Silk Confessions

by Joanne Rock

  “You’d be surprised.” Forcing himself to concentrate on his case, Wes enlarged two of the profiles for closer inspection. “The city has slacked off on prosecuting crimes some people argue are victimless. Because of the lack of vigilance, escort services thrive and they can be very aggressive about advertising.”

  She frowned. “I’ve never studied the site that thoroughly from anything but a business point of view, but I know firsthand that valid relationships have formed through the help of MatingGame. One of the company accountants got married last fall to a guy she met through the service.”

  “Probably most of it is legit. My guess is that there’s a protected link, some hidden branch of the business that hires out escorts.” He scanned the profiles he’d pulled, not really sure what he was looking for. His professional hunger to solve the mystery seemed to be slowly giving way to a different kind of hunger that wouldn’t do either of them any good.

  “Preferences—threesomes, foursomes and more.” Tempest read aloud one of the entries in the provocative profiles designed to generate plenty of interest for people looking for a date. She sounded vaguely scandalized, but that didn’t stop her from reaching for the mouse once again. “Do you think she’ll just pick one guy or will she choose four and ask them all to meet her at once?”

  “Wait.” Wes restrained her wrist, unable to sit still while she stretched her delectable body in front of him for the third time. “I’ll get it.”

  She froze there, body unmoving, her pulse pounding beneath the slight pressure of his thumb. “I just wanted to see what came up when you clicked on the hyperlink for threesomes. I guess I didn’t realize people were so…specific about what they wanted in a partner.”

  “But if we start following all the options that catch our attention we’ll be here all night.” He held her wrist, held her gaze, hoping all the while she’d comprehend his real meaning.

  It would have required a supreme act of willpower not to skim his thumb over the silky skin. And after wrestling his growing attraction to Tempest over the last few hours, Wes found he no longer possessed the restraint. He traced a line down the delicate tendons there, absorbing the smooth perfection of her.

  Her lips parted, her faded lipstick revealing the natural color of her soft pink mouth beneath. Hypnotized by the perfect shape of the lush Cupid’s bow, Wes hovered closer until Tempest pulled away.

  “Then I guess we’d better keep our attention more strictly focused.” Freeing her wrist, she reached for her water bottle and unscrewed the top. “I’ll check out the threesomes later.”

  Wes wanted to redirect his thoughts but couldn’t seem to force himself to turn back to the computer. Lust still surged through him like the Eighth Avenue Express and she just shrugged it aside, as if it was all in a day’s work for a pampered, privileged heiress. Did she get off on making men drool and then leaving them wanting?

  He didn’t know what games this woman was playing, but he damn well wouldn’t be leaving her apartment until he found out.

  AS SHE STARED BACK into the stormiest gray eyes she’d ever seen, Tempest decided Wes looked angry. No, more like quietly seething.

  Well—newsflash—she wasn’t exactly thrilled to have him waltz in here and take over her home, her computer and her hormones, either.

  “Seems to me you’ve made concentration impossible.” Wes shoved aside their popcorn bowls before taking her water bottle from her hand, carefully screwing on the top, and pushing that away, too. “Has it ever occurred to you all that stretching and reaching over me combined with your infernal fascination with threesomes just might distract a man?”

  “I am not fascinated by—” How dare he? Of all the presumptuous, arrogant things to insinuate. “Are you accusing me of flirting with you?”

  “What would you call it?” He didn’t raise his voice, instead keeping his tone very, very soft. “I’m not op posed to starting something between us if the appropriate time arises after I close my case. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let you get away with a lot of suggestive talk and sidling up close only to have you leave me high and dry and completely incapable of getting any work done.”

  “You think I’m playing the tease?” And didn’t that just beat all? “I was nice enough to make you popcorn and I didn’t even say a word when you took over my computer keys like you own them, even though I’m more familiar with my computer and this Web site than you are. Can I help it if I’m a little impatient to get through our work for the night so I can clean up the rest of the apartment and get back to my life?”

  “But not impatient enough to point out the three somes link?” He eased back ever so slightly, his self-assured body language somehow conveying a smugness that he’d made his point.

  “So sue me for a prurient streak.” She had so not been flirting with him.

  Had she?

  Forcing herself to consider the notion, she wondered if her sexual impulses could conspire to act without her explicit permission? What if her artistic persona and businesswoman facade hid yet another facet—a decadent and determined inner seductress? She’d blossomed into a daytime TV heroine in record time today. All she needed was a bout with amnesia.

  Maybe she had fallen through the damn sand in the hourglass at 2:00 p.m. today. Instead of transitioning from businesswoman Tempest to artist Tempest this afternoon as usual, she’d walked into a time fugue and ended up in the middle of the drama.

  Frustrated with herself, with him and with the undeniable attraction she felt for a man she probably had nothing in common with, she forged ahead. “Look, I’m sorry if it seemed like I was coming on to you. The profiles happened to intrigue me.”

  “So you’re saying your sudden interest in threesomes didn’t have a damn thing to do with me?”

  “Correct.”

  He grinned. A slow, sexy, I’m-going-to-have-you grin that incited a sensual shiver down her spine. “Good. Because I’m not the kind of guy who shares.”

  TEMPEST was still recovering from that grin two hours later as Wes clicked through profile after profile, searching for some clue on his murder case.

  She might have been able to forget about their ex change if she hadn’t been subjected to reading through all sorts of kinky sexual fetishes and fantasy requirements for every woman in search of a date on the MatingGame site. But honestly, how could she think about motive and intent when every page that scrolled over her screen referenced a new sex act she’d never tried?

  She was beginning to feel very deprived and inexperienced, but she had no intention of allowing Wes to read any hint of hunger in her eyes. Restless and on edge, she sprang up from her chair.

  “I should take Eloise for a walk.” Seizing on the idea like a lifeline, she started picking up their popcorn dishes along with some Thai food take-out containers from the dinner Wes insisted they eat.

  “I’ll go with you.” He unfolded his tall body from the unforgiving wooden chair that had to be damn uncomfortable by now.

  “That’s okay. You finish up and I’ll be back in a minute.” Maybe then she could reclaim her apartment and her wayward sexual thoughts.

  “And what if your apartment is being watched?” He took the empty containers from her arms and dumped them in the wastebasket they’d left in the middle of the studio during their clean-up efforts. “If my murder case is linked to your break-in, then you’re dealing with a dangerous threat. My guess is the killer came here hoping to erase her profile from the MatingGame database and when she didn’t find the Web site files on the computer, she trashed the apartment and left the message to scare you.”

  If Tempest hadn’t been frightened before, she sure as hell was starting to worry now. Almost enough to pack up her stuff and sleep at her family’s ostentatious place on Park Avenue, but not quite. “Don’t you think this murdering prostitute chick was a little excessive in wrecking the apartment? She broke every statue I ever made.”

  “Don’t forget we’re dealing with a criminal mind. Studies show a high
percentage of these people are mentally unbalanced in one way or another.” He whistled to Eloise, who came bounding over, pink tongue lolling out one side of her mouth. “All the more reason to let me go with you tonight.”

  “You haven’t seen Eloise in action.” She couldn’t let Wes start thinking he needed to look out for her. She hadn’t even managed to free herself from her family business yet, so she definitely couldn’t afford to get mixed up with anybody who might start having expectations of her. “She might look sweet and friendly, but she’s as kick-ass as any police dog when it comes to watching my back. I couldn’t ask for better protection.”

  “Unless the killer shoots her.” Wes pulled Eloise’s leash down from a hook by the front door like he’d been living there all his life. “I’m not trying to scare you, Tempest, but you owe it to yourself and your dog to be careful until I catch this person.”

  She willed herself to nod her head. He was right, and she knew it.

  Tempest just hadn’t figured out how to reconcile her need for independence with her desire to stay alive. The choice might not have been so difficult except that she wanted to stand on her own two feet and Wes Shaw looked like a man well-versed in sweeping women right off them.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WES STUMBLED over his own feet the next morning, bleary-eyed and fuzzyheaded after too little sleep. Blindly he fought his way through the maze of gym equipment that accounted for the sum total of his living room furnishings. Despite his best efforts, he stubbed his toe on a dumbbell and unleashed a string of curses that brought his St. Bernard, Kong, running from the bedroom with a woof.

  “All clear,” Wes shouted to the dog whose protective instincts would have made Miss Independent Boucher break out in hives.

  She’d practically hyperventilated the night before when Wes suggested he spend the night at her place for safety reasons. Suddenly, she’d developed all sorts of plans for beefing up the security around her apartment, insisting she’d be fine without his help. He’d tried to convince her to go back to her family’s place where she apparently stayed during the week, but she’d been stub born on that count, too.

  Damned independent woman. Thinking of her there alone had cost him plenty of shut-eye.

  He’d stayed up half the night thinking about her, after checking and re-checking every lock in her apartment. Her door had shown no visible signs of tampering, but the only way into the third floor space had been through the front entrance or the door to the fire escape, which had a dead bolt whose lock was collecting dust. Wes had talked to her superintendent along with the old woman who lived a few doors down and had been home during the break-in. Neither of them had heard or seen anything unusual.

  After forcing himself to leave her building, he’d gone back to the precinct to go over his case file on the murder and enter an incident report about Tempest’s intruder. But late-night brainstorming with Vanessa hadn’t helped them figure out the connections between their murder investigation and Tempest or MatingGame.

  At least they’d eliminated Tempest as a murder suspect since she had an ironclad alibi for the victim’s time of death. A lady photographer caught her date with a local coffee shop owner on film for a tabloid column, and Wes ended up with the distinct displeasure of con firming with the guy that he and Tempest had taken in a movie together that night. Too bad no amount of the man’s assurances that they were just friends did a damn thing to improve Wes’s mood. Obviously, he shouldn’t care who she dated, but it irritated him to picture her with the artsy-fartsy coffee shop guy who managed to weave Kafka references into conversation on two separate occasions.

  And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Wes now discovered he’d lost his taste for coffee.

  Reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of some bogus energy drink, he chugged a few swigs and started thinking through his day. First and foremost was making a phone call to authorities in Mexico for some more information on Tempest’s father. Not that he didn’t trust foreign cops—he just didn’t trust any cop outside his own precinct.

  A suspicious nature came with the badge. And Wes had all the more reason to be careful with Tempest since his instincts couldn’t be trusted where she was concerned. He planned to check her out ten ways to Sun day so the next time he showed up on her doorstep, he wouldn’t have to hold himself back from the attraction that had gnawed at him ever since he’d first walked into her apartment.

  Because the next time she leaned and stretched or wriggled those oh-so-fine curves of hers in his direction, he had every intention of showing her how appreciative he could be.

  TEMPEST DIDN’T APPRECIATE the stomach-clenching fear her intruder had instilled in her.

  She might have given in to her worries and spent the weekend at the Boucher family home if it hadn’t been for Eloise. Her dog had slept by her all night, ready to keep away any returning criminals or stray bogeymen who threatened her safe haven. Too bad her faithful ca nine wasn’t as effective at keeping away men who threatened her peace of mind.

  This morning, Tempest had been awake since dawn, cleaning and organizing the studio until she’d achieved some semblance of its former order. Now she reviewed the summary of her missed Days episode online while she told herself she wasn’t listening for Wes’s footsteps in the hallway.

  She’d read the same line three times about the latest character to come back from the dead—normally a topic she loved—when Eloise ran to the door and barked.

  Tempest peered through the peephole in time to spy a familiar figure striding down the hall. Obviously, her dog was even better attuned to the new man in their lives than Tempest. By the time Wes rapped on the door, she was already opening it.

  “Did you even check to make sure it was me?” Wes frowned at her, his vintage suit replaced by faded jeans and a blue T-shirt underneath a long tweed wool coat.

  In a word—yum. The more fitted clothes were put to good use on a man as ruthlessly toned as Wes Shaw.

  “Eloise told me it was you.” She opened the door wider, her gaze flicking south as he walked past her into the apartment.

  So she noticed he had a great butt, okay? That didn’t mean she was going to do anything about it. Slamming the door shut behind him, she braced herself for another round of temptation. She’d already decided today would be all about clearing her name with Wes and helping him find out what was going on with MatingGame. “She told you?” He leaned down to pet her pooch’s ears before tossing a folder on the boxes of debris she’d stacked by the front door. “Lucky for you, I own a dog, too, or I might think you were losing your mind.”

  “You have a dog?” She shouldn’t ask him about it, didn’t need any reason to like this guy any more than she already did, but curiosity got the better of her.

  “Kong. She’s been with me since— For about two years.”

  She sensed more to that story, but it didn’t look like he’d be sharing any more of it since he backed closer to her computer.

  “Kong’s a girl?”

  “Trust me, it fits. She’s not a girlie girl.” He bent over her keyboard and scanned a few lines about her soap opera before moving his hand to the escape key. “You mind if we pick up where we left off last night?”

  Her heart slugged in her chest at the images that idea conjured. What if they picked up right at the point when Wes had been sitting beside her, his steely gray gaze drifting down over her mouth? Lingering.

  She blinked hard, waiting for her clearheaded thoughts to return. Daydreaming about Wes wouldn’t get anything accomplished today and she refused to let a little sexual attraction delay his progress on clearing her business’s name.

  “That’s fine. I placed a call to the MatingGame head Web mistress who still oversees the day-to-day operations of the company. She’s out of town until Wednesday, but I left her an urgent message that we needed to discuss the business. I can’t imagine MatingGame is involved in anything improper, but if there is trouble in the company, this woman will know exactly where to lo
ok for it.”

  “Good. Were you able to access her files for the site?” Wes slid into the seat in front of the computer and clicked a few buttons to review recently downloaded material.

  “Her assistant sent a disk over by courier. It’s in the drive now.” Tempest watched him go to work on the files, his computer savvy obvious as he opened windows and accessed files.

  “Can I get you some coffee?” She could do that much at least, since she would have offered the same to any other visitor.

  He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and then asked for tea.

  Three hours and numerous cups of tea later, Wes hadn’t found anything unusual in the computer files. He’d forwarded names and addresses to his police station, checking out the women—and even some of the men—who posted profiles on MatingGame. So far not a single person had been linked to prostitution or violent crime. He’d flagged two sex offenders who had snuck through the screening process, however, and re ported them to police stations in California and Wisconsin where the profiles originated.

  Tempest couldn’t help but admire his thorough approach to his work and the noble intentions behind it. She could appreciate the importance of his job, even if it put her on the defensive as owner of the dating company.

  Sipping from a small glass of orange juice, she stole past the small desk for the tenth time in the last few hours, curious about his work but not wanting to get too close to him. He’d warned her about sitting beside him last night and she’d taken him at his word. No way would she send him any signals that implied sexual interest.

  Even if she felt it.

  “If you told me what you were looking for, maybe I could help you find it.” She set down her juice to wave her laptop in front of him. “I could work at the table and review files from there.”