Книга - Night After Night…

Night After Night...
Kristin Gabriel


Talk about chemistry!Subjects: Mia Maldonado, Nate CaffertyExperiment: To study the effects of sleeping with a strangerObservations: Vital signs of both subjects are off the charts– and they aren't doing any sleeping!When Mia agrees to take her friend's place in a sleep study, she never dreams she'll be sharing a bed with Nate Cafferty– a very fine specimen, if she does say so herself. Still, her life is too complicated right now to start messing around with a guy so hot he could make her forget her own name. And that would be a fatal mistake….Private investigator Nate hopes that posing as a research subject will allow him to get close to this mysterious woman who isn't who she claims to be. But he can't seem to focus on anything but the seductress he's sleeping with! How can he uncover all her secrets…when all he wants to do is play under the covers with her instead?









A stranger lay next to her


Mia bolted upright in the bed and screamed.

The man sat up, too, causing the comforter to fall and reveal a snug gray T-shirt that outlined the impressive width of his shoulders. His gaze dropped to her breasts, which were visible through her pink nightshirt. A wickedly sexy smile kicked up one side of his mouth.

She grabbed the comforter, pulling it up to her neck, then jabbed the call button on the headboard several times.

The door to the suite swung open and Dr. Harlan Longo hurried into the room. “Is there a problem?”

She pointed to the intruder. “I just found this man in my bed!”

The man leaned against the headboard. “I don’t think she was expecting me, Harlan.”

“Nate Cafferty is part of the sleep experiment I’m conducting,” the scientist explained. “This experiment tests the effects of sleeping with a stranger.”

Mia looked over at Nate. Ruggedly handsome, he far surpassed any dream lover she’d ever imagined. And at that moment she half feared, and half hoped, she wouldn’t be doing any sleeping at all….


Dear Reader,

I love to hear stories about how couples first met. What fascinates me is how one seemingly insignificant decision can change your life forever. Like when I chose to attend a college fraternity party instead of going home for the weekend. That’s how I met my future husband. Or when a friend of mine decided to take a later airplane flight and found himself seated next to his future wife. Fate or coincidence?

When Mia Maldonado decides to take her friend’s place in a sleep study, she has no idea that a sexy stranger named Nate Cafferty will be sleeping beside her. Fate or coincidence? You decide….

I love to hear from readers. You can reach me through my Web site at www.KristinGabriel.com or write to P.O. Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68802-5162.

Enjoy!

Kristin Gabriel




Books by Kristin Gabriel


HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

834—DANGEROUSLY IRRESISTIBLE

868—SEDUCED IN SEATTLE

896—SHEERLY IRRESISTIBLE

909—PROPOSITIONED?

932—ENGAGING ALEX

966—STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT

HARLEQUIN DUETS

7—ANNIE, GET YOUR GROOM

25—THE BACHELOR TRAP

27—BACHELOR BY DESIGN

29—BEAUTY AND THE BACHELOR

61—OPERATION BABE-MAGNET OPERATION BEAUTY


Night After Night…

Kristin Gabriel






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Jean Louise




Contents


Chapter 1 (#u38364821-f597-5ba9-835e-2cca72a5adfd)

Chapter 2 (#u106676c3-f7fc-5da7-9771-a2779e722b12)

Chapter 3 (#u1f57e9b8-8740-5da9-a27e-9c9da7c362ef)

Chapter 4 (#ua23c9d6f-21ec-560c-bd98-cce359125b99)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)




1


MIA MALDONADO knew there was trouble the moment she heard “Blue Suede Shoes” blaring from the stereo speakers. Elvis always meant a crisis was brewing, so she proceeded warily through the front hall of the house, ready for anything.

The living room, which doubled as an office for her interior design business, was empty. Another bad sign. She’d leased the Tudor-style home a year ago, hoping the affluent Philadelphia neighborhood would bring wealthy, decorating-impaired clients to her door.

It had worked, too—until she’d started dating her design firm’s best carpenter. She had a bad habit of falling too hard and too fast for men like Ian Brock. Men who looked so good in a pair of tight jeans that she overlooked their other genes—the ones that made them lie, cheat…and steal her sanity.

When she’d lived in Chicago, her heart had been broken so many times that she’d made a donation to the new cardiac wing at one of the city’s hospitals in the name of all her mistakes. Mistakes like Bryan, Andrew, Jeff, Wyatt and Justin. Then she’d moved from Chicago to Philadelphia, ready for a fresh start.

But Ian was proof that she still hadn’t learned her lesson. He’d dumped Mia three months ago, taking her heart and most of her clients along with him. Now she was determined that he’d be the last romantic mistake she ever made. From here on, Mia was going to follow her head instead of her hormones.

At least her best friend hadn’t abandoned her yet. She’d met Carleen Wimmer a year ago, when they were the only two people at a matinee screening of Gone With The Wind. By intermission, they’d been sharing a large tub of buttered popcorn and commiserating over the fact that men like Clark Gable didn’t exist anymore. By the end of the movie, Mia had offered Carleen a job as her office assistant.

Soon after, they decided to pool their limited resources by having Carleen move into the house. Kindred spirits, they shared a love of old movies, Thai cuisine and expeditions to flea markets. Carleen’s gentle, cautious nature was the perfect complement to Mia’s leap-before-you-look approach to life.

But Mia would lose her roommate next month when Carleen married Tobias Hamilton, a Philadelphia blue blood who could trace his family back to the Mayflower. He didn’t seem to care that his fiancée had grown up in a trailer park instead of on Park Avenue.

Mia was happy for Carleen, even if Tobias was a little…bland. Maybe bland was good. Bland didn’t run off with the first teenage bimbo to come along. Bland didn’t break your heart. She was certainly in no position to criticize anyone else’s love life. Not when her own had so recently ended in disaster.

She just hoped it wasn’t contagious.

Mia turned down the sound on the stereo, then noticed the empty candy bar wrappers on the desk in the corner. Chocolate and Elvis. That meant it was serious. Carleen was on a strict diet so she could fit into the vintage wedding dress worn by all the Hamilton brides.

She shed her coat and purse, shoving her latest dating debacle to the back of her mind so she could tackle whatever awaited her. She found Carleen seated at the kitchen table, hunched over a carton of chocolate almond ice cream. Half of it was already gone.

“What’s wrong?” Mia asked without preamble.

Carleen looked up at her, black mascara smudges beneath her green eyes. “I’ve ruined everything.”

Mia grabbed a spoon from the drawer, then sat down across from her. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, yes it can.” Carleen dipped her spoon into the ice cream. “It’s all over.”

“What’s all over?”

Carleen sucked in a shaky breath. “The wedding. Your business. My life.”

Mia pulled the ice cream carton toward her, telling herself not to panic. “All right, let’s start from the beginning. What happened?”

Carleen brushed back a wisp of blond hair stuck to her tear-stained cheek. “Toby left the country today. He’s on an airplane right now, headed for Germany.”

“Why?”

“Because his mother hates me.” Her lower lip quivered. “She’s only met me once, but she hates me all the same. Beatrice Hamilton thinks I’m not good enough to marry her only son.”

“Hold on,” Mia said. “Are you telling me his mother sent him off to Germany?”

Carleen shook her head. “No, but she’s behind it. Toby has always been fascinated by show business. Recently, his mother arranged for him to meet a screenwriter at one of her fancy parties and now Toby’s going to produce his movie. They’re filming on location in Frankfurt for the next three weeks and he says he has to be there.”

“But he’ll be back in time for the wedding, won’t he?”

“I hope so.” Carleen pulled the ice cream carton back to her side of the table. “I’m telling you, Mia, that woman is determined to drive us apart. I tried to talk to Toby about it today when I took him to the airport, but we just got into a huge fight. He wouldn’t even listen to me. He’s more upset about Harlan than his mother.”

“Whoa, back up a step,” Mia said. “Who’s Harlan?”

She heaved a long sigh. “I should have mentioned him first. Harlan Longo. You know, that millionaire who likes to play scientist?”

“Yes,” Mia replied, more confused than ever, “what about him?”

“Well, I signed up for his three-week sleep study to save Mia’s Makeovers. He’s offering a three-thousand-dollar stipend to his research subjects and you mentioned just the other day that we needed to find money to advertise or the business is doomed.”

Mia blinked at her. “You signed up to help me?”

Carleen’s face softened. “It was the least I could do. I’ll never be able to repay you for everything you’ve done for me. Giving me a job. Taking me in when I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Treating me like a member of your family.” A smile trembled on her lips. “You’re the sister I never had.”

Mia swallowed the huge lump in her throat, then chased it down with a spoonful of ice cream. “We’re friends, Carleen. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Then think of it as my going-away present,” Carleen replied. “Toby is talking about moving to California after we’re married. He wants to live in Hollywood. I couldn’t be happy knowing I left you behind with all those unpaid bills piling up. I had to do something.”

At that moment, Mia realized just how much she was going to miss living with Carleen. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Look, we’ve both been trying to ignore that business hasn’t been too good around here lately. I’ve been using more and more red ink when I do the books. So when I received one of Harlan Longo’s invitations to participate in his latest study, I thought it was the answer to all our problems.”

“Harlan Longo’s not even a real scientist, is he?”

“No, but he’s really rich.” Carleen licked the back of her spoon. “Rich enough that people call him eccentric instead of crazy. So if he wants to spend his money conducting sleep experiments, he can. I heard he even has some kind of fancy laboratory set up at his estate. That’s where I’m supposed to go tonight. But…”

“But,” Mia prodded.

Carleen sighed. “But Toby thinks Harlan Longo is unstable and doesn’t want me to do it. He was so upset about it. The problem is that I’ve already used the stipend Harlan’s paying to buy advertising time for Mia’s Makeovers on the radio.” She met Mia’s gaze. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, Carleen,” Mia replied, realizing no one had ever done anything so unselfish for her before.

She’d grown up with parents who had taught her the value of hard work but who didn’t understand her desire to build her own business. Though they had never said it aloud, she knew her family back in Chicago expected her to fail. An expectation that now seemed alarmingly possible.

Mia did believe advertising could save her business, but not at the expense of Carleen’s relationship with Toby. “If Toby is that upset about it, then maybe you shouldn’t do it.”

“But the money…”

“I’ll find a way to fix it,” Mia told her, though she knew she’d never qualify for another loan.

“Ian Brock is the one who should fix it,” Carleen sputtered. “He stole all your clients when he went to work for that big design company.”

Mia shook her head. “I should have known better than to date a man who works for me. Especially when he happens to be one of the best carpenters in Philadelphia.”

“That man can do amazing things with his hands,” Carleen acknowledged.

“Believe me, I know.” Memories flooded her and Mia’s throat contracted. “But I have to quit dwelling on him and concentrate on finding new clients. I literally can’t afford to let my personal life interfere with my business anymore. And you can’t afford to put my business ahead of Toby.”

Tears gleamed in her eyes. “I just don’t know what I’ll do if I lose him.”

“You’re not going to lose him,” Mia assured her. Then a solution hit her that was so obvious she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Why don’t I just take your place tonight?”

Carleen blinked. “What?”

“I’ll participate in the sleep study instead of you. It’s not like I have a life right now anyway. Besides, that only seems fair since you’re using the money to save my business.”

“But Harlan Longo is expecting me to show up tonight,” Carleen said. “I’ve already filled out a personality profile and signed a contract and everything. Who knows what he’ll do if I bail out at the last minute?”

“I doubt he’ll care,” Mia replied. “These research projects are just a form of entertainment for him. No one takes them seriously.”

“I’m not so sure,” Carleen told her. “I think he takes them very seriously. At least, that’s the impression I got when I talked to him on the telephone last week.”

“Then I’ll just pretend I’m you,” Mia improvised, determined to find a way to make it work. “He’ll never know the difference.”

Hope mingled with uncertainty in Carleen’s eyes. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me,” Mia replied, warming to the idea. “I’m volunteering. You didn’t send him a picture of yourself, did you? I mean, I’m an Italian brunette and you’re a blonde. He’d notice the difference right away.”

“I didn’t send him my picture.” Carleen thought for a moment. “In fact, he didn’t ask for any kind of physical description. Most of the questions on the profile were about my sleeping habits. What time I usually go to bed at night and how long I usually sleep—things like that.”

“You’ll have to brief me on all your answers before I leave tonight—” Mia reached over to close the lid on the ice cream carton “—just in case he asks me something about it.”

“Do you really think we can get away with it?”

“Absolutely.” Anticipation shot through Mia. Impersonating her best friend might be the perfect distraction she needed to get her mind off of Ian. “All I have to do is sleep there, right?”

“Right,” Carleen confirmed. “From what I understand, Harlan wants to study the effects of different environments on sleep patterns. An example he gave me is sleeping in a hot room compared to a cold one, or with all the lights turned on instead of off.”

“That sounds simple enough.”

“You’re supposed to pack your favorite pajamas,” Carleen advised her, “and bring your own pillow. Harlan made it very clear that he wants his research subjects to be as comfortable as possible.”

“Is that all I need to do?”

Carleen shrugged. “As far as I know. The contract was full of a lot of legal mumbo jumbo, so I just skimmed most of it. I’m sure he’ll explain everything in more detail when you get there.”

Mia glanced at her watch. “Then I’d better go upstairs and start packing.”

Carleen rose from her chair. “I can’t wait to call Toby and make up with him. Are you sure you don’t mind standing in for me? Or rather, sleeping in for me?”

Mia smiled. “Just call me Carleen.”

“THIS CARLEEN WIMMER is trouble.” Nate Cafferty handed the file folder to his client, then leaned back in his chair.

“I knew it.” Beatrice Hamilton scanned the slim contents. She was in her midfifties and reeked of old money. Her perfectly manicured hands sorted through the papers in the file, her aquiline nose wrinkling in disdain.

“My son has always had horrendous taste in women,” she said at last, “but they were all just harmless flings. He never considered actually marrying one of them before.”

“Then the engagement is still on?”

“I’m afraid so.” She looked hopefully at him. “Unless you have something that will convince Tobias to dump her. That is why I hired you, Mr. Cafferty.”

He chafed at her haughty tone. Beatrice Hamilton fit the stereotype of interfering mother to a tee. The fact that she was rich only gave her more resources to meddle. Like hiring a private investigator to dig up dirt on her son’s fiancée.

Nate usually tried to avoid this kind of family squabble, but Mrs. Hamilton was paying him enough to make it worth his while. Besides, the case intrigued him.

“Well?” Mrs. Hamilton prodded. “What exactly do you have on her?”

“Nothing substantial,” he answered. “Yet.”

Her mouth thinned. “But you just said she was trouble.”

“I think she is,” he replied. “The woman didn’t even exist until a year ago. At least, no woman by the name of Carleen Wimmer existed. Your son’s fiancée created a whole new identity for herself.”

Satisfaction gleamed in the older woman’s pale blue eyes. “So I was right about her. She is some kind of scam artist. I suspected as much when I met with her.”

“When was this?”

“A few weeks ago, when I realized that Tobias was truly serious about going through with this ridiculous marriage. I called her and asked her to meet me at the Carlisle Hotel. I’d never allow a woman like that into my home.”

Or a man like me, Nate thought to himself. No doubt she could spot his lack of breeding a mile away. He’d been born to a single mother with a drinking problem, so had grown up on the mean streets of Philadelphia fighting for survival. He’d made it, thanks to Harlan Longo, though he still carried the scars—both inside and out. Mrs. Hamilton didn’t ask about his background and probably didn’t care as long as she got what she wanted.

“And the tart had the audacity to turn down the generous offer I made to convince her to disappear from my son’s life.”

Good for her, Nate thought to himself.

Mrs. Hamilton sniffed. “That’s when I knew I needed to find something to use against her, so I hired you.”

Nate wished she’d hired him sooner. The wedding deadline was fast approaching and he would have liked more time to investigate the woman before he initiated contact. He didn’t even have a picture of Carleen Wimmer yet, though he wouldn’t need one after tonight. “Does your son know I’m investigating his fiancée?”

“Of course not. He’d be livid if he knew.” She rose to her feet, obviously too agitated to stay seated any longer. “But someone has to look out for his interests. With his father gone, that responsibility falls to me.”

Nate pulled another file folder from his desk and opened it. “According to my research, Tobias turned twenty-eight last March. Don’t you think he’s old enough to be responsible for himself?”

“What is this?” She snatched the folder out of his hands. “Who gave you permission to snoop around my son’s life, Mr. Cafferty?”

“I don’t need permission,” he replied evenly. “When I take on a case, I have to know all the facts—including facts about your son. If you don’t like it, you can hire another investigator.”

Color flooded Mrs. Hamilton’s patrician face. No doubt she wasn’t used to anyone, especially an employee, standing up to her.

“Perhaps I will.” She set the folder back on Nate’s desk. “It all depends on how you plan to get rid of this woman and how long it’s going to take. The wedding is less than a month away.”

“It’s not my job to get rid of her.” Nate wanted to make that clear. “I’m simply gathering information about her. How you choose to use that information is up to you.”

“I’ll use it to save my son,” she replied, squaring her shoulders, “any way that I can.”

Nate wondered if Tobias Hamilton chose his women on the basis of how much they’d irritate his mother. He’d never met the man, but so far he wasn’t impressed. His limited investigation had turned up a spoiled rich boy with too much time and too much money on his hands. At the moment, he was in Germany playing movie producer and leaving his fiancée behind to the wolves.

The fact that Nate was one of those wolves didn’t bother him. If Carleen Wimmer had nothing to hide, then she had nothing to fear from him. He’d do his job, but he wouldn’t try to destroy her. That was Mrs. Hamilton’s job. Or more precisely, her pleasure.

“So what happens next?” his client asked, obviously eager to begin the demolition.

“I’ve set up a way to meet her through an old friend of mine,” Nate explained. “His name is Harlan Longo and he was happy to offer his assistance.”

“The name sounds familiar.” Her brow furrowed. “Isn’t he that scientist who tried to prove that sleeping on feather pillows increased fertility rates or some such nonsense? I remember reading about it in the newspaper.”

Nate smiled. “He’s the one.”

“Quite the eccentric,” she said. “Are you certain he can be trusted?”

“Yes.” Nate didn’t elaborate. He wasn’t going to justify his actions to this woman. She either trusted him to do his job or not. “I asked him to send Carleen Wimmer an invitation to participate as a research subject in his latest sleep study—with a generous stipend, of course.”

“I assume she accepted,” Mrs. Hamilton said dryly, “since she’s certainly not averse to sleeping for money.”

“She did,” Nate acknowledged. “Harlan gave me full access to the personality profile she filled out—though I have no way of knowing how much of it is true. But I’ll be meeting her tonight in Harlan’s laboratory.”

“Won’t that make her suspicious?”

“Not if I’m just another one of his guinea pigs. I’ll find some way to introduce myself and get to know her.” Nate rose to his feet, ready to end the interview. “Then you’ll have the answers to all your questions about her.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You’re a very confident young man, aren’t you?”

“I know how to do my job.”

“Quite handsome, as well,” she continued, looking him up and down, “in a rough sort of way. And you have the presence and athletic physique that many young women seem to find appealing these days. Perhaps you are the right man for this job after all.”

Nate walked over to open the office door for her. “I’ll send you an update in a few days.”

“Sooner, if possible, Mr. Cafferty.” She picked up her purse. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Nate watched her walk daintily to the black Lincoln Town Car parked in front of his office. She might look the part of the refined lady, but beneath that austere exterior was a woman not afraid to get dirty.

Now it was up to him to find the dirt.




2


MIA HALF EXPECTED to find something out of Frankenstein’s laboratory when she went in search of the Longo Research Center later that evening. She held her overnight bag in one hand and a map of the estate grounds in the other. The map had been given to her by the guard at the front gate, right after he’d taken her car keys.

Walking almost half a mile in the crisp autumn air gave her plenty of time for second thoughts about impersonating Carleen. She’d read about Harlan Longo’s eccentricities in the newspaper, which were often accompanied by stories about his generosity to various charities. But traversing his estate by foot in the waning twilight gave her a disturbing glimpse of the man throwing this slumber party.

He’d built a moat around his sprawling mansion, along with a rustic suspension bridge leading to the research center. A rowboat peopled with two rubber blow-up dolls floated on the stagnant water. One of the dolls even held a fishing pole. Chickens roamed freely on the grounds and roosted in an old yellow school bus that still had the words Paddington Middle School printed on the side.

By the time she reached the solid steel door of the Longo Research Center, she had no doubt old Harlan was crazy. Now she was beginning to wonder about her own sanity for volunteering to sleep in this madhouse every night for the next three weeks.

A rusty horseshoe hung on the door, right under the words LONGO RESEARCH CENTER spelled out in bright red letters. After searching in vain for a doorbell, she lifted the horseshoe and rapped it three times against the door. When she heard the heavy footsteps on the other side, she braced herself for a humpbacked Igor to greet her.

But the man who opened the door stood straight and tall, a mane of smooth white hair brushing the shoulders of his white lab coat. “Greetings!”

“I’m…Carleen Wimmer,” she said, slightly unnerved by the two security cameras trained on her. “Mr. Longo is expecting me.”

The man grinned. “Indeed, I am! Please come in, Carleen Wimmer. Welcome to my laboratory.”

She stepped through the door, surprised to find it actually looked like a laboratory on the inside. The sleek, modern decor impressed her. Black and white ceramic tiles formed a wheel shape on the floor, leading to a center hub that contained a round stainless steel desk that was the focal point of the large room. Each one of the tile spokes of the wheel led to a door, about twelve in all, which she assumed were entrances to the individual sleeping suites.

The doors were all closed and the hub, filled with gleaming chrome fixtures, was curiously empty of people. Uneasiness filled her. “Am I the only one here?”

“So far,” Harlan replied. “I staggered the appointed arrival times so I could meet with each of my research subjects individually.”

She glanced at her watch. “I hope I’m not late.”

“You’re right on time,” he assured her, taking the overnight bag out of her hand. “Did you bring a pillow?”

“It’s in my bag.”

“Very good.” He reached out to pluck a small feather off the sleeve of her jacket. “I’m sorry about the long walk. Cars scare my chickens,” he said over his shoulder as he led her to one of the closed doors.

“That’s all right,” she said, following him. “All that fresh air will probably help me sleep better.”

He opened the door to the suite, an excited twinkle in his eye. “I hope you like what I’ve done with the room.”

The first thing she noticed was the jukebox. It stood in the far corner, close to the queen-sized bed. The soft strains of “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” filled the air. The song went well with the framed head shot of Elvis above the headboard and the gold lamé comforter that was embroidered with tiny guitars and musical notes. But she found the floor-to-ceiling mural of Graceland covering one wall to be the most impressive part of the room.

“Well?” Harlan asked, visibly proud of his decorating efforts. “What do you think?”

“I’m speechless,” she answered honestly.

Carleen had told her that she’d listed Elvis songs as her “comfort music” on the personality profile. Harlan had obviously taken that little tidbit and run with it.

“Look at this,” he said, leading her over to the jukebox. “It doubles as a biomonitor to record your vital signs. It even has retractable cables to hook you up to the machine.”

He pulled one out, demonstrating how the lead reached the bed. Then he let it go and it sprang back into the jukebox with a loud pop.

“Wow,” she said, wondering what other surprises awaited her.

He walked over to the bed and pressed a button on the headboard. “Feel free to ring anytime you need assistance. Myself or one of my assistants will be right outside in the control center. This facility is completely secure. The door to your suite automatically locks.”

That thought made her a little uneasy. “So I’ll be locked in?”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “If you wish to exit the room, all you have to do is press the button next to the door. That signals one of my assistants to press the corresponding button on the control panel and the door will unlock.”

“Got it,” Mia replied.

“You’ll be perfectly safe here,” he assured her. “You probably noticed the security cameras when you entered the lab. I have cameras positioned around the entire estate. No one can enter my property without my knowledge.”

A knock sounded on the door, then a petite young Asian woman wearing a pink polka-dot lab coat entered the room. “Did you need something, Dr. Longo?”

“Yes, Hannah, I’d like to introduce you to Carleen Wimmer. She’ll be sleeping in the Elvis suite for the next three weeks.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Wimmer,” Hannah said, holding out her hand.

Mia shook it, surprised by her firm grip. “Please call me Carleen.”

“If you wish.”

Longo set Mia’s bag on the end of the bed. “Hannah is assigned to work this half of the sleep lab. She’ll get you all hooked up for tonight, then I’ll be in to answer any questions you might have and to tuck you in.”

“All right,” Mia said with a smile. No one had tucked her into bed since she was ten years old—not that her Italian mother hadn’t tried. But Mia’s independent streak had kicked in at an early age.

She still remembered the time she’d informed her grandmother that she never intended to marry because husbands were too bossy, though she did plan to have six children. The poor woman had almost keeled over from that pronouncement.

Shocking her family had turned into a fairly routine occurrence, though she rarely did it intentionally. They just didn’t understand that she wanted more than the life they had mapped out for her.

Like taking karate lessons instead of ballet. Or skipping out on catechism class so she could rehearse with her heavy metal band. Her cousins had lovingly dubbed her the black sheep of the family, though Mia hardly deserved the title. She wasn’t rebellious, just unconventional by Maldonado standards.

When her parents had balked at her decision to enroll in design school instead of choosing a more traditional career like teaching or nursing, Mia had chosen to pay her own way through college.

Then she’d moved to Philadelphia, choosing the city by spreading a map of the United States in front of her, closing her eyes and letting fate guide her finger. When she’d first arrived, Mia had found a job designing display cases for a furniture outlet store until she’d saved enough money to strike out on her own.

Judging by her current financial predicament, she hadn’t saved enough. But the last thing she wanted to do was return to Chicago a failure, fulfilling her family’s dire predictions. Mia wanted to prove to them and to herself that she could make it on her own.

If the radio advertisements brought in enough new clients, Mia’s Makeovers could survive. Her only obstacles were succeeding in impersonating her best friend and sleeping in an Elvis suite.

At least she’d passed the first test. Harlan left the suite without a backward glance, apparently convinced that she really was Carleen Wimmer.

“You can change in Graceland,” Hannah said as she fiddled with the dials on the jukebox.

Mia’s gaze went to the elaborate mural on the wall. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s a pocket door that slides open,” she replied, pointing to the door of the mansion. “It leads to a small bathroom.”

Mia didn’t see the door until she walked right up to it. “This is amazing,” she said, sliding it open.

“Dr. Longo spares no expense to make his research subjects comfortable,” Hannah replied, fluffing the pillow before laying it on the bed.

“Is he really a doctor?” Mia asked.

“He’s made some very generous endowments to Parker University, so they gave him an honorary degree. He even set up an internship program for students interested in research and development. That’s how I came to be here.” A smile flitted across her small mouth. “Though I have to admit it’s not quite what I expected.”

“Me, either,” Mia acknowledged, grabbing her overnight bag off the bed. By the time she emerged from the Graceland bathroom, Hannah was ready to hook her up to the jukebox.

She climbed awkwardly into the bed as Elvis sang “It’s Now or Never.”

“So is this your first time as a research subject?” Hannah asked, sweeping the bangs off Mia’s forehead to attach the wire cables.

“Yes,” she replied, then hoped that was the right answer. Carleen hadn’t been able to remember all of the questions on the personality profile.

Mia took a deep breath, telling herself not to panic. What was the worst that Dr. Longo could do if he discovered she wasn’t Carleen? Kick her out of his sleep lab and demand his money back.

Okay, the money would be a problem. But worrying about it wouldn’t help. She’d done enough worrying while dating Ian. His erratic behavior the last few weeks of their relationship had turned her into someone she hadn’t recognized—a needy, insecure woman. She had spent hours analyzing and reanalyzing everything he said and did when she should have just trusted her instincts and dumped the cheating jerk before he dumped her.

Now she had a chance to start over. Pretending to be Carleen would give her an opportunity to break out of all her bad habits. To create a new and improved Mia Maldonado.

“Carleen?”

She blinked, then realized Hannah had just asked her another question. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She smiled. “You’re all set now. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine.” Mia folded her arms on top of the thick comforter, her fingers nervously strumming the embroidered guitar threads.

“Dr. Longo will be in soon.”

“All right.” She kept her gaze on the ceiling, afraid if she moved one of the electrodes would become disconnected. Hannah disappeared from view and she heard the door creak open, then close again as the assistant took her leave.

A moment later, the door creaked open again and Harlan Longo walked into her view.

“Hannah tells me you’re ready to go to sleep.”

“I’ll do my best,” she replied, not feeling the least bit sleepy.

“I know you will.” He reached out to pat her shoulder gently. “And I’d like to thank you for assisting me in my research.”

“What exactly are you testing in this room?” she asked, wondering if she’d wake up in subzero temperatures. “If I remember right, you’re researching how different environments affect sleep patterns.”

“That’s correct,” he replied. “But we never tell our research subjects what to expect ahead of time. That way, your anticipation of the change in environment won’t affect the readings. For instance, a subject anticipating a hot room might throw off the bed covers before he goes to sleep. If it’s a cold room, he might wear his socks to bed.”

Mia thought the anticipation of not knowing what was going to happen might have a greater affect on the readings, but it was Dr. Longo’s experiment so she didn’t question him on it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, sensing her apprehension. “The music will help you fall asleep.”

She considered telling him it would do just the opposite, but didn’t have the heart after he’d gone to so much trouble with the Elvis room. The more time she spent with Harlan, the more she liked the man—even if he was a little odd.

He walked over to the door and dimmed the lights. “Sweet dreams, Carleen.”

She smiled to herself in the soft glow of the jukebox, thinking Harlan would make a better grandfather than scientist. “Good night.”

As he left the room, she wondered if the rumors she’d heard about him were true. After his wife’s death, there had been subtle speculation in the newspapers that his neglect of her medical condition had led to her early demise, despite the Longos having enough money to afford the best medical care in the world.

Now, having met the man, she simply couldn’t believe it. Harlan didn’t seem like a ruthless businessman to her. He might be a little strange, judging by his various research projects, but so were a lot of people.

She lay stiffly in the bed, too aware of the wire cables tethering her to the jukebox to relax. Several minutes passed, until she finally grew bored enough to close her eyes and practice the relaxation techniques that Carleen had taught her after her breakup with Ian.

Breathing in deeply through her diaphragm, she held her breath for a moment, then slowly released it, letting the tension flow out of every pore of her body. She repeated this technique several more times, gradually becoming more comfortable.

When Elvis began to sing “Love Me Tender,” the music soothed her like a lullaby. By the end of the song, she forgot about the relaxation breathing and began to drift off to sleep.

Floating in a twilight haze, she was dimly aware of the door creaking open, then closing again. Footsteps padded on the carpet, but she kept her eyes closed, drowsily telling herself it was just Hannah coming to check on her.

Mia dozed, barely aware of someone moving quietly around in the room. Then her senses came alive at the sound of the bedsprings bouncing beside her and the spicy scent of male aftershave.

She opened her eyes and the glow of the jukebox revealed a man lying next to her in bed, staring right back at her.

Ruggedly handsome, with a slight crook in his nose and a small scar over his right eyebrow, he far surpassed any dream lover she’d ever imagined. But when he spoke, Mia knew she wasn’t dreaming.

“So what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She bolted upright in the bed and screamed.

He sat up, too, the gold lamé comforter falling to reveal a snug gray T-shirt that outlined the impressive width of his shoulders and the rippling muscles of his chest and torso. He wore his hair short, like a Marine, but she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes because his gaze had dropped to her breasts, where her pert nipples were visible through the thin cotton fabric of her pink nightshirt.

She grabbed the comforter, pulling it up to her neck, then jabbed the button on the headboard several times. “What do you think you’re doing in here?”

A wickedly sexy smile kicked up one side of his mouth. “I think I just asked you that same question.”

Before she could reply, the door to the suite swung open and Harlan hurried into the room. “Is there a problem?”

She pointed to the intruder. “I just found this man in my bed!”

“So?” Harlan replied, looking perplexed.

She blinked. “So? That’s all you have to say? So?”

The man leaned back against the headboard. “I don’t think she was expecting me, Harlan.”

That was the understatement of the century. She turned to Harlan, the wire cables limiting her movement. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but if this research center is just a front for making a porn movie or is some kind of kinky sex club, then I’m not interested—”

“Now just hold on there,” Harlan admonished, raising both hands. “This is legitimate scientific research, Carleen. You’re going to skew all the readings if you keep jumping around like that.”

“Then do something about him,” she insisted, forcing herself to lie still. “Call the police or one of your security guards and get him out of here.”

Harlan’s brow furrowed as he moved around to her side of the bed. “I don’t think you understand, Carleen. Nate Cafferty is your new environment.”

She blinked. “What?”

“This is an experiment about how different environments affect sleep patterns,” he reminded her, “as well as how quickly we adapt to them.”

“I don’t want to adapt to him,” she replied, needing to make that very clear. “I don’t even know him.”

“That’s the point, my dear,” Harlan said, as if it all made perfect sense. “The specific environment I designed for you is sleeping with a stranger. That’s why we waited until you fell asleep so we could establish your baseline readings before we let Nate join you in bed.”

“You can’t be serious.” She glanced at Nate, who seemed to enjoy watching her come unraveled. “I can’t sleep with him. I…I’m engaged.”

“Yes, I know, but I still don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Harlan’s brow crinkled. “All the possibilities were spelled out in the contract.”

She swallowed a groan. Apparently, Carleen had missed that little detail when she’d skimmed over the legal mumbo jumbo. “I’m upset because no woman in her right mind would put herself in a situation like this.”

“You have nothing to fear from Nate,” Harlan assured her. “He won’t hurt you.”

She looked between the two men. “So you really expect me to go through with this?”

“That’s completely up to you,” Harlan replied. “I never force my research subjects to do anything they don’t want to do. But I have to admit I’ll be very disappointed if you decide to return the money and quit the sleep study.”

She hesitated. Returning the money wasn’t an option. But how could she spend the next three weeks in bed with a stranger? She turned to Nate, hoping he’d at least act the gentleman and withdraw.

But the man lying beside her didn’t say a word. He just gazed back at her with eyes that she could now see were the same shade of verdant green as the leaves of the stately pin oak trees painted on the Graceland mural.

A keen intelligence shone from those eyes. And something else. Something that made her want to squirm beneath the covers. Mia wondered if she really could trust Nate. She wasn’t the best judge of a man’s character. Ian Brock was proof of that. But what choice did she have at this point?

“I suppose we could try it,” she said, surrendering to the inevitable, “at least for tonight.”

“Wonderful,” Harlan exclaimed, stepping up to the jukebox. “Now let me check to make sure all of these connections are still secure.”

“Why doesn’t Nate have to wear them?” she asked, knowing she probably resembled Medusa with all the cables sticking out of her head. The fact that she had washed off her makeup didn’t improve her mood, either.

At least Nate didn’t seem to mind her appearance. He settled back onto his pillow as Harlan tucked the covers around her.

“Nate’s vital signs aren’t relevant to my research,” Harlan told her. “For this particular study, I’m only interested in how your sleep patterns are affected at different phases of the relationship.”

“But we don’t have a relationship,” Mia reminded him. “We haven’t even met before tonight.”

Harlan grinned. “That’s why this study fascinates me so much. Because when you sleep with someone every night, even platonically, you have to develop some kind of relationship—good or bad.”

She glanced at Nate, wondering if this was some kind of test of her willpower. Having recently sworn off bad boys, she now found herself in bed with one. Only he far surpassed the Justins, Andrews and Ians of her past. Her awareness of him pulsed through every cell in her body, making her hot and cold at the same time.

Not a good sign.

Mia forced herself to look away and took a deep breath. If she could resist him, she could resist anyone. The key was to avoid him as much as possible while sharing the same bed. That meant not looking at him, not talking to him, and definitely not touching him.

Harlan lowered the volume on the jukebox. “Now let’s try this again, shall we?” He walked to the door, his hand resting on the night switch. “Goodnight, Carleen. Goodnight, Nate.”

Then he left them alone in the dark, the only sound in the room Elvis crooning a song that seemed appropriate for the occasion.

“All Shook Up.”




3


NATE HAD Carleen Wimmer exactly where he wanted her.

Now he just had to figure out a way to make her talk. Not that he had much in common with Elvis aficionados—even if this one had breathtaking brown eyes and a killer body that had him all shook up.

No wonder Tobias Hamilton wanted to marry her.

Nate couldn’t understand how anyone could find a trip to Germany more appealing than the woman beside him. Voluptuous didn’t begin to describe her. He’d climbed into bed with plenty of women, but the sight of her, asleep and unaware, had caught him like a sucker punch to the gut the moment he’d lain down beside her.

The silky waves of thick brown hair tousled on the white pillow. The way her wide pink mouth parted slightly, begging to be kissed. The generous cleavage that almost spilled out of the thin cotton nightshirt she wore. If he was her fiancé, he’d never leave her side or her bed.

But he wasn’t her fiancé. Not even close. He was her worst nightmare—if she had something to hide. That’s what he was here to find out, Nate reminded himself. And he couldn’t let a pair of big brown eyes—or a pair of erect nipples—distract him from that mission.

“You never answered my question,” he said, breaking the heavy silence between them.

She lay with her back to him, but he could tell by her stiff posture and erratic breathing that she was still wide awake.

“What question?”

He liked the husky depth of her voice. It brought to mind vintage movie starlets like Katherine Hepburn and Lauren Bacall. Strong, independent women who knew how to drive a man to distraction. “How a nice girl like you ended up in a sleep study like this.”

She rolled over to face him, her expression hidden in the shadows. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got all night.”

She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she was going to turn her back and ignore him. Instead, she slid her slender hands under her pillow, pulling it down in front of her like a protective shield. “I guess you could say I’m doing it for the money.”

“Me, too,” he acknowledged, though he didn’t tell her who was paying him. “So that gives us at least one thing in common.”

“Poverty?”

He chuckled. Not only beautiful, but witty. A lethal combination. “Okay, make that two things. I was talking about finding creative ways to make money.”

As he waited for her response, Nate knew it was too much to hope that she’d confess her upcoming marriage to Tobias Hamilton was her latest money-making scheme.

“I’m trying to save my business.”

Now he knew she was lying. He’d gotten access to Carleen Wimmer’s credit reports just this afternoon and there was no way she’d ever qualify for any kind of business loan. “You own a business?”

She cleared her throat. “Actually, it belongs to a good friend of mine, Mia Maldonado. I’m the office assistant for Mia’s Makeovers, a design business she runs out of the house we both live in. I guess that’s why I feel like the business belongs to me, too.”

Her explanation didn’t quite ring true, though if he stared into those eyes long enough, he’d believe any word out of her lovely mouth. Her eyes looked even sexier in the glow of the jukebox and he wondered how many men had lost themselves in their warm chocolate depths.

Nate hated to admit that Mrs. Hamilton might be right about her son’s fiancée. She was a femme fatale, with an aura of wanton innocence that few men could resist. The kind of woman who could easily make a weak man surrender his heart as well as his money to her without a struggle.

Nate had only known Carleen for a few minutes and he was already mesmerized. But he wasn’t weak. Or stupid. There was something about her that bothered him. Something fishy that made him want to keep asking her questions until the answers started to make sense.

Then she asked a question of her own. “So what do you do for a living, Nate?”

“I’m a security specialist,” he replied without missing a beat. “In fact, I’ve done some security work for Harlan—surveillance cameras around his estate and keyless entries, that sort of thing.”

“Is that why he trusts you alone with me?”

“That and the fact that any significant change in your bioreadings will bring someone in here to check on you. Plus, there’s the call button, which you just proved works quite well.”

She leaned up to look at it and he inhaled the soft scent of her hair and felt the warmth radiating from her body. A body separated from him by only the thin fabric of her nightshirt.

He fought to keep his focus. “So you see, we’re not quite as alone as it seems.”

That realization dampened his impending fantasy. A fantasy that featured Carleen without her nightshirt.

Not a good idea.

In the first place, she was an engaged woman. In the second place, he had every reason to believe that she was a liar and a scam artist,. and that she was only marrying Tobias Hamilton for his fortune.

But if he did attempt to seduce her, what better way to prove her love and loyalty to Tobias? If she resisted his advances, then Nate could pass it on to Mrs. Hamilton as evidence that Carleen truly loved her son. If she didn’t…then better the truth come out now rather than after the wedding.

She yawned beside him, then rolled away, tucking her pillow under her head. “I have to admit that does make me feel better. No offense, Nate.”

“None taken.”

Nate considered the consequences of romancing Carleen Wimmer away from Hamilton, aware of the dangers of mixing business with pleasure. And seducing this woman would most definitely be a pleasure. His body tightened just thinking about stripping away that nightshirt and discovering all her intimate secrets.

“Besides,” she said sleepily, “if you’re a security specialist, I should be safe with you.”

Nate smiled into the dark at her assumption. Big mistake, Carleen. Big mistake.

THE NEXT MORNING, Mia awoke to find Nate hovering over her, his fingers gently brushing over her right temple. She sucked in her breath, afraid to move as his eyes met hers. Afraid not to move as he leaned toward her to whisper, “Good morning.”

His smile was slow and sexy, sending her heartbeat into double time. Muscles bulged in his arm as he propped himself up on his elbow next to her. He lay so close to her that his thigh pressed into her hip and she could feel the radiant heat of his powerful body from head to toe.

An odd, tingling warmth swirled in the pit of her stomach, then moved lower. Her gaze fell to his firm lips. They were so near to her own that she could capture his mouth in a kiss without even moving her head off the pillow. Maybe that would finally quench the fire that had been burning inside of her since Nate had slipped beneath the covers last night.

He looked even better in the light of day. Dark eyebrows arched across his wide brow and whiskers shadowed his lean jaw.

Mia saw both strength and experience in his face, which she found more alluring than any picture-perfect male model. She wanted to ask him about the scar above his right eyebrow and the second one she’d just noticed at the base of his chin. She wanted to trace the rugged terrain of his cheekbones with her fingertips as well as the small dimple that rarely dared to appear at the corner of his mouth.

She wanted what she couldn’t have.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, his fingers sliding over her forehead and into her hair.

Then what had he meant to do? Seduce her in her sleep? Mia imagined waking up with his hands under his nightshirt, his nimble fingers caressing her breasts instead of her head. Or finding him naked under the sheets, his lips sliding slowly up her inner thigh until he found her wet and ready for him. Like she was right now.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice raspy with both sleep and desire.

“Hannah was in a few minutes ago and unhooked you from the machine. There’s still some of that sticky gel on your forehead and in your hair. I was trying to wipe it off before it dried.”

A perfectly reasonable explanation. So why did his touch feel more like a seduction than a simple act of kindness? She saw no kindness in his eyes. Only heat and hunger and a stark, raw need that touched something deep inside of her. Something that made her want him even more, if that was possible.

But it didn’t matter how much she wanted him, she couldn’t have him. Not if she finally wanted to break her bad habit of falling too hard and too fast for the wrong kind of man. And Nate Cafferty had Mr. Wrong written over every inch of his sinfully delicious body.

“Please,” she began, her breath catching in her throat as his fingers trailed sensuously over the curve of her cheek and along the length of her jaw.

“Please what?” he whispered huskily.

She swallowed, drumming up every bit of willpower she possessed. “Please…stop. I think all the gel is off.”

To her surprise, he did.

Nate rolled away from her and sat up on his side of the bed. He wiped his fingers on a tissue from the nightstand. Then she heard him take a long, deep breath before reaching for his duffel bag on the floor.

Maybe Harlan was right and she could trust him.

Not that Nate could trust her. He didn’t even know her real name or identity, after all. But what did it really matter? After this sleep study ended, she’d never see the man again.

“Did you know you hog the covers?” Nate asked, pulling his T-shirt off, then tossing it in the bag.

Her mouth went dry at the way the muscles flexed over the width of his bare back and shoulders. “I do not.”

“Do, too,” he countered, glancing back at her with a smile.

Mia knew she should get out of bed, but she didn’t want Nate watching her walk around in her old, grungy nightshirt. The first item on her agenda this morning was a trip to the store to buy new sleepwear.

She looked up to find Nate staring intently at her.

“You know,” he said at last, “you don’t look like a Carleen.”

Mia had almost forgotten she was playing a part. The reminder was as effective as a bucket of ice water on all her forbidden fantasies about Nate.

“It’s a family name,” she improvised. “My grandmother was the youngest of eight girls. Her father’s name was Carl, so they called her Carleen when they realized they wouldn’t have a son to name after him.”

The words just kept tumbling out of her mouth, her tale growing taller by the second. Keep it simple, she admonished herself. The more details she gave him, the more holes he could poke in her story. She couldn’t afford to have him voice any suspicions about her to Dr. Longo.

“That’s interesting,” he said, shifting on the bed to face her. “What about Wimmer? Is that English? German?”

He seemed unusually fascinated with her name. Or did he feel as awkward as Mia and was simply trying to make conversation? Her awkwardness was due to the fact that he was still shirtless. Fortunately, the man seemed oblivious of his effect on her.

“It’s Dutch, actually,” she replied, having no clue as to the origin. “Short for Van De Wimmer. My ancestors changed it when they immigrated to America.”

He stared at her, as if waiting for more. But Mia had already lied enough for one morning. She rolled out of her side of the bed, taking the comforter with her. She wrapped it around her waist, then turned toward him. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

He nodded, rising to his feet and facing her across the bed. “Same time, same place.”

Acutely aware that she probably didn’t look her best, Mia disappeared inside Graceland to wash up. When she emerged several minutes later, Nate was gone.

Anxious to return home so she could be herself again, Mia quickly packed her overnight bag and then headed for the door. Harlan Longo met her there, looking unusually chipper for so early in the morning.

“How did you sleep, Carleen?”

“Fine,” she lied, not wanting to admit that sharing a bed with Nate had kept her awake most of the night. She’d been all too aware of every breath he’d taken and every movement he’d made as he’d lain beside her in the dark.

“Good.” The older man smiled. “I knew Nate wouldn’t give you any trouble. He’s not the kind of man to take advantage of a woman. At least, not an unwilling woman.”

Those words lingered in her head as she made her way past the moat, the school bus and the chickens down to the front gate to retrieve her car. Instinct told her that Nate didn’t come across many unwilling women in his life. Just like Ian.

Which was reason enough to keep her distance.

NATE KNEW it wouldn’t take long for Harlan to find him. He’d just finished breakfast when his old friend walked into the dining room of the Longo estate.

“Well, how did it go?” Harlan asked, pouring himself a cup of hot tea.

“Not quite as I expected.” Nate tossed his napkin onto his empty plate. “Carleen Wimmer might just be my most intriguing case yet.”

Harlan pulled out a chair and sat down. “I think you’re wrong about her. Carleen doesn’t strike me as the type of woman who would scheme to marry for money. She’s too sweet. Too pretty.”

“That’s how she reels in men like Tobias Hamilton,” Nate replied. “Guys fall for that sweet and innocent act all the time.”

Harlan arched a silver brow. “But not you?”

Nate didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m just doing my job.”

“That’s what concerns me.” Harlan set his teacup on the table. “Look, Nate, I know it’s none of my business, but you’re almost thirty years old. Don’t make the same mistake I did by letting your work become your life. You just might live to regret it.”

The light dimmed in Harlan’s eyes and Nate knew he was thinking about his late wife. Those stupid public allegations about Harlan neglecting her illness had taken their toll. Few people knew that Adele Longo had refused treatment for her terminal illness, preferring to spend her last days at home with her husband.

Nate hadn’t seen either one of them for years, losing contact with his foster parents shortly after his high school graduation, though he gave them all the credit for his making it that far.

His own father had left home when Nate was seven years old and his mother had turned to a whiskey bottle for comfort instead of to her only son. She was a mean drunk—taking out her anger and pain on the easiest target. Nate soon learned that words could hurt more than fists. He’d endured the pain of both, always hoping that one day his mother would realize how much he loved her. That he’d endure anything if she’d just be happy again.

Growing up, he’d spent more and more time on the streets, falling in with a neighborhood gang of tough kids. When he was thirteen years old, his mother had lost her job and they’d been threatened with eviction. So one night, Nate and his gang had burglarized a liquor store. A night that had changed his life forever.

That was the last time he’d seen his mother. She’d come to the police station the next morning, still suffering from the effects of a hangover, to tell him he was as worthless as his no-good father. Then she’d signed the formal papers terminating her parental rights. Oblivious to Nate’s pleas for a second chance, she’d turned him over to the state and left him without a backward glance. Years later, he found out she eventually died of cirrhosis of the liver.

He lost his mother but he never lost the memories of the eighteen months he served in a hellhole they called the Pennsylvania Juvenile Rehabilitation Center. After that, he’d been sent into the foster care system. That’s when fate had finally smiled on him—in the form of Harlan and Adele Longo.

They’d taken him in and told him that he wasn’t worthless, though Nate had tested them at every turn. Adele had showered him with love, despite his surliness. Harlan had signed him up for boxing lessons as an outlet for all the rage inside of him.

Nate had been the city’s Golden Gloves champion in his age group for three years in a row. He’d always refused to let anyone bring him down—not his mother, not a rival gang member and not another boxer.

It was the only way he knew how to survive.

Through his high school years, the Longos had made him part of their family. Then he’d left to join the Marines before his foster parents could discover for themselves what his mother already knew—that he simply wasn’t worth it.

News of Adele Longo’s death had finally brought Nate back to Philadelphia again after a ten-year absence, where he promised to stay as long as Harlan needed him. He hated watching his foster father go through the painful grieving process. That’s why Nate had encouraged him to pursue his research projects, which seemed to help more than anything else.

“Is that why you put me in Carleen’s bed?” Nate asked, trying to lighten the mood. “For a little romance? That wasn’t part of our plan.”

“Plans change,” Harlan replied breezily. “I thought it was for the best.”

“So is this a sleep study or a matchmaking project?”

“Can’t it be both?” He smiled. “Once I met Carleen, I knew she couldn’t be the kind of woman you think she is. I thought if you got a chance to know her, you’d see that for yourself.”

Nate knew that Harlan put high stock in first impressions. Hell, he’d picked Nate out of a pool of juvenile delinquents and given him a home fifteen years ago. It was the first time in Nate’s life that anyone had ever believed in him. Now Harlan wanted him to do the same with Carleen.

But it wasn’t that simple. The woman had too many secrets. Besides, Nate had decided a long time ago that he was better off alone. He loved women, but like a boxer using fancy footwork, he knew that the best way to avoid a knock-out punch was to keep moving.

“Just give her a chance,” Harlan said, reading the skepticism on his face. “You might be surprised.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Nate admonished. “I’m not looking for sweet and innocent—if she is innocent. Besides, I don’t think she likes me.”

A twinkle lit Harlan’s eye. “Oh, she likes you all right.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because science doesn’t lie.” He rose to his feet. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

Nate followed him to the control hub in the research center, where several of Harlan’s assistants were busy analyzing the data gathered the night before.

“Please hand me the Wimmer file, Hannah.”

Harlan’s assistant dug through a stack of files on her desk, then pulled one out from the bottom. “Here you go, Dr. Longo.”

“Thank you.” He motioned Nate into his office. It was cluttered with books, papers, and an assortment of feather pillows left over from his last research project.

“Have a seat.” Harlan handed him the file folder, then hovered at his shoulder as Nate opened it.

“Now take a look at her vitals when you got into bed with her,” Harlan said

Nate glanced down at the file, noting a sudden spike in her pulse rate and respiration around the time that he joined her in the Elvis bed. “That’s not exactly surprising. She thought I was an intruder. Anyone would have that reaction.”

“Yes, but notice how long those levels stay elevated. Even after she falls asleep—or pretends to fall asleep.”

Nate’s gaze flicked from the television screen to the data report and back again. “According to this, she was awake for almost four hours after I got there.”

“Which makes me believe that you definitely had an effect on her.”

Nate closed the file, mentally storing the information for later use. “The only effect I want to have is closing this case. The sooner I can find out the truth about Carleen Wimmer, the better.”

Harlan frowned. “You’re not going to intimidate her, are you? I only agreed to set this up because you made her sound like some kind of ruthless barracuda. Now that I’ve actually met Carleen, I have to admit I’m having second thoughts.”

So was Nate. He’d let Mrs. Hamilton’s prejudices color his image of Carleen. But instead of finding a worldly schemer, she’d struck him more as a woman who didn’t know the power of her own sexuality. Or if she did, had used it so skillfully that Nate was still reeling from their close encounter this morning.

He closed the folder. “Don’t worry about Carleen. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Harlan started to say something else, but Nate’s cell phone interrupted him.

Nate looked at the number on the display panel. “I’d better take this.”

“I’ll give you some privacy.” Harlan headed toward the door. “Go ahead and show yourself out when you’re through. I need to start studying all the data from last night.”

“Thanks, Harlan.” He waited until the man was out the door before he answered the phone. “Hello, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“I know it’s early, Mr. Cafferty, but I’m quite eager for an update on my case.”

“Not much has changed since yesterday.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Mrs. Hamilton’s voice quavered. “My son called me last night. Somehow that tart convinced him to cut his trip short and come home a week early. He told me they’re going to marry as soon as his plane lands.”

“That doesn’t give you much time to torpedo the wedding.”

“You’re the one running out of time,” she countered. “I need dirt on Carleen Wimmer and I need it as soon as possible.”

Nate swallowed a sigh, tempted to quit the case and let Mrs. Hamilton find her own dirt. But the thought of leaving Carleen behind bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Besides, he wasn’t a quitter and Mrs. Hamilton had paid for his services.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said at last.

“Please don’t disappoint me, Mr. Cafferty,” she replied. “I only have three weeks left to save my son.”

He rang off, wondering how he could accelerate his investigation without arousing Carleen’s suspicion. She had told him only the most superficial information about herself and her family so far. Nothing solid he could go on.

Then it hit him.

Maybe the key wasn’t talking to Carleen, but someone who knew her. Someone who lived with her and worked with her on a daily basis.

Nate suddenly had an irresistible urge to redecorate the master bedroom of his home. And he knew the perfect interior designer to hire for the job.

Mia Maldonado.




4


MIA HIT morning rush-hour traffic on her way home from the Longo estate, so she was already in a bad mood when she pulled into her driveway and saw Ian Brock’s shiny red pickup truck parked there.

In her haste this morning, she’d simply thrown on her clothes and left the Longo Research Center with her hair half-combed and no makeup. Not exactly the image to make Ian regret dumping her.

“About time you got here,” he said, as she climbed out of her Miata. “It’s almost nine.”

“I’m running a little late this morning.”

Ian walked with her to the front door, apparently unaffected by the awkwardness that made her drop her purse on the ground, the contents spilling out on the sidewalk.

Ian bent down to help her pick everything up, his hand finding her lip balm first. His mouth curved into a reminiscent smile.

“Strawberry Banana,” he said, reading the label. “That was always my favorite flavor on you.”

She remembered. Mia remembered everything about him, including how much it had shocked her when he’d dumped her for a younger woman. A nineteen-year-old model with bigger breasts and smaller hips. That had been bad enough, but even worse was how he’d treated her at the end. Brushing off her suspicions as paranoia. Making her doubt herself.

Until she’d caught him in the act. Then he’d had the gall to dump her before she could even react. That had been three months ago and his easy dismissal of her had hurt Mia to the core.

Now she wondered what she’d ever seen in the man. Compared to Nate, he was flashy and phony. Perfect hair. Perfect tan. Perfect clothes. She’d been so impressed with him and his skills as a carpenter that she’d failed to notice how impressed Ian was with himself.

Why hadn’t she seen it sooner?

“I think it’s past the expiration date,” she said, taking the lip balm from him and tossing it into the trash can sitting near the front stoop.

Ian’s brow crinkled, as if he just now noticed her disheveled appearance. “What happened to you?”

She walked briskly to the front door, the heavy tread of his work boots sounding on the sidewalk behind her. “What do you mean?”

“You look like hell.”

Indignation prickled her skin. How dare he suddenly show up in her life again and start insulting her. As if he’d done nothing wrong. Never deceived her. Never hurt her. She wished he hadn’t quit three months ago so she could fire him now.

Mia took a deep breath, determined not to show him that his opinion still mattered to her. And what better way than to make him think she’d found someone else.

She turned around and smiled at him. “Really? Nate seemed to like the way I looked this morning.”

His gaze narrowed. “Who’s Nate?”

“Nate Cafferty. A man I met last night.”

“You mean…?” Ian shook his head in disbelief. “No. Not you, Mia. You’re not a one-night-stand type of girl.”

“You haven’t seen me for almost three months, Ian,” she countered. “You have no clue as to what type of girl I am anymore.”

“So that’s why you’re late for work? That’s why you look like you just tumbled out of bed?” A flush of indignation mottled his cheeks. “Because you slept with some other guy?”

Mission accomplished.

“I’m afraid that’s none of your business anymore,” she said evenly. “Why are you waiting out here, anyway? Carleen could have let you in.”

“Nobody answered the door when I knocked,” he told her as she tried to turn the knob.

“That’s odd.” Mia fished through her purse for her house key. “Carleen always opens up the office by eight.”

“Maybe she got lucky last night, too,” he sneered.

“Maybe,” she said breezily, unlocking the door.





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