roam over her, no doubt imagining her in such a state. Not that he had to imagine, if he only realized....

“But the woman in the photo also said some nice things in her notes.”

“So?”

Harris rubbed the back of his neck and paced away. He had a gorgeous back, strong and broad, sleek and hard with muscle. His shorts rode low on his hips, hugging a narrow behind and strong thighs. “This is kind of embarrassing.”

She knew all about embarrassing. “Why? We’re friends.”

He nodded, turned to face her. “She said I’m generous.” Harris looked uncomfortable. “And funny and heroic.”

Men could be such dolts. “Well, of course she did. Because you are.” Clair handed him his water. “You’re one of the greatest guys I know.”

The water never made it to his mouth. “You think so?”

“Absolutely.”

“But I didn’t know....”

“Harris,” she said with aggrieved sigh. “Do you think I’d hang out with a guy who was an idiot?”

His mouth tipped in a crooked grin. “You call me an idiot all the time.”

Too true. It had always been her way of making sure she kept her feelings to herself. A self-protection mechanism of sorts that reminded her she wasn’t to get too romantic with Harris.

Clair moved back to the living room and dropped onto her overstuffed, oversize couch. She stretched out her legs, caught Harris staring at them, and smiled. “Yeah, well, I insult you with affection. I don’t mean it.” She sent him a quick grin, just to keep her comments from getting too dramatic. “If I didn’t like, respect and admire you, I wouldn’t want your company.”

His brows came down, his expression arrested. Clair stared at him over her glasses. “Now what’s wrong?”

With a small shake of his head, Harris muttered, “I need to think. You’ve sort of thrown a bunch of stuff at me all at once.”

“Thinking is good.” Clair waited while he, too, plopped onto the sofa. Because of their conversation, sitting so close to him felt different this time. “You should decide what you’ll do once you find this woman. I mean, have you considered that?”

He propped his big feet on her coffee table and let his head fall back. “At least a hundred times.”

Clair stared at his abdomen. It, too, was hard, lean and ridged with muscle. A dark, silky line of hair led from his navel to beneath the waistband of his shorts.

She held herself in check, when what she wanted to do was attack him again. “So,” she said, sounding a little strained, “what if she’s a witch? What if she has an ogre’s personality? She could be like a fatal attraction or something. A nut. A slasher even.”

Harris rolled his head toward her. “You made your point early on, hon. Now you’re just stretching it.”

Clair shrugged. “But the point is valid.”

“Maybe.” Harris stared at her, surveying her face as if trying to read her thoughts. “She didn’t sound like a slasher in her notes. She sounded like a nice lady.”

Here we go again. “You don’t want a nice lady, Harris, remember? You want someone who’s out for kicks. Nice women tend to get serious thoughts when they’re having sex with a guy.”

His blue eyes filled with speculative interest. Still lounging back lazily, he said, “You’re nice.”

Nervousness fluttered through her. Was there a point to that? Maybe something she was missing? She took a big gulp of her water, then agreed, “I’m very nice.”

Harris warmed to his topic, leaning toward her a bit, resting his arm along the back of the sofa. His fingers just touched her nape, teasing her a bit. “So if we slept together,” he asked in a slow drawl, “you’d want to settle down with me?”

Lord yes. She wanted to claim him as her own, and have babies and make love every night.... “I dunno.” Her feigned indifference was laudable. “See, even if we did sleep together...”

“Yes?”

“I have an advantage.”

“Do tell. I’m on the edge of my seat here.”

Smugly, Clair stated, “Unlike other women you know, I have no illusions. I’ve watched you revel in your bachelor ways.”

“I don’t revel.” His mouth flattened in distaste. “You make it sound like I go around dancing and singing about it. I just enjoy my life, that’s all.”

“Thing is,” Clair continued, ignoring his protests, “I’m not sure you really know what you want or feel.”

“So I can’t figure out you or me, huh? What a dope I must be.”

“I didn’t say that, Harris. Don’t put words in my mouth.” He grinned at her, seeming far from insulted. “Look at the way you’re panting over a photo. That proves you’re anxious for a serious relationship.”

“You think so? I thought it just meant I was curious.”

So curious, he’d hired two very expensive detectives to find the woman. Clair made a face at him. “What if,” she said, determined to get her theory out in the open, “what you really want is to be loved?”

For a suspended moment in time, Harris froze. Then he jeered. “Do I look that needy to you?”

“No.” Given the perfect opening, Clair spoke from her heart. “You look like a guy who’s a great catch. Earnest when you need to be. Reliable. Dedicated.” Melancholy got a stranglehold on her. Helplessly, she said, “You’re a hero, Harris. A gorgeous, sexy, funny, bona fide hero.”

He slowly straightened in his seat. “Don’t overdo it, Clair.”

“I’m serious.” She scooted closer to him on the couch. “You’re an incredible guy.”

His gaze zeroed in on her mouth. “Clair, you do realize you’re turning me on again, right?” His big warm hand came up to cup her cheek. “I hope that’s your intent and not part of this new sadistic streak you’ve developed.”

Clair chewed her lower lip. She did want to arouse him, but she didn’t want to push him too far. She wanted them to talk more before they took the plunge.

“Listen. I’ve told you what I really think of you.” She drew a deep breath for courage—and inhaled his scent. After their jog, he was a little sweaty, but he smelled delicious. The way a man should, the way Harris always did. “Now why don’t you tell me what you think of me?”

His thumb brushed her jaw. “Sure.” The left side of his mouth kicked up. “You’re cute, in a funky egghead, jock sort of way.”

The romantic haze cleared from around her. “Be still my heart.”

The teasing glimmer in his blue eyes clued her in. “Now Clair, what did you want me to say? You keep changing on me, so I don’t know your personality anymore.”

He knew her better than anyone, including her family. He just didn’t realize it yet.

“I can’t even tell what you’re thinking most of the time because you always hide behind your glasses.” The seductive way he caressed her neck mesmerized her. “Do you shower in them? Sleep in them?” His voice dropped. “Make love in them?”

Clair tried to rear back, but Harris kept her in place with the gentle hold on the back of her neck, and his compelling stare. “I’m not telling,” she whispered.

“Then I think I’ll find out on my own.” He reached for her frames.

Clair couldn’t let him take her glasses off! He might recognize her. She shoved him hard, but Harris being Harris—a big, sturdy, physically fit firefighter—he didn’t budge.

“You want to wrestle?” he said with a laugh, and he caught her flying hands while somehow managing to tickle her. The next thing Clair knew they were rolling off the couch and onto the floor. She landed on Harris with a grunt, but only had a split second to enjoy that position before he flipped her beneath him. The coffee table got shoved away, and Harris settled himself between her thighs.

Uh-oh. “Harris...”

He caught both her hands in one of his, pinning them in place, keeping her still. And then, with her squawking and protesting, he slid her glasses off and placed them gingerly on the table.

Clair went mute in fear, sure that he’d recognize her.

Instead, he leaned down until his mouth just touched hers. “Can I show you my ideas on the differences between horny and antsy?”

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and all that sleek bare skin was against her. He smelled like a man should, like something that could be bottled and sold to make a fortune. And she could feel his hard, hair-roughened thighs on the tender insides of her legs. “Yes.” Her heart threatened to punch out of her chest. “You can show me.”

“I love a good sport.”

Her breath caught at the word love, and then Harris murmured, “Here’s horny.”

His mouth settled over hers, moving hotly, urging her lips to part so his tongue could sink inside. At the same time, he gently rocked his pelvis against hers, teased her nipples with the pressure of his chest. His breath was hot on her cheek, fast and low.

Wow. When he lifted away, Clair had to struggle to get her eyes open. “Lust,” she whispered in complete agreement.

“Right. And here’s antsy.” He released her hands to cup her face, holding her still as he kissed her deeply again. Clair groaned. Kissing Harris was a revelation. She now realized that among his other accolades, she’d have to add “awesome kisser.”

He eased away. “So what do you think?”

Her head was spinning, her heart beating too fast. “They were the same.”

“Right, because there isn’t a difference.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “It’s just preference, Clair. Sometimes I like it hard and fast.”

She groaned again.

“But sometimes,” he said, drawing it out and searing her with a look, “I like to make it last all night.”

Clair wasn’t sure she could take an all-nighter. But then he kissed her temple, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough whisper.

“For you, I’d make it last.”

Okay, so maybe she could take it. Clair started to wrap her arms around him, but Harris held her off. His smile looked pained, and his muscles were taut with restraint. He kissed her nose again—and sat up.

“But since you’re playing some strange game here and I can’t quite figure out the rules yet, I think I better call it a night.”

She didn’t want him to go now, darn it. She wanted...

Harris touched her cheek, smoothed her hair. “When we sleep together, Clair—and we will, so don’t deny it—I don’t want any miscommunication or regrets. We’ll both be in agreement, and we’ll both enjoy it. Okay?”

A little numb, Clair nodded.

When Harris pushed to his feet, she sat up and quickly located her glasses. She felt more self-assured with the visual barrier in place. “Harris?”

He smiled down at her, giving her a sense of déjà vu, but with her in the wrong position. In the park, she’d done this to him—led him on, then walked away.

He tipped his head toward her.

“Thank you.”

A smile warmed his expression. “For waiting?”

“And for understanding. I...I guess I’m not a hundred percent sure what I want yet.”

“Between us?”

“Yes.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think you are either.”

“Now there’s where you’re wrong. I know what I want—and I know I’ll get it. That’s the only reason I can be so patient now.”

Clair blinked hard. Had she finally made some serious progress?

“Good night, Clair,” Harris said, and his expression was warm, intimate. “Sweet dreams.”

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