Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. He tried to define his thoughts so they made sense to her. “You know I’ve known Anthony since we went through the Academy together.”

She nodded, her gaze avid and curious. “Yes.”

“When I met him, he was barely making ends meet. We became friends, and since he was living out of his VW Bug, I let him stay at my condo until he could afford a place of his own.”

Back then, Anthony had been unpretentious enough to appreciate the simplicity of having a roof over his head. Somewhere along the way he’d changed. “One night after a few beers, he started talking about how he was going to be rich one day because he hated being poor. He’d grown up in a low-income neighborhood and struggled to keep himself and his mother from starving or being evicted from their tiny apartment. From what he told me, he didn’t have an easy childhood.”

“I never knew. He refused to talk about his past.” She quietly digested what he’d told her, then asked, “Where was his father?”

“According to Anthony, his father left before he was born, and he lost his mother to pneumonia just before his eighteenth birthday. From there, he worked odd jobs, then joined the Academy, which is where I met him. I don’t know his initial reasons for joining the Academy, but it was apparent from the beginning that he loved the danger and excitement of the job.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck before continuing. “About a year after we were on the force, Anthony started buying things he really couldn’t afford. When I questioned him, he’d never give me a straight answer. I really didn’t think his finances were any of my business, and just assumed he’d established a hell of a whole lot of credit. This went on for years, and when he didn’t declare bankruptcy, I thought maybe he’d made some good investments that had paid off, but I never knew for sure.” He slanted her a curious look. “Didn’t you ever wonder how he was able to afford that prime piece of real estate you live in? The boat, the cars?”

“Yes, I wondered.” They came across a cluster of smooth rocks, and Paige strolled in that direction. “When I asked about the purchases, he’d tell me he got a bonus or some other excuse I couldn’t argue with. Anthony was adamant about taking care of the bills, so I never really had a good handle on our finances. And I had my own trust fund that my grandmother left me, so I bought whatever I wanted, when I needed it. That’s how I was able to afford the Wild Rose.”

He smiled, a slight curving of his mouth. “I remember.” He also recalled how furious Anthony had been that Paige had openly defied him and bought the boutique-he’ d had no control over her decision since she’d used her own money, and that fact rankled. Their marriage had seemed strained before that incident, but had gotten progressively worse after she’d opened the boutique and devoted her time and effort there. Anthony hadn’t liked his wife working, yet he’d never given Paige any incentive to stay home.

But that was a different issue altogether, one that didn’t belong in their current conversation. Paige sat down on one of the rocks and gazed out at the blue stretch of ocean. He opted to stand.

“I don’t claim to be a psychiatrist, Paige,” he said, bringing her attention back to him. “But taking Anthony’s behavior into consideration, I’m guessing that his desolate childhood drove him toward greed. Money seemed to give him a warped sense of power and control, and judging by what we’ve discovered since his death, the need for prominence and wealth totally consumed his life.” He shrugged, wishing he knew the truth about what had driven Anthony to take the outrageous risks he had-risks that had destroyed his life and put his wife’s in jeopardy. ”That’s my theory, but we’ll never know for sure.”

“It certainly makes sense to me.” Bitterness crept into her tone. “It didn’t take me long to learn that Anthony thought of no one but himself.”

Giving into the urge to touch her, he reached out and stroked her soft cheek, wanting to kiss her and make up for everything she’d lacked in her marriage to Anthony. Comfort. Understanding. Love. But she was still uncertain and wary, and he respected that even if he didn’t like it. “I’m sorry you had to go through that”

“Yeah, me too.” Her voice was sad, and she gently pulled his hand away from her face, as if his caress stirred too many memories of last night and how much she’d liked him stroking her skin. Touching her certainly brought to mind vivid, sensual images for him.

She drew a deep breath and released it slowly, as if mentally distancing herself from him. “Like my dad always used to say, ‘You live, you learn, and move on a wiser person.”’ She smiled, forcing a cheerful attitude that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”


ONCE THE HOUSE was cleared of evidence and officials, Paige accompanied Josh to his condo to pick up clothes and personal items for him to keep at her place. On the way back, they grabbed dinner from a Chinese take-out and ate chicken chow mein and shrimp fried rice while watching a Sunday evening sitcom on TV. Both of them refrained from discussing the case, but it wasn’t far from either one of their minds.

Emotionally exhausted from the day’s events, Paige didn’t bother to smother a huge yawn. “I think it’s time for bed,” she said to Josh, who sat on the couch a few feet away from her.

“I agree.” He sounded just as tired, though he appeared wide-awake and alert. Standing, he picked up the remote, clicked off the TV, and started toward the foyer. “You go on and change, and I’ll make sure everything is locked up.”

Grateful for the security of Josh’s presence, Paige went to her bedroom and hesitated just inside the doorway. The room that had become a haven for her since Anthony’s death, a place to unwind and pamper herself, had changed since that morning-not in appearance, but in feel. The very air around her seemed tainted by a man’s ruthless quest for wealth. As she stood there and considered that the house and its rich, luxurious contents most likely had been purchased with stolen money, an ominous cast settled over the entire dwelling.

A shiver chased down her spine, cold and unwelcome. Forcing those unpleasant thoughts from her head and replacing them with firm resolve, she headed into the bathroom, pinned up her hair, and took a long, hot shower. Tomorrow, she’d begin the proceedings that would rid her of the disturbing memories this house evoked. Tomorrow, she’d make the first step toward her future, and a new life away from Miami.

Twenty minutes later she exited the bathroom wearing her favorite lavender chemise, ready to crawl in between soft, cool sheets and forget the past twenty-four hours in lieu of a good, solid eight hours of much-needed sleep.

She came to a jarring stop in the middle of the room.

Josh stood at the opposite side of her four-poster bed, in the process of stripping off his clothes. His shirt was gone, and her insidious pulse raced at the sight of his well-defined chest, his lean belly and narrow hips-hot, naked skin she’d stroked with her hands and tasted with her lips the night before. Long fingers worked at the belt buckle at his waist, his movements slow and unhurried, as if he belonged in her room, in her bed, under her skin…

And for a timeless moment the intimate scene seemed so normal, so perfectly right…until her gaze touched on the weapon resting on the nightstand next to him, bringing everything back into perspective…for all of five seconds.

He glanced up, his warm, golden-brown gaze leisurely sliding down the length of her, a sensual visual caress that stole the breath from her lungs. There was nothing suggestive, revealing, or provocative about the nightgown she wore, nothing to inspire the primitive hunger and raw desire reflected in his expression, yet she felt undeniably sexy, incredibly voluptuous, and very aware of herself as a woman. The gauzy material should have been cool against her skin, yet the fabric seemed to singe the tips of her breasts as it brushed across her nipples. The crests peaked, tightened, and ached for the slow, wet attention he’d given them last night with his mouth. Her heart hammered, her stomach tumbled, and the insides of her thighs tingled in an arousing way.

She’d never considered herself an overtly sexual creature. She’d only been with two men before Anthony, and none of them, not even her own husband, had ever come close to making her unravel and melt with a mere look. None had ever made her want to do the shameless, erotic things she wanted to do with the man in front of her.

With Josh, the awareness was all the more tempting and seductive because she’d experienced just how thrilling making love with him could be-how satisfying, emotionally and physically. That intrinsic connection was like touching a live wire, and just as dangerous to her heart.

He lifted his gaze, meeting hers, a wicked, unapologetic gleam in his eyes. He’d purposely made her burn, she realized. Deliberately seduced her without touching her at all. That effortless, intimate influence he held over her was unnerving; his presumptuousness in being in her bedroom annoyed her.

Finally, she found her voice. “What are you doing in here?”

“I thought that was fairly obvious.” His fingers unsnapped his jeans, and his mouth quirked in a half smile that was both mischievous and challenging. “I’m getting ready for bed.”

The rasp of his jeans’ zipper filled the room, and her faithless body swelled in anticipation. “In here? With me?” She sounded prim and haughty, but didn’t care.

Neither did he. The humor glimmering to life in his eyes expressed his disregard. “Yes, in here. With you.”

She moved toward the bed, trying to maintain a semblance of calm when she was feeling entirely too reckless. She clearly remembered what had happened in this bed with him in the darkest hours of the night, how she’d woken to feel the heat of his body along the back of hers as he claimed her in such a primitive way.