Under Wraps

by Joanne Rock

  “Shoot.” He breathed in the warm, spicy scent of an exotic perfume he wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t been this close.

  “First, you didn’t say I was cleared of suspicion. You carefully distinguished that I’m no longer a prime suspect. Care to explain what that means?”

  Her silk-covered knee was only inches from his. One bare foot sat so close to his loafers that he’d have to be careful of her toes if he stood. The nails had been manicured with glittery white polish except for the big toe on each foot, which featured a carefully painted holly berry leaf.

  Lifting his gaze to meet hers, he wondered if he was the only one fantasizing about peeling off her robe.

  “It means that there’s an outside chance you could still be a conspirator, but we don’t think that’s likely and we are one hundred percent sure you are not the primary force behind the embezzlement.”

  “How reassuring.” She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, frowning as she seemed to consider the implications of that.

  “You said you were interested in two things?” He saw the dartboard behind the love seat no longer contained a picture of her ex-boyfriend, something he hadn’t known from the video feeds since his camera didn’t give him enough of a wide angle on the room.

  Good for her for not caring anymore. Jake’s investigations had dug up more than a little dirt on him.

  “Right.” She fixed him with her gaze. “I’d also like to know just how much of me you’ve seen with that camera lens of yours.”

  2

  MARNIE HAD HER ANSWER in a nanosecond.

  The heat that flared in the private investigator’s eyes practically singed her skin before he said one word.

  Hell, he didn’t have to say a word.

  “Oh, my God.” She buried her face in her hands to escape Jake’s gaze. Or maybe to hide from the answering heat inside her that she had no business feeling for a man who had spied on her.

  Damn him.

  “Please believe it was never my intent to see more than the business transactions.” He had that cool, authority-figure voice down pat and she wondered how she ever could have believed he was a carpenter, let alone a good guy.

  Jake Brennan had dangerous tattooed all over his big, imposing bod, a wedge of powerful muscle that looked fit to take care of business in a back alley. The brooding, hot expression in his eyes communicated something altogether inappropriate, as if he knew exactly what she looked like naked and had devoted a fair amount of thought to seeing her that way again.

  Was she reading into that enigmatic look of his? Maybe. But his presence made her twitch in her seat.

  “But you did see more than business transactions,” she snapped, frazzled by sexual thoughts. She lifted her head and quickly realized she’d sat far too near to him for this little tête-à-tête.

  His knee was so close she could feel the warmth of him through the thin silk of her robe. He sat forward in his seat, his sculpted shoulders leaning toward her as if he debated offering comfort. A worn gray Henley shirt stretched over the taut muscles of his arms, the sleeves shoved up to his elbows past a heavy silver watch that rested on one wrist. Wavy dark hair brushed his collar; his jaw was bristly with a five-o’clock shadow.

  She wondered what it would feel like against her skin. And damn it, why did she care? It had to be because she’d spent the past weeks thinking about Jake the Carpenter in a romantic way, building him up to be someone he wasn’t based purely on attractiveness. A stupid habit, that. Hadn’t she been burned oh so recently by a guy who was all flash and no substance?

  Although comparing Alec to Jake was sort of like weighing a cheap copy of a famous painting against the original. One was nice to look at. The other took your breath away it was so freaking magnificent.

  “When I installed the camera, I had no idea you would make yourself so comfortable in your office space. How many people work in their pajamas? Um, legally, anyway.”

  He said it without a trace of a smile, but she could swear she saw a glint of amusement in his flinty gaze.

  Defensiveness steeled her spine.

  “I thought I was alone so I refuse to be embarrassed.” Could she help it if she’d gotten in the habit of peeling off a layer as soon as she flipped the Closed sign on the business?

  It had been a damn difficult year between losing her job, losing her savings due to her ex’s crappy financial management and finding out the ex himself was the kind of superficial jerk who only cared about her worth as his personal sugar moma.

  Oh, and that was all before she found out she’d also been under suspicion for embezzlement.

  “You definitely don’t have any reason to be embarrassed.” He cracked a smile that time—the barest hint of a grin that revealed an unexpected dimple. “I thought your dance moves were great.”

  In different circumstances, she would have been totally charmed.

  But flirting with the P.I. who’d surely seen her mostly naked and who, by the way, hadn’t fully crossed her off his suspect list, didn’t strike her as a particularly wise move.

  “Thanks. But on that note, maybe I should let you take the camera and get back to your investigation.” She stood, feeling awkward and too aware of him.

  “I appreciate that.” He stood, too, topping her by several inches and filling her vision with more than his fair share of studliness. “I’d hate to lose expensive equipment to a sledgehammer.”

  He didn’t move, however. At least not right away.

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  “Jake.” Saying his name aloud felt foreign and familiar at the same time. She’d thought about him often enough since their first meeting.

  Strange that all the while he’d been feeding her daydreams, she might have been playing a role in his, too. The thought stirred desire so palpable it made her breath catch.

  “Yes?” He’d been waiting. Watching.

  Still not moving.

  “Who else has seen those surveillance tapes?” She had to know. Because while she might be able to write off Jake’s eyes following her in her most private moments, she didn’t think she could handle knowing her former employer had been reviewing the footage.

  “No one but me has seen the actual footage. I just pulled off a few stills to show some of your transactions in progress. I would never compromise your privacy any more than absolutely necessary.”

  She nodded, believing him.

  “Thank you for that, at least.” Warmth swirled through her, although why she should feel so comforted that he would keep her amateur stripteases to himself, she wasn’t quite sure. “Do you need any tools to remove the camera? I have a screwdriver somewhere.”

  Turning, she moved to retrieve it.

  “Marnie, wait.” His hand clamped lightly around her shoulder and she froze. Not that he was holding her in place. Far from it. She could have easily kept on walking.

  But it was the first time that he’d touched her for real and not just in passing—or in fantasies. The contact made her mouth turn dry and her legs felt a little shaky.

  “What is it?” Her words were breathless.

  She hoped he would interpret that as nervousness from finding out she’d been suspected of a major felony and under surveillance all in one evening. And honestly, that was part of it.

  His hand slid away now that he had her attention, but the memory of it continued to warm her shoulder like a phantom touch.

  “Would you consider answering a few questions about your work with Premiere Properties?”

  “Of course.” She resisted the urge to fan herself. Obviously, if she was so desperate for male companionship that she would continue to think about someone who had spied on her in an, er, romantic way, she needed to get out more often.

  “I’ve eliminated a lot of people.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and emerged with a paper. “My focus has narrowed to people involved with this place.”

  He handed her the folded sticky note with a half-dozen luxu
ry resorts listed, along with highly placed individuals within those properties. Although a handful of names were still legible, only one resort wasn’t crossed out.

  “The Marquis.” She knew the property well. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  Returning the paper to him, she took a step back in every way possible. He might as well have indicated a nest of rattlesnakes.

  “Why do you say that?” He frowned, looking at the paper again.

  “You haven’t done much homework for a guy who’s been on the case for two months, have you?” She thought about pouring herself another sip or two of champagne, then figured she’d be better off just finding the damn screwdriver so he could take his camera and go.

  She slid out from behind the coffee table to hunt through her desk.

  “On the contrary, I’ve worked my ass off. White-collar crimes like this can be filtered through so many different accounts electronically that it makes it damn difficult to trace.” He followed her to the desk, sidestepping a few items on the floor from when she’d cleared the shelves in a frightened fury. “After hiring a forensic accountant, I spent most of my time investigating you since, on first look, the money appeared to have been leaking wherever you traveled last year.”

  Her frantic culling through pens and paperclips paused.

  “You think someone wanted it to look like I was responsible?” A new fear gripped her, superceding her outrage at being secretly videotaped.

  “Yes. And when you opened this business, I wondered if you’d just found a new way to skim money from the same properties you worked with at Premiere since you continued to book trips to a lot of the same resorts.”

  “Because they’re great destinations and I know them inside and out.”

  “Including the Marquis?”

  Slamming the door shut with her knee, she rubbed her temple where a stress headache wanted to take root.

  “No. That one isn’t really—” Sighing, she began again. “It’s a unique place. Well off the beaten path just outside of scenic Saratoga, New York. Strictly for adults.”

  “It didn’t come up in my early searches, but I just figured it was one of those high-end places that doesn’t advertise.”

  “It is.” Just thinking about the things she’d seen there the last time she visited made heat crawl up her cheeks and take up residence. “Technically, Premiere doesn’t own it, but they are a partner of the eccentric owner and they take care of the food service and a few other basics. It’s a complicated relationship and it’s important that it remains under the radar since the guests are guaranteed a highly—” she cleared her throat “—sensual experience.”

  Was it just her, or was sex coming to mind way too much during this conversation? While she’d like to believe it was just the buzz of good champagne in her veins that made her feel so pleasurably warm inside, she knew it had more to do with Jake Brennan being in the room with her. He would make any woman take notice.

  “Sounds like the perfect place to hide an embezzlement crime.” His jaw flexed, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head, fitting this new piece of evidence into the puzzle.

  “Actually, precious little is hidden in the rooms of the Marquis.” She studiously avoided looking at him while thinking about what went on in that private resort. Her eyes locked on the screwdriver in a silver cup holder on her desk. “Here.”

  She passed him the tool and eased past him to clear a path to the bookcase so he could take his equipment—and his questions—and go.

  He took the screwdriver, following more slowly.

  “It also sounds like the perfect place to lose yourself.”

  “Excuse me?” She pulled the belt tighter on her bathrobe.

  No matter that she wore a tank top and comfy pair of girly boxer shorts underneath it. The more layers the better during a conversation about a sex-drenched playground with a droolworthy stud who’d not only seen her mostly naked, and seemed to enjoy the view.

  Ah, who was she kidding? She was enjoying checking him out just as much. Too bad he had already pulled a fast one on her or she might have considered acting on the sizzling connection between them.

  “I want to avail myself of your services through Lose Yourself. I need you to book me a trip to this place as soon as possible.”

  The image that presented—Jake Brennan stalking the secret lairs of the sexually adventurous—gave her heart palpitations. And, oddly, inspired a ridiculous surge of jealousy for all the women who would dole out their best tricks to attract his notice.

  “No.” She folded her arms. Shook her head. “You don’t want to go there. There’s a strict policy about hidden cameras anyway. Definitely not your kind of place.”

  “Don’t you want to find out who tried to pin about ten different federal crimes on you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Good. That’s why you’re going with me.”

  3

  “FORGET IT.”

  Marnie wrenched the screwdriver out of his hand and turned toward the display case that held his camera as if to remove it by herself.

  “I need you there.” He slid his arm between her and the bookcase to stop her. The fact that his knuckles brushed against her flat stomach and his shoulder rubbed along hers was a pleasurable bonus.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She stepped back, her face flushed and her pulse twitching visibly at the base of her throat.

  Agitated because of his touch? Or his proposition?

  He couldn’t deny a bit of agitation of his own at the thought of spending time with her at some trumped-up luxury love shack. While he’d had every intention of getting close to her sooner or later, he hadn’t intended for the circumstances to be quite so intense.

  But then, he hadn’t considered what an asset she’d be in an investigation at a hyperexclusive resort. She knew the place. And if the real embezzler had set Marnie up to take the fall for the crime, she might be able to finger the enemy faster than he could on his own.

  “You said it yourself.” Sliding the screwdriver from her grip, he set it aside, not needing it to free his surveillance equipment. “You visited dozens of properties all over the globe for Premiere, so you know these resorts well. You’ve been to the Marquis and you’ve dealt with the people who work there. Why let the trail turn even colder while I waste time trying to get the lay of the land when you know the place inside and out?”

  She gaped at him as if he’d just suggested she sign on for a suicide mission. Was the thought of spending a few days with him that bad? He forced his attention to the camera equipment as he extracted a tiny wireless transmitter.

  “Even if I wanted to do that—and I don’t—I can’t just take off at the drop of a hat. I have a business to run.” She held out her hand to take the transmitter from him while he pried out the camera itself.

  “Everyone deserves a getaway,” he parroted back her business’s pitch line, knowing he was onto something. He had to convince her to do this—and not just because he wanted to get to know her better. Her input could be the key. “Besides, maybe you can’t afford not to go.”

  Straightening, he tucked the small camera in his back pocket, then took the transmitter from her and did the same.

  “What do you mean?” Frowning and distracted, she didn’t seem to notice when he put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around so they could converse somewhere besides the narrow space in front of the shelves.

  How easy would it be to slide his hands lower, to graze her chest just above the rise of her breasts? The fragrance of her temptress perfume wafted along his senses as he guided her toward the desk.

  With more than a little regret, he released her.

  For now.

  “Someone went to considerable effort to make it appear as though you were behind a highly lucrative crime. That suggests you’ve got an enemy you don’t know about. What if this enemy raises the stakes next time?”

  Her gray eyes searched his and he could see th
e moment she wondered if he could be the guilty party.

  “Here.” He took out his cell phone. “Vincent is on speed dial. Call your old boss at Premiere Properties and check out my story. He can tell you how seriously he’s taking this investigation.”

  And although it stung a little to see how fast she reached for the phone and dialed, Jake knew the line separating the criminals from the cops—or P.I.’s—could be razor-thin sometimes. He’d left the force just because there was too much crossover in his opinion. He could hardly blame her if she found it difficult to know who to trust.

  Still, he didn’t care for the lack of color in her face by the time she disconnected her call and handed him the phone in silence.

  “You okay?” He didn’t want to crowd her when she’d had one hell of a night, but she sure looked as if she could use a shoulder.

  “You’re right. He says 2.5 million dollars is missing. That’s a lot of money.” Her bleak tone was a far cry from her normal Friday-after-five voice. Usually she spent a good hour belting out tunes along with her radio.

  And while he regretted bursting her bubble of ignorant bliss, she was better off knowing the truth. He had to consider her safety.

  “Someone’s taking great pains not to get caught. That raises the chances they could resort to violence if they think we’re on his or her trail.”

  This would have been a whole lot simpler if he hadn’t investigated her. Hadn’t lied to her and spied on her. If none of that had happened, he’d be dusting off seduction skills he hadn’t used in too damn long. Instead, he needed to tread carefully to convince Marnie to help him nab Vincent Galway’s embezzler. But it was the least he could do after all the ways Vince had been screwed by the justice system. Jake had always hated that one of the most honorable guys he knew—after his own dad—had had his integrity questioned. His life put under a microscope because he’d tried to do the right thing.

  And yeah, he couldn’t deny an unexpected need to protect Marnie. His case had taken on a new slant after talking to her and he wanted to be sure the embezzler didn’t try something more drastic to point suspicion her way.