Nice & Naughty

Except for two things.

One, she was on the other side of that hard line Kinnison had warned him not to cross.

And two, despite her lusty looks and fabulous taste in what she wore against her skin, she was obviously a nice girl.

And while he might risk Kinnison’s wrath on the first, he never risked the heartbreak that came with messing with the second.

Still …

“You got a boyfriend?”

“Why, Detective, is the sight of my lingerie tempting you?” she teased, her tone flirtatious and light. But he saw that look in her eyes again. The “wouldn’t it be interesting to strip you naked and climb all over your body” look.

Was she trying to kill him? Diego hadn’t been this uncomfortably hard since he’d found a crack in the dressing room wall of the local strip club back when he was a teenager.

“Mixing business and pleasure is against regulations.” And right now, he figured those regulations—and the promotion riding on them—were the only things keeping him from trying to find out just how nice a girl she was. He cleared his throat. “In cases like this, a boyfriend, an ex or a rejected admirer all fit the bill for crimes of this nature.”

He couldn’t help but grin when she ducked her head. Skin that fair sure blushed easily. There. Temptation handled. Now she’d think twice about flirting. Nice girls were easy to handle, he decided.

“No boyfriend, no ex, no rejected admirer,” she told him, her words a little tense. Embarrassment? Then she met his eyes again. His brows shot up. Nope, that wasn’t shyness in the green depths. It was irritation. Did the fairy have a temper?

“I hope you have more to go on than that to solve this case,” she said, separating the clothing she’d gathered into tidy piles on her bed. Panties in this one, nighties in that. Diego swore a drop of sweat ran down his temple when a sheer red thong missed its pile and landed on her pillow. “Then again, rumor has it you might have a few problems with that.”

So she could bite back. When had temper become sexy? Maybe when temper had such great taste in lingerie. Eyeing the tiny roses decorating the red thong, he asked, “Problems with what?”

“Solving the case.”

Diego’s gaze snapped to hers. “What are you talking about?”

Jade tilted her head to one side. The light caught on the row of tiny gold hoops piercing her ear. “Word on the street is that you’re here because you’ve got a problem with your boss.”

God, he hated small towns.

“And you shouldn’t give too much weight to rumors,” he added. “Small towns might thrive on them, but they’re rarely rooted in fact.”

“So you weren’t sent here as punishment?” she asked, her tone as friendly as her face was curious. Whether it was a ploy to garner gossip fuel, or whether she was actually interested, Diego couldn’t tell.

He’d been about to write her off as a sexy nice girl. Sweet, but not much of a challenge. Now he wasn’t so sure of anything but the sexy part. That bothered him. His gift for reading people was one of the keys behind his success.

“I was sent here for two reasons,” he said slowly, measuring just how much to share with the town pipeline. He might be having trouble getting a gauge on the pixie, but he knew how to finesse information. “I’m up for a major promotion. Solving this case is the last step to ensure I get it.”

Diego had no problem lying to solve a case, but it was always easier to go with the truth if possible.

“And the second reason?”

It only took two steps for Diego to cross the room, standing close enough that the scent of her, light and airy, wrapped around him. For a second he forgot what he was doing. Forgot why he was there. Forgot everything except the sudden discovery of just how appealing sweetness could be.

Her lashes fluttered, thick and dark, hiding those expressive eyes. He watched the pulse quiver in her throat, wanting nothing more than to lean closer and press his lips to the soft flesh. To feel her heart race beneath his tongue.

As if reading his mind, she gulped. Then, as if she was trying to make it look casual, she moved over to the armoire, putting breathing distance between them.

Dammit.

“You were telling me the second reason you were sent here,” she reminded him breathlessly.

To find out how many different sounds she could make while he brought her to orgasm? Diego gave himself a mental head slap and tried to shake off the sexual fog.

“The second reason? Because I’m good,” he promised. Her eyes widened, fingers clenching the wicker handles of the laundry basket so hard it made a loud snap. Grinning, Diego nodded. “I’m damn good. I close cases, and I put criminals away. Whoever did this, their ass is mine.”

And there ya go. Toss in a little intimidation, and he’d be home by the end of the weekend. Before he did anything stupid, like give in to the need to find out if the pretty little blonde’s naughty side was reserved for her lingerie.

“You promise?” she asked, looking around the mess of her bedroom. “You’ll find out who did this. And why?”

Diego didn’t do promises. Growing up, he’d had too many broken to ever want to cause someone else that kind of disappointment.

He looked around the room. The deputies who’d been called in on the previous burglaries had dusted for prints and come up bust. Despite the shift in M.O. from snatch-and-run to destruction, there was no reason to think this time’d be any different. This was either a copycat with a grudge against Ms. Carson, a totally unconnected case, or all the other thefts had been smoke. Which meant the green-eyed pixie was the real target.

He’d have to work the case as if all three were fact. But his gut said it was the latter. He just had to find enough evidence to pull all the pieces together. And he would. Because that’s what he did.

But the pretty little blonde was looking at him as if he had a superhero cape tucked under his leather bomber jacket. Diego was a good cop. A damn good one. But no one had ever considered him a hero.

It was weird. And very appealing.

And probably his downfall, since he couldn’t resist leaning closer and reassuring her.

“Babe, I guarantee it.”

5

THREE HOURS AFTER he’d made that promise to Jade, Diego tossed his gym bag onto a creaky bed in a cramped room and sighed. His stomach ached from cookie overload. His head hurt from holding back his investigative instincts and trying to follow Kinnison’s damn rules.

He would bet his Harley that Kinnison didn’t realize how badly he’d screwed over his recalcitrant detective. Dumping him in a town so small, they didn’t even have a cheap motel. Instead, he was stuck holing up in some old guy’s spare room. Because, apparently, as much as the ladies of the town might like the safety of having a man around their home for a few days, it wasn’t proper.

So now, he eyed the twin bed with its threadbare Speed Racer comforter and stingy pillow. It looked as if he’d have a backache to round it all out.

And what did he have to show for it?

Five interviews with four victims and one interested party—namely, a grizzled old woman by the name of Mary Green. Two tins of cookies, one of fudge and a questionable fruitcake—again from Mrs. Green. And a lecture on the lost art of saying please and thank-you.

What he didn’t have to show was any more information. None of the women had been home during the thefts. None had recently been involved in any sort of conflict, either alone or with each other. They didn’t wear the same brand underwear, do laundry at the same place or shop together.

Other than living in the same small town, and as Jade had pointed out, all wearing feminine underthings—which had been painful for all parties to learn during his interview with Ben Zimmerman—there was no common thread.

Not even the type of underwear stolen. Everything from white cotton to something named after spankings—which neither he nor the mayor had been willing to ask about. If the selection left behind at Jade’s was anything to go by, the thief had added supersexy to the collection.

Jade.

Diego dropped to the bed, wincing as springs that were likely as old as he was creaked loudly. It all came back to her. Every victim he’d talked to, he’d thought of her. Of how devastated she’d been when she’d seen the destructive mess in her bedroom. The other burglaries had been obvious, all with an open dresser drawer, rumpled contents.

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