by Lori Foster
*
LOGAN RISKE SAUNTERED back to his temporary digs with a feeling of encouragement.
So he’d had to be pushy. Again.
So he’d had to practically force a conversation on her. At least this time, he’d been successful.
More than successful.
The lady could deny it till doomsday, but he felt her awareness. If her damned brother didn’t have her so cowed, she’d probably be knocking on his door right now.
Thinking of her brother, Rowdy Yates, always soured his mood. No doubt Rowdy had run roughshod over her for years, so Logan had to proceed cautiously.
He ran a hand over his chest, considering all the twists and turns of her ruse. It was a ruse—he couldn’t be wrong about that. Yes, she looked different from the photos he had, but there was something in the eyes, in the way she looked at him.
Pepper Yates.
After two years of searching, the end drew near.
She was the one woman he needed, the link that’d get him everything he’d worked for.
He thought about the small grainy photos online, the newspaper reports. Her wide-eyed innocence had shown through. She looked a little worse now than she had two years ago, but he supposed running, and hiding, and putting up with her brother could do that to a woman.
His hands curled into fists.
Most everything he’d uncovered had been on Rowdy Yates, but bits and pieces of Pepper had surfaced, as well. He knew she was younger than thirty, and he knew she was shy.
He hadn’t known she would be so tall. At around five-ten, she stood only three inches shorter than him. And while no one would accuse her of being pretty, he hadn’t known that her light brown eyes would be so expressive. When she looked directly at him, he felt it.
All over.
Her hair was so dark a blond, it was nearly brown. Long, but lank. Dull. Untidy, with frizzy ends, despite her habit of securing it in a ponytail.
And still he wanted to see it loose. He wanted to feel it in his hands.
And speaking of untidy… His quick glimpse of her living room had been a shocker. He’d just naturally assumed that a plain Jane like her would be ultraneat, like the stereotypical mousy woman who lived like a maiden aunt.
Ha! Not even close.
Clothes, magazines, empty cola cans and a pizza box had all littered her small living space. Beyond that area he’d seen a towel on the floor of her bathroom, and through an open door, her unmade bed with a quilt more off the bed than on it.
For some reason, knowing she wasn’t a neat freak made him smile. It was such a contradiction to his assumptions.
He again pictured her sloppy bed and wondered if she’d had a sleepless night. He knew for certain she’d spent the night—every night—alone.
Maybe that was why, more than once, she’d stolen a glimpse of his body.
And that rosy flush?
Yeah, that hadn’t been annoyance he’d seen stirring in her expressive eyes.
Eyes that couldn’t hide her secrets.
Not from him. As a cop, he excelled in uncovering mysteries.
As a man, he knew how to seduce a woman.
Sue Meeks—what a joke—would be no different.
What he found odd was his own reaction.
She wasn’t outright homely; he knew women well enough to see that with some work, she could be attractive. Women had an amazing knack of highlighting their best features while downplaying their flaws.
Not Pepper Yates. The woman didn’t seem to have a clue how to promote her strong features.
And her body…well, who could know? She didn’t exactly look thick or thin, just…shapeless.
He hadn’t found any photos of her that really showed off her figure. And beneath the dated, ill-fitting clothes she now wore, she could be concealing anything.
Yet while talking to her, he’d felt alive. Hell, he’d felt alive just watching her stride down the sidewalk, her enormous, sloppy purse throwing her off-kilter more than the overloaded bags of groceries had. She’d kept her head down, but her stride had been long and confident.
Until she’d seen him.
Then she’d dragged her feet like a reluctant sacrifice.
Which, though she couldn’t have realized it, was a pretty apt description for what he had planned.
He would not feel guilty about it, Logan told himself. She’d be fine. He’d see to it. She might be timid, but she had a spark of fire.
Once he got things ignited, he’d find out everything he needed to know about her brother—but he’d do so gently. He’d treat her with respect, and he’d be generous with his attention, both emotionally and physically.
No, Pepper Yates wasn’t a beauty, but having her wouldn’t be a hardship. Hell, he felt taut with anticipation just thinking about it.
Enough on that.
Logan secured the locks on his door, then headed back to the balcony. Since the building didn’t have air, and the windows were small and difficult to open or close, the balcony offered the only respite from the smothering, humid heat.
But, yeah, the August weather wasn’t his only reason for venturing out to the crumbling balcony.
He’d seen the steak in her grocery bag.
Pepper Yates, aka Sue Meeks, prepared a lot of her meals on a small propane grill. Too many evenings he’d lurked inside, observing her through the vertical blinds, watching her as she’d cooked a single potato with a piece of chicken, a pork chop or a steak.
Did she hate cooking for one as much as he did?
Didn’t she ever tire of eating alone?
He knew for a fact she didn’t date, didn’t have any visitors of any kind—not even her damned brother.
She didn’t drive, didn’t leave the apartment any longer than it took to run errands, and as she said, she kept to herself.
No social life.
He knew, because he’d been watching her for longer than he’d been in the apartment building. Weeks longer.
Would she venture out to her grill with him sitting outside, his balcony right beside hers, close enough that they could chat?
Would she give in to the curiosity he’d seen in her expression?
Or would she avoid him as she’d done so far?
After dropping into a lounge chair, Logan finished off his beer, sprawled onto his back, closed his eyes against the evening sun, and thought about things yet to occur.
Things that had to do with her.
Things that would no doubt prove…interesting.
Even exciting.
The thrill of the chase.
This was what he lived for. The reason he’d become a cop. The core of his basic nature.
And now, finally, he was moving in on his prey.
*
WHY DID HE HAVE TO BE out there? For over an hour, Pepper waited to see if Logan Stark would go inside. He didn’t budge.
And she didn’t stop watching him.
He appeared to be sleeping, his broad chest expanding with deep, slow breaths. Legs sprawled, hands loose, face relaxed.
Body enticing.
She swallowed and thought about the card he’d given her—now on the top of her refrigerator for safekeeping. It didn’t mention a job, just his name, address and cell phone number. He didn’t have the look of the poor. His demeanor defied the defeat of unemployment, and his body defied a lack of activity.
He wanted conversation. She bit her lip.
Okay, so maybe she’d ask him where he worked. Maybe, given his absurd pursuit, he would expect her to want to learn more about him.
God, he looked good all lounged out like that.
He had one arm up and over his head, showing off his biceps and the tuft of darker hair under his arm. Sinfully sexy. He kept the other bent at his side, his big hand opened over a tautly muscled abdomen. The setting sun glinted off his brown chest hair, turning it almost golden. He wasn’t overly hairy, just earthy and masculine.
No shaved chest for this guy, thank God.
And below that, behind the fly of his shorts, a nice, full bulge.
Stepping farther out, she stared hard, enrapt.
Her heartbeat slowed, her breath deepened.
Logan opened one eye and found her visually molesting him again.
For several seconds they stared at each other, and then he said, “Hey,” in a deep, lazy, interested way.
Oh, no, no, no. Why did he have to be so…potent?
Busted, but never a coward, Pepper stepped out fully to the balcony. Hands clasped together in front of her, nervous smile in place, she said, “I, ah, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Just dozing.” A low rumbling growl accompanied a deep stretch. “No biggie.”
The stretch did interesting things to all those muscles: flexing, bulging, then letting them relax again, still prominent, but no longer tense.
So unfair. How could he look so good doing nothing?
Sitting up, he swung his long, hairy legs over the side of the chair. Even his big feet were beautiful!
After running a hand over his head, then his chest, he focused on her. “Getting ready to grill?”
How did he know that? “Um…”
“I could join you.” His gaze drilled into her. “I have my own steak I’d planned to throw on anyway. No reason we can’t share the grill, right?” And as an enticement, he added, “I’ll even bring the beer.”
That much proximity, given her sizzling awareness, could be treacherous. A little time with him, maybe. But the entirety of dinner? She’d be a fool to agree to such a… “Okay.” What?
Oh, my God, had that really come out of her mouth? Well of course it had. Look at him, sitting there like physical temptation, legs apart, expression lazy and skin sun-warmed.
She covered her mouth with a hand.
But she was only human after all, and if her downtrodden appearance didn’t keep him at bay, well then, what would it hurt?
As surprised as she, he said, “Seriously?” He straightened, his manner suspicious, his gaze going all over her.
What, did he think she had a concealed weapon? Did he expect her to wield a steak knife?
Did he expect ulterior motives?
Yes, of course, she had them—but they weren’t motives he’d ever guess.
Pepper dropped her hand and filled her lungs with the thick evening air. “As you said, there’s no reason for us to fire up both grills.”
“Well, hot damn.” Smiling, Logan pushed to his feet. “I got time to take a shower?”
Oh, she wished he wouldn’t. Her nose twitched with the need to smell him, to drink in his hot scent. “If you must.”
“Give me five minutes.” Without another word, he ducked back inside.
Hugging herself, Pepper sat down on her single patio chair. She felt deflated, concerned and absolutely filled with anticipation.
CHAPTER TWO
AFTER BREAKING SPEED RECORDS for a shower and shave, Logan punched in the number, then dried off one-handed while using his shoulder to hold his cell phone to his ear.
The second he got an answer, he said, “She took the bait.”
His partner, Reese, bit back a curse. “What does that mean, exactly? What did you do to her?”
Around a rough laugh, Logan said, “I didn’t do anything to her.” Ignoring the fact that he hoped to do a lot of things to her, he tossed aside the towel. “She agreed to share dinner with me, that’s all.” For now. But if things went right…
“I wish you’d rethink this, Logan.”
Why did Reese have to act as if he planned to molest her? “Fuck that. If I don’t get to the bottom of this, then who will?” No one else was willing to track down the truth. No one else dared go up against that scum, Morton Andrews.
No one else cared what had happened two years ago.
“Logan—”
Skin still damp, Logan skipped his boxers and pulled on another pair of soft, well-worn jean shorts. Long ago he’d decided to eschew the trappings of inherited wealth and go for comfort instead. As a detective, he had to wear suits, a tie, the whole shebang. He’d gotten used to it, and didn’t even think about it anymore.
But in his leisure time, he wore whatever felt best.
This new gig masquerading as a middle class construction worker fit him just fine. More often than not, a pair of shorts was all he needed. “I’m too close to pull back now, so save the lecture.” He dragged up the zipper with care.
Resigned, Reese got down to business. “Have you seen her brother?”
“No.” Not even a glimpse. “But he’s around, I’m sure of it.”
“If it turns out you’re right, the walls could start crumbling down. But if you’re wrong…”
He wasn’t wrong. No way. He trusted his instincts and his gut; both told him he was on to something here. He and Jack Carmin had gone through school together, college together, but while Logan had set his sights on becoming a detective, Jack had veered off into a different type of public work: politics. He’d died at the hands of a madman. Senseless murder—all for greed and corruption.
“He was my best friend, Reese.”
Morton Andrews would pay, even if it took him a lifetime.
“I know.” Tiredly, Reese said, “Keep me posted, okay? Don’t push too hard, and don’t do anything stupid or dangerous.”
That made Logan laugh, but not with any real humor. “Don’t act like you? Is that what you’re saying?” Known for championing the underdog, Reese resembled Jack in many ways. In the face of injustice, he often reacted before thinking, but usually, at least in Logan’s opinion, he was dead-on. Logan trusted him with his life, and that was saying something. He trusted only a select few.
Now with a smile in his tone, Reese said, “Exactly.”
“I’ll check in tomorrow.”
“Not tonight?”
With any luck, he’d be busy till late. “Let’s keep the calls to a minimum, just in case.”
Reese hesitated. “Forget the task force and your assignment—if you need backup, don’t trust anyone else, understand? Get hold of me, and only me.”
“That’s a given.” Jack’s murder had been all the incentive Logan needed to accept the position as head of a special task force. To clean up a lot of the rampant corruption in Warfield, Ohio, his lieutenant had given him carte blanche.
But because some of that corruption had infiltrated the force, Logan had immediately brought Reese on board.
“I’ve lined up a few unies if we need them. Kids I know we can count on.”
By “kids,” Reese meant young uniformed cops, still bright-eyed with the need to see justice served. “You didn’t tell them anything yet?”
“Nope. Just checked out their backgrounds, family histories and their records. If you find Rowdy, they can make the actual arrest to keep it clean.”
“Thanks.” To really make a difference, Logan needed people he could count on, and that meant Reese had to do a lot of setup.
But he also needed an eyewitness to a two-year-old murder.
And that meant he needed Pepper’s brother, Rowdy Yates.
Through tons of research and a little luck, he’d found Pepper. At first he hadn’t been certain it was her; Rowdy had done an amazing job of covering their tracks. But now that he’d seen her up close, talked with her, he was sure he had the right woman.
Through her, he’d eventually get Rowdy.
And with Rowdy, he’d get that scumbag club owner, Morton Andrews, the man he knew was responsible for many deaths, including Jack’s.
Hell, he wasn’t the only one who knew it. Plenty of people made the link. But Morton owned enough people, bought enough alibis that, for all intents and purposes, he remained untouchable.
With Rowdy’s eyewitness account, he’d finally be able to put Morton away.
With that end goal in mind, Lo
gan said, “I gotta go. The lady is waiting.”
Dropping his cell phone into his pocket, along with his keys and a wallet holding false ID, a rubber and a few bills, Logan detoured into the kitchen.
Using his real first name made the undercover work easier. It was enough to remember that Pepper Yates was Sue Meeks without trying to carry his own alias. It was all too easy to fuck up when you tried to change too much. That’s why construction work was part of his undercover persona.
Sure, he and his brother Dash had inherited a shit ton of money from their family. But neither of them flaunted the money, and neither of them felt content being idle or, God forbid, sitting in boardrooms. They invested wisely, donated generously and got on with their lives.
As owner of a construction company, Dash could employ Logan when necessary, giving him the background he needed in case Rowdy got on to him and did any checking.
It was a stroke of luck that he’d found Pepper in a different county. Anyone who knew him might unwittingly blow his cover, but the different locale made a chance encounter with cops in the field less likely.
Logan grabbed his packaged steak, a potato and a six-pack of beer, minus one.
He locked the door behind him and stepped over to tap on Pepper’s door. As if she’d been waiting for him, it opened almost before he’d dropped his hand.
Standing before him, shifting her feet nervously, she said, “Hi.”
She looked adorably unsure of herself, her gaze avoiding his, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip.
Again flushed.
“Hi yourself.” Logan took his time looking her over, not that she’d changed a thing. She still wore the ugly canvas sneakers, long skirt and baggy pullover top. Her hair remained dragged back in that hideous ponytail.
But he saw the movement of her chest as she drank in deep, nervous breaths, and the way her hands trembled a little.
Emotion, awareness and his dick all swelled. He felt ruthless, and he felt territorial. “You want to let me in, Sue?”
She continued to look at him, all over him.
Logan lowered his voice more and said with certainty, “I’m coming in.”
“Oh.” Closing her eyes in embarrassment, she stepped aside. “Yes, of course.”
He hadn’t planned to rush things. He’d intended to be smooth, patient. But the moment just felt right, so as he moved past her, he bent and put a firm kiss to her soft mouth. “Thanks.”