Courting Suspicion

KIMBERLY DEAN

Courting Suspicion

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Mischief

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

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www.mischiefbooks.com

An eBook Original 2016

1

Copyright © Kimberly Dean

Cover image from Shutterstock

Kimberly Dean asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins

e-books.

Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780008181055

Version date: 2016-03-02

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

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About the Publisher

Prologue

She never should have agreed to this. She was enjoying herself too much.

Nina looked around Nationals Park and took it all in: the smell of freshly cut grass, the feel of dirt under her Prada sneakers, the sound of the crack of a bat, and the sight of the ruggedly handsome man at the batting cage. Her date for the game was actively chatting up the Nationals’ batting coach, an All Star himself back in his playing days.

She’d known the detective was a baseball guy. He just had that hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet thing about him. Plus, that sexy, loose-hipped walk was a signature of a natural athlete.

Whatever she thought of the man, she’d noticed that. She was used to seeing him in suits, ties and a badge, but it was even more apparent with the jeans and Nationals T-shirt he was wearing. It was a good look on him.

Not that she was looking …

‘Hey, Niña,’ the centre fielder said as he stepped into the batting cage for some practice swings. ‘How’s it goin’?’

‘Can’t complain, Andre.’

She felt the detective’s gaze slide over her and land on the Nationals’ star player. She could practically hear the gears in his head start clicking, but she refused to react.

‘Good luck out there,’ she said.

The switch-hitter turned on an inside pitch and laced it down the right field line. Nina was aware she was one of only a handful of people in the world who knew he switch-hit off the field, too.

He threw her a grin when the ball rattled around in the corner of the stadium. ‘Luck from a pretty lady always works.’

The game was scheduled for under the lights. It was still early enough in the season for there to be a nip in the air, yet Nina felt nothing but heat along her entire right side when Detective Morgan moved a step closer.

‘Niña?’ he muttered under his breath.

‘It’s just his accent.’

‘It means “baby girl”.’

She met his look, even though she had to tilt back her head to do it. ‘It also causes powerful storms.’

His dark gaze sparked. ‘He got that right.’

The low rumble stroked over her skin, and Nina fought not to shiver. The goosebumps popping up on her skin had nothing to do with a chill. She watched as Morgan folded his arms on a metal bar of the batting cage and leaned in to watch the superstar take more warm-up cuts.

‘Are you having a good time, Detective?’

He clicked his tongue.

‘Josh,’ she quickly amended.

She was rewarded with a quick grin, one of those rare flashes that made her knees nearly buckle. She wrapped her hands more securely around the metal bar and focused on the instructions the batting coach was calling to the next player who stepped up to the plate.

She was supposed to call him Josh tonight. It was one of a handful of stipulations he’d put on accepting her gift of tickets to the game. She was to call him Josh – no mention of his job title allowed; she was to let him drive her to the game – no security detail permitted; and she was to escort him to the game.

Escort.

Between his choice of words and his list of conditions, she’d spent the last two weeks worrying that he knew more of her secrets than he should.

More, certainly, than was safe …

Still leaning against the cage, he turned to face her. His dark gaze was too observant as it swept over her whitened grip. ‘It’s been fascinating so far.’

Which was the last thing she wanted. Engaging his curious mind was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

She carefully unclenched her fingers and slipped her hands into the pockets of her Nationals jacket. ‘I think it’s time we found our seats.’

The opposing team had already left the field, and the grounds crew was gathering around home plate, getting ready to clear out the pre-game equipment and put fresh chalk down on the base lines.

‘Lead the way. I’ll follow.’

That’s what she was worried about.

They headed off the field and worked their way up into the stands. With every step, Nina was aware of the man at her side, and it wasn’t just his size. There was an intensity about him, an alertness. He saw too much, he liked to push and he didn’t give up. Those had been good qualities when she’d needed his help for her assistant Rielle. Now they were dangerous to her, her company and her people.

‘Ms Lockwood.’ A silver-haired man nodded politely as they crossed paths in the aisle.

‘Mr Bayles,’ she replied to the banker with just as much graciousness.

She stiffened when she felt the detective’s hand settle against her waist. Oh, no. She hadn’t just given away Luxxor’s accounting –

‘Careful,’ he said as he pulled her out of the way of a peanut salesman.

Her breath caught when her body pressed solidly against the detective’s larger, harder form, but he still had to catch the corner of the vendor’s tray before it hit her.

‘Oh, sorry, man,’ the freckled peanut guy said, but then his gaze lifted to her face and his fair skin flushed. He adjusted the harness over his shoulders as he gaped at her. ‘Ma’am.’

The detective ushered her around the poor seller as his ears turned red. ‘Don’t worry, she has that effect on most men.’

Nina’s head whipped around.

The detective simply lifted an eyebrow. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t know you too.’

She began to protest, but just then she heard her name coming from the next section.

‘Nina, darling.’

It was the choreographer from the Washington Ballet, another frequent client. She forced a smile and waved.

‘Finally, a woman,’ her date mused.

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to let him chew on that bone.

Without thinking, she caught his hand and led him down the steps. Their seats were only feet from the cursive W chalked into the grass behind home plate. The section gave a prime view of not only the game but DC’s relatively new ballpark. The LED scoreboard looked crystal sharp in right-centre, and from the upper deck the Capitol should be visible in left. They’d already indulged in a few of the perks that came with the Presidential Club seats. The all-access pass had gotten them onto the field for pre-game activities and unlimited food and drink in the indoor lounge. Of course, with all the gourmet food around, Morgan had insisted they have hot dogs and beer – which, admittedly, had been delicious.

Nine innings. She just needed to get through nine innings with him.

He followed her into their row, but, when they took their seats, Nina was flummoxed to find him still holding her hand.

He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. ‘You’ve got a lot of friends.’

‘They’re not my friends.’

His eyebrows rose, and she flinched. It had just slipped out. None of the people she’d run into tonight were clients she actually liked, except Andre.

‘Who is?’ the detective asked, his question low amongst the rustling of the crowd.

She went still. He’d taken the conversation in a direction she hadn’t anticipated.

‘Who do you trust, Nina?’

‘Rielle, Sienna and a few others.’

She was aware that her friends were also her employees. She was a social butterfly who only let a small number of people close. Not many people saw that, though. It unsettled her that he had.

But it didn’t surprise her.

‘So there’s room for one more,’ he said as he settled their joined hands on his thigh.

That did.

She looked at him, wide-eyed, unable to help herself.

The announcer called for the national anthem. Morgan stood, tugging her up with him. Nina rose too, but pulled her hand away from his warm grip. She put it over her heart to keep it from hopping outside her ribcage.

Her friend?

Her thoughts whirled as the organist played. They weren’t even close to being friends. They were adversaries, at best. Adversaries conducting a momentary truce.

Although he had come to her rescue when she’d needed help for Rielle … And she’d repaid him with tickets to this game – the highest priced seats in the stadium – because she’d wanted to thank him.

No, friends they were not. She doubted they could ever be. There was too much standing between them, not to mention the … spark. She didn’t know what else to call it. Whenever they got close, she felt the energy running along the edges of her skin like static electricity.

No, she didn’t want him as a friend.

When they sat back down, she busied herself opening her programme and digging in her purse for a pen. Morgan made himself comfortable beside her. The seats behind home plate were wider and cushier than those throughout the rest of the stadium, and the size was needed to accommodate his tall form. It didn’t stop his knee from brushing against hers.

She crossed her legs, and her Prada sneaker bounced up and down as she waited for the first batter to step up to the plate. The shoes weren’t her customary heels, but they had a blue hibiscus print that was fun enough to make her give up the extra inches. Right now, though, she wished for that extra boost of power. She cast a quick glance at Morgan, but he was focused on the game too.

It let her relax.

She began tracking the game in the blank scorecard in the programme, writing details like F-7, 6-3, and moving Andre to first base with his hit.

The detective looked over her hieroglyphics. ‘You know how to keep score.’

‘I know a lot of things.’

He chuckled. ‘I don’t doubt that.’

She retraced Andre’s path from home plate to first base, making the line bold. He was always pushing, this one, looking for a way in. ‘I like it. It calms my thoughts and lets me focus.’

‘Baseball as Zen? What’s got you so stressed?’

Her pen stalled. She’d slipped. Again. By trying to avoid the subject that made him so curious, she’d opened up.

‘You played, didn’t you?’ she asked.

And scored, point-blank.

His curious expression turned suspicious. ‘You looked me up.’

‘What? No. Well, not your past.’ She’d had her investigators look into who he was when he’d started poking around Luxxor during that whole Jason Sloan affair. She’d needed to know how big of a threat he was to her company.

She needed to remember the outcome of that report.

‘I can see it,’ she confessed. ‘It’s in the way you walk.’

Not that she was watching …

‘You were in your element down on that field. I could hear it in how you talked to the players and coaches.’ She shrugged. ‘I knew you were a baseball guy before I bought the tickets.’

He sat back in his seat, and their shoulders brushed. ‘What position did I play?’

She nibbled at her lip and looked at the field. ‘First base?’

‘How do you know that?’

He had the body of a power hitter, but she didn’t want to say that out loud. ‘You clean up after others.’

He smirked. There was no other way to describe the expression on his face. It made her stomach flip. She wasn’t trying to intrigue him.

But it didn’t look as if she was putting him off at all.

‘You read people, don’t you?’ he said.

‘So do you,’ she replied softly.

Their gazes locked, and her foot stopped bobbing. She was scared to think of what he saw when he read her. Scared, defensive and maybe just a bit wistful. He saw inside her too easily – or he liked making her think he did. She was a strong woman, but the mind games were getting to her.

Because the one thing she couldn’t forget tonight was that he was a cop – and she was DC’s top madam.

She toyed with her earring, and it jingled a little warning. How much did he really know? How much did he suspect? He’d been hanging around Luxxor for way too long now, no doubt picking up details and puzzle pieces. She couldn’t let any more slip around him. Not only was it uncharacteristic, it was dangerous.

‘I played first base and batted fourth in the lineup in college,’ he said.

She twirled her pen. She couldn’t let him say what he saw in her. She couldn’t hear it.

A beer vendor was making his way up the aisle, and she waved him down. ‘Two, please.’

‘Running scared, Nina?’

‘I’m not scared, I’m thirsty.’

‘Right.’

He watched her steadily, not buying it. She passed him a beer and took a quick sip of her own.

He drank more deeply before turning his attention back to the game. ‘How’s Rielle doing?’ he asked.

Thank God, a mutually safe topic. ‘She’s stronger than I realised, in a lot of ways.’

He cocked his head and frowned. ‘You don’t do Muay Thai, do you?’

‘God, no.’

The tension left his big body. ‘Good, the heels are hazardous enough.’

She might do a little Tai Chi every now and then, but the martial arts weren’t her thing, especially the brutal, sweaty, close-contact ones. She shifted in her seat. Although hot sweaty close contact wasn’t totally out of her realm.

Her ears turned hot. ‘I didn’t even know she practised that.’

‘You tried to protect her.’

She had, but her efforts hadn’t been good enough – not on their own. ‘You locked her stalker up, and you gathered the evidence to keep him there.’

‘It was the only way to keep Scott away from the guy.’

Darien Scott was Rielle’s boyfriend. They didn’t come any more dangerous than that one, except for maybe the man sitting next to her.

What was she doing here with a cop?

‘Darien’s getting back on his feet,’ she said. ‘He’s not a very patient patient.’

‘I know. We grabbed a beer the other night.’

Her eyebrows rose. She really didn’t like the sound of that. ‘When did you two become best buds?’

‘When you and your assistant came sashaying into our lives.’

Nina tapped her pen against the programme. She did not sashay.

‘Nice shoes, by the way.’

Her jaw set. ‘I like them.’

‘So do I.’

Again, his low tone stroked over her skin in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Drink your beer, Josh.’

He didn’t grin, but it was close.

They stayed that way, talking and sparring, as the game moved on, inning by inning. He was a tricky one, though. It was probably from all the interrogation training he undoubtedly had – or because he’d figured out a way under her skin. Nina found herself answering honestly more often than not, and it unsettled her. She was usually more careful than that … had more control. She’d taught herself to keep her opinions and personal matters private around clients. It was only around those closest to her that she allowed more of her true self to show.

The man was neither a client nor a friend.

Why was she letting him get to her?

‘F-8,’ he said, pointing at her scorecard.

She’d fallen behind again. The man was distracting, to say the least.

‘So what big scandal is going to pull me out to Luxxor next?’ he asked. The crack of the bat against a ball reverberated around the park as the Phillies’ catcher smoked a line drive down the third base line. The action stopped just as suddenly when the ball smacked into the third baseman’s glove.

‘Nothing.’ Nina could feel the detective’s gaze on her rather than the action on the field.

She diligently wrote the out in her scorecard. On paper, all the fuss seemed like nothing. A simple out, the end of the inning – no sign of a close call.

‘There’s always something going on over there,’ Morgan said, not letting the subject drop. ‘Why is that?’

She felt that sizzle of danger again, riding along her nerve endings.

‘I couldn’t say, but we’ve appreciated your diligence. There’s no reason you should have to visit us again.’

‘So give me one.’

Her pen stopped, frozen on the paper.

‘Go to dinner with me tomorrow,’ he said softly. ‘My treat this time.’

Her brain stalled out, too.

The invitation was unexpected. It shouldn’t have been tempting … but it was. The plan tonight was to thank him for his efforts and then walk away. He was too close already. He’d seen more than he should.

But the words just wouldn’t come.

She could feel his gaze on her like a heavy weight. She knew she couldn’t see him again, inside her office or out of it. Yet, with every inning that passed, she was dreading the end of the night more and more.

Silence loomed between them. He wasn’t letting her off the hook. She felt like everyone in the park was looking at them and began to imagine murmurs. People in the stands close to them even turned to watch.

Suddenly, Nina realised she wasn’t imagining it. Looking up, she caught their reflection on the scoreboard. She and Josh were posted in stunning clarity on the big screen.

Her stomach dropped. Oh, dear Lord, no.

The Kiss Cam.

Hoots and hollers rang up loud around them, and she did the only thing she could think of doing. She lifted her programme in front of her face and hid.

She was a self-assured, sophisticated woman who didn’t need the attention the selfies crowd seemed to crave these days. Luxxor was known for being discreet. She didn’t advertise her company. The last thing she needed was her face plastered on a fifty-foot-high LED screen.

But then the detective moved in his seat.

He caught her wrist and slowly pushed the programme down. His hand slipped into her hair, and he cupped the back of her head. Their gazes caught as he leaned in.

Nina couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. She heard the commotion around them surge as his lips covered hers.

But then all she could do was feel.

She closed her eyes as sensation bombarded her. The kiss he planted on her was slow, intimate and thorough. The heat built slowly, sexily, until her resistance melted into thin air. Her programme slipped out of her hand. She leaned into him, and a sound left the back of his throat. He sealed their mouths together as his other hand caught her waist. She reached for him and her hand settled on his jawline. The crisp feel of his five o’clock shadow couldn’t have contrasted more with the soft strands of his hair brushing against her fingertips. She wanted to touch more. She wanted to feel more.

He pulled her closer, and the armrest dug into her stomach. If not for it, he would have had her on his lap, and she wouldn’t have minded.

He felt so good.

He made her feel good. Aroused. Safe. Connected. Awakened.

Around them, the joking laughs turned to embarrassed gasps. The hoots and catcalls became wolf-whistles, but it was the collective sigh that ran throughout the whole of Nationals Park that finally got through Nina’s clouded head.

She wasn’t safe. This was foolish, risky … dangerous.

She pulled back sharply, but his hold on her tightened.

‘Don’t.’ He lifted the programme again to hide both of them.

Her breath came hard as she looked into his dark eyes. She could feel his own against her face and her lips. She licked them to stop the tingling, but his gaze dropped with the motion. He kissed her again, hard and fast.

Hoots rose in volume again, and, even with the programme hiding them, the Kiss Cam operator finally realised he’d focused on a kiss unsuitable for a family-friendly audience.

Nina pushed away and found her hand against Morgan’s chest. He was warm and hard. The strength beneath her fingertips could have scared her, but it lured her even more.

She yanked her hand away and turned her head. His lips brushed against her temple. His hand was still tangled in her hair, but she felt his hold gentle. He was slow in letting her go, and his fingertips almost seemed to caress the back of her head and then the tight muscles of her neck, but then she was free.

Nina’s heart beat in her chest so hard, she could hear it in her ears. Her breaths raked her throat, but she forced them to shorten. She sat up straighter and smoothed her rumpled jacket.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all.

She swept her fingers over her mouth to tidy up any smudged lipstick, but discovered she had none left. She uncrossed her legs and put both feet square on the ground.

‘Nina,’ Morgan said in warning.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said politely, ‘but it’s getting late, and I have an early morning.’

‘Come on, Nina. That’s been coming for a long time, and we both know it.’

She zipped up her purse and tucked her hair behind her ear. He was still leaning towards her, getting in her space. She could feel the people seated around them leaning in, too, trying to hear.

‘I really need to go.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘The deal was for a game.’

She glanced at the scoreboard. Her scorecard was way behind now. ‘It’s the seventh inning. The game is official.’

‘You agreed to ride with me.’

‘To the game. Mr Howard can pick me up.’ She pulled her phone from the side pocket of her purse and began to text her security night detail. Her fingers were steady as a surgeon’s, but her forearms were clenched so tight they ached. ‘Please, stay and enjoy the rest of the game. Your ticket will get you into the post-game media interviews, too.’