by Joanne Rock
Not that he was thinking along those lines on the job.
He needed to keep his professional ear to the ground tonight and observe the players in the fashion world. For two months, he and his partner had been tracking smuggling activity in the Garment District to no avail. But tonight, he’d slipped past the doorman at a swanky fund-raiser attended by most of the smuggling suspects on Josh’s list.
One way or another, he would bring down the thugs causing trouble in the Garment District. Not only were the bastards slipping drugs and weapons into the city, but they were using underage gangsters to run half their dirty business. Josh had already tangled with one juvenile offender last month in an encounter that had nearly cost a fellow officer’s life. While Josh had wasted time trying to talk the kid out of his crime, the wayward teen got off a shot that seriously injured Josh’s backup. Josh blamed himself for the shooting—and so did the press when the story was splashed all over the front page.
Now Josh hungered to find the ringleader of the smuggling operation, to squash the wave of crime that had plagued his precinct and the special task force he was assigned to. If that meant working on his case after-hours, Josh didn’t mind a bit. This job meant everything to him.
He scanned the crowd one more time, searching for any familiar faces.
His partner’s new socialite fiancée had told Josh about the event. He’d searched for Amanda Matthews—soon-to-be Rawlins—in the crowd, but she’d obviously left before he arrived. On the other hand, maybe his partner, Duke, hadn’t allowed his gorgeous future bride to stray as far as six blocks from their brownstone. The two of them seemed to be joined at the hip—a condition Josh had no intention of ever suffering.
Josh surveyed the dance floor from an old balcony left over from the bar’s days as a theater. Later, the seats would be packed with couples too drunk to find a hotel room, but for now the shadowy corner gave him a perfect window on the glittering assembly below.
For a moment, he caught himself wishing he’d glimpse black sequins. He had to admit that the attention from the brunette had been more than a little flattering. He’d never been the kind of man women sought out first, which probably had something to do with the fact that he resembled a criminal more than he did a cop.
A waitress, in thigh-high boots and a dress that looked like an X-rated toga, sidled over, effortlessly balancing a tray of empty glasses with one hand. The getup might have turned his head if he hadn’t just spotted a small jail cell off to one side of the dance floor.
A jail cell?
“Get you a drink?” the waitress asked, leaning close to be heard over the steady thrum of the music’s bass line.
He shook his head and tore his gaze from the lower level long enough to smile at her. “No drink, but maybe you can tell me what the cage is for.” He peeled a crisp bill off the roll in his pocket and stuffed it in the waitress’s tip glass.
She shrugged, the small action shifting her tiny toga enough to flash him white satin panties. An observation he made on a strictly professional basis. He was more in the mood for black sequins, anyhow.
The blonde waitress adjusted her tray. “Some prop for the private party. It doesn’t belong to the club.” She sent him a wicked grin. “Looks sort of kinky, huh?”
Images of the brunette in a cage didn’t do much for him, until he mentally inserted himself inside the cage along with her.
“Definitely.” He turned back to the view on the dance floor, just in time to make eye contact with his pursuer.
Even from this distance, her dark eyes broadcast a message for him alone. A smile played at her crimson lips, as if she enjoyed their game.
Heat surged through him. He admired her persistence. An odd sense of pride in her tracking abilities mixed with growing frustration. He couldn’t very well do his job tonight if he had to keep eluding this woman. Maybe he needed to confront her and tell her he wasn’t interested in her game.
Too bad his body was very interested.
Josh had the sinking feeling that if he got within five feet of the fashion princess, he’d be lured in like a damn fish.
Reluctantly, he left his observation deck before his stalker caught up with him. He wasn’t a cop worth his badge if he couldn’t give a society babe the slip, right? She was probably drunk to boot, given that she had chosen to pursue him over the wealth of highbrow guys milling around the bar tonight.
Josh sped back down the pink neon stairs and ducked into the hallway by the phone booths and cloakroom. As soon as he shook the woman on his tail, he would seat himself at the bar and salvage what he could of the night by soaking in the party gossip.
For now, he envisioned his pursuer climbing the stairs in her slinky black gown, and he ticked off enough time for her to reach the balcony he’d just vacated. Thinking she must be safely on the opposite side of the bar by now, Josh stepped from the dark hallway.
And nearly collided with a whirlwind of black sequins.
He obviously hadn’t given his pursuer enough credit, because there she stood with a satisfied gleam in her dark eyes.
Her black hair shimmered in the low light of the bar. Although most of it rested on her head in an intricate knot, one long wayward tendril slipped free to point a path toward her cleavage. Cleavage out-lined by a square neckline that exposed just enough pale skin to tease the hell out of him. The collar of diamonds around her throat was too sexy to even contemplate in a public place.
He instantly shifted his gaze to her face.
She arched a brow and smiled up at him. Even with her high heels, she barely reached his chin. “Excuse me. Guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Her knowing look belied her innocent words.
He couldn’t help but smile back at her. She practically preened over her small victory.
“Seems to me you were right on target.”
She shrugged a careless shoulder and waved an airy hand, gestures that loosely conveyed consent to his words. Josh wondered if she always spoke so eloquently with her body. Her sequins danced and winked, giving her the illusion of perpetual motion.
“Maybe you’re right,” she admitted, treating him to an obvious once-over. “I just hope the reward proves to be as much fun as the chase.”
Name the place, honey. The temperature between them soared a few more degrees.
The woman was a firecracker.
Josh’s smuggling investigation faded into the background for one perilous moment. His work suddenly seemed as distant as the zebra-printed walls and the pulsing Latin music. This tiny woman had a bigger presence than salsa or smugglers.
But Josh wouldn’t allow himself to lose focus.
Before he could respond, the woman offered a cheeky grin and a formal handshake.
“I’m Lexi Mansfield.”
Josh suspected it would be dangerous to touch her, but how could he ignore such an innocuous overture? Hesitating only briefly, he closed his fingers around Lexi’s long, jeweled fingers.
“Josh Winger, at your service.”
She squeezed his hand back, her grip surprisingly strong for such a little thing.
“I certainly hope so, Mr. Winger.”
Distracted by the wicked twinkle in her brown eyes and the exotic scent of her, Josh didn’t notice the handcuffs until cold metal clamped around his wrist.
With a deft click of the mechanism worthy of a veteran vice detective, Josh’s stalker chained herself to him.
So much for his skills as an undercover cop.
He was about to be brought low by a kinky dominatrix with killer cleavage and a lethal attitude. Lexi Mansfield had just blown his cover—and fueled all his fantasies—by handcuffing him into a naughty scenario guaranteed to attract attention.
2
LEXI’S SENSE OF ADVENTURE fled when Josh stared back at her with hard, cold eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” He jerked the handcuffs enough to pull her forward slightly.
Luckily, her sense of indignat
ion helped her stand her ground. “No rough stuff, mister.” She held up her end of the handcuffs and jangled the links between them. “I’m at the other end of these, remember.”
He looked like she’d just sentenced him to twenty-to-life. What was the big deal? She’d hauled at least ten other people to the jail cell tonight, and nobody else had caused such a fuss. If anything, they’d been more interested in giving Lexi the cold shoulder than worrying about their jail time.
Josh Winger angled his big body between her and the dance floor, shielding their conversation from any wayward eyes. “What I want to know is why I’m on this end.” He hissed the words between clenched teeth. “You got some kind of fetish?”
Lexi blinked up at him, realizing the man seemed to have no clue what fund-raiser he’d bought a ticket for tonight.
“No, Mr. Winger, I don’t. I happen to be the jail mistress for the Buy a Celebrity’s Freedom event tonight. Care to come with me quietly?”
He stared at her for an interminable moment, weighing her words and sizing up her person. Lexi resisted the urge to stand up straighter. She’d followed this man because she wanted to meet him, maybe lure him into a one-night stand to somehow soothe her stinging self-esteem.
Now, she realized she’d obviously forgotten how to flirt. Josh Winger remained oblivious to all her best provocation.
Finally, his gaze returned to hers, his gray eyes seeing too deeply inside her. “I can’t guarantee I’ll come with you quietly, Lexi—” Was it her imagination, or did the phrase take on new meaning when it fell from his lips? “I think it depends on just how far you want to go.”
A wave of heat took a slow ride over her flesh, awakening every last nerve ending to the draw of the stud sporting one earring. His words melted the backbone she’d fought hard for all night, leaving her swaying on her high heels, and suddenly more than a little wary.
“Um.” She fought her way out of the sensual fog to concentrate on her answer. Forget flirting. This man could out-flirt her with his hands—well, handcuffed. She’d be lucky to deposit him in the jail cell without spontaneously combusting first. “I just need to put you in the cell over there.”
She pointed toward the edge of the dance floor—anything to distract him so she could pull herself together. Maybe she’d think more clearly when they weren’t handcuffed. Then she could decide whether she wanted to proceed with her plan to test out her personal magnetism.
Josh’s gaze didn’t follow her finger. Instead, he kept his focus directly on her.
Her sequins tread dangerously close to his dinner jacket with each breath she took. The heat of his body penetrated her lightweight gown, giving her the sense they’d already touched somehow.
What would it be like to spend a night with a man like this? Would she dare?
“Do you know who I am, Lexi?”
Too sexy for his own good?
“No.”
“I’m a police detective. Tenth precinct. It’s usually me who locks the people behind bars, so you caught me a little off guard here tonight.”
She nodded, trying to make sense of his words. “I’m sure many of tonight’s partygoers will vie to spring you from captivity, Detective. You won’t have to sit behind bars for very long.” Lexi had no doubt this man would start a catfight as women lined up to ransom him. She’d told herself that had been a small facet of her reason for pursuing him.
He shook his head, causing a lock of hair to fall forward on his forehead, making her hand itch to smooth it.
“You don’t understand. I’m not going into the jail cell.”
Lexi straightened. “You have to. Party rules.”
She saw a flash of frustration in his eyes, followed by something hotter and more complex.
He reached for her with his free hand, his fingers settling on the bare skin of her arm. His touch was light but scorching, trailing down her shoulder to pause a hair’s breadth from her breast.
Lexi didn’t breath for fear she’d close the gap.
He leaned fractionally closer. “I’m a cop, you know. I have some experience with these.” He jangled the handcuffs that bound them together.
The image that brought to mind was definitely X-rated. Surely she misunderstood. “Are you saying you know how to escape?”
He blinked slowly, a smile twitching his lips. “Is that what you think I’m saying?”
She had to take a breath or else she’d start hyper-ventilating. She gulped in smoke-filled air, her expanding chest promptly brushing along the heel of Josh’s hand. Her skin tightened, her breasts puckered in immediate response. Thankfully, her sequins and her starchy strapless bra kept her reactions well hidden.
“I think you’d better explain yourself so we don’t misunderstand each other,” she managed to say.
He leaned so close that his rough cheek grazed her smooth skin; his lips hovered beside her ear. Other than that, his body didn’t touch hers, merely stood at the ready if she wanted to reach out and test those hard masculine planes.
“I’m suggesting we ditch this shindig and explore the possibilities of being chained together in a more private setting.”
Her knees liquefied. Her blood simmered at his words. She had thought if a man paid attention to her tonight it would soothe the wound to her spirit.
She’d been wrong.
Nothing about Josh’s provocative proposal soothed her. She’d never been more on edge, more restless, in her life.
He backed up an inch as if to gauge her reaction. His gray eyes locked on her, his face lit by a blue strobe light from the dance floor.
“I can’t leave now.” Oh, how she wanted to. She’d never been propositioned with anything remotely close to this. If she didn’t have any personal magnetism, this man was doing a damn good job of making her feel like she did. An electric charge zinged between them—major sexual attraction.
“Why not?”
She struggled to remember why not. “I have a commitment to the Shelter the Homeless organization.” If she didn’t do her job to raise money for them, who would? The rest of the partygoers seemed too busy gossiping about her to be of any help.
He peered back at her, silently informing her that her answer hadn’t told him what he wanted to know.
Nervousness seized her. She rocked back and forth on her heels to burn off the excess energy pinging through her body. “In fact, I’ve left the jail cell empty for far too long. If I don’t start filling it with prisoners, we’ll never raise enough money for the homeless.”
When he didn’t move, she tugged lightly on his handcuffs. “So, would you mind?”
His jaw flexed and tightened.
Lexi suspected major teeth clenching took place to warrant such intricate muscle play. Even the diamond stud in his ear shifted in response.
She wondered what it would be like to smooth her fingers over the jaw, trail her tongue over the fiery white diamond.
“No.” His terse answer called her from her fantasies.
Irritation replaced a small fraction of the lust frazzling her nerves. “What do you mean, no? You bought a ticket to this event, mister, you can damn well participate in the charitable aspect of the party.”
Was Detective Winger one of those guys who never opened his wallet for anything but his own entertainment?
“That’s not it. I—”
Before he had a chance to finish his thought, a clipboard nudged between them, followed by a polo shirt decorated with a charity name tag. Event organizer Wendy Garret grinned up at Josh, eyes filled with feminine admiration, and inserted herself in their conversation. A thirty-something political activist with long ties to tonight’s charity, Wendy had begged Lexi to champion the event in her column.
“I see you’ve found your next jailbird, Lex. Good work.” The event coordinator’s eyes never left Josh.
Lexi managed a smile, struggling to shake off the peculiar feelings Josh had inspired. “Yes, I was just going to lock him up.”
Wendy handed Lex
i an extra set of cuffs. “Give him to me, and you go find our next victim. We need to turn things over a little faster tonight if we want to meet our goals.”
Josh glared at them both. “Look, I’m no celebrity. No one is going to pay ransom for a guy like me.”
Lexi clicked off her end of Josh’s cuffs and handed them to Wendy. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be that simple to oust Josh from her thoughts, however. She’d be thinking about his offer for a long time to come.
“You sorely underestimate yourself,” Lexi muttered under her breath. Already, she was debating springing him from that cell herself so they could go back to the fascinating conversation they’d been having about the merits of being locked together.
In those moments with Josh, it hadn’t mattered what the rest of the world thought about her. She’d only been able to think about him.
Wendy was already steering Josh toward the stage, a pink blush on her scrubbed cheeks. “Celebrity status doesn’t matter. The women bid like crazy on the men. They’re much more competitive about this. It’s great for us.”
Lexi watched them go, telling herself she would not sympathize with a man who wouldn’t play his role to help charity. Still, she lingered there, staring at Josh’s squared shoulders as he stalked toward the jail cell.
Who was she kidding? She’d gladly chain herself to Josh Winger, Scrooge or not.
He’d made it clear he wanted her, something no other man had ever managed to articulate. Sure, she could tick off a couple of one-night stands she’d indulged in, just to experience sex for herself. But she’d been the aggressor then, and she’d run like an Olympic sprinter the morning after, to be sure those men never saw her again.
This man wanted her.
Too bad she’d only had to handcuff him to secure the admission.
Ignoring the ego-deflating realization, Lexi now found it easy to shut out the gossip-filled club.
She knew her sexy quarry would be long gone by the time she finished her stint as jailer tonight, and oddly, that knowledge stung more than the shredding of her reputation.
