Page 7 of Her Last Hope
And still in love with her dead husband.
Mentally, he laughed at his thought. He’d never stop loving Joanne.
“I know everything there is to know about you.”
Her eyes widened and then narrowed into tiny little slits. “I doubt that.”
“Your father gave me quite a lot of information. But I was also in your apartment a few days ago. I know you have a small table in the entryway where you have a seashell dish, which I assume you dump your keys in. Your kitchen isn’t much, but it’s obvious you like to cook by the expensive pots and pans you own. Not to mention you have a ton of cookbooks. I also know you only seem to have thong underwear. Your bra size is a 38D, your jeans are a size 12, and—”
“You’re a fucking pervert.” She stood, kicking the coffee table as she shoved it aside, standing over him with her hands on those goddamned voluptuous hips.
Seriously, the moment he had five minutes free, he’d have to find himself a one-night stand.
Slowly, he stood, exerting his powerful body over hers, only she wasn’t someone most people would want to mess with. He rubbed his side where she’d nailed him twice, knowing a bruise had formed. “I’m no such thing, though I will admit to having a veracious appetite for sex, but searching your apartment was all part of doing my job.”
“Checking out my panties isn’t doing your job.”
He smiled. “You just confirmed that you are indeed, Leandra Wakefield.”
“Fine. You got me.” She shifted her weight, herbreasts bouncing slightly. “Now you’re going to say goodbye.”
“Nope.” He waved to the sofa, and thankfully she sat down. “I’m Nick Sarich.” He shoved out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Not,” she muttered, letting his hand hang in the air. “So, my father hired you because I didn’t call him for a couple of weeks.”
“No. He hired me because you never showed up for a blind date.”
“Crap,” she muttered. “I forgot about that. How the hell did he know where I was?”
“He didn’t.” Nick snagged the cold bag and sat down next to her as he pressed it against the lump he’d made on the back of her head. “I found you.”
“Well, un-find me, because I’ve got a job to do, and my father knows I’m a big girl and can handle myself.” She shrugged his hand away after taking the bag.
Had Nick been an ordinary man, she could have easily overpowered him in the bathroom, taking control of the situation, but Nick wasn’t average.
Then again, neither was she.
“You’ve been missing for a week,” he said. “Not a single phone call and when you missed your date, your father got worried.”
“I’m sure my mother was more concerned about the fact I ditched a friend’s son, but I have a job to do, and I intend to see it through,” she said in a stern voice. One that he suspected made many a man quake in his shoes.
But not Nick.
No. She had an entirely different effect on him.
“What’s the job?” He wanted to slap himself for asking, partly because he knew the basics of the case.
“I thought you knew everything about me?” She cocked her head, her full lips pursed together like a lipstick commercial where she was about to kiss something, leaving behind a lipstick impression.
All he could think about was kissing her mouth with enough force that it would make her lips swell. “I know you wax yourself.” That was an asinine thing to say. He cringed, waiting to be smacked, but all she did was stare at him.
“Do you know if I wax it all off, or leave a little behind?” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him, but her slight grin sent his mind tumbling to a place where he’d yank her pants to her ankles to find out.
“I’m guessing all of it. Or maybe hoping.”
She turned, tucking one leg under her voluptuous ass. “And I bet you manscape, enjoying the hot wax on your body before ripping it off with exquisite pain.”
He became fully aware that she wore nothing but her pajamas, and the thought of her being totally bare tightened his groin.
