Fallen Angels: BeguiledWantonUncovered

by Lori Foster

  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 h
ands, 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?”