In Hot Pursuit (8 page)

“No offense, James, but its five hundred dollars a plate. Are you sure you want to go?”

“Maria's niece was diagnosed with leukemia this year, and we wanted to make a contribution. I thought this would be a nice way to do it, if it's not too much trouble.”

Lexi wondered if Simone would shell out half as much money to the Dance for Children as her bighearted butler.

“Done. Tell Maria I'm sorry to hear about her niece and I'll call her this week. Maybe we can run something in my column on this.”

“Thank you.” James finished his tea and replaced his cup on the platter. “If you are not careful, my dear, you are going to turn into the grand dame of New York's social scene before you know it.”

“I'll leave that to Simone. You know I pride myself on being a loose cannon in the social realm.”

“Yes, but you have the much-needed attribute of a generous spirit.”

He stood to leave, but before Lexi could protest, Simone's brother, Anton, rounded the corner of the house.

The male counterpart of Simone's blond perfection, Anton was not only handsome, but also reasonably nice. He'd occasionally stepped in to staunch Simone's mouth when no one else had been able to, and his kindness had saved Lexi from more than a few playground scrapes.

“Lexi!” Anton kissed her on both cheeks, his white sweater and gym bag suggesting he'd been at the tennis courts. “What a nice surprise. I should have known when James didn't answer the door that you were around here somewhere. You seem to be the only person who can distract the old man.”

He gave James a playful punch to the arm, but the dignified butler merely walked away with his tea tray.

“Good luck, Ms. Alexandra,” he called.

“Thanks, Jeeves.” She kept a wary eye on Anton as he pulled James's vacated chair as close to Lexi as possible.

“I am so sorry about Simone's recent nastiness.” He reached for Lexi's hands.

“I'll set her straight.” She reached to fix her hair, not wanting to hear Anton's apologies for his sister. The two of them were as dysfunctional and codependent as ever. Their parents had died two years ago, leaving them more money than either of them was really mature enough to handle.

Lexi kept her eyes trained over Anton's shoulder for signs of Josh. She kept hoping he'd leave the house soon, so she could tell herself he wasn't really sleeping with Simone.

“Let me talk to my sister, Lexi,” Anton volunteered. “You've probably had enough to deal with in the fallout of this mess. You don't need to listen to Simone's put-downs, too.”

“Thanks, but I think I need to talk to her myself.” Lexi hated to admit she'd been spoiling for a fight all day, when Anton obviously wanted to play chivalrous savior.

She thought she heard a door slam somewhere inside the house, and squinted across the side yard to where the plain black Ford was parked. She had an idea that would be Josh's car, probably a police vehicle.

Anton seized her hands while she wasn't looking. “No, Lexi. I insist.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “I want to make this right for you. Let me take care of it.”

From nowhere, Josh Winger appeared between them, his big shadow falling across Anton in more ways than one.

Anton let go of her instantly.

“Too late,” Josh informed him, his words clipped. “I already took care of it.”

A little thrill passed through Lexi. Not because she needed Josh taking care of her, but because Josh had already finished up with Simone and come looking for Lexi.

Her mood improved just a little.

“Come on.” Josh tugged Lexi's arm. “Let's go.”

“I'm not going anywhere until I speak to Simone.” Lexi ignored the electric shock of his touch, the leap of every nerve ending through the sheer fabric around her arms.

Josh didn't respond right away. He was still looking in Anton's direction, his face twisted into an expression Lexi could have read from fifty yards away.

She'd never seen anyone communicate “get lost” quite so effectively.

“We'll catch up with each other soon, Lexi.” Anton grabbed his gym bag and backed toward the house. “Nice to see you.”

He all but ran the last few steps. No wonder, considering Josh looked like he'd just walked off
The Godfather
set with his dark hair and heavy eyebrows, his prominent scar gracing one cheek.

If Lexi had any sense, she'd be running, too. Though, of course, for entirely different reasons.

“Isn't that police intimidation or something?” Lexi asked mildly, studying her nails.

Josh had her hauled out of her seat and onto her feet in seconds. It happened so fast, she barely had time to react, but her treacherous body had followed his command on instinct.

“We need to get out of here.” His words were a husky whisper, not unlike the voice he'd used in the bedroom last night….

“I need to talk to Simone, Josh, and I'm not leaving until I do.” She reminded herself about taking control of her life again. “You are breaking all the rules of an anonymous encounter by following me around today.”

That caught his attention. His eyes widened.

“Who's following who, lady? I was here first, remember?”

“And you're free to leave first, too. I'm an independent woman, remember?” She folded her arms across herself in staunch defense. “I don't need you, Winger.”

His jaw worked that over for a long moment.

He looked damn good in his black jacket and dark T-shirt underneath. He definitely looked like a bad ass. What turned her on even more was the fact that he probably
was
a bad ass. A fact even Mr. Knight in Shining Armor Anton had been wise to in the space of three seconds.

“Then here's a newsflash for you, Ms. Independent.” He glowered at her with his light gray eyes, leaning just a little too close. “I happen to need
you.
”

Her heart jumped at the notion.

Lexi chided it, told herself she'd imagined the reaction. “Are you intimating something sexual?”

“No, I'm not intimating something sexual. I want to keep my teeth, thank you.” The barest hint of a grin played at his lips. “I need your fashion world knowledge, not your body. But if you're offering—”

“Don't ruin it, Winger.” She plucked her purse off the ground where she'd dropped it during her impromptu cup of tea with James, then looped the strap over her shoulder. She didn't need his brand of temptation right now—not when she'd been warding off thoughts of him all day. “If it's fashion you need to know about, you've obviously come to the right woman.”

“You'll come with me now? Back to the city?”

Lexi noticed he didn't try to pull her along anymore. He was letting
her
make the call as to whether she went with him or not. She really needed to talk to Simone, but curiosity about what Josh wanted was eating her alive. She could see Simone tomorrow, after she'd safely ditched her persistent cop escort.

Besides, he
needed
her.

“Looks like it's your lucky day.”

L
UCKY
?

Josh let the cool fall breeze wash over him and tried to figure that one out.

His best friend was going to kill him for having a one-night stand with Lexi. He'd just come up empty on his latest lead in the smuggling case. And he was further than ever from unearthing the bastards who trafficked in the corruption of wayward teenagers as much as the drug and weapons trade.

By all rights, it shouldn't feel like a lucky day.

But watching Lexi sashay her way past him across the Bertrands' lawn with a walk that sent her curves into enticing motion, Josh couldn't help but feel pretty damn fortunate. He'd never had much of a silver tongue, preferring action to talk any day. Yet somehow he'd convinced Ms. Independent to come with him when she was clearly dying to give her archenemy a piece of her mind.

“I don't suppose I could simply answer your questions about fashion in the car, and then you could let me go have my talk with Simone afterward?” She tapped her foot by the passenger door of his unmarked police vehicle.

Her perpetual motion automatically reminded him
of his efforts to keep her still last night. His body responded to the thought before he could edge an answer past his lips.

“I don't need to know about fashion, I need to know something about key players in the fashion industry. I'm trying to make sense of a case I'm working on, Lex.” He unlocked the door for her and enjoyed the view as she slid inside. “It'll take more than a few minutes.”

Josh walked around the standard issue, unmarked police vehicle and slid into the seat beside her.

“I'm helping you with your case?” She couldn't have sounded more delighted. Her eyes were wide, her hair wild after her time outdoors.

“No.” He put the car into Drive and eased out of the Bertrands' circular driveway. “I just need to know something about the people you hang out with—designers and what not.”

“And ‘what not'?”

“You know, whoever it is that runs with the fashion crowd.” Josh wound the car through the gated, private community and past multimillion-dollar homes.

“Models, photographers, high-society ladies—Simone's a designer
and
a high-society lady, by the way,” Lexi clarified. “She was attending haute couture shows long before she ever tried creating something of her own.”

“And your impression of her?”

“She's clueless and bitchy. I think you'll find that's everyone's impression of her.”

It had been Josh's, too. Simone couldn't begin to mastermind a smuggling ring.

“What about you, Lexi? Are you a columnist and a high-society lady?” Sure, he needed information for his case, but because there was a chance Lexi could somehow be involved in the case—could even be in danger—Josh wanted to know something about her, too.

She snorted. “You saw where I live. It's a far cry from Simone's mansion.”

“Property in Manhattan doesn't come cheap. And you seem to be on pretty familiar terms with the Bertrand family.” He told himself he wasn't asking out of curiosity about Lexi. He needed to know so he could keep an eye on her this week while Duke was out of town.

Lexi wiggled in her seat, straightened her dress, re-crossed her legs in the other direction.

His direction.

Josh's mouth went dry at the sight of her bare calves. She kicked her crossed leg in rhythmic motion, occasionally hitting the cord to his car radio and sending it swinging.

“I grew up in this neighborhood, but I was definitely never part of the ‘ladies who lunch' crowd.”

He waited, surprised by how much he wanted to hear more, know more, about Lexi.

“My parents are sought-after academics—Dad's a political scientist and Mom's an expert in Third World economics. We didn't move here until their books started selling and they began hiring themselves out on the national speaking circuit.”

Josh noted the only people on the streets were lawn service workers and gardeners. His uncle still mowed lawns for a living. “Must be good money in political science.”

“No. Even then, we lived in the gatekeeper's house at the beginning of the development.” Lexi smoothed the fabric of her dress to her knee. “I was a bit of an outcast.”

“At home, too?”

Her mouth fell open. “What kind of question is that?”

“Sorry.” His stint as a smooth-talker had been short-lived. “I guess I was just thinking that your interests really diverged from your parents'.”

“Meaning, their work has a lot more substance than fashion commentary?” She edged forward in her seat. Lexi on the defensive.

“Meaning that being a mover and shaker of pop culture is a far cry from academic studies of existing political and financial trends.”

“Oh.” She resettled against the black vinyl. “You think I'm a mover and a shaker?”

The way she worked that body of hers even when she was supposed to be sitting still reminded him she was a mover and shaker in more ways than one.

“That's exactly what you are.”

“You've got me all figured out, don't you, Detective.”

Her voice held a serious note that he hadn't heard from her before. The radio cord stopped swinging along with her foot.

He'd seen teasing Lexi, provocative Lexi and take-
charge Lexi. But for a moment he caught a glimpse of another side.

“Not by half.” He merged onto the highway, leaving the secluded Long Island neighborhood behind as he entered a world of mini-malls and fast-food restaurants. The expressway ran neck and neck with the raised train tracks that transported people into the city.

“Did you grow up in the city?” Lexi asked, whipping the strap of her purse from one side of her lap to the other.

The gentle slap of leather on her thighs was definitely not what he needed to hear right now.

“Brooklyn. My mother still lives there, but I've lived in Greenwich Village for the past ten years.”

“Your dad?”

“Didn't we decide to keep things impersonal here?” Just because he'd needed to know a few things about her didn't mean he was ready to share his life story. And how could he concentrate on conversation, anyway, when the noise of that damn purse strap had him on the edge of his seat and ready to explode?

“You broke that rule when you started asking me questions that had nothing to do with key players in the fashion world.”

Josh gritted his teeth, too wound up with sexual frustration to figure out a way around her questions. She'd make a great interrogator.

“My father remarried a long time ago, but he pretty much opted not to be a part of my life when he walked out on us.”

“I hear you.” Lexi nodded. “My parents both opted out of my life when I turned eighteen. I think
the purple hair and matching leather pants finally pushed them over the edge.”

“You're kidding.” He wondered idly if she still owned any leather pants.

“My mother hates purple.”

“I mean about your folks. You don't see much of them anymore?”

“They can be hard to reach in Zimbabwe, but I make an attempt every now and then.” Lexi reshuffled her slender legs, crossing away from him now. Her arms laced across her chest. “New subject, please. How about we discuss this case of yours.”

He recognized that it was time to retreat. He would dissect the new pieces of information he'd learned about Lexi later. The woman had worked her way into his system somehow, and he found himself needing to know more about her, wanting to see more of her.

But he also needed to pick her brain about his case while he had the chance. He wanted the men who'd corrupted kids into crime, the men who masterminded a smuggling operation that had logged thousands of police hours this summer. Talking about the case definitely made for safer territory than thoughts of Lexi in leather.

“How does Simone run her business if she's so clueless?”

“She doesn't. Anton handles all the business details so Simone can just play with her fabric swatches all day.”

“Anton?”

“The gentleman in tennis whites you chased away with your snarl.”

Shit. Josh had been too concerned with running off the guy to pay attention to how the guy might fit into the smuggling case. Despite Josh's best efforts to stay focused in his interview with Simone, Lexi's presence in the house had distracted him, made him careless.

“So he would take care of the books, contracting suppliers, shipping goods….” Maybe Lexi would be able to help dig him out from the hole he'd created, however. She did seem to know a lot about the fashion business.

No matter that she didn't share the same interests as her parents—Josh was willing to bet she'd inherited a sharp mind from her academic folks.

“Anton also schedules Simone for interviews with the media, sets up her shows, everything.” Lexi tugged her long hair out from behind her and laid the dark mass over one shoulder.

Smart
and
sexy.

How the hell could he
not
get distracted by such a combination?

“What's Anton like?” He tried to separate his professional need for information from the unexpected personal sense of jealousy he'd experienced at the sight of Lexi talking so companionably with another man.

“Charming. Articulate. And he must be a little bit smarter than I'd first given him credit for, because his business sense seems to be helping Simone forge a profit in spite of herself.”

He ignored the charming and articulate praise. Josh didn't need any more reasons to feel animosity toward
the guy. Emotions could cloud the best professional judgment.

If Anton was at the helm of Simone's operation as a designer, then Josh needed to check him out first thing tomorrow. But right now, he needed to address the threat to his concentration.

He couldn't ignore her. If Anton Bertrand was involved in anything underhanded, Josh had more reason than ever to keep an eye on Lexi. Instead of worrying about Lexi's ability to rob him of all focus, what would happen if he focused on her?

Perhaps another night with Lexi would excise the relentless hunger for her that screwed up his concentration and wreaked havoc on his ability to effectively question a suspect.

Hell, he'd already guaranteed himself a spot on Duke's personal hit list when his partner returned to town. What would it hurt if Josh spent one more night with the siren who could shift from dominatrix jailer to teasing captive and set his bloodstream on fire while she was at it?

Assuming, of course, he could talk her into one more night. One more night with a lot more condoms.

He glanced over at her, wondering how he could entice New York's most talked-about fashion columnist into re-crossing her legs in his direction.

Last night, Lexi Mansfield had stalked him through a trendy Manhattan bar like a professional predator. Maybe tonight, it was his turn to launch his own hot pursuit.

 

L
EXI KNEW
from personal experience that long lapses in conversation meant the other party was losing in
terest. As a child, her enthusiasm and energy had often been met with extended silence. As an adult, she worked hard to deliver her best writing every week so that her audience would always be entertained and engaged. A critic she could handle.

What she couldn't stand was being ignored.

She huffed a stray strand of kinky hair out of her eyes. “Feel free to drop me off at the next train stop. You seem to have wrested all the information you needed from me.”

She idly poked at the window crank with the toes of her crossed leg, disappointed to lose her audience, but telling herself that she needed to distance herself from the raw sensual appeal Josh held for her.

She liked her ivory tower—the safe haven of her home office, the companionship of friends and pets—just fine. Why would she risk her emotional well-being on a moody, albeit very tempting, cop? Especially when all of New York already seemed to think she was the world's least appealing woman.

The last thing she needed was to have the assessment confirmed.

“Trust me.” Josh's voice stole into her thoughts, drawing her back to their conversation. “I haven't wrested half of what I want from you yet.”

Surely he'd meant for her to take those words at face value. It was only her heightened awareness of Josh that made her read something sensual into the sentiment.

“Why don't you tell me what else you need?” She cleared her throat of the sudden husky hunger lurking
there, scarcely noticing that they'd pulled up in front of her building.

He jammed the car into Park and slipped two cool, heavy metallic rings onto her lap. From the weight and the circular shape, Lexi knew what she would find perched on her thighs.

Josh swiveled in his seat to face her. “Why don't you see for yourself?”

Warm desire flooded her veins. She probably wouldn't ever be able to look at a pair of handcuffs without blushing. Good God, what had she been thinking last night to do all those naughty—glorious—things with Josh?

The heavy metal weighted her light dress, causing the cuffs to insinuate themselves in the hollow of her lap. Fragmentary visions of her body entwined with Josh's charged full force into her brain.

It didn't help that he was seated little more than a foot away. Lexi could see the tiny diamond stud earring that had raked lightly against her thigh last night. She could smell the aftershave that had just barely lingered on her pillows this morning.

And the scar. What woman's pulse wouldn't pound at the sight of a scar that announced to the whole world that this man could fight his way out of any dark alley and live to tell the tale?

Lexi fought the urge to lick her lips. Josh was probably only making the overture because she'd been a little carried away last night and had ended up behaving like a porn queen.

He hadn't seen the real her. He didn't know a damn
thing about her. And if he did, handcuff playtime would be over in a heartbeat.