How to Catch a Bad Boy

by Cat Schield

  She stood transfixed as he gathered her hair together and then proceeded to separate the strands into three sections. The gentle pull as he began braiding launched her into the past. The first time he’d done this for her she’d been surprised by his skill. He’d explained that while a polo horse’s mane was shaved to keep it from interfering with the reins, the tails were braided and taped up for competition.

  “There you go,” he murmured, securing the bottom of the braid and giving an affectionate little tug the way he always did. “Ready for bed.”

  With her skin awash in goose bumps, Lani turned to face him. They were standing so close. As he leaned into her space, she gathered soft folds of his T-shirt, clutching the material between trembling fingers, needing something to ground her.

  Cupping the back of her neck, he lowered his forehead until it was touching hers. “Thank you.”

  These weren’t the words she’d been expecting him to say and frustration spiked.

  “Asher.” His name whispered out of her in protest, in longing. “Please stop thanking me.”

  “I can’t,” he murmured. “You’re the only one who’s helping me.”

  “I’m on a case. That’s all there is to it.” Yet even as she restated her purpose, her spine arched ever so slightly to bring her torso into contact with his. After an instant of contact, her breasts grazing his chest, she retreated.

  This was madness. She had to stop this. To back away. But with his breath caressing her heated skin, she couldn’t move. All it would take for their lips to come together was the slightest shift from either of them.

  Temptation gnawed at her common sense. Her whole body ached with longing. She hadn’t been celibate in the years since they’d parted, but no man awakened her hunger like Asher. It wasn’t fair that his body could drive her wild with pleasure when his temperament clashed with everything she believed in.

  Tingles shot down her spine as the tips of his fingers caressed her nape, moved along the side of her neck. Lani nerves sang. Desire moved through her like a ghost, terrifying her. How long had they been standing here like this? Seconds? Minutes? Time blurred when Asher touched her.

  Kissing him would set a bad precedent. Her professionalism was a press of lips away from being thrown out the window. On the other hand, her job was to find the festival funds. A kiss hinted that her belief in his guilt was fading. Pretending to be on his side could convince him to trust her. What happened after she figured out where Asher had hidden the money was a problem for the future.

  “Lani.” The low throb in his voice intensified the ache blooming between her thighs.

  “Yes?”

  As he grazed his knuckles along her jaw, her lips parted in anticipation and her breath rushed out in agitated puffs as every nerve in her body went on full alert. He set his thumb beneath her chin, a promise of what came next. Craving a barely-there brush of her lips against his, she rose on tiptoe just the tiniest bit. She’d lost control of her purpose. But instead of a kiss that curled her toes and inspired her to dance in the moonlight, he planted his lips against her forehead.

  “See you in the morning.”

  Lani reeled back a step and cleared her throat, blathering out the first thing that popped into her mind. “Sure. I’ll be here when you get up.”

  “Sleep well.”

  Before he walked away, his dark eyes searched hers, and a small perceptive smile tugged at the corners of his lips. If her skin weren’t already on fire, she was certain she’d be flushing scarlet beneath his knowing look. She’d thought to play him and instead he’d expertly turned the tables on her. Lani sighed. She’d been a fool to suppose a single kiss would propel Ash to confess his guilt and spill his guts. She was playing with fire letting the old chemistry between them ignite once more. Yet the tactic could still work if she could manage to act the part without getting sucked in.

  Five years ago she’d been slow to trust Asher, but eventually his persistence and irresistible sex appeal had worn her down. Once her hormones had seized the wheel, they’d driven her heart straight into a solid brick wall of misery.

  This time, while she might be too wise to tumble head over heels for his effortless charm and handsome face, if she kept missing signs and misinterpreting signals, she could be in way too deep before she knew what hit her.

  * * *

  Despite not having slept at all in the jail cell the night before, Asher lay in the middle of his king-size bed, hands tucked beneath his head, ankles crossed, eyes tracing shadows on the ceiling. He’d retreated to his bedroom a couple hours ago, but adrenaline still surged through his veins, keeping him awake.

  Lani Li was here. In his home. Sleeping ten strides from where he lay. The thrill of it kept his exhaustion at bay. He pictured her curled on her side, long braid coiled around her throat, her thick straight lashes a dark smudge against her ivory cheeks.

  Not one thing about her had changed in the last five years. She continued to be the most intense, uptight, no-nonsense female he’d ever met. Except in bed where uptight and no-nonsense had given away to curious and naughty.

  He’d been her first. The shock that delivered to his system had cemented her as the most memorable woman he’d ever had in his bed.

  His lips still tingled from the silken heat of her skin when he’d kissed her forehead. They’d both been on the verge of moving too fast, of losing themselves in the fierce chemistry between them. Last time she’d been an innocent and he’d won her by awakening her sensual appetites. And then he’d lost her because he’d failed to treat her heart with the same care.

  Asher hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until she’d appeared in front of his jail cell. Probably because after they’d ended things, he’d gone out of his way to purge her from his system.

  With his thoughts filled with Lani, he finally fell asleep and woke with her foremost in his mind late the next morning. From the position of the light, he could tell it was mid to late morning. Reaching toward the nightstand for his phone, he remembered the police still had it. Cursing, he sat up and noticed the scent of coffee mingling with bacon. His stomach growled, reminding him that he’d skipped dinner the night before.

  Pulling on worn jeans and a black polo shirt, he shuffled into the open-concept kitchen and living room and spied Lani at the kitchen island, typing away on her laptop.

  “You made breakfast,” he murmured unnecessarily, checking out the pan on the stove. “Have you already eaten?”

  She didn’t look up from her computer. “Hours ago.”

  “I didn’t sleep at all the night before.” He clamped down on further excuses and poured a cup of coffee, topping hers off in the process. After doctoring his cup, he pushed the sugar and creamer in her direction.

  The eggs were freshly cooked and exactly as he liked them. His heart bumped against his ribs as he surveyed the scrambled eggs with fried onions and cheddar cheese melted through. He finished them off in record time and stood watching her work, gnawing on the final piece of thick-cut bacon.

  “Stop staring at me,” Lani muttered, picking up the coffee cup near her elbow and sipping the strong brew.

  “Why?” He ran hot water over the pan and dishes before sliding them into the dishwasher. “You’re the most interesting thing around.”

  “You can stop right there. I’m not susceptible to flattery.”

  “The fact that you felt the need to tell me that makes me think otherwise.” He sent his gaze trailing over her features. She was even more beautiful than she’d been five years earlier. “And I’m not trying to flatter you. It’s the truth. You fascinated me from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

  “Don’t confuse what happened between us five years ago to what’s going on between us today. You are a job. Nothing more. I bailed you out because I need you to tell me where you stashed the money.”

  He was pondering how
long she would stick around before his inability to provide the information she needed would cause her to give up on him...again...when she let out an impatient huff.

  “Shouldn’t you be doing something productive right now?” She jerked her head, indicating the apartment’s front door.

  He had horses he could exercise, but they would keep for a little while longer.

  “I thought you needed my help with your case.”

  “Not right this second.”

  Coming around to her side of the island, he leaned his forearm on the cool countertop and peered at her laptop screen. Their shoulders bumped and he hid a grin as she shifted away. Obviously his presence bothered her. He could work with that.

  “You are always so single-minded. At first, I thought that was just a cute personality quirk until I got to know you better. Then I realized how incredibly sexy your intense focus could be.”

  He’d barely finished speaking when she slapped the laptop closed and slid off the barstool.

  “To be clear,” she said, sliding the computer into a protective sleeve, “I am not here because I have any interest in starting up anything with you again. Let’s just keep things between us professional.”

  “I don’t see why I should have to do that. It’s not as if I’m a client or anything.”

  “I’m investigating you,” she reminded him.

  “You’re looking for the missing festival funds and trying to discover the real story. That puts us on the same side. Nothing wrong with hooking up with a fellow truth-seeker, is there?”

  “Hooking up...?” Outrage crackled in her voice. “Don’t even get me started on how wrong it is.”

  “You used to find me irresistible.”

  “You had your moments.” She slipped into the same blazer she’d worn the day before and slung a tote bag over her shoulder, signaling her plans to leave. “Your situation was completely different back then.”

  Meaning that he might have been a frat boy but, as far as she knew, he hadn’t been a criminal. Was his appearance of guilt all that stood between them? Would she relent once it became clear he hadn’t stolen any money? Or should he get her back into his bed so she’d be motivated to clear him? Either way he would win. Cleared of all wrongdoing and Lani as his lover once more.

  The whole thing seemed so simple until he remembered the strong evidence mounted against him. Just because he hadn’t stolen from the festival, didn’t mean he wouldn’t go to jail for the theft. So far, his denials hadn’t convinced anyone of his innocence. Nor should he expect to be taken at his word. Buying that damning house in his name in the Maldives had been clever. Somebody was setting him up. But who? Was it possible that someone had stolen his identity? He recalled Lani’s reaction to his unlocked door. Maybe it wasn’t far-fetched. But how did he go about proving something like that? No doubt she had the resources to follow the money. But how did he steer her to look for whoever had framed him when she was so convinced he was the bad guy?

  “Where are you off to?” he asked.

  “I have to meet a new client.”

  Asher loathed the idea of being left all alone with his problems. “Can I come along?” Even as he offered her his most-winning smile, he felt like a puppy begging to go for a car ride.

  “No.”

  He strode into the kitchen and selected the largest knife in the drawer. Lani watched him through narrowed eyes as he set his foot on the counter and slid his finger beneath the strap that kept the electronic monitor on his ankle.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Lani’s voice rang with annoyance.

  “I suffer from separation anxiety,” he declared, carrying the dog metaphor beyond the absurd. “There’s no telling what I’ll get up to if you leave me alone here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, but her eyes remained glued to the knife. “You are perfectly fine on your own.”

  “Normally.” He tested the edge of the blade with his thumb. A line of red appeared. Damn, it was sharper than he’d expected. “But I’m under a great deal of stress at the moment and I might do something completely rash without someone to keep an eye on me. Like maybe remove this monitor.” He paused. “How much is my bail?”

  “A hundred thousand.” She ground out the number between clenched teeth.

  “That’s a lot. And you’re responsible for me, right?”

  Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a sharp breath. “Asher.”

  “Let me come along and I swear I won’t be any trouble.”

  “Your middle name is trouble,” she muttered. “Fine. I’ll call and let the people monitoring you know that we’re heading to Dallas.”

  “I’ll put on some shoes.”

  Ten minutes later they were speeding toward Dallas with Lani behind the wheel and Asher studying her profile. She was trying to appear impassive, but her tight lips betrayed her inner turmoil.

  “So, how come you’re a private investigator?” he said, breaking the stony silence between them. “What happened to becoming a fed?”

  “I got in.” Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the steering wheel. “But in the course of my training, the amount of gender discrimination I encountered was more than I could stand. The good ol’ boy network is alive and well at the FBI. Eighty percent of the trainees discharged prior to graduation are women and that’s mostly because the people in charge dismiss mistakes made by male trainees as isolated incidents and declare them to be retrainable at a disproportionately higher rate than their female trainee counterparts.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, hearing the pain she was trying to mask with a clinical recitation of facts. “I know that was important to you.”

  So important that she’d chosen to pursue the dream over him.

  “Tell me more about your firm,”

  “I started it two years ago after finishing up with my master’s degree. I worked with an investigator for a year before striking out on my own.”

  “You must be doing pretty well.”

  A shadow passed over her face before she mustered an off-handed shrug. “I’m doing okay.”

  But not as well as she’d like to be doing. Asher tapped his fingers on his thigh. His restless nature intensified when he was stressed or bored. Usually being around Lani calmed him, but he’d picked up on her tension and found himself uneasily pondering why she hadn’t pursued law enforcement the way she’d intended.

  “What sort of investigations do you do?”

  “I’ve made a name for myself as a financial investigator. Divorces. Fraud. Embezzlement.” Her gaze twitched his direction at the last word.

  “You carry a gun,” Asher pointed out. “Is there a lot of violence in financial investigations? I would’ve figured it would be done by being in an enclosed room with a computer.”

  “I do what needs to be done. I have a technical guy that does contract work for me, a cyber specialist who can get all sorts of information.”

  “Legally?”

  A muscle jumped in her jaw. “If you’re asking whether he can dig into everything you do online, then the answer is yes. There aren’t too many secrets that escape Donovan.”

  “So, he’s looking into me.” He paused, giving her room to answer, but when she remained silent, he continued, “When you find out that I’m an open book with no secrets at all, will you trust me then?”

  “Trust is a word I don’t use lightly when it comes to you.”

  “But if you don’t find anything,” he persisted, “you’ll have to believe me when I tell you I had nothing to do with the missing money.”

  “Or you’re just real clever.”

  Asher gave a wry snort. “Well, at long last I have something to crow about. Lani Li just called me clever.”

  She shot him a look. “You make it sound like I think you’re stupid. That’s never been the ca
se. What I think you are is underachieving.”

  He winced at her blunt, if mostly accurate, declaration. As a teenager, when he’d failed to win his adoptive father’s approval, frustration had led to resentment. The things Asher had a passion for, activities he excelled at—polo, extreme sports, playing the stock market—were never going to impress Rusty.

  Yet deep down he still clung to the hope that one day the impossible old man would be proud of his adopted son. It was part of what had prompted Asher to switch gears and take a job he hated with The Edmond Organization. But as the months went by and Rusty was as indifferent as ever, Asher realized he’d made a mistake.

  Maybe if his dad had lived and Asher could’ve had a father who loved him unconditionally, he might have had a solid foundation to build something out of his life. Often he’d wished for a positive paternal figure who’d listen to him and offered advice based on what he enjoyed doing. Instead, Rusty had ignored or criticized him in turns. With support, he might’ve been able to focus on what he loved. To fully commit instead of fighting against other people’s expectations and always falling short.

  “You’re right about that,” Asher said, not letting his angst slip into his tone. “Ask anyone in the family. I’m the quintessential underachiever.”

  “You don’t seem thrilled to be working at The Edmond Organization,” she said. “So, why are you doing it?”

  “Rusty got tired of supporting me and decided to give me the choice of working for the company or being cut off.” At least that’s what everyone assumed was going on because that was part of the bargain he’d made with Rusty.

  “Let me get this straight.” She took her eyes off the road and speared him with a dubious look. “You gave up polo and came to work for the company in order to keep your lifestyle intact?”

  “Seems like the obvious choice, don’t you think?”