Nothing had prepared her for Mac….
He was all wrong for her. He didn’t wear expensive cologne. His clothes were casual, and he just plain didn’t give a damn about anything.
But he did know how to kiss a woman.
Her blood heated to a boil as his mouth shaped itself against hers. She melted against him, reaching up to slip her arms around his neck.
“You’re trouble,” he said huskily, dragging his mouth from hers.
She pulled away, tried to regain her breathing. Mac was trouble. He was everything she’d never dealt with before.
He stepped close again. “I won’t apologize,” he whispered.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she whispered back. “Not when I wanted it as much as you did.”
Dear Reader,
The year is ending, and as a special holiday gift to you, we’re starting off with a 3-in-1 volume that will have you on the edge of your seat. Special Report, by Merline Lovelace, Maggie Price and Debra Cowan, features three connected stories about a plane hijacking and the three couples who find love in such decidedly unusual circumstances. Read it—you won’t be sorry.
A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY continues with Carla Cassidy’s Strangers When We Married, a reunion romance with an irresistible baby and a couple who, I know you’ll agree, truly do belong together. Then spend 36 HOURS with Doreen Roberts and A Very…Pregnant New Year’s. This is one family feud that’s about to end…at the altar!
Virginia Kantra’s back with Mad Dog and Annie, a book that’s every bit as fascinating as its title—which just happens to be one of my all-time favorite titles. I guarantee you’ll enjoy reading about this perfect (though they don’t know it yet) pair. Linda Randall Wisdom is back with Mirror, Mirror, a good twin/bad twin story with some truly unexpected twists—and a fabulous hero. Finally, read about a woman who has Everything But a Husband in Karen Templeton’s newest—and keep the tissue box nearby, because your emotions will really be engaged.
And, of course, be sure to come back next month for six more of the most exciting romances around—right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Enjoy!
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
Mirror, Mirror
LINDA RANDALL WISDOM
For me, December is more than Christmas and my wedding anniversary. Twenty-one years ago this month—on my wedding anniversary, no less—I sold my first two books to Silhouette Books. Twenty years ago this month, my first book, Dancer in the Shadows, was published.
If it weren’t for my readers, I wouldn’t still be here.
A heartfelt thank you for buying my books.
Books by Linda Randall Wisdom
Silhouette Intimate Moments
No More Secrets #640
Mirror, Mirror #1049
Silhouette Romance
Dancer in the Shadows #39
Fourteen Karat Beauty #95
Bright Tomorrow #132
Dreams from the Past #166
Snow Queen #241
Silhouette Special Edition
A Man with Doubts #27
Unspoken Past #74
Island Rogue #160
Business as Usual #190
A World of Their Own #220
LINDA RANDALL WISDOM
is a California author who loves movies, books and animals of all kinds. She also has a great sense of humor, which is reflected in her books.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Women like her never walked into his office. Women like her never requested his services. Hell, women like her never existed in the world he inhabited.
He thought only the fictional Travis McGee and Philip Marlowe met gorgeous women.
The women who came to him for help were sad, sometimes downtrodden. They were there looking for answers they hoped he could give them, even if the answers weren’t the ones they wanted to hear. Their clothing came from thrift stores instead of designer boutiques and their cologne was whatever was on sale. They wouldn’t have dreamed of smelling like something that probably cost a couple hundred dollars an ounce or sporting expensive French manicures. In essence, this lady looked as if she could easily afford his fees.
Things were looking up, and he hadn’t even had to take out an ad.
He figured he’d just sit there and enjoy the ride. And the view.
“You came highly recommended as someone who works discreetly and gets the job done,” she explained in her cool, calm voice as she sat in the lone visitor’s chair. Her glance around the room told him she couldn’t imagine why he came so highly recommended when his office looked as if it had been furnished by picking up whatever he found left on the sidewalk.
Mac nodded. “I do my best.” He wanted to sound humble and self-assured. Let the client believe you can do anything, was his rule of thumb. So far, it had worked pretty good.
He leaned back in his chair with his hands folded over his flat stomach. While she was giving him the once-over, he was doing the same to her.
He doubted her hair, the rich color of honey, came from a stylist’s bag of tricks: styled no-nonsense short, parted on the right side and curved behind her ears. Her cobalt silk sheath dress fit her businesslike demeanor, just as her body language stated loud and clear she wasn’t to be toyed with. Eyes that matched her dress faced him squarely. The scent of expensive perfume floated in the air between them. Definitely better than any brand of air freshener he’d ever used to chase away the lingering scent of cheap cigars left by a previous client.
Her immaculate appearance was a far cry from his more casual dress consisting of jeans and a rumpled white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dusty brown hair shot with silver was combed by his fingers and long overdue for a haircut. There’d been more important things to do than finding a barber. He’d been up all night on a surveillance. Right now, he wanted nothing more than a few hours of sleep and a hot meal that didn’t arrive via a drive-thru window. Trouble was, interviewing a prospective client, who could actually pay, was more important than catching some much-needed shut-eye. Which resulted in his gray-green eyes looking bloodshot. He probably looked like he’d just gotten off a weeklong drunk.
Dana Madison slowly turned her head as she surveyed the small office. A hint of distaste crossed her face. He had a pretty good idea what she saw. Office was a relative term, since Mac always thought the space had once housed brooms and mops. Luckily, his kind of business didn’t require a lot of space. Just room for his desk, a file cabinet and a couple of chairs.
“For a man reputed to be successful in his line of work, you don’t like to show it outwardly, do you?” Dana Madison commented.
Mac shrugged. “Success isn’t always measured by a person’s bank account. It’s results that count, not what surrounds you to make you look successful. If you want the outer trappings, I can give you the names of a couple of good agencies that have offices in one of those fancy high-rises. They’ll trot out all their spy goodies, tell you exactly what you want to hear and gladly take your money. That doesn’t mean they can give you what I can.” His catlike eyes met hers squarely.
She didn’t even flinch.
“Tell me why you’re here, Ms. Madison,” he said, when he finally figured she wasn’t going to get all huffy over his blatant att
empt to unnerve her. Nope. She hadn’t gotten up and walked out the door.
Good thing. Rent was due tomorrow, and he was a little cash poor. Okay, a lot cash poor.
“I’d like you to follow me,” she replied. “I don’t feel I require twenty-four-hour surveillance. Just from, say, six p.m. to eight a.m.”
“All right, you want me to follow you,” he repeated, just to make sure he got it right. And here he thought he’d heard it all.
She nodded.
“Any reason why you feel the need to be followed?” Mac asked. “Protection from an old boyfriend who doesn’t understand why you broke off the relationship?”
“The reason why is no concern of yours.” She coolly put him off. “Naturally, I would like a daily written report as to my activities between those hours.”
“Everything to do with a case I take on is my concern, Ms. Madison. When someone comes in here and asks me to put a tail on a person, they usually are talking about me following someone else.”
“Then there’s always a first time, isn’t there.” She opened her bag that doubled as a briefcase and pulled out a checkbook. “What are your fees?”
Mac shook his head. “I think we need to get something clear here, Ms. Madison. I don’t operate on a need-to-know basis. In my line of work that kind of thinking can get a fella hurt, and I’ve got to be honest—I’m not into pain.”
In his estimation, her tension level upped a good fifty points. Whatever she was hiding must be a doozy.
“This isn’t easy for me,” she admitted in a tight voice.
“You’re not the first person who’s been in a little trouble.” He softened a little. He figured the lady wasn’t used to not being in charge. She probably preferred to handle things her way. Now she was forced to come to someone else for help. Something must have happened to spook her big-time. The usual scenario was an ex-husband or ex-lover stalking the lady. Either way, a guy could get hurt if he didn’t know what could be waiting for him around the corner.
“I’m not in trouble,” she hastily denied.
Dana’s tongue appeared, dampening her lower lip. Judging from the death grip she had on her bag, she was not only nervous, she was scared to death of something. The question was what.
“For the past two months I have experienced some strange things,” she said slowly, apparently reluctant to disclose any of this. “Unexplained things that involve me, yet I have no recollection of them happening.” She paused and waited for his nod for her to continue. “People I have never met come up to me and claim they know me. Clothing I have never seen before has shown up in my closet. Some mornings I discover that my car’s gas tank is almost empty, yet I know I had filled the tank the night before—and I hadn’t gone anywhere but home after that.”
Mac nodded. “Is there any history of sleepwalking in your family?” he asked. “I knew of one woman who carried on a complete second life while sleepwalking. Any mental disorders you’re aware of?”
She shook her head. “No, nothing. And I do not have a split personality, if you’re going to ask about that next. There has to be a logical explanation for what is happening to me. I need to know what that is.”
Mac silently agreed. But then, his years with the police force told him even the looniest of people could look as normal as…well as normal as him.
“Logic is nice, but that doesn’t mean what’s going on is logical.” He pulled the yellow legal pad toward him and picked up his pen. He glanced up. “First off, how many people have keys to your house?”
She thought for a moment. “Myself, my housekeeper, my mother. I keep a spare in my office, but that’s in a locked drawer. I believe that’s it.”
“Were you the original owner?”
She shook her head.
“When you moved in, did you change the locks?”
She nodded.
“Any brothers or sisters who might be playing some sick joke on you?”
She shook her head. “I’m an only child.”
He wrote on the pad. “Do you have an alarm system?”
Dana nodded. “I had it installed before I moved in. Our community also has a private security patrol that is very vigilant. Our neighborhood has an almost nonexistent crime rate.”
“Maybe that’s what they tell you, so they look good. If you think someone’s breaking into your house, there’s a big need for an alarm. If nothing else, the noise will alert your rent-a-cops,” Mac said flatly. “I’d like to look your place over first before making my recommendation for one. Also, I might be able to get an idea how someone’s breaking in without setting off the alarm. If it is someone else.”
She leaned forward, her face an icy carving. “That is what is happening!” She opened her purse and pulled out a small paper bag. The name of a well-known jewelry store was written in tasteful script, teal ink on gray paper. She pushed it toward him. “I found these yesterday, and I can assure you they are not mine.”
Mac immediately withdrew a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on. He doubted there would be any usable prints after who knows who handling them, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.
Once he’d looked at the contents, he couldn’t imagine they conformed with the woman seated across from him.
It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. Two foil-wrapped condoms, a matchbook from a bar across town—one he knew had a fairly wild reputation—a small bottle of perfume and a hotel key card. He laid them out in a row. He picked up the perfume bottle, opened it and sniffed. The scent was heavy, musky—something a woman would wear if she was in heat. He couldn’t imagine the woman seated across from him wearing this fragrance.
“None of these ring a bell with you?”
“No.” Her tone could have turned a heat wave into a blizzard.
He picked up the hotel key card. The name was stamped on one end. “Yeah, this place isn’t exactly known for its ambience. More for its hourly rates. I’ve heard they don’t offer room service, either. Unless you’re talking about the kind that doesn’t exactly come on a linen tablecloth.”
He should turn her down. The lady might be easy on the eyes, but she was also loony tunes. Not something he needed after dealing with Raymond Cutter for the past month. The guy had wanted Mac to follow his wife. There was only one problem. He had never been married. But that didn’t stop him from being convinced he was married to the woman in the next apartment. Luckily for the woman, Cutter was harmless, but Mac still didn’t waste any time having a talk about the situation with an old buddy at the police department. He also contacted the woman and helped her obtain a restraining order. Last he heard, Raymond Cutter moved out of the state.
Yeah, even with the rent due, Mac didn’t need a case like this. Of course, he could recommend someone who would come to the same conclusion he had. Except, they’d gladly take her money and probably not even do a proper job.
Fact is, Mac believed that when a woman asked for help, a man did whatever was necessary to keep her safe. Dana Madison had come to him. That meant it was up to him to find out what was going on.
He rattled off his fees and what he required for a retainer. “All right, Ms. Madison. You have yourself a watchdog. I’ll send you reports at the end of each week,” he explained. “There are some things I’ll need right now. I want you to give me your housekeeper’s schedule and a list of anyone else who’s on your property on a regular basis. I also suggest you keep a log of your mileage. Write it down every time you park the car in your garage and even when you leave it at your office. Keep the mileage log in your purse.”
She looked relieved. Obviously, she hadn’t expected him to accept.
“Anything you need,” she replied.
He nodded. “As I said, I’ll want to go through your house. And your office.”
“You have to understand that I must have complete secrecy in this matter. No one can know about this,” she insisted. “Since the death of my father, my business has taken some nasty hits. He’d been the
heart and soul of it, and some of the long-term clients are having trouble shifting their loyalties to me. I’m having to prove to them I can do just as good a job as he did. If word of this got out, I’d be finished.”
“Maybe I don’t have the fancy office, but I do have my honor. Nothing said between us leaves this room.” He squinted at the squiggles he’d made on the notepad. Damn, pretty soon he’d need reading glasses. Not a good image for a tough private investigator. “If someone’s trying to gaslight you, I’ll find out who it is.”
“And why,” she said. “Right now, I’m not sure which is more important. Who or why. But I need to know.” She quickly wrote in her checkbook, tore the slip of paper out and handed it to him. She wasted no time in writing out the information he requested. She passed it over, along with her business card on the back of which she’d jotted numbers. “This should cover a month. Here are my cell and pager numbers.”
“Yes, it will.” Mac was proud of himself for not whooping with joy at the amount written on the check. His retainer and one month’s worth of his daily rate. He was positive this check would clear first time around. Not like other checks he’d banked. “Don’t worry about your office staff. They won’t know anything you don’t want them to know.”
Dana looked at him squarely. “When can you start?”
What was another night without sleep?
“Tonight,” he said promptly. “But don’t bother looking for me. Surveillance doesn’t work if the subject is busy looking around for the watcher. From now on, you’re to let me know immediately when you find anything else of a questionable nature. Don’t touch it or pick it up with your bare hands. Use a handkerchief to pick it up and slide it into a clean envelope. If we’re lucky, we’ll get some workable fingerprints.”
“Of course.” She rose to her feet in one fluid motion. She held out her hand. Fingers sleek with a French manicure, the skin silky to the touch. A fire opal ring on one finger flashed orange, blue and green at him. Funny. A woman with a no-nonsense image should be wearing pearls. What was the ring trying to say about her? He’d be curious to find out. Not that he’d try to think of her in any way other than as a client. Getting emotionally involved with a client, no matter how beautiful she was, would be breaking the Eleventh Commandment he’d instituted the day he opened the office.
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