Intrigue Me

Name: Dr. Daniel Cassidy

Marry, date or one-night stand: The rarest of all...marry.

Warning: Gold diggers, keep your distance.

Bottom line: Perfect for playing a naughty game of doctor.

PI Lisa McCabe just found the perfect man. Dr. Daniel Cassidy is 100 percent hotness. Unfortunately, Daniel’s Hot Guys Trading Card doesn’t belong to Lisa. It belongs to another woman who’s hired Lisa to go undercover and get the real scoop on Dr. Delish.

Lisa should keep her distance and stay professional. She certainly shouldn’t have hot, lust-filled sex with the subject of her investigation. Especially because Lisa knows never to get too close to anyone...especially a sexy doctor who’s hiding secrets.

“You’re a very distracting woman...”

The kiss was glorious. A stroke of his tongue at the front of her upper palate, a nip on her bottom lip. Then Daniel pressed against her as he thrust into her mouth, their rhythm perfectly in sync, possessive, unguarded and hot as hell.

Lisa moaned when he brought his hand between them and cupped her breast.

“Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t make a sound.”

She was so wired, she could probably start electrical fires. The door might be locked, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be discovered. Public sex wasn’t her thing, but this? Her breathlessness was a sure sign that she was up for the challenge.

He was quicker than her. He’d opened the top button of her jeans, and he was starting to push them down her hips. A moment later he gave each cheek a squeeze she’d remember for a while.

Quickly she had his belt open, button undone and zipper down.

“The rest is up to you, Dr. Cassidy...”

Dear Reader,

Intrigue Me is the sixth book of the It’s Trading Men! miniseries, and I’ve enjoyed writing them so much. But another miniseries has been calling me, so this will be the last of the trading card novels, at least for a while.

My heroine, Lisa, is a wounded ex-cop who’s now an undercover private eye. The hero, Daniel, is the Hot Guy she’s investigating while he’s working at a Bronx free clinic. They think it’s just a physical attraction. It can’t turn into anything more. Daniel doesn’t even know her real name! But the best laid plans...

Just thinking about their rocky road from no-strings nights to life-changing confessions, and how they help each other grow and open up to love gives me goosebumps.

Some books just get under my skin, and Daniel and Lisa’s story is one of those. I hope it becomes one of those for you, too.

You can write to me at [e-mail], or find me on Twitter @Jo_Leigh.

Sincerely,

Jo Leigh

Intrigue Me

Jo Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JO LEIGH is from Los Angeles and always thought she’d end up living in Manhattan. So how did she end up in Utah in a tiny town with a terrible internet connection being bossed around by a house full of rescued cats and dogs? What the heck, she says, predictability is boring. Jo has written more than forty-five novels for Mills & Boon. Visit her website at joleigh.com or contact her at [e-mail].

To my friends and colleagues, Birgit, Debbi & Jill, who are always there when I need them. Thank you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

Extract

Copyright

1

LISA MCCABE MADE sure no one was close enough to overhear her before she answered her brother’s call. “What is it, Logan?”

“Where are you?” he asked. “Why are you whispering?”

“The Moss Street free clinic in the Bronx.” She scanned the crowded waiting room again. “I’m checking out someone for our Hot Guys Trading Cards client.”

“What about the Murphy divorce? I need that wrapped up today. They go to court next week.”

“I typed up the report yesterday. The file’s on your desk.” She caught a glimpse of a tall man in scrubs and pulled a folded paper out of her purse.

“I don’t see it.”

“Did you check your in-box?” she asked. For a man who was on the verge of taking his security firm to a whole new level with the sting operation he was coordinating, her brother wasn’t very organized with his paperwork. To be fair, he had more important things to be thinking about. And he definitely didn’t need to be worrying about the divorce cases Lisa handled.

Her attention went to the photocopy of Dr. Daniel Cassidy’s trading card while she absently listened to Logan shuffle papers.

Lisa had already deduced that the tall man in scrubs wasn’t the object of her investigation—Cassidy was much better looking. His clean-cut dark hair made him look sharp and professional, but his eyes, the color of cognac, were just plain damn sexy.

If she belonged to the Hot Guys Trading Cards dating club she would’ve snapped up his card based on his looks alone, which was embarrassing to admit since she’d worked her butt off to prove she was more than a “pretty face.” Still, the truth was, she’d do him in a minute. Or would have, in another life. She would never risk it now.

Her fingers traced the lips on the photocopy. They were full, yet masculine, with a hint of—

Logan muttered something.

She straightened, feeling as though she’d been caught in the adult section of the video store. “What?”

“Found it. Hold on while I give it a quick look.”

“Sure.” Lisa went back to studying the doctor’s photo—more specifically his lips and how they were a perfect contrast to his square jaw. The image stopped at his shoulders but she’d bet the farm that the rest of his body was equally hot.

Her gaze went to the details on the reverse side of the trading card. Dr. Cassidy was looking to get married, preferred home-cooked meals to dining out, was passionate about using his skills to help people and had a great heart. All this according to Josephine Suarez, the woman who’d submitted his name and photo. If Cassidy himself had provided the information, it would’ve sounded creepy as hell. But that wasn’t how Hot Guys Trading Cards worked.

Each of the women who belonged to the group was required to submit a photo of at least one guy she knew well enough to vouch for. Lisa had learned that not all of the guys knew they were being passed around and ogled. She wondered if Dr. Daniel Cassidy had given his approval.

“Good job. No typos this time, either,” Logan said. “Now, what’s this about the free clinic?”

“First, up-yours about the typos. Second, you didn’t listen to a word I said last night, did you?”

Her brother grunted. “You didn’t say anything about a free clinic.”

A woman bumped Lisa’s shoulder and she quickly slipped the paper back into her purse. “I didn’t know he was working here until after we spoke,” she said, keeping her voice low. “He shouldn’t be, though. Not with his credentials. He’s straight up Ivy League all the way. He could be bringing in beaucoup bucks, but instead he’s volunteering full-time at a free clinic in the Bronx.”

“So cynical. Maybe he’s just a super nice guy.”

She had every reason to be cynical and Logan knew it. But he was teasing her—part of his ongoing attempt to get her to lighten up. “Yeah, because so many of our clients hire us to investigate super nice guys.”

“Fair point, but you realize this client didn’t pay enough to merit a field visit,” Logan said. “Hell, for what she paid, all you needed to do was look the guy up on Google and LinkedIn.”

“He’s not on LinkedIn.”

“That’s weird, but not weird enough to chase him down.”

“So I’m thorough. Shoot me.”

“Tempting.” Logan’s chair creaked. “Seriously, don’t waste too much time on it,” he said. “I think we might be getting another custody case tomorrow.”

Lisa groaned. She hated those the most.

“Hey, it’s the small, slimy stuff that helps pay the rent.”

“True,” she acknowledged. “Which is why I’m thinking about drumming up more Trading Card business.”

“I thought those guys are already vetted.”

“They are. I’m thinking there might be more gold diggers like Heather out there, though, who can’t be bothered with a guy who doesn’t make enough money.” Lisa heard Logan shuffling more papers around and knew he wasn’t listening. Understandable, since the human-trafficking case he was working on was much more interesting than what she was blathering on about. And yes, she was envious, and maybe that was a sign that she might not sleepwalk through the rest of her life. “I’ve gotta go,” she told him. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Sure. Good.”

As soon as they disconnected, she sighed. Logan wasn’t wrong about her wasting time. She knew damn well she was satisfying her own curiosity and calling it diligence. But by the same token, she was serious about trolling for more business for her brother’s security firm at the Trading Card lunch meetings. She’d have to become a member, of course, which meant that she’d have to be recommended by someone in the club. Heather was the only member she knew, and then only as a client. But Lisa doubted that would matter to Heather. After all, she’d cheated. The rules let you choose one card at a time, but Lisa had received a photocopy of another doctor’s card, as well.

Joining also meant she’d have to submit a guy to be put on a card. Her college friends had always called Logan a babe. She knew he wasn’t in the market to date or get married. But if she checked the one-night-stand option? He might be game.

She put away her phone, and then made her way to the clinic’s main waiting room. Lucky for her, someone vacated the green plastic chair next to where she was standing.

The clinic itself didn’t seem very large. There was the overfilled waiting room where messy rows of mismatched chairs snaked around to fill as much space as possible. Down the hall were the examination rooms, and maybe a couple of offices from what she could glimpse.

In fact, the whole place had a patchwork feel to it. Graffiti covered the walls outside, except for the heavy glass door. It hadn’t surprised her when she saw it was bullet-resistant. Inside, the walls were all painted in cheery pastels. One was plastered with pictures kids had drawn. It looked like a giant refrigerator door.

The people waiting to see a doctor were unsurprisingly diverse. Some were dressed in business attire, while others looked as if they were homeless. No one seemed bothered by the two young men covered in tattoos sitting among them.

From what she’d seen so far the staff was equally diverse. Only one physician was permanent, but they had quite a few volunteer specialists on rotation. There were also two full-time registered nurses, a physician’s assistant and student nurses from the nearby hospital who came and went in order to accrue hours and experience. The same with medical students, although they were fewer in number. At least that was what it had said on the Moss Street Clinic website.

Lisa turned her attention to the African-American woman sitting beside her. Her eyes were sharp as they lit on every person in the room. Her tight lips, the small disapproving shakes of her head and her expressive eyebrows hid nothing.

Lisa figured if anyone knew the dirt on Dr. Cassidy, it would be her observant seat mate. “Excuse me,” Lisa said. “I’m new to the clinic. Do you know anything about Dr. Cassidy?”

The woman turned to look at Lisa. She’d expected to get the once-over from her, but it still felt intrusive. “Why you askin’?”

“I’ve come to see him. For an exam.”

“You mean a test? You one of them student doctors from Lincoln?”

“No. A patient.”

Leaning back, the woman took in as much of Lisa as she could. “You don’t look like nothin’s wrong. You from the tabloids?”

“Uh, no. Why? Are the tabloids interested in Dr. Cassidy?”

“How should I know? What’s your name?”

“Lisa Pine,” she said, surprised when her mother’s maiden name popped out. There was really no reason for her to use an alias. Though she kind of liked the idea. “And you are?”

The answer didn’t come quickly. But finally she said, “Mrs. Alexis Washington.”

Lisa held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. It’s scary coming to a new place when you don’t know anyone.”

Mrs. Washington hesitated again, but eventually took Lisa’s hand. “Where you live at?”

“I’m staying at the Days Inn by Yankee Stadium. Just for a while, though. I would have gone to Lincoln Hospital, but I heard someone talking about Dr. Cassidy. They said he’s a neurologist. A really good one. And since I don’t have any insurance...”

“You ask me, you come to the right place. I ain’t been seen by Dr. Cassidy myself, but my neighbor Iris, she did. Said he was real nice. Listened to everything she told him. Didn’t cut her off, or work on something else while she was talking, you know what I mean?”

“I do,” Lisa said. “It’s so difficult now. No doctors want to listen. They just want you in and out, don’t forget to pay when you leave.”

Mrs. Washington laughed, and it was as if Lisa had been given a seal of approval. “You got that right.” Then she leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “You’re real pretty. You got something going on with one of them Yankees?”

It took Lisa a moment to make the connection to the Days Inn near the stadium. “No, Mrs. Washington. I don’t. I’m single. No job. And a whole lot of headaches.”

“Okay, now Iris, she came to see him because she was getting dizzy all the time. Almost fell over at the Burger King on Grand Concourse. Had to sit down. They gave her some ice water. Then she came straight here. Dr. Cassidy sent her over to get a CT scan—you know that’s serious business—and they took her blood. They said she got some kind of disease that make you dizzy, and there ain’t much to do ’bout it. But she’s okay most the time.”

“Sounds like he’s a good doctor.”

“Oh, yeah. You know, he don’t get paid. Someone told me but I can’t remember who. Not the woman who helps run the place, though. Eve is her name and she works for his daddy or his brother or somethin’. She been comin’ down here to volunteer for a few years now, but she keeps her mouth shut, especially when it comes to Dr. Cassidy. He came a couple months back. I can’t remember when. Too many things I got to worry ’bout in my own life.”

Lisa nodded. “I hope you’re not here for anything serious.”

“Me, I’m fine. Strong as an ox. I’m here with my grandson.” She glanced over to the corner where there was a small space for kids to play with books and toys. “Spider-Man today. All this year, pretty much. Here for a vaccination.”

“Grandson? Wow, you don’t look old enough to have grandchildren.”

“I had ’em too young and they had ’em too young.” Mrs. Washington leaned closer again, clearly pleased at the compliment. “They all nice here, for the most part. They don’t have all that fancy equipment like in Manhattan, but if something bad happens with your headaches? They’ll help find a way to get you right.”

“Thank you. That makes me feel much better.” Lisa reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “Ah, it’s my brother. Would you excuse me?” She stood and walked to a relatively quiet corner near the watercooler.

Logan hadn’t actually called, but she wanted to get more than one opinion on Dr. Cassidy. She decided to focus on the staff next. There was a line at the reception desk, and the poor guy behind the counter had to answer the phones in between fielding questions. Lisa didn’t mind waiting. From where she stood she could see down the hall toward the examination rooms. Occasionally, someone in scrubs or in a lab coat would appear and then enter another room. She’d hoped for a peek at Dr. Cassidy but hadn’t had any luck so far. She would’ve known him right away...

“Can I help you?”

Lisa turned back to the reception desk. “I’m—”

Loud shouting pulled her attention back to the waiting room where two men were almost down each other’s throats screaming so furiously she couldn’t make out a word they said.

The receptionist rushed around the desk. “Volunteering?” he asked, and she nodded without thinking. “Third door down the hall.” Then he was gone, along with two other staff members, to stop the escalating fight.

Lisa started to follow them and had to stop herself. The instinct to help wasn’t something she could easily ignore. But she had no business getting involved. When one of the men shoved the other, one of the nurses whistled so loudly, it could have been heard in Brooklyn. The electric danger in the air mellowed.

She sighed as she did an about-face. Why couldn’t she get it through her thick skull that she wasn’t a cop anymore? Her job now was to be invisible. Minor altercations probably happened all the time in a place like this. They were handling the situation just fine.

The receptionist had mistaken her for a volunteer, which was perfect. Something she should’ve thought of herself.

She hurried down the long green hallway, saw two doors and entered the one that was open. It looked more like an exam room than an office, but there were three tall filing cabinets in the back, so they probably talked to potential volunteers in whatever room was free. On the wall, there were posters about common STDs, patients’ rights and a battered women’s shelter.

After checking the open doorway, she walked over to the old metal cabinets. The labels indicated that two of them held legal documents, while the third contained personnel files. Of course it was locked. That wasn’t a hindrance, though. It wouldn’t take more than thirty seconds to get it open, but it would be a reckless move that could get her thrown out on her ear.

Oh, what the hell. She made sure no one was coming, closed the door and rushed to the cabinet.

She had the right tool in her purse. Bless her brother’s training. He could break into anything in any office, and now she was pretty good at it herself. While it wasn’t a tactic she was entirely comfortable using, she would know a lot more about Dr. Cassidy after a quick peek at his file.

Before she’d even finished the thought, the cabinet lock popped to the open position. Just as she was about to pull out the drawer, she heard a brief knock. She spun around and pushed the lock in with her shoulder as Dr. Cassidy himself walked into the room.

His gaze was on an open file in his hand, but when he looked up, he seemed surprised. Did she look guilty? She gave him a tentative smile and inched away from the cabinets.

Whoa—howdy—he was good-looking. Even more so than in the picture on the trading card. She was compelled to take a few steps closer, just to confirm that his eyes truly were the color of whiskey. Oh, yes. A well-aged whiskey at that.

He cleared his throat, and she realized she was all up in his personal space. She retreated. Unfortunately, she backed into a cabinet, which then hit the wall behind it with a loud clunk.

Dr. Cassidy didn’t seem fazed. He caught her gaze again and with a puzzled frown said, “I’ll need you to take off your clothes.”

“Wow.” Lisa arched her brows. “You guys really take your volunteer screening seriously.”

2

DANIEL ALMOST CHOKED on his laugh. He glanced down at the file then back at the gorgeous blonde. “I take it you’re not Yolanda.”

All she did was smile and he was caught off guard again. It was her lips. They weren’t all shiny and covered in goop, just pink and kissable. Not that he had any damn business thinking of her in those terms. She shook her head and her pale hair swept her narrow shoulders, further distracting him.

Damn it, this wasn’t like him. Not on the job, patient or not.

“Uh...I assume there’s someone who needs an exam, and I’m in the wrong room?” she said.

“That’s true.” Jesus. Clearly he needed more sleep. “Why don’t you follow me and we’ll see if we can get this straightened out, Ms....?”

She held out her hand. “Lisa Pine.”

“Daniel Cassidy. So, you’re here to volunteer?”

“Yes.” She let go of his hand. “If you can point me in the right direction...”

“Of course.” He led her into the hall when all he should’ve done was gesture to the adjacent office. “We’re supposed to be getting doorplates,” he said, wondering when he’d reverted to an awkward teenager. “Are you a medical professional?”

“Nope. Just want to help.”

“That’s great,” he said. “We’re perpetually understaffed and overtaxed. A lot of people depend on the free clinics.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Here you are.” He opened the door and the woman sitting behind the desk looked up. “Valeria will take care of you,” he said and caught the woman’s startled expression. Had he gotten her name wrong? No, he was pretty sure that was right. With her side-shaved haircut, the streak of silver in her long black bangs and her numerous tattoos, it wasn’t as if he was likely to confuse her with someone else.

“Hello.” Lisa moved into the room and glanced over her shoulder the moment his willpower slipped and his gaze landed on her curvy backside. “Thank you, Dr. Cassidy.”

He quickly brought his eyes up to her face. “You’re welcome. And thank you,” he said. “For volunteering.”

She smiled.

“Well, I’ve got patients to see.” He backed into the hall and almost took out a passing nurse.

Annoyed and embarrassed, he headed for exam room 4, where his patient had been waiting too long. Before he entered, he gave her file a second look.

According to Yolanda’s intake papers, she was a sex worker. A number of them came to the clinic for their health needs. He’d order blood work on her, if she’d let him. Probably not, as all she wanted was antibiotics for chlamydia. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” he said. “There was a mix-up.”

Her disgusted laugh told him he could take his mix-up and put it somewhere uncomfortable. This time, he deserved it.

For the next three hours Daniel barely had time to take a breath between patients. No neurological crises arose, but that was true most days. He was technically here as a specialist, but he’d done a lot of family medicine during his training. Another neurologist, Joseph Glick, usually volunteered twice a month, but he was taking a break for the duration of Daniel’s stay.

And Daniel had no idea how long he would be staying. For now, he was content to be there. He liked the freedom and the challenge of this understaffed madhouse. It had no MRIs or CT scanners. Half the equipment didn’t work, forcing them to improvise. It certainly kept him on his toes.

Which was probably what bothered his brother about his job. Warren was as concerned about his professional status as he was about his patients. Actually, that wasn’t fair. Warren was a great neurosurgeon, in one of the most prestigious practices in New York, and he lived for the work. Daniel had begun to prefer his life to be a little more real, a little less neat.

Like his newest patient, Mr. Kennedy. The old man was snoring up a storm on the table in room 5. Mr. Kennedy squatted in a condemned building a couple of blocks away. He came to Moss Street on a regular basis, sometimes to get a hot drink, sometimes to get some sleep, and mostly because he was a diabetic who didn’t take his medication.