He sighed with what was probably exasperation. Hopefully, it wasn't part of his pre-murdering ritual, since she was in a bit of a tight spot should he decide to snap her neck or something unromantic like that. "You aren't planning to kill me, are you?"
There was a moment of silence. "No."
"Would you tell me if you were?"
Another moment of silence. "I'm not sure."
Hmm. Was he joking? It would certainly be convenient if she could see his face right now. It'd help her decide whether to drop dead of fear or to enjoy the fleeting moments of being pressed against his body. "Why aren't you sure?"
"Because I've never killed anyone before. Hadn't really given it much thought as to whether I'd warn them."
Relief surged through her. "No need to start with a killing spree now."
"No?"
"I'd be a really boring victim."
"Tell me whether you're going to surprise me with any more attacks and I'll spare you."
Okay, even though he was related to Buddy and obviously quite enamored of the loser, he didn't appear to be inclined to cause her bodily harm at the moment. So maybe Evan had one decent personality trait besides that pesky loyalty to loved ones—no predisposition toward violent acts against drop-dead gorgeous women.
Not that she'd call herself gorgeous. Or even remotely attractive. But she was at that vulnerable stage of recovery that required constant self-accolades, even if they were utter falsehoods.
Therefore, not only was she graced with diva-like beauty, but she was six feet tall, with enviable muscle in her legs and arms, a six-pack, and hair that was flawless every day without effort. Oh, and an inexplicable talent for flawlessly applying makeup.
Was she a lucky woman or what?
"Ms. Harper?"
"Oh, fine. I won't attack you again, as long as you promise never to release me."
"What?"
"I said, as long as you promise to release me immediately. What else would I have said?" Good recovery, Josie. Obviously, not only did she have a centerfold body, but she was brilliant as well. An astounding genius who never dated thieving losers. And the chest she was still gazing at shared her bed every night and belonged to a doting lover who treated her like a princess...
Evan released her, and fantasy faded into reality. Five-foot-six, with a closet full of pants that hadn't fit her for two years. No muscle tone to be seen anywhere. An empty bank account and nothing to cook her waffles on. And breasts that her ex-husband had referred to as "little boobies."
And it was all Evan's fault that her trip into dreamland had ended. "Jerk."
"Why am I a jerk?"
"Because...hmm..." No need to share her fantasies with him, or to admit how her life failed so completely to measure up to them. "You're a jerk because you're taking Buddy's side against mine." Actually, that was true. "Yes, that's why. I'm an innocent victim and you're trying to turn the situation against me. Typical male. That's why I've sworn off men for the next three years. Insulting, untrustworthy, and despicable. It just takes a woman of my fortitude to see through your hot body to the truth."
Evan lifted his brow and she replayed her comments in her mind. Oops. Hadn't meant to let the hot body comment slip out into the open.
"Not that you're hot. I was just being hypothetical."
Nice recovery.
Not.
There was no doubt about it. She was positively horrible at taking control of her life.
And from the look of irritation on Evan's face, she had a feeling she'd just made things worse.
Super.
This was definitely not turning out to be the Year of the Josie.
Chapter 2
Josie Harper was a blackmailer.
An attractive one, no doubt, but a blackmailer nonetheless.
And as soon as Evan could get over the jolt of sexual attraction racing through him, he'd make it clear she wasn't going to get a cent out of him. Especially since she was lying about his brother. There was no way Buddy was even in Boston, let alone dating Josie.
"I haven't seen Buddy in six years. If he was in Boston, I would have known about it." Or at least, the private investigator on retainer to look for Buddy would have heard something and reported back to Evan.
"Are you accusing me of lying?"
"He didn't steal from you." With her charming face, he might have been tempted to believe her, if he hadn't been victimized in the past by someone trying to profit off his kinship with a felon. But he was much too cynical to succumb to her wiles, even if she did have a body that would bring any man to his knees. Full and curvy, she filled out her jeans in a way that the anorexic waifs he dated never did. And damned if he didn't like what he saw. Not that he was noticing.
"Oh, no? Then where has the ninety thousand dollars in mutual funds gone? My balance is zero."
"Ninety grand, huh?" Incompetent blackmailer. She obviously hadn't done her research very well. He could pay far more than that to protect his family.
Josie poked him in the chest, sending a spark catapulting through his body. "Oh, so maybe that doesn't sound like much to you, but it is to me. That lump sum was the only good thing I got out of my marriage. I was going to use it for tuition. It was all part of my grand plan for the new me."
"A new you?" Evan studied her as she stalked past him, glaring at an original portrait on the wall, and tripping over an expensive, hand-woven Oriental rug. With her crooked ponytail, flushed cheeks and visible outrage burning in her eyes, she was the antithesis of his carefully designed, dignified and pristine house. "What are you talking about?"
She whirled around to face him, her hands balled on her hips. "Don't you see? I wouldn't rush off and marry the next dolt who waved a ring in my face if I were an independent, powerful woman. But no. Your blasted brother took that away from me when he stole my money, absconded with my car, and kidnapped my waffle iron." She scowled, her eyebrows drawn together in a tight knot. "I'm extremely bitter right now, and I place full blame on the Dorsett name."
Damn, she was cute.
And he could still remember how her body felt pressed against him. Hot, alive, and pulsing with energy.
Not that he'd noticed.
"You don't believe me." She didn't look pleased with him.
Which was fine. He wasn't too enamored of her either. Trying to blind him by appealing to his sympathy so he'd be vulnerable when she asked for the payoff. He didn't for a minute believe she'd even met Buddy, let alone been victimized by him. No doubt, she would demand he repay the ninety grand in exchange for her not marching downtown and telling all his fickle clients that his brother was a convicted felon. Not that the publicity would destroy his career, but it would be rather inconvenient to deal with the distrust of Boston's elite, given his role as a financial advisor.
He should call the police right now. And he would, except he was thoroughly enjoying the banter. Not because of her audacity and spark. Just because he was looking forward to exposing her ruse. "Why would Buddy steal from you?"
Josie threw up her arms. "How am I supposed to know? I didn't ask him as he was driving out, you know?"
"He didn't take it. Or your car. Or your waffle iron."
"How can you be so certain? Don't you know him at all?"
As if he would begin to go down that road. Besides, it didn't matter. The simple fact was that Josie Harper was lying, and that was that.
She appeared cognizant that she was nearing defeat. "You aren't going to help me track him down and bury his head in a pile of dirt until he returns everything and apologizes to me?"
Evan almost grinned. "What do you think?"
She scowled. "I think the Dorsett blood is tainted in more ways than one."
Tight anger washed over him. "I'm not my brother."
"No, but you might as well be." Josie spun on the heel of her faded sneaker and started to walk toward the door. "No sense wasting my time on you. Obviously, I'll have to unearth the rat on my own. Or I'll just have to find a
nother path toward empowerment." She tossed an annoyed scowl at him, then continued on her way, muttering about Amazons and bras without elastic.
She was leaving? Before he'd even contemplated the action, he reached out and clamped his hand on her shoulder.
Josie stopped, gave him a challenging look, then looked down at his hand. Which was still on her shoulder, beyond the socially acceptable timeframe. And she'd noticed.
She lifted her eyes to his, and raised one eyebrow. Slowly. Seductively. Or maybe she was measuring the distance from her knee to his groin. Somehow, it wouldn't surprise him if it was the latter.
He decided to remove his hand.
Josie's cheeks had turned a deep pink. Anger? Sexual awareness? "What do you want?" she asked.
"Give me your phone number and address."
"You planning to break into my apartment in the middle of the night with an axe and a rope to try to kill me? I have a killer cat named Zeus who will rip you to shreds."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?"
"That I figured out your intention or that I have a murderous feline?"
"The latter. Why would you think I'm going to break into your apartment and attack you?"
"You're related to Buddy."
"Ah, yes. And you're quite certain he's a crook."
She stomped her foot. "He is!"
Well, he was, but Evan wasn't going to admit that to her. Besides, it had been in the past. Buddy was reformed now, and despite all his transgressions, he'd never done the kind of crime Josie was claiming. Stolen a few cars, had several bar brawls, some petty larceny. Nothing on the level of deceiving Josie Harper and stealing ninety grand from her. Which is where she'd fallen short on her research. She hadn't spent time figuring out what kind of crime he would actually believe Buddy had done. Stealing her money, car, and waffle iron wasn't Buddy's style.
He knew what his brother was like. He loved his brother. And if he could ever find him, he'd bring him home in an instant, but he certainly wasn't going to admit the details of Buddy's past to someone who would use the information against him. Besides, if he was ever in Josie's apartment in the middle of the night, there would be other things on his mind. Like what she slept in.
Damn. Why did he keep doing that? He wasn't interested in her.
"So, if you aren't going to kill me, why do you want my info? And don't bother trying to tell me that you're going to ask me out on a date. You think I'm a liar, and I think you're too pompous and arrogant to admit I could be right. If we went on a date, we'd end up throwing hot coffee on each other and it would be generally miserable. Besides, I don't date anymore. The only thing I might do is have a wild sexual encounter, but it would never be with you even if you are hot, because you're...well...you're a Dorsett." She glared at him. "So, why do you want my info?"
She was like a whirlwind. Ripping into his house, throwing everything into chaos, and then acting like nothing was amiss. He'd never met anyone like her. Well, at least since he'd left home when he was eighteen and embarked on his path toward creating a life for himself that would rise above his past. She absolutely didn't fit into his new life.
Evan scowled. Why was he thinking about whether she fit? It wasn't even an issue. Just because she was the first woman in years who had seriously caught his interest didn't mean Josie was the answer to his cold bed. Absolutely not.
"Trying to think of a good lie?" Josie took a step toward him. "I have to warn you, I may look like the type of female who readily believes any lie that a hot man will tell her, but you're wrong. Okay, you're not wrong. I mean, I used to be that way, which was why Buddy was able to steal everything, but I'm not anymore. I'm way too savvy for that. And...and..." She paused, scrunching her face in thought. "And I'll...I mean...you'd better..." She finally appeared to give up. "Well, just know that I won't believe you. So don't even try." She lifted her chin and gave him a wobbly glare.
As if she could intimidate a fly. But he appreciated her spunk. She knew her weaknesses and was taking care to address them. A fighter. Not that he liked her. Because he didn't. "I want your address in case Buddy shows up with hordes of cash, a new car, and burnt waffles."
"For your information, my car had two hundred and seventeen thousand miles on it, and my waffle iron never burns my waffles. It's almost forty years old, seasoned as only age can do, and it makes perfect waffles."
Yet another strike against her story. Buddy only stole new, expensive cars that would have maximum resale value to one of his cronies. Never a junker. No profit in it. "Just give me your info."
"Are you going to stalk me?" she asked.
"No."
"Well, good. That's the right answer. I don't want you coming through my bedroom window in the middle of the night."
He wouldn't even begin thinking about her bedroom. Instead, he walked over to the table, yanked open the top drawer, and retrieved a pen and a notepad. "Address?"
"You have monogrammed scrap paper?"
"It has my old address." Why did her simple question make him feel like an indulgent, wasteful sod? It wasn't as if he'd grown up with money and tossed it around. He appreciated it, and he only spent what he needed to spend.
"The only thing monogrammed are my checks, and they're not doing me much good these days." She took the paper from him. "You swear you aren't going to break in and kill me?"
"Why do you have this obsession with me killing you?"
"Because you're related to Buddy. You realize he's been in jail for a total of five years, don't you?"
Evan felt his gut tighten. She knew Buddy had been in prison. What else did she know? How had she found the information? What was she planning to do with it? He would definitely have to find out. "Write it down." He'd give her info to his private investigator and let him find out Josie Harper's true story.
Josie studied him for a long moment, then she shrugged. "Fine, but the only reason I'm doing this is because I really want my money back and you're my only chance. And I know Zeus will scratch out your eyes if you try anything. And because you haven't actually shown an inclination to attack me." She waggled a finger at him. "I'm ready though. Don't test me. I took a self-defense class two years ago and I still remember how to give the eye jab and knee to the groin."
So he'd been right about the groin thing. He tried to picture his last girlfriend kicking a guy in the nuts, or even discussing such body parts with a stranger. Nope. It would never have happened. Too undignified. He decided Josie's approach was refreshing, in an annoying, unrefined, incredibly sexy sort of way.
She handed him the paper. "I live in Brighton."
"No kidding. I used to live in Brighton." He glanced at the address. "Not far from you, actually."
"You did?" She glanced around the house. "How'd you get from that rat-infested neighborhood to this palace? Or did you own a few streets and sell them for this place?"
"It was when I was in school." He memorized the address and tossed it on the table.
"Ah. So you were poor once?"
"Yes." No shame in that. It was the rest of his youth that would remain a secret.
"Huh." She looked around again, and he followed her inspection of the high ceilings, carved moldings, and polished wood floors. "Never would've pegged you as someone from an ordinary background." She tilted her head. "Except you're related to Buddy. Still can't figure out how this place and Buddy work together. Unless this is all mob money?"
He grinned. "Sorry. It's all legit. Didn't even inherit any of it."
"Hmm... So, you went off and made tons of money while your little brother schlepped around from job to job until he turned to crime and bilking incredibly sexy and brilliant women out of their life's savings?"
He felt like she'd kicked him in the gut. "I didn't abandon him."
Josie lifted an eyebrow and he realized how defensive he sounded. If she had any brains at all in her head, and he was quite certain she did, she'd have no trouble figuring out she'd just hit a nerve. Not a good thing, to gi
ve a blackmailer more information than she already had. It was time to end the conversation. Evan walked past her and opened the door. "Good afternoon, Ms. Harper."
"Fine. I should have known anyone related to Buddy would be a useless waste of my time." She rolled her eyes and walked outside, grabbed her bike helmet and shoved it on her head.
Chapter 3
Josie had just fastened the safety clasp beneath her chin when she felt Evan's eyes on her, alerted by the slow spread of heat over her body. Jerk. How dare he make her be attracted to him? She'd already blurted about a hundred embarrassing sexual references in the five minutes she'd been in his house. Even when she'd tried to stoke her hostility, that raging sexual inferno inside her had just kept building.
Thoroughly irritating.
"You're riding your bike back to Brighton?"
"Uh huh." She swung her leg over the seat, trying to look completely at ease with the fact she had a twenty-nine-mile bike ride ahead of her. On an eighty-five-degree day. Why had she worn jeans?
To hide her cellulite, of course, reasoning which wouldn't feel quite so sound when she was passed out on the side of the highway from heat stroke.
"That's twenty-five miles."
"Twenty-nine actually. Piece of cake." Be positive, Josie. Enough of these bike rides, and she'd be able to start pulling all those jeans out of the back of the closet and start wearing them again. Okay, only if she also stopped consuming anything except water for the next ten years, but hey, it was a start.
"You want a ride?"
"And be indebted to the brother of the man who stole everything from me? No, thanks."
She was aware of Evan watching her as she tucked her jeans into her socks and anchored her helmet, but even in her most creative fantasies, she couldn't quite convince herself that he was ogling her beauty. Nope, she was definitely the only one being tortured by sexual fantasies right now.
"You're leaving."
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