The Complete Series

“Yes.” She couldn’t deny that. It had been three months, and she hadn’t gotten him out of her head.

Rory selected another mushroom. “Then I say follow Harry’s advice and take a risk. What have you got to lose?”

Natalie said nothing as the curl of panic tightened in her stomach. As a cop, she was used to facing her fears. As a woman, she was less sure of herself. Except for that night she’d spent with Chance. She lifted her hands and dropped them. “We had an agreement—for one night.”

“Agreements can be renegotiated.” Rory sipped her martini.

“Whose idea was it to make it one night?” Sierra asked.

“His,” Natalie replied.

“Figures,” Rory said.

“In many primitive cultures, the woman is the hunter when it comes to mate selection,” Sierra said.

“Whoa.” Natalie lifted her hands, palm outward. “I’m not on the hunt for a mate. I’m more in the mood for a fling. And I was in total agreement about the one night.”

“And all you want is one more night?” Sierra asked.

“Yeah,” Natalie said. One more night. Maybe then, she could get him out of her system and get her life back to normal.

Sierra cleared her throat. “Then I have a suggestion. For my current research project, I’ve been researching the sexual fantasies of different cultures.”

“That’s our girl,” Rory said, lifting her glass.

After they toasted again, Sierra continued, “One of the most universal fantasies is sex with a stranger—someone you don’t know and never will know.” Pausing, she cleared her throat again. “So why don’t you just pretend that you’re someone else for the night?”

When her two sisters turned to stare at her, Sierra hurried on. “It makes sense. You love undercover work and you’re good at it. So just come to Sophie’s party as someone else.”

“That’s a great idea,” Rory said, waving a shrimp.

“I don’t think—”

“That’s your problem, Nat,” Rory said. “You over-think everything. Sierra’s got a great idea.”

“You’re so good at disguise,” Sierra continued. “You could just let yourself be this other person. That way you can put Natalie Gibbs’s fears and hang-ups away for the evening and be free to make a play for this man as a totally different person.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Natalie asked.

“Absolutely.” Sierra leaned forward. “It’s the age-old concept of Mardi Gras. For one night you put on a mask and do things that you would never do as your real self. Very freeing.”

Rory shot Natalie a look. “Freeing? Does this sound like the baby sister we used to know and love?”

Natalie shook her head, seriously considering her youngest sister’s idea. She glanced down at her drink. The glass was still half-full, so she couldn’t blame the martini. Her gaze shifted to the letter and her father’s words.

When you see what you want, trust in your talents. Risk anything it takes…

Natalie ran her finger over her father’s signature again. She wanted Chance, and if she took Sierra’s suggestion, she could go after him with a clean slate. She wouldn’t be Natalie, the woman he hadn’t called for three months.

“Think about it,” Sierra said.

If she did decide to follow Sierra’s advice, she knew two things for sure. Chance Mitchell wouldn’t recognize her. And he wouldn’t know what hit him.

CHANCE STOOD outside on the flagstone patio at the back of Sophie Wainwright’s antique and collectibles shop and scanned the crowd through the window. From what he could see, the event was a success. Three musicians were tucked away in a corner playing Mozart, and a white-jacketed waiter offering flutes of champagne was threading his way through the crush of guests.

In between the potted trees and terra-cotta urns bursting with pansies and geraniums, Chance spotted a prominent senator, a congresswoman and several well-heeled collectors who’d been frequent clients at the gallery down the street where he’d worked undercover.

The person he hadn’t spotted yet was Natalie Gibbs. He’d told himself that he came through the back alleyway because of the line of guests waiting to get in the front door of the shop, but the truth was he was stalling. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to handle Natalie when he ran into her.

Damn if his hands weren’t damp. With a frown, he rubbed them on his pants. A woman hadn’t made him nervous since junior high school. He’d spent two days thinking of ways to convince her to go with him on the Florida caper. The best scenario he’d come up with was to play it by ear. Not that he was worried about that part. He wasn’t a planner by nature, and he’d gotten himself out of plenty of scrapes by improvising. He wasn’t worried about the job—she’d come with him to Florida, all right. It was on the personal level that he wasn’t quite sure how to handle Natalie Gibbs.

Later, he couldn’t have said what it was that drew his gaze to the small balcony on the second story of Sophie’s shop. But the moment he saw the woman, he felt his mind go blank and then fill with her. Her hair was blond, parted in the middle, and it fell in a straight, smooth curve almost to her shoulders. The tiny black dress revealed curves in all the right places and left more bare than it covered. The summer sky was finally beginning to darken overhead, but even in the less than perfect light her skin had the pale perfection of an old-fashioned cameo. Chance let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

She was the kind of woman who would get a second glance from any man, but Chance couldn’t seem to get past the first one. The quick tightening in his gut was unexpectedly raw and hot, but what surprised him most was the flicker of familiarity, recognition almost, that pushed at the edges of his mind. He could have sworn he’d never laid eyes on her before. If he had, he certainly would have remembered.

And then her eyes met his, and for the second time in as many moments, Chance felt his mind empty. The primitive streak of desire that moved through him had him scanning the iron railing, looking for a staircase, a ladder—or tree branch that extended far enough to…He hadn’t realized that he’d moved closer to the balcony until he bumped smack into a waiter. The man’s tray tilted, two champagne flutes began a downward slide. Chance barely managed to catch them.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he settled them on the tray.

“No problem, sir.”

“I’ll take one of those, if you don’t mind.” He took a long swallow of the icy wine before he raised his gaze to the balcony again.

She was gone.

Disappointment warred with astonishment. Had he really been thinking of doing the Romeo thing and scaling a balcony? What in hell was the matter with him? Shakespeare’s star-crossed hero had been all of about sixteen. Chance was twice that age. Hormone-driven foolishness was a thing of his adolescent past. Or it should be.

Still there was some similarity between Romeo and himself, he thought as his lips curved in amusement. In a way, he was crashing a party. He hadn’t gotten an engraved invitation from Sophie, merely a verbal, secondhand one from his friend Tracker. But that’s where the parallel would end. He hadn’t come here to meet some woman he was going to lust after at first sight and then fall madly and tragically in love with.

He was here to make an offer to Natalie Gibbs that she would not be able to refuse. Taking another sip from his glass, Chance made his way to the French doors that opened into the shop. But it took more effort than he liked not to glance back up at the balcony.

4

WITH A HAND firmly pressed against the nerves jittering in her stomach, Natalie closed the door to the balcony behind her and took two steps into the office above Sophie’s shop.

So much for the hope that the attraction she felt for Chance Mitchell had faded with time and distance. His absence from her life might not have made her heart grow fonder, but it had sure increased the lust factor.

One look, one meeting of eyes at a distance of some twenty feet had her nipples tightening and muscles she hadn’t even known she had clenching deep inside of her. If he could do that to her with a look, what would happen if he touched her, kissed her, made love to her again? At the image that filled her mind, an arrow of pleasure, hot and sweet, streaked right to her center. Natalie lowered her hand from her stomach to the spot where she throbbed and reminded herself to breathe.

There was no need to panic. She could handle this—because she was Rachel Cade. Drawing in a deep breath, she moved toward the antique mirror in the far corner of the room. All she had to do was get into character the way she did for a job. She met the eyes of the woman who stared back at her from the silvered glass and let the tension ease from her shoulders. She could barely recognize Natalie Gibbs at all. Rachel Cade had straight blond hair. Natalie’s hair was red and had a tendency to curl. Rachel’s eyes were blue. Natalie’s were green. Rachel was wearing a dress—what there was of it—that Natalie never would have bought.

In front, the thin black silk covered her from breast to midthigh, and the back was bare from neck to waist except for a narrow strap that went over the shoulder. Oh my, no. She smiled at her reflection. Natalie Gibbs would never have worn this dress because she held men at arm’s length and dressing like this would have been counterproductive.

Rachel Cade didn’t have any hang-ups about men. Thank heavens! With a smile, she watched Rachel push her hair back behind her ears. It wasn’t a wig. Midsummer in D.C. was far too hot for that. So she’d had it dyed and flat-ironed. Her hairdresser had had to double up on his anxiety medication, but she’d been firm about the color change. Besides, if she was going to take Sierra’s advice and be someone else, even for a short period of time, she was going to go all the way. For the next few days, she was Rachel Cade. She’d arranged to take the time off that her partner, Matt Ramsey, had been pushing her to enjoy. No sense in doing something unless you were willing to risk anything it takes.

She shook her head and watched her hair settle back into place. This was her chance to see if blondes really did have more fun and if gentlemen preferred them.

After fishing lip gloss out of her bag, she slicked it on. This was what she’d always most enjoyed about being a cop—the opportunity it gave her to become someone else for a while. It was a weakness, she knew, but it was also very liberating. And becoming Rachel Cade was especially so. When she did undercover work, the persona she created was often dictated by the job, but she’d had complete freedom with Rachel. The tall blonde staring back at her from the mirror was a distant cousin of the Gibbs sisters. She’d come from her home in South Florida to visit for two weeks.

Natalie had never been to South Florida in her life, so she’d read up on it. Not that she expected Chance to give her a pop quiz, but in a good undercover operation, one always had to be prepared, just in case.

Just thinking about him had an image of Chance slipping into her mind. The tuxedo he was wearing certainly enhanced that long rangy body….

No. She wasn’t going to go there, or she’d be stuck in this room all night imagining what it would be like to get her hands on him again. Natalie might be satisfied with a fantasy life, but Rachel preferred the real thing. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror as she reviewed her plan. Rachel Cade—blond ambition and material girl all rolled into one—wanted to have a hot, wild and mutually satisfying night—or two or three—with Chance Mitchell. He would have fun. She would have fun. And they could go their separate ways.

Luckily, that would never bother a girl like Rachel. She would just move on to the next man. Oh, she was going to like being Rachel Cade. After beaming one last smile at the girl in the mirror, Natalie walked to the door.

“YOU DON’T LOOK like you’re having a very good time.”

As usual, Chance hadn’t seen or heard his friend Tracker approach. “I haven’t yet spotted my quarry.”

“She’ll be here. Her sisters arrived about twenty minutes ago with a cousin who’s visiting from South Florida. Sophie took them on a quick tour. She’s out-done herself with this place, don’t you think?”

Chance glanced at his friend, intrigued by his tone that contained a mix of pride, approval, and… Searching for a word, all he could come up with was loyalty. “You haven’t even tied the knot yet, and you’re beginning to sound like an old married man.”

“Yeah.” A man of few words, Tracker thought for a minute. “Yeah.” He didn’t sound a bit displeased. “By the way, I developed those pictures we took on our fishing trip. Looks like there are only the two sentry stations we spotted, but I’m betting he has other guards patrolling the beach. It won’t be a piece of cake, but I can get you off the place by water. Any word on when you leave?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Tracker shot him a look. “You’re cutting it close. What if Natalie doesn’t agree to go?”

“I’ll just have to make her an offer she can’t refuse.” Chance’s gaze drifted to the flight of stairs that ran up the far wall of the store. He knew there was one display room on the second floor and another, smaller space where Sophie kept an office. His mystery woman had to be up there.

“Natalie’s sisters are right over there if you want to ask them when she’s expected to arrive.”

Dragging his eyes from the stairs, Chance shifted his attention to where Tracker was pointing.

“The blonde is the academic,” Tracker said. “Her name’s Sierra and Mac says that there was quite a buzz when both the anthropology department and the psychology department at Georgetown hired her. And the short dark-haired one is Rory. She’s a freelance writer. If you want, I can introduce you— Uh-oh, Sophie’s giving me a signal. You’re on your own.”

The moment Tracker began to make his way through the crowd, Chance opted to edge his way along the wall to where the two Gibbs sisters were standing and surveying the party. But reaching them was easier said than done. Two major hurdles stood in his path—a group of women and a tall potted tree. He began to edge his way around the women.

“This is such a crush,” a tall brunette said. “I’m going to have to come back when I can really see this place.”

“Me, too,” another woman said.

“Look, over there. Isn’t that Mame Appelgate who writes a column for the Washington Post? All it will take is a mention from her, and it’ll be a crush here tomorrow, too.”

Chance found himself temporarily wedged between the wall and a potted palm. Through the leaves, he could see Sierra’s cheeks were flushed, and she shook her head as Rory offered her something from the well-stocked plate she was holding.

“I can’t eat,” Sierra said.

“Relax. Natalie will be fine,” Rory managed around a mouthful of pastry.

Sierra glanced at her watch. “I think you should go upstairs and check on her.”

Though he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, Chance moved closer.

“Uh-uh. I value my life too much,” Rory said. “Besides, she said she only needed a few minutes to get in character. You know Nat. She doesn’t like to appear as a new ‘persona’ until the disguise is perfect and she’s had a chance to assume her new persona. Harry was like that, too. Remember the game he played with us when he would show up at the door and we wouldn’t be able to figure out who he was?”

“Nat always knew,” Sierra said.

“Just like I always knew when he was bluffing at poker.” Rory paused with a shrimp halfway to her mouth to sigh. “You know, I still miss him.”

“Me, too,” Sierra said. “Have you thought about when you’re going to open your letter?”

“No. I figure I’ll know when the time is right. But I’m going to wait until Natalie has had her adventure. I’ll need both of you there when I do.”

“Yes,” Sierra agreed. “I will, too.”

Rory studied the food on her plate and then offered it to Sierra again. “Come on. You’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“I’m too nervous,” Sierra said. “I just feel so responsible for this. I suggested the plan.”

Rory reached out a hand to pat her sister’s arm. “I’m sure Dr. Frankenstein felt the same way right after he threw the electrical switch for the first time.”

“Not funny.”

Rory rolled her eyes. “Nat is going to be fine. And your plan is brilliant. Pretending to be someone else is the perfect ticket for her. For a little while, she can leave all of her responsibilities behind and be someone entirely different. As soon as my job at Celebs is more secure, I may try a masquerade thing myself.” She tossed a morsel of food into her mouth. You’ve really got to try these crab puffs.”

Masquerade. Chance tried to make sense of the thoughts swirling through his mind as he replayed the snatch of conversation he’d just heard. Natalie Gibbs was adopting a new persona? She was going to be someone else for a while? Chance scanned the crowd, this time more carefully than he had before. He’d seen Natalie Gibbs in an undercover disguise twice. She was good, but he should be able to spot her.

He made one full circuit of the store and came up empty. Frustrated, he moved out onto the patio. Immediately, a ripple of awareness moved through him. Natalie. But when he turned, it wasn’t Natalie he saw. It was his blond mystery woman from the balcony. Even then, he might have continued his search for Natalie. But the blonde chose that particular moment to shove her hair behind her ear, something that he’d seen Natalie Gibbs do countless times. He dropped his gaze to her feet. Sure enough, one of them was tapping. That was another habit Natalie had.

Then he simply stared. Could it be? Was this the disguise that Sierra and Rory had been referring to? Could his blond mystery woman be Natalie Gibbs?

Chance accepted a drink from a passing waiter and sipped without tasting what he’d chosen. He had to think, and the first step would be to unglue his eyes from his mystery woman’s legs. He was not going to find the answer to his question there. He shifted his gaze slowly upward.

Gestures aside, this woman was a sharp right turn from the Natalie Gibbs he knew. But his gut instinct, which rarely failed him, was telling him that the detective he was searching for and the blonde he was looking at were one and the same person. The light was no better than it had been before, but he was closer, and there was no balcony blocking his view.

Over the years, he’d honed his observation skills, but they’d seldom brought him more pleasure. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her mouth slick and cherry-red. During the time he’d spent with Natalie, she’d either been disguised as a man, or had been wearing muted makeup colors. He wasn’t close enough to make out the color of her eyes. Natalie’s, he recalled, were a deep shade of bottomless green, but he was willing to bet that the blonde’s were a different color. When a professional put on a new persona, he or she went all the way and changed everything that could possibly be changed.

Like the hair. Natalie’s was red and long and curly. He’d thought of an exploding sunset the first time he’d seen it. The blonde’s hair, shorter and straight, with the finish of newly spun silk, held its own attraction. The slick fall of it tempted a man to touch, and once he did, there would be all that smooth skin to explore. Then there were those legs—his gaze slipped back to them. They were nothing short of miraculous.

It occurred to him that he’d never seen what Natalie Gibbs looked like in a dress because she’d always hidden her feminine figure beneath trousers and a jacket. His mystery woman didn’t seem to believe in hiding anything. The contrasts fascinated him. Natalie Gibbs was all work. His mystery woman shouted “play.” Detective Gibbs’s sex appeal, out of sight beneath pantsuits, was muted like the steady hum of a current along a wire. The blonde’s sex appeal snapped and crackled around her like static electricity.

A man was bound to be burned if he got too close. And he was being drawn as inevitably as a moth. He’d already moved halfway across the patio toward her, and he still hadn’t decided how he was going to handle her. Oh, this was Natalie Gibbs all right. Hadn’t he known it on some level from the first moment he’d spotted her and felt that tiny click of recognition? This Natalie was the one he’d discovered when they’d made love in her apartment that night three months ago.

Just what kind of a game was she playing?

A warning voice told him to wait until he’d weighed his options and come up with a strategy. But the inner voice he’d always trusted was reminding him that he did his best work when he played it by ear.

5

NATALIE KNEW the moment that Chance spotted her, and she struggled to keep the tension out of her shoulders. It was bad enough that her stomach was jittering again.

She could feel his eyes on her and sensed the instant they moved from her face down her body to her legs. Though it took some effort, she stopped tapping her foot. He was sharp, and he knew all about disguises. This would be the supreme test of just how good her persona was. She signaled a passing waiter and took a glass of champagne. As yet no one had known who she really was.

As a preliminary test, she’d asked Sierra and Rory to introduce her to Tracker McBride and Sophie Wainwright. They’d been pleased to meet the Gibbs sisters’ cousin, but she’d detected no gleam of recognition in their eyes.

When the short, bald man to her left said something, she shoved her hair behind her ear and smiled down at him. Before she could catch his name, she found herself surrounded by the two other men he was with. Instantly, she was ankle-deep—no, make that waist-deep—in a discussion of a new water pollution bill that was going to the house floor the next week. Because it was part of her job to know who was who in the nation’s government, she recognized all three of the men. One was a congressman who’d been elected as an environmentalist; the two others were senators who had coauthored the bill under discussion.

“Darling, I’ve been looking all over for you,” said a voice at her side. Then Chance took her arm in a firm grip, and shot a five-hundred-megawatt smile toward the three men who’d boxed her in. “Sorry, gentlemen, but I have to borrow back my wife. I have a proposition to make her. We’re still newlyweds.”

Natalie made no protest as Chance led her back into the store. Instead, she used the time to remind herself that she was Rachel. And Rachel Cade would never object to a man who looked like Chance leading her away. Nor would Rachel Cade care a fig if Chance Mitchell saw through her disguise. And any minute she would know if he had or not.

When he stopped in front of one of the display cases, he turned to her. “Aren’t you even going to thank me?”

“For what?” she asked in the low voice she’d chosen for Rachel.

“I saved your life. Another five minutes and they would have bored you to death.”

She felt her lips twitch, and some of her tension eased. She saw no hint of recognition in his expression. He hadn’t seen through her yet. “What if I told you that I find environmental problems sexy?”

“I’d immediately find a job with the E.P.A.”

She couldn’t prevent the laugh, and she didn’t stop him when he placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up so that their eyes met for the first time.

“Blue,” he said. “I wondered.”

For five whole seconds, Natalie held her breath. Chance’s dark, smoky gray eyes held no knowing look. All she could see was curiosity…and the tiniest flare of heat. The heat she understood because his hand on her arm had created a flame that was spreading over her entire body. “Why did you wonder about my eyes?”

“Because I couldn’t tell from across the room. Who are you?”

The blunt question had the rest of her nerves easing. He wasn’t suspicious yet. It was up to her to make sure he stayed that way. “Rachel Cade.”