Wynter Daniels Burning Touch [EC Breathless] (pdf)

Burning Touch

When Devon Wise’s massage clients start turning up dead, she reluctantly leans on

the sexy guy next door to help her clear her name. Having lost her parents at an early
age, she doesn’t trust that anyone she cares about will stick around. Devon never lets
her feelings get involved, keeping everyone at arm’s length. But after their first sizzling
night, she can’t get enough.

Real estate investor Ben Stafford can’t keep his mind—or his hands—off the earthy

beauty who happens to be his new neighbor. When the bodies begin piling up, he
wonders if she’s as innocent as she claims or if he’s been spending all those lust-filled
nights with a killer.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Burning Touch

ISBN 9781419934131

Edited by Shannon Combs

Cover art by Dar Albert

Electronic book publication July 2011

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

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URNING

OUCH

Wynter Daniels

Burning Touch

Chapter One

“Oh, my God,” Amanda said. “How did it feel to know he’d been murdered?”
Devon Wise considered her friend’s question. “Kind of creepy. I didn’t really know

the guy. I’d only given him one massage. Yesterday was supposed to be his second one.

But when I got to his house there were cops everywhere.”

“Did you see his body?” Keisha folded her arms on the high table and leaned closer.
Devon could hardly hear over the blaring music. Not that she wanted to discuss

John York’s murder, particularly not tonight. And definitely not in the noisy, crowded

bar. Why had she let her friends talk her in to this? October always sucked. Too bad she

couldn’t hibernate all month. “Can we talk about something else?”

Her friends exchanged worried glances. “We won’t mention another word about

it,” Keisha said.

Devon sucked a healthy drink from the long straw in her margarita, puckering her

lips at the tartness that burned all the way down. At least she could anesthetize herself

so she wouldn’t have to think about what day it was.

Amanda climbed off her stool and hugged her arms around Devon’s shoulders.

“We love you, hon. And we know how hard this day hits you every year. With it being

exactly ten years…”

So much for not thinking about the significance of the day.
Devon glanced across the tall table at Keisha, silently asking for help, but even she

wore a sickeningly sympathetic smile. “We’re here for you, Dev.”

Devon eased out of Amanda’s embrace. “I’m fine. Really.” She fingered the long

scar on her forehead, close to her hairline. Sometimes she still felt the blood there, all

wet and sticky. Realizing her friends were staring, she immediately clasped her hands

around her drink. “I’m fine.”

Amanda dragged her stool closer. She and Keisha exchanged cryptic looks. “We

know you don’t like us to meddle, but…”

Uh oh. She’d heard that tone in her friend’s voice before. “If you’re trying to talk me

into another blind date, forget it. The last one didn’t exactly go well, remember?

Anyway, I have no problem finding men, thank you very much. I go on plenty of dates.

I just haven’t…been in the mood lately.”

Keisha let out a pained sigh and reached across the table to rub Devon’s forearm.

“Honey, what you do isn’t dating. It’s just screwing around. Don’t you want a real

relationship?”

She stared down at the giant rock on Keisha’s ring finger.

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That will never be me.
She’d never wear an engagement ring or a wedding band. Why set herself up for a

letdown that huge?

Amanda nodded her agreement. “It’s so sweet that you do your thing for stray cats

and deliver meals to old folks, but what about taking care of you, honey? Wouldn’t you

be happier if you had a life partner? We just don’t want to see you alone and bitter.”

Her fingers had turned to icicles against her glass. Extricating her arm from

Keisha’s well-meaning touch, she slipped her hands between her knees to thaw them

out. “I’m not bitter.” She squared her shoulders and glimpsed the red exit sign near the

restrooms. Not that she’d run out the back door to escape her friends’ good intentions.

But it was always smart to know how to get out of a place in an emergency.

“Cody works with this guy,” Amanda began.
Oh no. Here it comes.
“He’s a lawyer at Cody’s firm. He made partner last year, the youngest one they’ve

ever made.”

Tuning out Amanda’s dissertation, she took a long sip of her drink. She had no

interest in a relationship, at least not one that lasted more than a few days.

“You might want to dress a little more uptown when you two go out,” Amanda

was saying. “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with your…flower child

ensembles, but for a grownup relationship you ought to look like an adult.”

“Okay, now I’m getting pissed off. What’s wrong with the way I dress?”
“You can’t expect to snare a professional man unless you look like a professional

woman,” Amanda said. The she went on endlessly about Cody’s friend’s qualifications.

Devon’s eyelids grew heavy. She scanned the bar, wishing she was anywhere else.

Until her eyes landed on tall, dark and completely luscious. His white dress shirt was

untucked over faded jeans and those blue-green eyes were definitely staring at her.

Sliding off her stool, she grabbed her purse and slipped the long strap over her

head. “I’m going to the bathroom.” When Keisha made a move to join her she added,

“Alone.”

As she zigzagged through the crowd, she swooped in close to the bar for a better

look. Damn, he was cute. At least six feet tall, maybe more with shiny brown hair that

grazed his shoulders and yes—those aquamarine eyes were to die for. Someone moved

between them, blocking her view.

What am I doing?
Why shouldn’t she keep company with a cute guy? Maybe that would erase all the

bad stuff from her mind, at least for a while.

And maybe it would get her friends off her case. What the hell did they know

anyway? Keisha was engaged and Amanda was living with her dream guy. Not that

she begrudged them anything, she didn’t. She loved them both dearly.

Burning Touch

Hell, if it wasn’t for them, she’d have left snooty Winter Park years ago. Well, them

and the house Aunt Joan had left her.

She finally made it to the ladies’ room and pushed her way inside. Great—a line.

Good thing she didn’t really need to go. As she yanked open the door to leave, the

pounding beat of the music instantly thrummed through her brain. She took one step

and crashed into a solid wall of muscle.

She inhaled his piney scent and tipped her head back to see the guy from the bar.

Those aquamarine eyes. Oh, Lord, they were dangerous. A glossy strand of black hair

slipped forward and nearly covered his right eye.

Breathe!
Her heart thumped in time to the music. She prayed her geeky side wouldn’t take

over and say something stupid. Someone shoved her sideways, knocking her away

from him.

No!
But like magic, his hand closed around her wrist and he reeled her back. “I think

we’re in the wrong spot.”

Oh God. His voice was deep and sexy and oh, shit. She was in trouble.
The most adorable dimples formed on either side of his smile. And what a smile it

was—straight, white teeth and perfect, kissable lips. Stubble darkened his face as if he

hadn’t shaved for a couple days and it looked good on him, not affected. His nose was a

little crooked, as if it had been broken a long time ago, but the trait gave his face

character.

The wave of people shifted her again, but he still had her hand. With that

realization came a blast of internal heat.

“I won’t let you go.”
There were a million people around them but she saw no one but the big guy who

had her hand.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
That was when she realized he must have thought her mute or something. She had

yet to say a single word in response. “Um, what was the question?”

He laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leading her to an

unoccupied corner. “I’m Ben.” Offering his hand, he gave her that devastating smile

again.

How long had it been since she’d flirted with a guy? Or had one flirt with her? She

shook with him, trying to ignore the heat his simple touch inspired. “Devon. Nice to

meet you. Thanks for keeping me from being swallowed up by the crowd.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed and his smile faded. Then they both went still for a long

beat, their eyes locked together.

A slower song started playing and he closed his fingers around hers. “Dance?” His

voice was hoarse.

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She made him just as nervous as he did her and that knowledge gave her an extra

shot of confidence. “Sure.”

They started toward the dance floor together but a drunk guy crashed through their

arms, tearing them apart. Ben took her hand again and folded it into the crook of his

arm then met her stare, silently asking for permission after the fact.

She refrained from shouting “yes, yes, yes” and instead answered with a half nod.
Take a chance.
Where had it come from? Probably her dusty, cobweb-covered libido.
On the dance floor, he weaved his fingers through hers and moved his other hand

behind her to rest on the small of her back. Her knees went weak as he started swaying

to the seductive beat.

Pressing herself to him, she felt the hard length of him against her belly. Okay, the

attraction was definitely mutual.

Ben Stafford hadn’t intended to stay at the bar longer than the time it took to down

one beer. But the instant he’d laid eyes on the sexy woman in his arms, his plans had

changed. He had no idea what it was about her—she was hardly his type—with her

hippie-style peasant dress and her curly blonde hair. It was something, though,

something powerful. Maybe it was her earthy getup. She couldn’t look any more

different than Stacy.

Devon seemed a hundred and eighty degrees Stacy’s opposite. Instead of tall, rail

thin and hard like Stacy, Devon was petite but curvy in all the right places, at least as

much as he could see under her loose-fitting clothes. He felt her soften against him so

he drew her closer, inhaled her scent, like fresh-cut grass. What a strange perfume. Why

did it feel as if they’d been dancing together for years?

What the hell was in that beer?
The song ended but they kept swaying together as another slow beat began. She

peered up at him and, God, she had a gorgeous smile. “I’ll apologize now in case I step

on your toes. I have two left feet.”

But they were barely moving. “Apology contingently accepted.” That earned him a

chuckle.

She sniffed his chest. “I like your cologne.”
He laughed. “Thanks. I was just thinking the same thing about you. You smell…like

grass.”

She rolled her eyes. “I saw a weed in my garden on my way out the door and before

I knew it I was yanking them out left and right.”

Her candor and her natural prettiness were so refreshing, particularly in Winter

Park. The upscale bedroom community near Orlando was all about done up and one-

upmanship. Women dressed in their designer best even to go to the Saturday morning

farmer’s market, for God’s sake.

Burning Touch

The song ended and something loud and hard-driving started playing. Taking her

hand, he led Devon off the dance floor to a couple open seats at the bar. He wanted to

ask her what she was doing in a place like this. She didn’t seem to fit with the crowd.

Then he wondered what the hell he was doing there.

“Do you come here often?” As soon as the words had left his lips, he wanted to

yank them back. What a stupid, clichéd thing to say.

She gave her head a half shake. “Just when my friends make me.”
Damn, she had a sexy mouth, full, pouty lips that made him think about all the

wicked ways he wanted those lips on his body. He dragged a hand across his suddenly

sweaty forehead.

A bartender approached and lifted his brow, waiting for an order.
Ben seized the opportunity to grasp Devon’s shoulder. “Want a drink?”
She pursed her lips, thinking, and he had an overwhelming urge to kiss them but

he refrained. “I’ve already had one of those huge margaritas, but…”

He thought about ordering her another but he wasn’t the sort of man who plied a

woman with alcohol in order to take advantage of her.

“Just water with lemon, please,” she finally said.
“Bud Light for me,” he added.
He kept his hand on her shoulder another few seconds and swore he felt her lean

toward him a fraction of an inch. “So you like to garden, huh? What do you grow?”

“Herbs, vegetables. Things that can stand up to the Florida heat. I compost most of

my kitchen trash, which makes for very fertile soil. Almost feels like I’m cheating.”

“I’m impressed.” And he wasn’t only referring to her horticultural talents. But his

instincts hadn’t always steered him in the right direction when it came to women.

The bartender set their drinks in front of them. Ben handed him a folded-up twenty.

“Keep it.” He raised his beer to her glass. “To going green.”

She clinked her glass to his bottle. “Cheers.”
“Anything you think I should know about you?” He stifled a playful grin. “Any

bodies in the closet, addictions to illicit substances?”

Her expression darkened for a moment, almost too fast to see. Maybe he’d

imagined it. She quirked an eyebrow. “How did you find out?”

“Uh oh. I knew you were too good to be true.”
“My weakness is lip-gloss.” She hid her eyes with her hand. “I’m addicted. Oh, and

black olives. I can’t even keep them in my house because I’ll eat an entire can in a

sitting.”

“My mother warned me about women like you.” He shook his head. “So tell me

about your gardening thing.” A particularly loud song came on so he moved closer to

her, spoke next to her ear. “Do you have a greenhouse or just grow things in your

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yard?” Being so near, he picked up another scent, something light and floral, breezy,

like her.

“The house came with a greenhouse but it’s still not ready to use. A tree fell

through the roof last year. Lots of the glass needs to be replaced.”

“I can hook you up with a contractor that does that type of work.” He could swear

he saw fear creep into her expression, only for a second. Was he moving too fast?

Then she shrugged. “We’ll see.”
Someone pushed between them and waved his hand at the bartender.
Leaning around the man, Ben caught Devon’s eye. “You want to go get something

to eat?” he shouted over the music.

She blinked a few times. “They have a munchies menu. Want me to ask the

bartender for it?”

He shook his head. “Do you want to get out of here? There’s a place down the street

with the best pizza in the state.” More than anything, he wanted to have a conversation

with her without yelling every word.

She glanced past him and worried her bottom lip between her teeth.
Too damn sexy.
Her gaze slid back to his. “Sure. Let me tell my friends.”
He offered her a hand off the barstool and felt that same zing of electricity he’d

noticed before. She disappeared in a sea of much taller people. He watched her surface

again at a table with two other women who reminded him of his ex’s friends.

Devon glanced back at him and her cheeks reddened when she realized he’d been

watching. Her friends all scrutinized him. It didn’t appear that he’d passed their test.

But it still looked as if Devon was going to leave with him and with any luck, he’d get

her to his place. She seemed like the honest, drama-free type. He liked her. And he

wanted her. A lot.

She returned to the bar and gave him that thousand-watt smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He grabbed her hand and led her out the door. His shoulders relaxed at the sudden

quiet.

Devon shifted closer. “It’s cool out. Feels good.”
If cool meant she’d snuggle against him that was fine with him. He wrapped his

arm around her shoulder and luckily, she didn’t shrug him off. “I’m always glad when

the summer ends here. I guess that means a harvest for you.”

“Sure does. Way more than I can eat. My roommate is a total junk-food junkie so I

end up giving some of it away.”

A middle-aged couple walked past, going the opposite direction, led by a large

German Shepherd Dog on a leash down Park Avenue. Devon closed her arms across

her chest, suddenly stiff. Had he said something wrong?

“You okay?”

Burning Touch

She gave him a halfhearted smile. “Big dogs scare me.”
Good thing he didn’t have one. Hugging her to him, he felt his pants get tighter.

“Why is that?”

She shrugged against him. “My parents said I was bitten when I was really little. I

don’t remember it, but I’ve always had the fear as far back as I can remember.”

“I’ll protect you.”
After they’d passed the dog, she eased away a little.
He pointed to the colorful awning a few yards ahead. “There it is. The pepperoni

pizza will literally make you cry, it’s so good.” He pulled open the door for her.

“I would cry if I ate pepperoni. I’m a vegetarian.” She brushed past him into the

restaurant.

Garlic and cheese scented the air. “A vegetarian?” He stopped, caught her gaze.

“This’ll never work out. Sorry.” He pretended to start to leave until she hooked his arm

and dragged him to the counter, both of them laughing.

“I’m sure that’s some sort of discrimination. I could sue you.” Her smile faded as

their eyes locked.

He cupped the nape of her neck and drew her closer. And right there in the middle

of Park Avenue Pizza, he kissed her. She tasted like heaven. He swirled his tongue

around hers, explored her mouth. He didn’t want to stop. Pressing her body closer, she

let out a little moan.

Devon’s head swam with reasons why she shouldn’t be kissing Ben.
I just met him.
He could be some crazed killer.
I wouldn’t be doing this if I hadn’t sucked down that gargantuan margarita.
But the rest of her body was totally on board. Her nipples pebbled, her heart

pounded and all reason left the building. Ben’s fingers threaded through her hair and

pulled her possessively to him. God, she’d never been kissed like this before—rough

and demanding, completely captivating. Exactly what she needed tonight to chase

away the dark cloud that followed her around every October.

“Ahem.”
She and Ben broke apart. A middle-age man with a double chin and a bald head

eyed them from behind the counter. “You two just come in here to smooch or do you

want a pizza?”

Ben scrubbed a hand over his mouth and chin. “Um, sorry.” He glanced at Devon

and she noticed a smudge of her pink lip-gloss on his upper lip. “Extra cheese? And

black olives.”

She had to smile at the addition of olives. “Sure. That’s fine.” She doubted she’d be

able to eat any pizza. Not with all that heat searing her insides. All she really wanted to

do was get out of there, somewhere they could be alone, but she could hardly voice that

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without appearing like a sex-crazed maniac. The notion of going home alone, staying

up all night thinking about… No, she couldn’t bear that.

And she had to admit she was a little creeped out about her client being murdered.

She’d never been afraid to be at her house alone. Her neighborhood was safe and

upscale. But so was John York’s. A shiver rolled over her skin. She forced all the

unpleasant thoughts from her brain. She had something exciting to think about and he

was standing right next to her.

Ben paid for the pizza and two iced teas then gestured toward a booth in the back.

Instead of sitting across from her, he slid in next to her and placed their drinks on the

table. “This okay?”

“Mm hmm.” Better than okay. She eased over a little, slowly, hopefully

imperceptibly, until their thighs were touching. Heat raced through her.

Ben slung his arm over the back of the seat and tugged gently on one of her curls.

He stretched it out straight then watched it spring back into place. “I love your hair.”

She grimaced. “I hate it.” But she had to admit she was enjoying the feel of him

playing with her locks.

He shook his head. “You don’t like your hair or dogs or meat. What do you like?”
She pondered his question. “I like cats and antique furniture and yoga.”
And you.
“What about you?” She pushed a straw into her cup then sipped her tea.
He shrugged. “Hmm. Mel Brooks movies, NASCAR races, Italian food. I loved

playing football. I was on my high school varsity team. Needless to say, I liked

cheerleaders back then.”

She rolled her eyes. “You were one of those guys, huh? I had a crush on our team’s

quarterback but he didn’t even notice I was alive.”

His expression grew serious. “I would have noticed.”
Their eyes met and locked. Her pulse spiked as he grazed his hand tenderly over

her cheek. There was an unusual gentleness about him. Losing herself in him would be

easy, especially tonight, when she so desperately needed the escape.

He nibbled on her lips, skimmed soft kisses along her jaw and her earlobe. Moisture

pooled between her legs. Then his lips crushed hers for a kiss so sexy she nearly came

undone. They broke apart and she looked into his eyes. No mistaking the carnal intent

there.

A shudder rolled over her skin.
“Cold?” He pulled her closer.
She just shook her head.
When their pizza arrived, Ben devoured half of the pie in minutes. Devon ate a few

bites, then set her slice down.

Burning Touch

“Tell me this isn’t the best pizza you’ve ever had.” He wiped a spot of sauce from

the corner of his mouth.

“It’s very good.” His smoldering stare did in what was left of her appetite, for food

at least. She pushed aside her plate. “So tell me, are you a maniac? Should I be terrified

to be alone with you?”

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a black leather wallet and set it on the

table in front of her. “I come with papers. I swear I’m not a weirdo.” He pointed at the

wallet. “Go ahead. You have my permission.”

Tentatively, she did. It felt so invasive to inspect his driver’s license photo and his

gold card. She didn’t need to know all this, had no plans to have him in her life for very

long. Replacing the cards, she pushed the wallet back to him. “That’s enough.”

He squinted at her. “What, you don’t want to sort through it to see if I have a dozen

women’s business cards or a snapshot of me with the wife and kids?”

She rolled her eyes. “Like you would have let me look if you had anything like that

in there.”

He conceded with a shrug. “How do I know you’re who you profess to be? You

might be some man-maiming maniac for all I know, bent on exacting a pound of my

flesh for some other guy’s sins.”

“I guess you’ll have to take me at face value. I’m not showing you my wallet. You

might be an extraordinarily clever identity thief.”

He laughed and his dimples appeared. “Damn it. You’ve found me out. Not so

clever after all, huh?” He flipped through his wallet, pulling out a stack of cards. Then

he spread them over the table. “I want you to see that I’m not carrying my maniac club

membership card.”

Laughing, she shook her head and started stacking the cards together but she

couldn’t resist peeking at a couple. There was one from the Alzheimer’s Foundation,

another for Friends of the Library and Doctors Without Borders. Something squeezed in

her gut. “Do you donate to these charities?”

His face reddened and she knew he hadn’t meant for her to see those. He shrugged

then swept all the cards together and stashed them back in the wallet.

God, he was handsome. She wanted to run her fingers through his thick, glossy

hair, feel his tongue on her skin. “Why aren’t you married?” The question slipped out.

She wished she could take it back, but he was so sweet, so perfect. He reminded her of

some of her friends’ husbands.

An internal brake halted her train of thought. She didn’t give a damn why he didn’t

have a wife. This was only for now.

A cloud passed quickly over his face. “Because we divorced. What about you?”
She schooled her expression. “I don’t have a wife. I promise.”
His smile stoked that building heat inside her. He lifted her left hand, examined it.

“No wedding band tan line. I suppose I can believe you.” Stroking his calloused thumb

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over the back of her hand, he slid closer, brushed his lips over hers. Then he tracked soft

kisses along her jaw, over to her ear and caught the lobe between his teeth. His breath

gusted warm on her neck and she quivered. “My place is only a block away.”

Perfect.
On the walk to Ben’s house they stopped at least every ten steps for one of those

toe-curling kisses.

“Here we are.” He led her up three wide steps to an old-fashioned wood porch.
Thank God. Every moment he wasn’t touching her felt like an eternity.
He fumbled with the lock, finally managed to get the door open and ushered her

inside ahead of him. She barely had a moment to take in her surroundings—hardwood

floors, a staircase in front of her, stacks of boxes against one wall of the foyer—before he

pulled her into his arms again. Fisting his hand in her hair, he pulled her head back and

nibbled on her neck.

Her eyelids slipped lazily shut as he advanced to her mouth, claiming it with a

primal groan.

God, she needed this. Desire stormed through her, engaged all her senses. His

hands roamed up and down her sides, cupped her breasts. She heard a desperate moan

and realized it had come from her. This was too much, too intense. Fear mixed with

arousal. She broke the kiss, sank her fingers into his shoulders. “Ben?”

His eyes were glassy when they met hers.
She had to be sure he understood. “Let’s keep this casual.”
She couldn’t read his expression. Sadness? Regret? Confusion? Was he going to

argue the point?

Please.
Didn’t matter. She refused to form attachments to men. It was only right to be

upfront about her intentions. Bad enough she cared so deeply for Chuck and her

girlfriends. Eventually they’d all disappear from her life, abandon her. But she didn’t

want to think about that now.

Finally, Ben nodded. “Casual works for me.” Without releasing her gaze, he took

several steps toward the staircase. “Bedroom’s upstairs.”

She followed. He slid his hand down her arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

Mating his fingers with hers, he started up the steps. Halfway to the top, he stopped, set

his hands on either side of the wall behind her, bracketing her. Passion sparked in his

eyes. “Kiss me.”

Her breath caught at his request. Erotic energy arced between them. She swallowed

hard, then grazed her lips along his, slid her tongue along the seam of his mouth.

He opened to her, stroked the back of her neck with demanding fingers. His eyes

shuttered as they wrestled tongues and rubbed against each other, thigh to thigh,

sensitive, her needy nipples to that wall of muscle. Heat pooled between her legs.

Burning Touch

Ben grasped her shoulders as he moved his mouth to her neck—the sensitive part

below her chin—and nibbled on her skin.

He was quickly turning her insides to mush. She leaned her head back to give him

better access. Inside a heartbeat, he shifted to her breast and bit at the peaked point,

tugging it through the fabric of her top. Heat exploded through her. She rocked her hips

against him, felt the hard length of him, ready and demanding. “Bedroom?” she

managed.

“Mm,” he said against her breast. He slid his arm around her waist and helped her

up the staircase. Good thing, or she might not have made it thanks to her now-wobbly

legs.

The master suite was the first room on the wide hallway. Dim light from a single

lamp revealed more boxes, just like the ones she’d seen downstairs. A big bed and two

night tables were the only furniture in the spacious room. Was he moving in? Or out?

The question left a thick lump in her throat even though it shouldn’t matter to her. She

had no right to care if he was going away.

Everyone leaves.
He flipped a switch on the wall and the ceiling fan started spinning. The breeze

carried a hint of Ben’s piney cologne, hypnotic and totally male.

“You’re not cold, are you?” He closed the distance between them.
“Nope. Feels good.” Her pulse raced. Would she regret this later? No. They’d have

something short and sweet, no emotions involved. Better than falling in love and

having it torn away from her.

Capturing her gaze, he opened the button at the nape of her neck then pushed her

dress off one shoulder. He bent to kiss her skin and move the fabric farther down.

Tendrils of need ribboned through her. His hands roamed up and down her back. She

hooked her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers. Strand over strand of

shiny black hair fell forward over his forehead.

She gave him a deep, tasting kiss. God, she could suck face with him for hours, but

they had other things to do. She turned away from him so he could finish unbuttoning

her dress. As he opened each one, he gently kissed the skin he’d exposed. The rough

scratch of his beard on her back heightened her senses, made every nerve ending stand

up and take notice. Then he slid the dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor

and pool at her feet.

Naked except for her white lace panties, she took his hands and brought them

around her to cover her breasts. He kneaded them, strummed his thumbs over the tight,

tingling peaks. She shut her eyes and moaned at the overpowering lust.

His erection pressed into the curve of her back as he bent to kiss her neck. When he

moved one hand lower and slid it between her thighs, she thought she’d burst into

flames. Rolling her hips, she let out a desperate whimper.

Wynter Daniels

He cupped her mound, rubbed his hand over her sensitive flesh, only a tiny scrap

of material separated them. How did he know exactly how to touch her, to sense what

felt so good?

A heavy pulse pounded between her legs. She leaned against him, letting him

support her. Little shock waves racked her body, pulling her closer and closer to the

edge. She rubbed over his fingers, pulling every morsel of bliss from his touch.

He nuzzled her shoulder, scratching her skin. His finger teased under her panties to

stroke along her slick core. He probed and explored as he slid in and out of her. It was

too much, she couldn’t take it, shouldn’t feel so good.

A deluge of pleasure tore through her, fast and hard. He held her tighter, absorbed

the tremors that rocked her body, blocking out sight and sound—everything but the

exquisite ecstasy of her climax. Her breath locked in her throat as if her body couldn’t

manage any other functions but the rhapsody of delight. She dug her fingernails into

his arms but he didn’t even flinch.

He continued rubbing her until she wilted against him, thoroughly numb from the

best orgasm of her life.

And when it subsided a cloying sadness overtook her. If she didn’t nip this in the

bud, she could get too attached to him. Hell, she might even be tempted to fall for him,

to fall in love for the first time since…

No, last thing she wanted was to fall in love. There was nothing stopping her from

getting the most out of their time together. But the longer she allowed herself to stay

with a man like him—a man she could easily fall for—the harder it would be to walk

away. No, she’d never see Ben again after tonight. It was just safer that way.

Burning Touch

Chapter Two

Ben picked Devon up, carried her to his bed and set her on top of the comforter. He

couldn’t keep from drinking in every inch of her from that wild curly hair to the silver

toe rings and purple toenail polish. She met his stare and a zing of need quickened his

blood. Something about her made him want to get to know her better, see all the ways

he could make those moss-colored eyes spark with excitement. And passion. Like they

were right now.

But he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, didn’t want to care about Devon. He’d be

moving away from the area in a few months anyway. This was sex, nothing more.

There was nothing stopping him from enjoying himself with her, though, long as he

didn’t make it into more than what it was.

He lifted his shirt over his head then kicked off his shoes. She sat up and destroyed

him with a smoky stare. He made fast work of his remaining clothes, dropping

everything to the floor. Grabbing a condom packet from the night table drawer, he

climbed onto the bed and stretched out on his side, propping himself up on one elbow.

He ran his hand down her supple body. He planned to touch and taste every inch of

that body tonight.

Devon raked her fingernails over his chest, catching his nipples in turn and giving

them an extra-rough scratch. Pleasure tore through him. He hissed out a breath as need

tightened its relentless grip on him.

She waggled her eyebrows and grinned. “You like that?”
He hooked his arm around her waist and drew her closer. “Almost as much as I like

you.” He skimmed a finger between her breasts, down to the green stone at her pierced

navel. So damn sexy. His balls ached with yearning.

“This is hot.” He circled his thumb around the bauble. “Why green?”
She pursed her lips, hesitated before answering. “It was my mother’s birthstone.

And the color of her eyes.”

Was?
She looked awfully young to have lost her mother. His throat thickened with

emotion. He wondered if he should apologize but it didn’t feel like the time.

She didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Why would she? They hardly knew each

other and besides, they were already in the middle of a nonverbal conversation. But he

wanted to get to know her better—much better. He got the feeling he’d be able to trust

her. Maybe it was her complete lack of makeup, as if she had nothing to hide. Maybe it

was the earthy vibe she gave off.

Wynter Daniels

He kissed the skin under her ear and picked up that floral scent again. Feeling her

quiver against him, he weaved his fingers through her silky hair and kissed her soft

lips. He couldn’t wait to delve inside her heat.

She climbed over his legs, straddling his thighs as he lay back.
He cupped her backside. “I want you completely naked.” With that, he pulled

down her panties and she helped him roll them off one leg at a time.

She got back on top of him and slid her body along his. Her fingertips danced

lightly over his chest and desire pumped through his bloodstream. He struggled to

hang on to his composure. When she rolled her hips over his cock, he couldn’t take it

anymore. She was hot enough to burn him. Grasping her breast, he sucked the hard

point into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it then gave the other one the same

treatment.

Devon moaned softly, pivoted her hips over him, driving him wild. He released her

nipple and she shifted lower, rubbed her slick sex along his shaft.

Need slammed through him with a pounding, undeniable intensity. He sheathed

himself, desperate to bury himself deep inside her. Lying back, he stroked a finger

down her abdomen, through the small tuft of blonde curls between her legs. Her quiver

and quiet sigh only made him harder. He desperately craved time to explore her, to

touch and taste every square inch of her irresistible body, but first he needed to take her

hard and fast. Later he’d indulge himself, take as long as he pleased to properly make

love to her.

She sat up higher on her knees to give him better access and he took full advantage,

sliding a finger between her folds. She was wet—very wet. Very ready.

His lust burned hot and thick as he lifted her over his shaft. He eased himself into

her heat, careful not to proceed too fast for her. Last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

But she accepted all he gave, rolling her hips and pivoting to take him all the way.

Blissful pressure built inside him, coiled deliciously tight. God, she felt better than

he’d dreamed—tight and slick and hot. He guided her movements, pushed farther as

she rocked and clenched around him. There was something so natural about the way

they fit together, almost elemental.

She leaned forward and her blonde curls brushed over his skin, driving him wild

with desire. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she squeezed her eyes shut and

moaned. She rode him relentlessly, mercilessly. Bracing her hands on his chest, she

ground her hips against him.

Lord, she felt great. He sank his fingers into her waist, clutched her down on him,

harder and harder, reaching deeper with every thrust. Each stroke was pure bliss as she

clamped around him, so damn tight.

She raked her nails over his skin, cutting into his chest. He flinched at the sting but

it only made the pleasure that much more intense.

A glassy haze slid over her eyes. She arched her back and lolled her head to the side

as he drove them closer and closer to completion. His breath hitched when she

Burning Touch

squeezed him with divine perfection. Her moan was long and low as she twisted and

bucked above him.

Finally, he allowed himself to lose control and he detonated in an explosion of bliss.

Pleasure spread through him with his final thrusts, leaving him spent and completely

destroyed, totally lost in her.

When he came up for air, he settled her against him, enjoying her essence and the

feel of her velvet skin. She nestled her back higher along his stomach and he was struck

by how comfortable that felt, as if their bodies were old friends.

For some reason he was drawn to Devon. She felt comfortable yet so exciting. He

wanted to see her again, take her on a date, maybe start something that could grow. But

how was he supposed to put himself out there when she’d already said this was all

they’d have? Did he really want to open himself up to another kick in the teeth? It was a

gamble, but in his line of work he speculated on unknowns all the time.

Take a chance.
Maybe in the morning. Maybe.

* * * * *

Devon woke with Ben wrapped around her. Her body felt completely stretched out

and used in a thousand wonderful ways. The remnants of the bag of cookies they’d

eaten in bed—after their second go-round—littered the night table on her side.

Memories of incredible pleasure flooded through her. The sex was the best she’d ever

experienced.

Eventually he’ll leave me like the rest have.
Turning onto her back, she peered at Ben. A golf ball-size lump formed in her

throat when she saw his peaceful expression. She could not care about him, they’d only

just met. Leaving was the best thing she could do for both of them, nip it in the bud

before it turned into something.

Easing back the covers, she moved away from him slowly, carefully. If he woke,

he’d make it harder for her to leave. Anyway, she had an early appointment and she

hated awkward mornings after.

She plucked her clothes off the floor then carried them into the bathroom and

dressed, thankful for the first orange slivers of sunlight peeking through the blinds. She

took a business card out of her purse, started to lay it on the night table, but she

hesitated. If she allowed herself to develop feelings for him, it would hurt when it

ended, when he eventually abandoned her.

Why start something that would only end in one of them getting hurt? She slipped

the card back into her purse.

I’m sorry, Ben.

Wynter Daniels

Making her way to the front door, she spared the place one backward glance and a

pang of something uncomfortable—guilt or maybe what-ifs—stabbed at her gut. But it

was better this way.

She passed the pizza place a few minutes later—then the bar where they’d met—on

the way to her car. As she slid in to the driver’s seat, cold relief swept through her.

She’d had a good time with him, a great time actually. But she had to take it for what it

was—just sex.

Driving through the nearly deserted streets of Winter Park, she finally relaxed. She

needed to shake free of the lusty haze that had befallen her and steel herself for the

inevitable empty feeling that would follow. No sense in dwelling on something that

would only bog her down.

She had two massage appointments today and her cats would be extra hungry since

she’d fed them earlier than usual yesterday evening.

After a shower, she headed out to the yard to water her garden then poured a

second cup of coffee and sat at the bistro table on the patio. Yin and Yang, two of her

oldest cats, and the only ones allowed inside the house, joined her as she opened the

newspaper. She ran through her mental checklist of all the things she had to do before

she left for her appointment.

Sliding her gaze to her garden, she zeroed in on her mint plants. Several weeds had

somehow appeared overnight. She welcomed the distraction. Minutes later, she’d

yanked out a sizeable pile of invaders from her herbs.

“And where were you all night?” Chuck stuck his head out the glass sliders from

the kitchen, eying her with mock accusation.

“Morning.” She returned to the patio and dusted off her pants before she took a seat

at the table. “I made coffee.”

He disappeared inside and she heard him pouring a cup for himself. “You didn’t

answer my question.”

She waited until he came outside and sat across from her. “I spent the night with a

friend.” Sipping her coffee allowed her to avoid his probing stare, but she knew he

wouldn’t let it rest.

“Devon?” He bent to pet Yang. When she didn’t answer, he huffed. “You’re going

to make me drag this out of you, aren’t you? Okay, was it an old friend or a new friend?

Female or male?”

She rolled her eyes then met his gaze. “Yes. New. Male.” Watching his exasperated

frown, she chuckled. “Okay, fine. I was out with the girls, feeling a little lonely, maybe a

little sorry for myself because of what day it was.”

He nodded his understanding and patted her knee. “Then finding out about that

client of yours who was murdered.” He shook his head. “What was his name?”

“John York. I only had one appointment with him, but it’s still creepy. Poor guy.”
“Definitely.”

Burning Touch

She didn’t want to think about it anymore. “Anyway, I met a guy and we hooked

up. End of story.”

His brown eyes sparked with interest. “You haven’t done that for a while. Good for

you. How was it? Are you going to see him again? God, I hope so. Maybe you two can

double date with Tony and me.”

She tried for a smile. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.” A dull ache settled behind her

temples. “Actually, I don’t plan to see him again, but I’d love to meet Tony. You really

like this guy, huh?” She rested her chin in her hand.

He playfully growled. “Don’t think I didn’t realize you’re steering the conversation

away from you again.”

After five years of being his friend and roommate, she knew him well enough to

know he loved discussing himself so much that he’d let her slide.

“Fine. Yes, I like him a lot. And my God, he’s talented. You should see the arch he

did for the Kramer wedding. Absolutely breathtaking.” He clutched his hands to his

chest. “Calla lilies, gerbera daisies, irises and carnations. Just stunning.”

She tried to pay attention as he talked bouquets, centerpieces and swags, but her

mind kept wandering to Ben. What was he doing now? Had he realized she was gone

yet? Did he care?

“Anyway, I plan to tell my new client to use him.” He turned his wrist to check his

watch. “I’m meeting her and her über-rich fiancé in an hour. He has a mansion on Lake

Virginia, but he’s kind of old and crusty. I guess gobs and gobs of money make up for a

whole lot.” He shuddered. “The woman has to be twenty years his junior. ‘Course, she

has dollar signs for eyes. She’s already bitchy and demanding and I’ve only just met

her. Honestly, I have a feeling she’s going to make my life a living hell until her

wedding.”

Devon shrugged. “Long as you get paid, right?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. I am a professional and frankly, I’m looking forward to

having a huge budget to work with on this wedding.” Standing, he started back inside,

then stopped at the doorway and spun around. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I saw a couple

hot Hispanic men doing some kind of construction work on that empty house next

door. That’s the second time this week. Looks like we’ll have new neighbors soon. Let’s

hope they like cats more than the last residents.”

Her stomach instantly clenched at the memory of the older couple that had moved

out a few months back. The woman had constantly complained about Devon’s rescue

cats going in her yard and frightening her froufrou little Chihuahua. “Let’s hope.”

He disappeared inside for a minute then returned to the patio to kiss the top of her

head. “See you tonight, my love. Don’t wait up. I’m meeting Tony for a late supper.”

“Have fun.” She stood and gave him a hug.
“Appointments today?”

Wynter Daniels

She picked up her mug and strode inside with him. “Yup. Two new ones. I’d better

hurry or I’ll be late.”

She left right after Chuck. Before backing out of the driveway, she checked the

email she’d printed with the directions her new client had sent. “Harvey Wallis,” she

read aloud, trying to commit the name to memory.

The route took her right past Ben’s place. Her gut clenched when she ventured a

glance at his house and saw him amble outside, wearing only a pair of shorts. Alarm

stole her breath. Forcing her stare straight ahead, she gulped. As soon as she’d driven

by, she chanced a peek in the rearview mirror and saw him bend over to grab the

newspaper from the sidewalk.

He hadn’t seen her. Thank God. Somewhere deep inside though, she wished he

had. Would he have called after her, waved her down?

Forcing the thought away, she turned on her radio and concentrated on finding

Harvey’s street. Halfway through the second song, she parked in front of a garish

contemporary house that reminded her of the parking garages in downtown Orlando.

A “For Sale” sign was stuck in the ground near the street.

Good luck selling that ugly thing.
Staring at the house, she fished out her lip-gloss then glided the tube over her lips.

Slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder, she started up the walkway to the door. A

tall, stocky man opened before she got there. She guessed him to be about forty-five. He

wore a navy terrycloth bathrobe and matching slippers.

“I’m Devon.” She offered her hand.
He shook with her then glanced over her shoulder. “You brought a table, didn’t

you?”

“Of course. It’s in the trunk.” She glimpsed past him into a darkly lit great room,

which was just as sparsely appointed as she’d expected and radiated about as much

warmth as a snow cone.

Harvey took her duffle. “We’ll do this in the bedroom.” He waited as she returned

to the car for the rest of her gear.

Hauling her portable massage table from her trunk, she made a metal note to check

her bag for her can of Mace. She never knew with a new client. Not that she’d ever had

a problem, but being prepared was just plain smart.

When she entered the house, Harvey led her through a dark hallway past two

closed doors to his bedroom. The curtains were drawn and the only light in the room

came from a small cube-shaped glass lamp on the dresser.

Harvey toed off his slippers then sat on the bed while Devon opened her table. “I

don’t go for that deep-tissue stuff. Just a regular Swedish massage, got it?” He skimmed

his gaze over her then licked his lips.

“Got it.” A chill slinked up her spine. He might be a little creepy, she hadn’t

decided yet. After she’d unfolded the table, she dug in her bag and felt the small

Burning Touch

canister of Mace. She allowed herself a small measure of relief and the tension in her

neck relaxed a little. Pulling out two baby blue sheets, she outfitted the table. Then she

set up her CD player and took a bottle of massage oil out of the duffle.

“You said it’s ninety bucks, right?”
She fixed a smile on her face. “Yes. For an hour. You said you’ve been getting

massages regularly, right?”

“Yeah. For a few years.”
Gesturing to the table, she said, “I’ll step outside so you can get ready. Facedown

between the two sheets, please.”

Again, his eyes tracked over her body. “I’m not modest. You can stay.” He untied

his robe and Devon automatically turned away.

“Shy, huh? That’s cute.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end when he laughed, but she forced

herself to remain calm. He wasn’t the first male client who’d made her slightly

uncomfortable and he wouldn’t be the last. But this might be a one-time-only job if the

guy didn’t quit checking her out. She refused to keep clients who gave her a bad vibe.

“How did you find me, Harvey?”

“The lady I was using retired. She gave me names of other masseuses she thought

I’d like.”

When she heard him climb onto the table and pull the sheet into place, she finally

turned around.

“Who did you say referred you?” She always liked to at least drop a thank-you note

to anyone who sent her business.

“Mfffth Gbbbnnn.” With his face wedged into the horseshoe cushion at the end of

the table, nothing he said was going to be decipherable. She made a mental note to ask

again before she left.

Swallowing back a wave of apprehension, she got to work. Thankfully he wasn’t

one of those clients who liked to talk through his massage. Part of the relaxation benefit

was lost when the client insisted on chatting.

After she’d finished, she stepped over to the door. “I’ll give you a minute,” she said

and hurried through before he could argue. She waited in the hallway but didn’t hear

anything from inside the room, although it wasn’t uncommon for her clients to take a

few minutes to regroup before getting off the table. Finally she heard the familiar creak

of her massage table.

Took him less than a minute to come open the door. He was wearing the same robe

and slippers she’d seen him in earlier. “Good massage.” He stepped aside and she

moved past him to start gathering her things.

“I’m glad you liked it.” She rolled the sheets off the table then stashed them in a

plastic bag before packing them away. After she’d broken down the table, she leaned it

against the wall and waited for Harvey to pay her.

Wynter Daniels

“Let me help you with that.” He picked up her table and strode toward the living

room.

Devon followed with the rest of her things. A measure of relief flowed through her

when they reached her car. Maybe she’d misjudged Harvey. He hadn’t tried anything

unsavory, but still, he’d given her those slimy looks.

To confirm her misgivings, he stared at her chest as he handed her a folded-up bill.

“I’ll call you next week to set something up.”

She’d tell him no thanks when he called. Why get into it in person? She palmed the

cash. “Thanks, Mr. Wallis. Nice meeting you.”

Inside her car, she went to put away the money he’d paid her and realized there

were two bills—a hundred and a fifty. Nice tip. Tempting to consider adding Harvey as

a client, but she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling.

When she arrived home a few minutes later she found an envelope taped to her

door. She pulled it off and tore it open.

Dear Neighbor,
One of your cats urinated on my car. They also defecate in my yard. If that

happens again I will be forced to call animal control. No one should have so many

animals. Please control your cats!!!

Sincerely,
Your not-very-happy neighbor

Her chest tightened. Balling the paper in her fist, she scanned the houses around

her. She knew a few of the residents, but there were at least three or four she’d never

met. Her gaze landed on the large two-story to the left of her home.

Hadn’t Chuck mentioned that he’d seen some work going on there? Maybe their

new neighbor was the asshole who’d written the note. She gritted her teeth as she

unlocked the front door then set her purse on the hook in the foyer.

Channeling her yoga instructor, she concentrated on taking controlled breaths but

couldn’t seem to disperse her annoyance. Letter still clutched in her fist, she marched

next door. Jabbing a finger at the doorbell button, she tried to rein in her anger.

Animal Control. Bastard!
When no one answered, she rang again, this time holding the button a few extra

seconds. Heavy footsteps approached and her heart kicked up a notch. She squared her

shoulders, ready to give the son-of-a-bitch a piece of her mind.

The door opened and she looked up at the man and gasped.
Oh, shit.

Burning Touch

Chapter Three

Ben’s brain ran a hundred miles a minute. What was Devon doing standing on his

porch? How had she found him here? He was happy to see her, but hurt that she’d left

while he’d still been asleep. His mind sifted through the implications of her living so

close. Could they be friends after last night? He didn’t want to be just her friend. But

getting more involved with any woman terrified him. How could he know she

wouldn’t lie to him and cheat on him? Then it hit him that she had no idea it was his

doorbell she’d rang. She looked just as surprised as he felt.

It took her a moment to compose herself, about as long as it took him to do the

same. Her cheeks bore an angry pink flush. She wore a white polo shirt with khaki

pants, looked like some kind of uniform. And she was holding a crinkled paper in her

hand. “W-what are you doing here?”

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. “Um, I think

when you ring someone’s doorbell he’s the one who normally asks what you’re doing

standing on his porch.”

Sun and shadow painted her wild curls in a dozen shades of gold. The memory of

those silky locks skimming over his abdomen flashed in his mind. Just the mere thought

had a particular part of him rising to attention. Only he didn’t care for the anger that

flashed in her eyes.

She glanced around him as if she expected to see someone else. Then she trained

that enraged stare on him. “I live here. Now tell me why you’re in this house.”

He stifled a grin. “I’m pretty sure you don’t live here. If you want the mortgage

though, you’re welcome to it.”

He could practically see steam shooting out her ears.
“Next door, damn it.” She tipped her chin to the right. “That’s my house. Now why

aren’t you at yours?”

Holy cow. He’d slept with his new neighbor. She was a lot more fun last night,

though. Now she looked as if she wanted to chomp his head off. He could think of a

dozen other things for her mouth to do. Remembering how she’d nipped his shoulders

and chest and… Oh, Lord. He couldn’t go there. “I hate to break this to you, but this is

my house. My new house.”

Her eyes grew huge and her lips moved but she didn’t make any intelligible

sounds.

“I’m sure you noticed the boxes at the other place. And the lack of more than just

the absolutely essential furniture. That often means someone is in the process of moving

out.” He shrugged. “Or in. But in my case it was the former.”

Wynter Daniels

“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.” He pasted on a mock frown and stepped onto the porch.

“You’re hurting my feelings here, Devon. I sure hope you’re not the neighborhood

welcome wagon.” He had to admit there was something about her that drew him to

her, something more than the powerful sexual attraction.

She backed up a half step and he caught several emotions in her expression—

confusion, disbelief, even fear. He wished he saw even a trace of excitement, but he

didn’t.

“And I suppose this is from you?” She shoved the ball of paper toward his face.
He snatched it from her and opened it up, quickly read it. “Join me for a cup of

coffee and we can discuss it. Maybe you’ll tell me why you sneaked away during the

night, before I had a chance to ask for your phone number or your email or your

address. ’Course, I have your address now, huh?”

She narrowed her eyes, waited a long beat before speaking. “So you did write the

letter.”

He shoved the paper in his pocket, a little disappointed she hadn’t showed the least

amount of regret for leaving him alone in his bed. “I noticed a little bakery a couple

blocks away on Palmer. Is it any good?”

“Why should I go anywhere with someone who’d write a mean-spirited note like

that?” Squaring her shoulders, she glowered at him. “But yes, the bakery is to die for.

And they have the best coffee in Winter Park if you ask me, which you did.”

“Then let’s go.” He pulled his door shut then gestured for her to descend the steps

ahead of him.

But she didn’t move. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Not after that note.”
He tried for his most innocent smile. “Devon, I didn’t say I wrote the letter, did I?”

Toying with her was the most fun he’d had since the night before.

An orange-and-white cat climbed onto the porch and slinked toward them. “Is that

yours?”

She nodded and lifted an eyebrow in a silent challenge.
He crouched low, held out his hand for the feline to smell. “Hey, kitty. Aren’t you

pretty?” Just to mess with her, he picked up the animal and scratched its chin.

Devon reached over and grabbed the cat from him, set it down on the step below.

He sniffed her floral scent and imagined himself nuzzling her neck, just below her ear

like he’d done last night. She’d quivered in response. God, if those memories kept

sneaking into his brain he wouldn’t be able to walk.

Her eyes turned glassy for a moment and he wondered if she’d had a similar

thought. Too quickly, her expression returned to the seriously angry one she’d worn

moments earlier. “Did you or did you not tape that note to my door?”

Leaning against the railing, he folded his arms over his chest. He wasn’t ready yet

to admit he’d had nothing to do with the letter. “Will you or will you not come get

Burning Touch

coffee with me so we can discuss it? As much as I’d love to stand here and snipe back

and forth, my body is howling for caffeine.”

Devon threw her hands in the air and blew out an exasperated breath. The man was

impossible. She was ninety-nine percent sure he wasn’t behind the rude letter. But the

identity of said writer was fading in importance. Ben’s effect on her was way more

bothersome. What kind of freaky bad luck was it that her one-night stand should

suddenly become her neighbor?

Standing so close to him was stirring up memories. The way he looked at her now

reminded her of how he’d held her gaze as he’d slid in and out of her last night. The air

between them crackled with sensual electricity. Her pulse pounded as she flashed on

the gentle way he’d touched her, how he’d held back on his own release and made sure

she’d had hers first. The man had way more pull on her than he should. She could

totally fall for him.

Her skin got itchy. She should leave. Go home and ignore the fact that he was now

living a stone’s throw away. But she couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there. Nor could she

force herself to dislike him. “Fine. Let’s go.”

As they walked along the tree-lined street, she tried to distill the notion of having

Ben next door. What if she couldn’t resist sleeping with him again? And again. What if

she came to care about him? Or God forbid, love him?

It’ll hurt when he leaves me.
“So you have a lot of cats, huh?”
She wished he didn’t smell so good. Moisture pooled between her legs. How was

she supposed to think with him so near? “I only have two that I let inside. The others

come and go. I have an arrangement with a vet. He spays or neuters them for a

discounted fee and I feed them, give them flea treatments, try to find homes for them,

you know. My roommate Chuck made me a website where people can donate to the

spay-and-neuter fund. We’ve raised more than a thousand dollars this year.”

“Wow. That’s terrific. So in the meanwhile, before you find them a home, there are

a bunch of cats roaming the neighborhood. And obviously someone is bothered by

that.”

Okay, so now she was sure he wasn’t the letter writer. Why was she so relieved? “I

guess so. I only have one now. But the note said a cat had peed on the person’s car. Cats

don’t just do that for fun. They usually do something like that to give the person a

message, like ‘stop being mean to me’. Any suggestions?”

“Let me think on it.” He pulled open the door to the bakery then followed her

inside. For once she was thankful for the aromas of fresh-baked bread and pastries. At

least they overpowered Ben’s scent. She’d rather gain weight than risk developing

feelings for the man.

“Wow. I’ve died and gone to heaven.” He ordered them each a chocolate croissant

and a cup of coffee.

Wynter Daniels

Devon was relieved that all the tables were taken. “I don’t really have time to stay

anyway. Let’s eat as we walk.”

Shrugging, Ben followed her out. “Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. You

now owe me a sit-down with coffee and pastry.” He took a big bite of his croissant. Two

more and it was gone.

Her stomach lurched. “I only agreed to come with you here because I thought you

wrote that note. Now that I’m sure it wasn’t you, there’s no need for us to have a sit-

down anything.”

He slapped a hand to his chest. “Devon, you’re killing me. Way to break a guy’s

heart.”

She avoided his eyes, bit off a small piece of her croissant so she had an excuse to

keep quiet.

“Am I such a terrible guy that the thought of seeing me every day gives you hives

or something?” He hooked her free arm and dragged her to a stop. “You seemed to like

me last night. What’s changed?”

Now she couldn’t avoid those aquamarine eyes. Damn. Heat bloomed where he

touched her. Why did the attraction have to be so strong? What was it about him that

drew her? So what that he donated to charities she liked. And that she felt more

comfortable talking to him than she had to any guy in…forever.

She huffed out a breath. Wasn’t his fault that she found him so damn irresistible.

“Nothing’s changed. It’s been a weird morning, okay? I read something upsetting in the

newspaper, one of my clients…” She huffed then shook her head. “I don’t want to

discuss it. I don’t have much time this morning.”

“Come on, Devon, I think I know when someone’s trying to brush me off. What is it

you’re afraid of?” He stopped walking and pinned her with a plaintive stare.

Her throat nearly closed up. She shoved her coffee at him. “I’m not afraid of

anything. I just have another appointment. I’ve got to go.” She spun around and ran

toward home without a backward glance.

* * * * *

Devon folded her massage table and packed up her supplies as her client spoke on

his cell. At least he’d wanted his massage in his living room. But the isolation of this

house had made her a little nervous from the start.

“Trust me, Don. You need to dump PDK Micro Devices today. I told you that stock

was a dog from day one.”

Devon tuned out his conversation. She wished she’d been able to shake the fluttery

feeling in her stomach from her encounter with Ben. Jeez, it had only been a few hours

since she’d left him. Yet her body ached for more of him. Maybe it had been too long

since the last time she’d had a fling. But this had felt different from those other

Burning Touch

encounters, more real. No. She wouldn’t allow her mind to wander in that direction.

What was the point?

She picked up her duffle bag but it caught on a chair and fell on the floor. The

contents scattered on the Oriental rug and the surrounding hardwood floor. Why

hadn’t she zipped it up?

Because I can’t think straight with Ben on my brain.
Her client finally hung up and waited as she crawled around on his floor, picking

up her things. Finally, she zipped the bag and stood up. “Sorry about that. Just clumsy

today.”

The man didn’t smile or nod or anything. He just gave her a blank stare and

extended his abnormally hairy hand, which held a check.

Shoving the paper into her pocket, she said, “Thanks.” He let her out and shut the

door. She started toward her car but froze when a big, shaggy mutt approached. Her

heart tattooed a thunderous beat. She glanced back at her client’s closed door. “Mr.

Thorpe?”

But she could hear him talking again, another phone call no doubt. Her throat

tightened.

“Shoo, doggie. Go away.” Amazingly, the dog listened. When the animal was at

least ten yards away, she finally drew a breath then continued to her car.

On her way home she stopped at the nursery to pick up some strawberry plants.

Her mother had grown the fruit every year and Devon had adopted the tradition almost

as a tribute. Now that the summer rains had stopped and the ground was drier, it was

the perfect time to grow berries. Her mouth watered as she anticipated the harvest.

Working in her garden would keep her mind occupied so she wouldn’t keep dwelling

on thoughts of Ben.

Hopefully she had a full schedule the next few days. She remembered she hadn’t

checked her messages yet for new bookings and cancellations. Patting her bag, she felt

around for her phone. She was nearly home when she realized it wasn’t in there.

“Damn it.” It must have fallen out when her bag exploded at his house.

Just freaking great.
Her temples started aching. She steered into a parking lot to turn around then

headed back the way she’d come. This day wasn’t turning out to be anything like she’d

planned.

Must be the lack of sleep. But God, what she’d done instead of sleeping. Her mind

wandered to her time with Ben and desire stirred inside her. He’d touched her in ways

she’d never dreamed. Made her body respond as if he’d been making love to her for

years, as if he lived in her head.

Ben. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Wynter Daniels

She arrived back at her last client’s house and pulled around the circular driveway.

Hopefully he’d already found her phone and he’d just hand it to her and she could go.

She went to the door and rang the bell. Then she waited…and waited.

After several minutes, she knocked as hard as she could, but still, no response. She

couldn’t see anything through the leaded glass on either side of the door so she leaned

over a low hedge and peeked in the window. Which was open a few inches.

“Hello? Mr.…” Nuts. What the heck was his name? Then it came to her. “Mr.

Thorpe?”

Nothing.
She tried the door but it was locked. She had to get her cell. It was more than just a

phone, it held every client’s name and number, her schedule, her life, everything.

She wished Ben were here. For some reason, she assumed he was smart and

resourceful. He’d know exactly what to do. The thought knocked her off balance. She’d

only met him last night and now she was dressing him up like Superman or something.

Which confirmed her fear that she’d become dependent upon him if she started a

relationship with him.

Then he’ll abandon me.
No. She could handle this on her own. Hell, she’d handled everything in her adult

life alone. She didn’t need anyone’s help. Before she could knock again that damn mutt

she’d seen earlier came up the walk. When she backed to the door, he bared his teeth

and snarled.

Shit.
Why had she left her Mace in the car? Her heart drummed in her ears.

Uncomfortable heat spread through her. She pounded her fist on the door. “Mr.

Thorpe? Help.”

The dog growled.
Her knees went weak. “Go away, doggie.” Unfortunately it didn’t work this time.

Inching away, she wedged herself between a row of low hedges and the house. “Mr.

Thorpe,” she yelled through the three-inch gap. Still, no answer.

The dog growled again. She felt like she had a fifty-pound weight on her chest. She

could hardly get a breath in. “Oh God. Please stay back, dog.”

The canine’s eyes sparked with danger.
She banged on the window behind her but it was no use. She hooked her fingers

under the glass and pushed up. The window easily slid open wider.

Now what?
She had no choice. She scanned the area. The house was on such a large, private lot

that no one would see if she climbed in the window. Hopefully there wasn’t an alarm

system. But even if she did set off a security system, she was beyond caring. All she

could think about was that monster canine tearing her to pieces.

Burning Touch

Swallowing back her misgivings, she climbed inside. The dog started barking,

loudly. She shut the window and finally allowed herself a measure of relief. Wiping

sweat from her forehead, she exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

But what if the guy came home? What if he was in the shower and he came out

naked? “Mr. Thorpe?”

Forcing back her trepidation, she went quietly as she could through the foyer to the

living room. May as well look for her phone since she was already inside.

Hurry!
She got down on her hands and knees and patted the patterned rug, bent to search

under the couch and loveseat.

Where the hell was it?
Frustrated tears stung the back of her eyes, but she forced them back. No time. She

had to get out of there before someone came home and found her. She crawled the

entire area but her phone was nowhere to be found.

Could I have left it somewhere else?
She could have sworn she had it with her when she’d arrived earlier. Head now

throbbing, she got to her feet. Maybe she’d forgotten it at home. But she couldn’t risk

going to her car unarmed with that devil dog outside. She scanned the room for

anything she could use as a weapon. Catching sight of a silver letter opener on the desk,

she headed to it and tested the point. Plenty sharp. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to use

it. Just because she was afraid of dogs didn’t mean she wanted to hurt one. She’d mail

the opener back to Mr. Thorpe.

Starting toward the foyer, she froze in her tracks. A shadow shimmied across the

floor in front of her. Could that mutt have gotten inside somehow? Unless it was Mr.

Thorpe. Her stomach fluttered. “Mr. Thorpe? Is that you?”

She glanced out the window and realized it was just a branch outside, swaying in

the afternoon breeze. But when she took a few more steps, she gasped. A crimson pool

was slowly creeping into the foyer from under a closed door.

Blood! Oh God.
She started trembling. What if whoever was in there was still alive? She had to see.

How could she live with herself if she found out he was and she could have saved him?

A chill snaked up her spine as she reached for the handle. Blood pounded in her ears as

she used the letter opener to inch the door open as far as it would go—only a foot or so.

Something blocked it on the other side.

She bit back a scream when she saw a hand on the floor just inside the room. A

hairy hand she recognized. That was him—Mr. Thorpe.

Oh no. Oh God.
His body was sprawled on the wood floor, facedown. She crouched low, making

certain to avoid the pool of blood. Grasping the doorframe to steady herself, she

reached for his lifeless hand and touched her finger to the wrist.

Wynter Daniels

Oh God. It was still warm. But completely devoid of any pulse. She jerked away,

dropped the letter opener on the floor and wiped her palm on her thigh. Nausea

threatened. Gripping the doorjamb, she pulled herself up. Stars swam before her eyes.

She stumbled backward, grabbed the edge of a bookcase. It wobbled and a few books

crashed to the floor.

Think!
She waited until the dizziness passed. A phone. She had to call for help. But what if

the killer was still in the house? Waiting.

For me.
That thought sent her scrambling toward the door. She yanked it open, didn’t

bother closing it as she raced to her car. Thank God the dog was nowhere in sight.

Locking herself inside, she held fast to the wheel. She had to get out of there. Hands

shaking, she glanced around the area.

Jesus, the guy lived in the middle of nowhere. Only one other house in sight.
Please let there be someone home there.
She drove to the brick Tudor-style home and jumped out of her car, which she left

running. She jabbed the doorbell over and over.

Why wasn’t anyone coming to the door? Her head pounded as she darted her eyes

all over the yard. What if the killer was close, watching her? Panic washed over her. She

raced back to her car.

Then she remembered about her other client, John York. God, this was her second

client who was killed. What the hell was going on? Could there be a connection? No, of

course not. She’d only met Mr. Thorpe an hour ago. And she’d given the other man

only one massage. But still…

No. She couldn’t be the only thing they had in common. Turning her brain to

autopilot, she drove to her house and parked in the driveway. Still shaking

uncontrollably, she got out and started up the walk.

“Devon.”
She hesitated a moment before turning toward Ben’s voice. Last thing she wanted

was to need him. But when he jogged over, she couldn’t help herself. She was about to

explode.

“I wanted to—” He grasped her upper arms. “What’s wrong? You’re white as a

sheet.”

She looked up into his eyes—caring eyes—and she yearned to disappear in their

turquoise depths. Her head felt heavy. She wanted to lean it on his solid chest. Her legs

went out from under her. She heard Ben’s gasp a split second before he caught her and

lifted her into his arms. Clasping her hands around his neck, she dropped her keys to

the ground. She shut her eyes and lost herself in him.

Burning Touch

Ben carried Devon over to his house, brought her into the living room and set her

on the couch. Her eyes fluttered open but she didn’t seem fully conscious. What the hell

had happened to her? He inspected her from head to…

Oh Jesus. Her khaki pants had a brownish-red imprint of a hand on the left thigh.

Her blood? “Devon, what happened?” He lightly slapped her cheek. “Stay with me.”

She muttered something about a hairy hand.
Cold fear rushed through him. And a fierce protectiveness. He quickly examined

her, searching for a wound, but he couldn’t find anything. “Devon!”

Finally she peered straight into his eyes. “Call the police. Mr. Thorpe was

murdered.”

Murdered. The word hit him like a slap of icy water. Who the hell was Mr. Thorpe?

“Who, Devon? Where were you?”

She seemed to come around more. Clutching his shirt in her fists, she sat up. “I

found his body. Please, Ben. Call the police, now.”

“Where should I send them?”
She pointed toward the front door. “The address is in my car. On an index card.”
He didn’t want to leave her even for a minute, but he had no choice. “I’ll be right

back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

She nodded, closed her eyes. “I won’t.”
He made it back in record time. “This it? Kendall Thorpe?”
She narrowed her gaze at the card. “Right.”
He pulled his cell out of his pocket and phoned 9-1-1. While they waited he made

her a cup of tea. He stayed close while she drank it.

Next thing he knew a uniformed officer showed up to take Devon to the crime

scene. Without him. His gut clenched when he watched her get into the marked car, her

eyes reaching out to him, begging him for help. Help that he was powerless to provide.

The officer had refused to allow him to go with her. Something about a closed crime

scene. He didn’t give a shit about the crime scene. But he realized he did care what

happened to Devon. She’d been nothing but drama since she’d sneaked out of his bed.

Drama or not, he had feelings for her, feelings that he wished would go away.

* * * * *

The skin on the back of Devon’s neck prickled when she arrived back at Kendall

Thorpe’s place accompanied by a uniformed officer.

“Wait here,” the cop told her. Then he headed inside the house, which was buzzing

with activity, just like John York’s place was two days before. A dozen vehicles were

parked in the driveway and on the street. People were going in and out of the house

constantly. News vans and a small crowd of people waited at the far end of the road,

prevented from coming closer by an officer.

Wynter Daniels

The scene brought her back to the night her parents died—flashing lights, men and

women in different uniforms, curious onlookers trying to figure out what had

happened. The familiar pain paralyzed her. She had to force the devastating memory

down.

Minutes ticked past as she waited. Her mind refused to be still. What were the

chances that two of her clients would be murdered, let alone that both crimes should

happen the same week?

Stay calm. I had nothing to do with either murder.
She fished her lip-gloss out of her pocket with a shaky hand and smoothed it over

her lips. Finally that same stocky, middle-aged detective wearing an ill-fitting gray suit

approached. He bent to see in the window. “We meet again, Miss Wise.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name, Detective.”
He opened the door. “Underwood. Come on out. I have a few questions for you.”
That turned out to be the understatement of the decade. In stark contrast to the few

questions he’d asked her at York’s house, this time he asked her dozens of questions

and even had a member of the forensics team spray her hands with a chemical to detect

gunpowder residue. Of course, there were no traces on her skin.

He made her change into a pair of oversize sweatpants and a big T-shirt so she

could give him her clothes, which he put into a plastic bag. They took her fingerprints

and even yanked out a few hairs from her scalp for a sample.

She was doing okay until he asked her how she’d gotten inside when she returned

to search for her phone. Panic flooded through her, made her dizzy. Instead of

answering, she took a big sip of the water bottle one of the cops had given her.

“So the door was unlocked when you arrived?” he prodded.
Gulping, she slid her gaze to the window. What if he didn’t believe her about the

dog? And oh God, she’d forgotten about the letter opener. They were going to find her

fingerprints on it. Would he think it was her who’d killed Kendall Thorpe?

And what about John York? Unfortunately, she had no alibi for the day he’d been

killed. She’d been home alone. This was turning into a huge nightmare. Everything was

running together so she didn’t know what she’d said.

She nodded mutely.
Tell him the truth.
His eyes narrowed on her. “You’re sure?”
Her heart felt like it would come right through her chest. She could barely breathe.

She was about to explain about the dog and the window when a female officer called

him over.

He held up his index finger to indicate that he’d be right back. Then he crossed the

driveway to speak to the woman. “I’ll be in touch, Miss Wise,” he called over his

shoulder.

Burning Touch

She practically ran back to the police car and waited there until the man who’d

picked her up came back to take her home. He pulled into her driveway a little after

dark. The sight of her own house made her sigh with relief.

“Detective Underwood might want to talk to you again,” the officer told her.
She froze, hand on the door handle. “Why? I’ve told him everything I know.”
He shrugged. “Murder investigations are a big deal, especially for a small

department like ours. Never know what kind of questions will pop up. Long as you’re

straight with him, you’re cool. He gets downright mean when people lie to him

though.”

His comment sent a chill through her. She tried to steady her voice. “W-will I get

my clothes back?” She only had one other work outfit.

“I can’t make you any promises.”
Just great. But that was the least of her problems. She opened the passenger door.

“Aren’t you going to tell me not to leave town?”

He chuckled dryly. “You’ve been watching too many police shows on TV. But don’t

worry. I won’t be far away if you decide to go anywhere. For your safety, of course.”

“Of course.” She strode to her front door, thoroughly exhausted.
Inside, the oppressive quiet felt eerie and incredibly lonely. She thought about

calling Chuck and asking him to cut his date short, but she couldn’t bring herself to do

it. Glancing toward Ben’s house, she bit her lip, wondered if he was home.

No. I can’t.
Sinking into the couch, she burst into tears. It went on and on.
The doorbell pulled her out of the almost drunken haze she’d fallen into. Wiping a

tissue over her cheeks, she headed to the foyer. She checked the peephole and relief

flooded through her. Opening the door to Ben, she wanted to jump into his arms, but

he’d think she was some sort of nutcase.

His brow was furrowed with worry as he came inside. “What happened?” His gaze

slid over her—not in a sexual way—in a caring assessment that touched her deep

inside.

His concern was the best thing that had happened to her all day. “My bloody

fingerprints are all over the place so apparently I’m a suspect now.” Saying it aloud

turned her stomach.

He shook his head. “That’s automatic since you discovered the body. And you

admitted to seeing him around the time he was killed.”

She nodded. “It’s just protocol. The detective repeated that several times, but it still

feels creepy to be called a suspect.” She realized they were still standing in the hallway.

“Come in. I’m sorry. My head’s not right today.”

“Seriously? Just because you discovered the body of a murder victim, were

questioned by the police, named a suspect in that murder? Most people would be

perfectly fine after all that.”

Wynter Daniels

She tried to smile at his teasing, but she fell flat. She led him into the living room

and gestured for him to sit. “I want to thank you for rescuing me before. Guess it all hit

me at once. Honestly, I don’t remember anything but you calling my name as I was

walking toward my door. Then I was at your house and you were phoning the police.

And fixing me a cup of tea while we waited for them to arrive.” The last part of the

memory was accompanied by a wave of warmth.

Tiny muscles around his jaw ticked. “I was worried about you.” The rough timbre

of his voice spoke of the depth of his concern.

She reflected on everything that had happened in the past twelve hours and she

shuddered. She should tell him about John York, but if she did, she feared he’d hightail

it out of her house and never return. She hated how dependent she felt, but she didn’t

want him to run. Not now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” When he stroked a gentle hand over her thigh she

knew she should stop him but his touch felt so good. Then his hands were on her

shoulders, rubbing out the tension.

“I don’t want to talk about it now. I’ll tell you all about it later.” She turned her back

to him so he could reach more comfortably. A soft purr of pleasure broke from her lips.

Memories of those skillful, gentle hands flooded her mind. She let go of the awful

images of the day, shut her eyes and brought herself back to the night before, Ben’s bed,

the two of them. Skin to skin. Touching every part of each other, exploring, discovering,

satisfying.

Her nipples pebbled and ached for his attention. Didn’t matter that it was totally

inappropriate after all that had transpired today. She didn’t even care that she’d be

breaking her own rules. She needed this—needed him—desperately. Covering his

hands with hers, she looked over her shoulder at him. No words were necessary.

He pulled her onto his lap and cradled her close a moment then skimmed his lips

along her jaw, over her cheek to her mouth. He tasted minty and smelled so enticing.

She hooked her hands behind his neck and hung on for dear life. For sanity.

Ben wanted her. God, he wanted her badly. But the last thing she needed was for

him to take advantage of her fragile state.

She opened the top button of his shirt and kissed his neck. Her tongue flicked over

his skin and then there was no turning back. He fisted his hands in her hair and moved

her head so he could see her eyes. “You’re sure?”

Instead of speaking she brushed her lips over his, parted them with her tongue and

swiped inside. Then she kissed his face softly, so damn sweet. “I want to clean up first.

Take a bath, okay?”

“Only if I can join you.”
She pushed off his lap, stood and offered her hand. Then she led him upstairs to a

large bathroom off the hallway with a big garden tub. He stripped off his clothes and

watched her light candles and pour bubble bath into the water gushing from the faucet.

Burning Touch

When she started undressing, he stopped her by clasping her wrists in his hands.

“Let me do it for you.”

Desire darkened her eyes to a deep forest green. “Okay.” Her lips curled into a tired

smile.

He lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it away. Unable to resist her creamy

skin, he trailed his lips over the dip between her neck and right shoulder. Her upper

body was more muscular than most women’s. Sexy and strong, but still soft and

feminine.

He dipped his tongue into the hollow of her neck and felt her quiver under his

touch. Running his hands up and down her back, he pulled her closer. She swayed

against him and the sweet friction made him harder. He unhooked her bra and peeled it

away. She crushed her breasts against his chest, the stiff peaks teasing his skin.

“The water,” she whispered. Breaking away from him, she moved to the edge of the

tub and shut off the faucet.

He kneeled in front of her then worked the tie of her sweatpants. Sliding the

material over her hips, he kissed his way down to her silky panties. She shimmied out

of the pants then rolled her underwear off her legs.

Steam rose from the water as she stepped in the tub. He joined her, sank into the

water and pulled her against his chest, so her back was to him.

He felt her tension release with her soft moan as she leaned against him. “This is

nice,” he murmured against her ear.

“Mm hmm.”
Extending his arms around her, he cupped her breasts, slick from the water and the

bubbles. “You feel good.”

Her chuckle was musical. “Glad you think so. From where I’m sitting, I feel pretty

off balance.”

“It’s going to work itself out.” He absently thrummed her nipples to hard peaks.

“You didn’t kill that guy so you have nothing to be afraid of.” But as he said it, a spark

of doubt fought its way into his head. After all, he’d only known her a day. People tried

to deceive him all the time. They told him things about the homes they were trying to

sell that were blatant lies.

But this was different. This was personal. He had to learn to start trusting people

again—women. Just because Stacy had lied didn’t mean they were all dishonest.

“And we know innocent people are never arrested for stuff, right?” Her shoulders

tensed.

“Well…” He had to change the subject. This was only getting her worked up again.

“I like your house. It has a lot of the antique appeal with modern conveniences. That’s

the feeling I aim for in my renovations.” Although he’d have added an en-suite bath to

the master, which she obviously didn’t have.

Wynter Daniels

“Renovations? Plural? How many of them have you done?” She laid her head on

his shoulder.

He calculated aloud. “Usually two or three a year for the past seven or eight years.

Somewhere between fifteen and twenty.”

“How do you have time? Don’t you have a job?”
“That is my job. I flip older properties, which as you know, are hot in this area. It’s

undergoing a re-gentrification.”

She nodded and let out a quiet sigh. “So that’s why you were at one house

yesterday and another today.”

“Right. But this one will be my last in this area for a while. With the weak market

here, I’m off to Arizona to work with my brother buying and selling as soon as this

house is finished.” He found one of those puffy mesh bath sponges on the window

ledge. “Soap?”

She pointed to a bottle of white liquid amidst a sea of other containers of varying

sizes, shapes and colors. He poured a dollop of the creamy stuff onto the sponge and

started scrubbing her shoulders. Lifting her hair, he washed her neck then worked his

way down her arms.

Another soft purr and her head drooped forward. “Feels great. I could get used

to…” She sat up straight. “So wait—you’re leaving Florida soon? For good?”

He stopped scrubbing for a moment, wishing he hadn’t mentioned his future plans.

“I don’t know about forever, but certainly for a year or two. Maybe longer. My mother

lives out there and she’s getting older.” The idea of moving on had appealed to him

when he and his brother had first discussed it. His divorce had been an open wound

and putting as much distance as possible between Stacy and him had sounded perfect.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“Oh.” Devon slid a few inches back, pushing her ass against a certain stiffening part

of his anatomy.

“I’ll be here for at least a couple more months, though.” He lifted her hair and

sluiced the sponge over her back. Then he cupped water in his hand and rinsed her

clean. She held up her hand for the sponge.

“Nope. I wash you. Your job is to relax.” He slid out from behind her and moved to

the other end of the tub, facing her. Lifting her left foot, he studied the rings on her toes.

He’d never known any women who wore so many. And he liked it. He found

everything about her sexy.

He scrubbed her toes and the rest of her foot, rubbing soap over it again and again.

The longer he massaged, the more she moaned. God, he couldn’t take much more of

those erotic sounds from her. To make matters harder—literally—she squirmed and her

nipples reminded him of ripe, succulent berries. Raw need coiled tightly inside him.

Burning Touch

She opened her eyes and chewed on her bottom lip. He set her foot down and

shifted onto his hands and knees, climbed over her legs and remained poised above her,

like a hungry animal about to devour its prey. “Kiss me,” he growled.

Her lips parted and her eyes softened in unmistakable desire. She combed her

fingers through his hair and covered his mouth with hers. Her taste was both new and

familiar, exciting and comfortable. He couldn’t get enough.

She reached for him, closed her wet hand over his cock. He released her lips, sat

back on his haunches and shut his eyes as she stroked him.

“My bedroom is across the hall.” She moved against him, slid her slick body along

his, never releasing her hold on him.

“Ready when you are,” he murmured.
“I see that.” She tightened her grasp and he couldn’t hold back a moan.
He prayed she had a condom. His were back at his place but next door felt like

miles away. When she kissed her way down his chest to his abdomen, he grasped her

arms. “Let’s go. Now.”

Before I take you right here.
He helped her stand then she reached to a rack and handed him a towel. Wasting

no time, he fastened it around his waist. Thankfully, she was just as quick. She had hers

in place when she took his hand and they left the room together.

He stopped at the top of the stairs to kiss her. Before he could, someone started

ringing the doorbell. And not just once, but again and again.

Her eyes narrowed. “What the hell?”
“Ignore it.” Taking her by her waist, he pulled her closer but she centered a hand on

his chest.

“Wait a sec.” She held perfectly still.
The caller started banging on the front door. “Miss Wise, it’s Detective Underwood.

Please open the door,” he shouted.

Son of a bitch.
Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll get it,” he told her. “You put on some

clothes.”

She nodded then disappeared into her room and shut the door.
Drawing a deep breath, he returned to the bathroom and pulled on his pants and

shirt. He descended the stairs then opened the door.

A fiftyish man in a rumpled suit regarded him then showed him a gold badge.

“Winter Park PD. Where’s Miss Wise?”

He gritted his teeth at the cop’s lack of manners. “She’s getting dressed. She’ll be

right down. Please come in.” He escorted the cop to the living room. “Excuse me.” With

that, he went upstairs, careful not to show a lick of fear. He entered Devon’s room

without knocking.

Wynter Daniels

She had on a black bra and panties and was pulling on a pair of faded jeans. He

mentally kicked himself for selfishly wishing he could yank those pants off her and

have his way with her.

As she dressed, he watched her, saw worry sneak into her expression. “You didn’t

do anything wrong, Devon. And you’ve been perfectly straight with the police.

Everything’s going to be okay.”

She shook her head and the lines creasing her forehead deepened. “That’s not

entirely true.”

He froze. “What the hell does that mean?”

Burning Touch

Chapter Four

Devon sucked in a deep breath to quell her rising nausea. She zipped up her jeans

then grabbed a fuchsia button-down blouse from her closet. Her ivory flip-flops didn’t

really match but that was the least of her worries.

“Devon?” Ben’s forehead was deeply furrowed.
Her mouth felt dry and pasty. “I-I just agreed when the police filled in a blank that

wasn’t entirely a hundred percent accurate. It’s no big deal. Really.” But saying it aloud

didn’t make her feel any less terrified or guilty.

He set his hands on his waist and eyed her as if he was about to pounce. Which

would be way better than going downstairs to face Underwood. “What did you tell

them that wasn’t true?”

Her skin itched. She wished they could rewind a few minutes to the part when Ben

was massaging her feet. Or when they were kissing. Why the hell did Underwood have

to show up now? Talk about lousy timing.

“Devon.” Ben’s voice was deeper, more stern than she’d heard it. “Come here.” He

sat on the edge of her bed.

She hesitated at the disappointment in his expression. Why did it bother her so

much?

“Now.”
Reluctantly, she sat beside him.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Tell me what happened. Start to finish.”
Maybe this was good. She could practice what she was going to say with someone

who…well, cared about her. “Okay. I gave the guy a massage, he paid me and I left.”

“And?”
She swallowed hard and gave him a condensed version of the rest of the story.
After she’d finished, he exhaled loudly. “What did you lie about?”
She wished he’d touch her, support her, but his body language was so cold and

unyielding. “He asked if the front door was open when I got back there. When I

found…the body.” She watched his expression, hoping he’d forgive her for the lie. “I

was too embarrassed to mention the dog and crawling through the window. But I was

going to tell him. Then someone called him away so I…I just kept my mouth shut.” She

couldn’t meet Ben’s stare, knowing instinctively how cold it would be. “And, well,

another one of my clients was murdered this week.”

“What?”

Wynter Daniels

She ventured a glance at him and his expression was worse than she’d imagined.

“It’s a weird coincidence, Ben. But I know what it looks like.”

“Miss Wise?” Detective Underwood shouted from downstairs. “I don’t have all

night.”

Her throat closed up. “Coming,” she managed. She pulled open her door and saw

the detective squinting up at her from the bottom of the stairs. His scowl only made her

head ache more.

Brushing past Ben, she felt him stiffen. Sparing him a plaintive glance, she prayed

he’d stay on her side. Although they’d barely known each other twenty-four hours, she

needed his support, desperately.

She gripped the banister with sweaty hands but when she heard Ben follow her

down, she allowed herself a small measure of relief. “Sorry to keep you waiting,

Detective.”

His eyes were redder than before and he had a five o’clock shadow with way more

gray than the hair on his head. “I have a few more questions for you. Hopefully we can

clear this up quickly.”

Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Calm down.
They knew she hadn’t killed Thorpe. They’d said as much when she’d tested clean

for gunshot residue. She headed into the living room with both men behind her.

Like a walk to the gallows.
Underwood sat on the rocking chair.
Ben took a seat next to her on the sofa. It was nice to have him so near even though

he radiated about as much warmth as an ice cream cone.

“You told us when you returned to Mr. Thorpe’s house to find your cell, the front

door was open. And you only entered because you were worried about Mr. Thorpe. Is

that correct?” Underwood asked.

Panic stormed through her. “Well…”
“Well what? The more I think about it, the less it makes sense that you’d be so

concerned for someone you just met.” The lines crisscrossing his forehead deepened. “I

don’t like being lied to.”

She clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking.
“Because someone came in through a window,” he said. “And we lifted

fingerprints from the glass. The AFIS report will tell us who those prints belong to.”

Her heart was going to drum right out of her chest. “A-AFIS?”
“The national fingerprint database.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and

threaded his fingers together. “Sure there’s nothing you want to clarify?” He cocked an

eyebrow. “You entered through that window, Miss Wise, didn’t you?”

Burning Touch

Staring at him, she pictured herself in a prison cell, marking off day after lonely day

on a wall calendar. She gulped. Her hands trembled so she tucked them between her

knees. “Yes sir. There was this big dog and I’m terrified of dogs.” She glanced at Ben for

a moment. “He can tell you that’s true. I didn’t mean to withhold the truth. I never

actually said I entered through the door.”

He sat up straight and shook his head. “You lied, Miss Wise. I wish you’d have

been straight with me. Why’d you do that?”

Ben wouldn’t even look at her. “I don’t know. I felt like an idiot for climbing

through the window. It was just easier to agree with you when you asked if I entered

through the door.”

“You understand a lie like that can compromise an entire investigation?”

Underwood might as well have pulled her over his knee. Despite Ben’s presence, she

could feel him withdrawing. Had she completely screwed things up with him?

Not that she had any right to care. She’d already told him this wasn’t going

anywhere. Only it had started going somewhere. Somewhere nice. “I’m sorry.” Her

apology—which she directed to Ben as well as Underwood—sounded cheap as tin even

to her own ears.

The detective took a small notebook out of his breast pocket and flipped it open.

“You’ve had several new clients lately, Miss Wise. How do people find you? Do you

have an ad in the phone book or on the internet?”

She allowed herself a tiny speck of hope. Maybe his tongue-lashing was all she was

going to get in the way of punishment.

Please.
“I have ads on a couple of the social networking sites. But I get most of my clients

through word of mouth. This community is small enough that there aren’t many of us

working in it. Occasionally a therapist retires from the business or moves away. That’s

usually when I get more than the usual calls and texts.” She’d told him as much earlier.

“Do you know of any masseuses who left the field recently? Someone who’d have

recommended you to his or her regulars.”

“I’ve had a few new clients lately, but I don’t think any of them said if someone

specific referred them. Mr. Thorpe hardly said two words to me. And Mr. York was

pretty unfriendly.” She thought about the men and women she knew in the business. “I

don’t speak to other people in the field regularly. No reason to. We might run into each

other at the supermarket or the dry cleaner’s, you know?”

He didn’t appear satisfied with her answers. “You gave a massage to a Harvey

Wallis this morning between nine and ten. Is that correct?”

Was he interviewing all her clients? He’d destroy her business if he kept that up.

“Yes.”

He let out a weary sigh. “That’s interesting because a neighbor found him dead a

couple hours ago.”

Wynter Daniels

Her whole body went numb. “What? Harvey Wallis? That can’t be.” Both of today’s

new massage clients found dead the same day? Three in all. “Was he…”

He nodded. “Murdered. Shot, just like Thorpe and York. Might be the same

weapon used in all the crimes. We’ll know for sure soon.”

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. What the hell was going on? She

started trembling. Ben moved closer. His arm around her shoulder was the only thing

keeping her upright. “You can’t think that I had anything to do with these murders.

You said for yourself after that stuff you sprayed on my hands. I haven’t shot a gun.”

His nod was grim. “That’s true. I don’t think you shot any of the men. But I do

think you know something you’re not telling us. I’ve learned there are few

coincidences. You were with two of the men right before they were killed and the other

within a day. What am I supposed to believe? We’ve already established your

willingness to lie.”

She could barely breathe.
Calm down. I didn’t do anything wrong.
“They were all new clients. I’d never seen Thorpe or Wallis before today. And I

have no idea how they found me.” She racked her brain to think of some connection but

other than all three men being new, she couldn’t. “Why would I lie?” As soon as the

words left her lips she wished she could reel them back in.

He lifted a bushy brow. “You tell me.” He reached to his belt and unsnapped a pair

of handcuffs.

Oh God.
Stars swam in front of her eyes. She leaned against Ben but she knew he couldn’t

protect her from this. “W-what are you doing?”

The detective stood up and closed the distance between them. “I’m placing you

under arrest, Miss Wise. Please stand and put your hands behind your back.”

“For what? You just said you don’t believe she killed those men.” Ben hugged her

more firmly as if that would keep the detective from taking her away.

“Burglary,” he answered. “That’s what you did when you climbed through the

window of Kendall Thorpe’s house. I could add giving a false report, but lucky for you

I don’t like all the paperwork that would add. I despise being lied to, Miss Wise. If

you’d been straight in the first place we wouldn’t be here. A few days in the Orange

County jail will give you plenty of thinking time, help you remember what you’re not

telling us.”

Her tears fell quickly. She couldn’t stop shaking. Even Ben’s strong arms around

her didn’t help.

This nightmare couldn’t be happening.

* * * * *

Burning Touch

Devon tried to lift her consciousness to another dimension while she was searched,

fingerprinted and photographed at the Winter Park Police Department booking area.

Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, an officer led her to a marked car

and transported her to the Orange County jail, which was a lot like the Winter Park

facility but a hundred times bigger with even scarier people.

Ben had said he was going to get her out as quickly as possible and she had to hang

on to that sliver of hope. Meanwhile, she sat in a large waiting area that reminded her of

the DMV and watched corrections officers deal with thieves, hookers and junkies. A

few people, unnervingly, appeared as innocent and shell-shocked as she.

Meditation proved impossible with the constant ruckus. All she could do was pray

Ben came through for her soon. Shutting her eyes, she thought about him and her mood

began to lift.

Had it only been a few hours ago that they’d soaked in her bathtub, touching and

teasing, anticipating another night of bliss? Now she’d dragged the poor guy into her

mess. She doubted he wanted anything to do with her after this fiasco. The memory of

his face when she told him she’d lied to the police kept playing in her mind. She

shuddered at the memory.

“Wise,” an officer called. “Devon Wise.”
She stood, praying someone would apologize and tell her this whole thing was all

some horrible mistake. Or better still, she’d dreamed the entire sordid affair.

“Come with me,” the man instructed.
She gladly followed him down a white-on-white corridor that smelled of urine and

strong disinfectant. Distant echoed voices filled the air but she had no idea where they

came from. “Can I go home now? Did they drop the charges?” She allowed herself a

tiny measure of hope.

The officer didn’t look at her as she practically ran to keep up with him. “Somebody

posted your bond. The charges have not been dropped.”

Her legs mechanically pumped forward. She should be relieved to get out of there

but she wondered what the repercussions would be for the burglary charge.

The officer took her to a window where another man handed her a brown bag. He

pushed a paper and pen across the counter to her. “Make sure all your belongings are in

there then sign on the line at the bottom of the sheet,” he told her.

She dumped the sack and found her shoes and a small plastic bag with her earrings,

bellybutton ring and charm and her toe rings. After she signed the form, the man

directed her through a set of double doors.

She spotted Ben slumped in a chair, half asleep. His hair was mussed, his beard

scruffy and his shirt rumpled, but Devon had never been happier to see anyone.

Closing the distance between them, she threw her arms around him and kissed his face,

all over. He hadn’t let her down, even though he hardly knew her. The notion startled

her. “Thank you, Ben. I promise I’ll pay you back. And I’ll never forget this.”

Wynter Daniels

He scrubbed a hand over his face and yawned. “Let’s get you home.”
When they made it to his Land Rover, she saw he’d brought her purse. “Bless you.”

Rifling in the outer pocket, she closed her fingers around her lip-gloss then smoothed

some on.

He didn’t say much on the way home, which made her nervous. But it had been a

long night and if he was half as exhausted as he looked, she ought to let him get some

sleep before she tried to talk to him.

The sun was just coming up when he steered into his driveway. Leaning his

forearms on the wheel, he pinned her with a probing stare. “Why did you lie to the

police?”

Her shoulders sank from the weight of that fateful decision. “Embarrassment? Fear?

I don’t know, Ben. In retrospect I wish I hadn’t but I can’t change that now.” She

couldn’t look at him, couldn’t deal with the disappointment she knew she’d see in his

eyes.

“Detective Underwood told me something that frightened the hell out of me on the

way to the police station.”

“Yeah?”
“He said he was going on the assumption that not only did I know something I

wasn’t telling him, but that I had something to do with all the murders. Even though he

knows I didn’t pull the trigger.” Saying it aloud made it even more scary. A chill rolled

over her skin.

“Listen. I have a good friend who can help. He’s a criminal attorney. We went to

college together and he owes me half a dozen favors. What do you say we go see him

after we catch some sleep?”

We? She allowed herself a flicker of hope that he hadn’t completely written her off.

It shouldn’t matter whether he forgave her. Yet somewhere between last night and this

morning something had changed in her. He was all she’d thought about to keep her

spirits up through the long, terrifying night. That had to mean something. Maybe he

was the man who wouldn’t walk away. She had to start trusting in relationships

sometime. Chuck told her that all the time yet she’d blown him off as a hopeless

romantic. But then she remembered that Ben had said he’d be leaving as soon as his

house was finished. She shouldn’t get too attached. Problem was, she couldn’t seem to

stop herself.

She patted his arm. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to clear my mind enough to fall

asleep, but you definitely should. Call me when you wake up.”

He shook his head. “No way am I letting you out of my sight. How do we know the

killer won’t come after you?” He opened his car door. “Besides, I paid your bond. If you

go on the lam, I owe a bail bondsman a thousand bucks. So either you’re staying at my

place or I’m sleeping at yours.” He lifted an eyebrow, daring her to argue.

“Fine. My place.” The notion of having Ben in her bed made her pulse leap. She

fished her keys from her purse and climbed out of the SUV.

Burning Touch

He came around to her side. “I was hoping to get the door for you but you’re too

quick.”

She smiled. It had been a while since a guy gave her butterflies. She dropped her

keys into his palm. “I’ll let you get the door to my house. How about that?”

He shrugged. “It’ll do. I guess.” He let them inside.
Chuck entered the foyer and his eyes widened. “Well, good morning, Miss out-all-

night.” His fixed his gaze on Ben and squared his shoulders in that big brother

protective way he had.

Her cheeks heated as she widened her eyes at him in warning. “Chuck, this is Ben

Stafford. Ben, this is Chuck Gray, my roommate.”

The men shook hands.
Chuck smacked his forehead. “Devon, I forgot to tell you. I accidentally took your

cell yesterday. I hope that didn’t screw you up too much. It’s on the kitchen counter

now.”

“Holy cow. You had my phone all this time?” She grasped the doorknob, afraid her

legs would come out from under her.

He held up his hands in surrender. “It was a mistake. It looks so much like mine.”
She took a few steps into the living room and grabbed the edge of a chair, slid onto

it. “Oh, Chuck. You have no idea the chain of events that little mistake set in motion.”

Chuck and Ben followed her inside.
“I didn’t even know I had it until I was in a meeting with my new client and it rang.

When I heard the ring, I instantly knew I had your cell. That old hippie song you have

for a ringtone gave it away immediately.” Sitting on the couch, Chuck rolled his eyes.

“And that awful client—Faith, the one I told you about, who’s marrying the rich old

guy—she gave me the nastiest look. ‘When you meet with me I want to be your sole

focus,’ she said. Such a bitch. And insecure in that relationship as the day is long. As if

anybody else wants that old codger she’s marrying.” He shook his head. “I don’t know

if I can take three more months of her. And trust me, I put up with bridezillas every

day. But this one takes the cake. Wedding cake.” He slapped his knee and laughed at

his own joke.

Ben slumped against the wall and gave her that can’t-we-please-get-out-of-here

look.

She cleared her throat. “Chuck, I spent the better part of the night at the Orange

County jail.”

He gasped and clutched his chest. “Oh my God, sweetheart. What happened?”
She gave him the quickest version she could.
After, he hugged her for a long moment. “Oh, sweetheart. You poor thing.”
Knowing he didn’t have a shred of doubt she was innocent was comforting. She

wasn’t so sure how much faith Ben had in her but she didn’t get those same vibes from

him. Of course, their relationship was brand new. How could he trust in her? “I’m

Wynter Daniels

completely wiped out, Chuck. I promise I’ll fill you in on all the details later. Suffice it

to say Ben rescued me.” She glimpsed him, practically asleep standing up and her chest

tightened. “We have to get some rest.”

Chuck nodded. “Of course you do. I’m headed out to the Brogan wedding. I’ll be

back around two if all goes well.” He slid his gaze to Ben and his voice lowered an

octave. “Take care of her. I’m just a phone call away.” His statement sounded more like

a warning, but she didn’t have the energy to mediate.

“Thank you.” Standing, she kissed Chuck’s cheek then crossed the room to Ben and

wrapped an arm around his waist. “Let’s hit it.” Thankfully, he didn’t resist her help.

They climbed the stairs together and when they entered Devon’s room, she drew a

relieved breath. Her bed had never looked so appealing. Having Ben there with her was

a sweet indulgence she planned to enjoy. She wouldn’t let it go on much longer, but she

planned to make the most of their time together.

“I’ll take the floor. Or the chair. Just give me a quilt or something.” His words hit

her like a blast of frigid morning air.

“I-I thought…” She tamped down her disappointment. “No, Ben. You’re doing me

a favor. You take the bed.”

He crumpled onto the mattress. “You know what? You’ve been through a lot today.

Shit, we both have. Let’s not get into a big discussion about it. I just want sleep and I

know you do too.”

She forced a smile but inside she was shattering. “Yeah. That’s fine.” She started to

strip off her shirt but Ben stopped her with a hand in the air.

“Please don’t.”
A thick silence hung in the air.
Finally Ben groaned. “Everything’s going to be all right. I promise.” He eliminated

the inches between them and slid his hands around her waist. His simple embrace had

her heart pumping faster.

She wished he’d kiss her but knew it wasn’t going to happen, at least not for a

while. Maybe soon. Knowing he was upset with her bothered her more than it should.

God knew she had enough to worry about. She watched him strip off his jeans but he

didn’t make any move to remove his boxers.

When they crawled into her bed, he wrapped himself around her. Hope and desire

flickered inside her. He cuddled against her, his hard length pressing into her back. She

craved to feel him moving inside her.

At least his body still wanted her, even if his heart didn’t.

* * * * *

Ben’s dream ended too quickly. The beautiful girl with golden curls evaporated into

the dark mist. Just like all the others, she wasn’t what she appeared. And he was left

alone and empty.

Burning Touch

Bright glare poked at him, coaxed him to roll over to avoid it. But he didn’t want to

move, not with Devon wedged against him, all soft and warm. He peeled open his eyes

and searched the room for a clock. Glowing red numbers on the clock on her night table

told him they’d slept for nearly six hours. It was almost noon.

He racked his brain to recall his schedule then relaxed when he realized it was

Saturday. Devon shifted and her hip glided over his cock. Unable to resist, he smoothed

his hand over her enticing curves, her rounded hip, flat stomach and the full swell of

her breasts. He stopped there when all the memories of the previous day flooded his

mind and soured in his gut.

She turned onto her back and stretched her arms above her head. “G’morning.”
“Afternoon,” he corrected. He feasted his eyes on her body and desire coiled tightly

inside him. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her, but remembering

her dishonesty, he pulled away. Sitting up, he planted his feet on the floor with his back

to Devon.

She ran her hand over his side.
He closed his eyes a moment as he took her wrist. “I can’t do this. Not in good

conscience. I’m sorry. I should have slept on the floor like I’d planned.”

Pulling herself up, she climbed off the bed and yawned. She strode past him,

smoothing down her hair—a fruitless endeavor. Her wild curls sprang in every

direction. She glanced in the mirror over the dresser then spun around to face him.

“You’re upset with me, I get it. But it’s not like I lied to you. Hell, I didn’t exactly lie to

Underwood. I merely agreed to his assumption.”

“A lie is a lie. Devon, do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in? This could

be really serious.”

Her shoulders sank. “I get that, believe me. There’s nothing like a little time in jail to

frighten the hell out of you.” She walked over to him, kneeled on the floor in front of

him and rested her forearms on his thighs. “What do I have to do to win your

forgiveness?” Her eyes turned dark as sin.

He could see straight down her shirt. How could he deny that he wanted her? The

evidence was clear from the tent in his boxers. But honesty was something he refused to

compromise on in a relationship. “Why do you care so much? Yesterday you made a

point to tell me this was temporary.”

She kissed his knees, his inner thighs. How was he supposed to think when all his

blood was headed south?

“That was before you turned into my white knight, the man who rescued me.” She

inched closer, slid her hands up his legs.

“I only posted your bail. Unfortunately I’m not enough of a white knight to get you

out of this mess completely.”

“But you’re making the whole thing so much easier just by being here with me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not doing anything.”

Wynter Daniels

“Really, Ben. You are.” She sneaked her fingers under the bottom of his boxers and

walked them to his erection.

He bit back a rush of desire, grasped her arm and held it still. “This isn’t a good

idea. And it’s not going to change anything.” But he couldn’t bring himself to push her

away.

Raking his flesh with her nails, she pouted her lips and looked up at him. “Do you

really want me to stop?”

Torrid heat spread through him. He released her then fisted his hands in her silky

hair. How the hell was he supposed to resist her? “What do you think?” This was just

sex, after all. She didn’t want anything more and he wasn’t free to ask for more with his

plans to leave after he was finished with the house. Much as it destroyed him, he

moved out of her reach. “We need some ground rules, Devon.”

She sat back on her feet. “Seriously? Why can’t we just do what comes naturally?

Live in the moment. I want you and I’m pretty sure from the bulge in your boxers that

you want me too.”

“Of course I do.” More than he cared to admit.
She gave him a wicked grin. “Then I think those shorts have to come off.”
Live in the moment, he repeated in his head. This moment all he could think about

was making love to Devon. He stood and peeled off his underwear then sat back on the

edge of the bed. His balls ached with need as Devon grasped his shaft between her

fingers. She held him, stroked and petted. His jaw went tight when she met his stare

with hooded eyes.

“Isn’t that better?” She gave the crown a quick swipe with her tongue. He shut his

eyes and rolled his head back, consumed by desire. When she took him into the warm,

wet confines of her mouth, his breath caught.

The erotic sensations were unbearable. She circled her tongue around him, licked

and sucked and nipped. Pleasure coiled tightly inside him. Her hot mouth engulfed

him. God, it felt great.

He wanted to be inside her. It took everything he had to stop her, but he knew if he

let her go on much longer, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Gathering all his strength,

he took her head between his hands. “Devon.”

She stilled, released him and stared up at him with big doe eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He had to laugh. “Not a damn thing. You’re awfully good at that.”
Her eyelids shuttered and her fair skin flushed pink.
He helped her stand. “I need to hold you, Devon, to make love to you.” Pulling her

onto his lap, he kissed her neck, her shoulder. “Take off your clothes.” His voice was

hoarse with torrid yearning.

She reached to a drawer then met his stare as she tore open a condom packet.

Burning Touch

He hissed out a pleasured breath as he watched her sheathe him. Then she rolled

her lacy panties down her legs. She climbed over him and he unbuttoned her shirt and

pushed it down her arm before palming her breasts.

“You’re going to scream my name at the top of your lungs. Got it?” He took turns

circling his thumb around each tight nipple and pinching it between his fingers. She

arched her back, encouraged him to continue his advance.

“Chuck might still be here.” She let out a breathy moan. “Besides, I don’t do

scream. I’m more of a quiet moaner.”

“Not anymore, you’re not.” He rolled over her, straddled her and feasted on the

sight of her body—her pretty face, creamy neck and shoulders. God, he loved those

breasts and the dusky-rose peaks that stiffened under his touch. And that sexy

bellybutton jewelry. “Where to begin.” He was already burning up with a consuming

hunger for her.

She skated a hand down his side then closed it around his hard-on. Grasping him

from the root, she squeezed with just the right amount of pressure to send him into

orbit.

“I like that you wake up happy.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Always.” She’d have known that if she’d stuck around last time instead of

sneaking away before dawn. He shoved the thought from his mind and concentrated on

the feel of her fingernails lightly scraping up and down over his cock.

He skimmed his lips over her jaw, along her neck and through the valley between

her breasts. Then he caught one hard point in his mouth and sucked it, devoured it with

his tongue and his teeth and his lips. She twisted and moaned in response. Her

powerful reaction stoked the inferno inside him. Yearning coiled tighter in his groin.

He couldn’t take any more of what she was doing to him or he’d lose control.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to hang on a little longer. He closed his fingers

around her wrist and moved her hand away. Then he lowered himself over her, stroked

his ready length along her damp furls. “Jesus, woman. You’re hotter than sin.”

Forcing back the overpowering need to bury himself in her, he kissed his way down

the flat plane of her stomach, to the tuft of blonde hair shielding her mound. She sighed

and quivered. He eased her legs wider then ran his thumb along her cleft.

Her plaintive whimper nearly destroyed him. She bucked and moaned but he was

going to take his time, time she owed him since she’d cut things short by leaving before

he was through with her the other day.

He leaned his head back so he could see the desperation on her face. Eyes narrowed

to slits, jaw tight, hands fisted in the sheets. She was beyond ready. “Yeah, you’re

definitely going to scream my name.”

Ben traced a finger along the inside of Devon’s thigh, advancing painfully slow

toward her sex. His breath gusted over her tender flesh, hot and moist, a cruel tease.

“Please, Ben.”

Wynter Daniels

She could have sworn she heard him laugh. Not that she could make out much over

the kabooming of her heartbeat. She was right on the cusp of bliss.

His thumb lightly grazed her center and she nearly came undone. The rough

texture of his calloused skin created an unbearably delicious friction. He rolled her bud

between his fingers and she bucked as little waves of delight rolled through her. Then

he replaced those fingers with his tongue, gently sucking her erect bundle of nerves into

his mouth. Her whole body trembled with primal longing. She was going to explode.

God, it was too much, she couldn’t bear it. He released her, blew a warm breath on her

tender skin.

She gripped his hair, held his head where she needed it, but he refused to rush.

“Ben, come on. Have mercy.”

Another laugh. “You can scream mercy if you want. That’s almost as good as crying

out my name.” He drove that clever tongue between her folds and her body convulsed

of its own accord. “Ben!” It was too slow, too gentle. She had to have more.

Just when she was about to die from want, he thrust long, possessive fingers inside

her and gave her everything she needed and more. A scream tore from her lips. She

shouted his name, over and over and over. The deluge of ecstasy was like nothing she’d

ever experienced, nowhere close. “Ben, oh God, Ben, yes.” The heavenly vibrations

went on and on.

In that surreal moment when the pleasure lifted her soul out of her body, she knew.

He was different from any man she’d been with. She wanted to let him in closer, to

open herself up to him and give him so much more. The notion frightened the hell out

of her.

She was still reeling from her climax when Ben pushed her thighs wider with his

knee and slid inside her, filling her and rekindling the flames of bliss that had barely

extinguished.

He braced himself on his forearms, his eyes intensely focused on hers. “You

screamed my name. I knew you would.”

“Aren’t you conceited, Mr. brag-about-it.” She hooked her ankles around his legs,

allowing him deeper, feeling her innermost muscles stretch to accommodate him.

“Anyway, it was more of a murmur than a scream.” Although she was already building

up to another of those murmurs. She curled her fingers into his shoulders and soaked up

all the lush sensations, surrendered to the need she’d denied for so long.

His strokes were slow, deep and scratched her every itch with heavenly perfection.

It had never felt this good before. He rubbed his cheek to hers, abrading her face with

his bristly skin.

“You feel so good, baby.” His voice was barely a whisper as he kissed her earlobe

and the tender skin below it.

She grasped his muscled upper arms, felt their power every time he moved over

her, sliding his body along hers. Every caress heightened her pleasure, drew her nearer

her release. She moved her hands to his buttocks, pulled him as deep as she could bear.

Burning Touch

He lifted his head, then zeroed in on one of her peaked nipples and sucked it into

his mouth, so hard she cried out with pain that instantly morphed into delight. He

continued his assault with his teeth and tongue, turned her into a quivering puddle of a

woman.

His thrusts grew harder, faster, his hips churning into her. Her passion crested with

a ferocious intensity. Before she could scream out his name again, he captured her

mouth and kissed her through the rhapsody. Wave after heavenly wave bombarded her

body in a savage deluge. He sucked on her tongue, feasted on her as if she gave him

sustenance.

A primal growl sounded deep in Ben’s chest. He broke the kiss, pinned her with a

wide-eyed stare for several driving strokes until his eyes slammed shut. His skin

reddened and the muscles on his neck corded, bulging mightily through his skin. The

pulse at his temples fluttered. She clutched around him, held him tightly inside her,

struggling to make the moment last. He groaned, long and low then lay on top of her,

breathing hard.

She ran her hands over his shoulders and his back, slick with their mingled

perspiration. He settled on top of her, panting, dotting her skin with sweet, moist kisses.

How had she come to want him so much in such a short time? In less than two days

he’d saved her when she’d nearly passed out then bailed her out of jail. Maybe she

could grow to trust him, eventually love him.

He’s going to abandon me and it’ll hurt.
She desperately wanted to give him a chance, but was she ready to do that? Why

should she bother? He was leaving anyway. The thought pierced her gut. She wanted to

tell him the sex was incredible, amazing, the best she’d ever had. But she held her

tongue. Saying it aloud would elevate the relationship to a new level where she wasn’t

willing to go.

I’m already there.
He rolled off her and threaded his fingers through hers. “That was…Jesus. I don’t

have words for what that was.”

“It was incredible.” And so much more that she couldn’t voice either. She needed

time to think, to clear the lusty haze from her head so she could make rational decisions.

She kissed his shoulder. “I’m going to wash up.” Scooting off the bed, she threw on

a robe then headed to the door before she said something she’d regret.

* * * * *

After a quick shower, Devon walked out of the bathroom and crashed right into

Chuck. She looked him over in his expensive suit—the one he saved for the fancier

weddings—and whistled. With a red silk tie and his blond hair slicked back, he was

even more handsome than usual.

Wynter Daniels

He took a bow then squinted at her. “I think somebody’s been having her way with

her man this afternoon, hmm? I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t come by to tell you

two to keep it down,” he teased.

Her face heated and she widened her eyes, silently warning him to keep his voice

down.

Grasping her upper arm, he led her away from her room to the sitting area outside

his bedroom. His expression grew serious. “I want to know what the hell is going on

with you.” He sat on the antique bench and patted the cushion next to him. “What are

you going to do to exonerate yourself?”

She took a seat but didn’t meet his gaze. “I don’t know”
“My God, Devon. You’ve had an eventful couple of days.” He rubbed his hand over

her arm. “Honey, I’m so sorry I grabbed your phone by mistake. Believe me, it was an

accident. I feel awful about it now.”

“No, Chuck, it was just one of those things.” She hugged him and caught a whiff of

the spicy cologne she’d given him last Christmas. “I don’t blame you for any of this.”

He nodded, but she still detected the self-imposed guilt in his expression. “Is Ben

the guy you were with the night before last?”

She sighed as she twisted the ends of the belt to her robe. “Yeah, that’s him. He

happens to be our new neighbor.”

Chuck gasped. “No way.”
“Sh! Don’t freak, okay? He won’t be living there long. He flips houses. As soon as

his renovations are done he’s leaving the state.” And walking out of my life.

But she didn’t want to think about Ben going away, let alone discuss it.
“Does he know that if he hurts you I’ll kill him?” His smile wrapped around her

like a hug.

She patted his leg. “Ben has a lawyer friend who can help me with my legal

situation. Hopefully he can set something up for me to meet with the guy today.”

“Good. Looks like we’ve both found a hot piece. My date with Tony was amazing.”

He crossed his legs and waggled his eyebrows.

She didn’t want to leave Ben alone too long but Chuck sounded like he needed to

talk. “Yeah?” Yang strode past Chuck, giving him a cursory tail swipe before jumping

onto Devon’s lap. “Tell me.”

He gave her that starry-eyed stare he did whenever he spoke about his boyfriend

du jour. “I’ve totally fallen for him.”

“What? How long have you known him? Like a week?” She’d never understand

how Chuck could continually charge headfirst into relationships that almost always

ended in heartbreak. She wished she could convince him to slow his feelings down and

save him the inevitable letdown.

“So what?” He squared his shoulders indignantly. “I don’t have your issues,

sweetheart. I’m open to love.”

Burning Touch

She blanched and glanced toward her closed bedroom door. “I don’t have issues,”

she whispered. “I just don’t believe in getting too used to any guy.”

“Mm hmm. Issues.” He lightly swatted her knee.
She cinched her robe tighter. “Let’s discuss something else.”
“I talked that old rich dude’s fiancée into using Tony as her florist. Told you I

would. I figured I shouldn’t suffer alone. Plus, Tony’s work is so amazing and she

wants the best of everything. Then I get to see him more.” Placing both his index fingers

on his temples, he rubbed. “That bitch, Faith, is going to drive me to drink, Devon.”

She set Yang on the floor. “Why?”
“I seriously think she’s unnaturally obsessed with marrying the old fart. And you

know better than anyone that I deal with some obsessive brides, but this one might

really be off her rocker.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “She’s evil, Devon.”

Chuckling, she stood up. “You’ll survive her. You’ve lived through a lot of crazy

brides.”

He sucked in a loud breath. “Speaking of evil, there was another note on the door

about the cats.”

She deflated. “That’s all I need now. Where is it?”
“In the trash. It said one of your cats took a crap by their rosebushes.” He rubbed

his forehead, thinking. “Oh, and they were going to report you to the county for

running an illegal animal shelter.”

She rolled her eyes. “An illegal animal shelter? Please. When have I ever had more

three or four strays here at one time?”

He shrugged. “Want me to scope out which neighbors have rosebushes?”
“Not a bad idea. I wonder why they’re not just confronting me in person rather

than leaving notes when we’re not home.” But she didn’t have the energy to deal with it

now.

“We’ll figure it out. Then we can go give them a piece of your mind.”
She giggled then gave him a hug. “I love you.” He always made her feel better. She

wished she knew how to defuse Ben’s distrust as easily.

He kissed her cheek. “Ditto.”
When she returned to her room she found Ben facing the window, talking on his

phone. Damn, he had a nice ass. Nice everything. The vee from his narrow waist to his

broad shoulders stole her breath away. God, he was perfect, totally perfect. Even

though her body felt completely satisfied, she was tempted to head right back to bed

with him.

“No problem, buddy. I understand. See you then.” Turning toward her, he frowned

and her stomach instantly clenched.

“What is it?”

Wynter Daniels

He exhaled loudly and shoved the cell into his pocket. “Mark can’t meet with us

until Monday afternoon. He’s out of town.”

Her heart sank. She hated having her legal issues hanging over her head. Even

worse was not knowing if she could actually be sentenced to jail time. The notion

terrified her. She crumpled onto her bed. “Thanks for trying. Monday will have to do.”

Ben was beside her in an instant, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her

head. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

“How can it be? Three people have already been murdered. We have no idea if the

killer will go after anyone else. No one is safe with me. You’re probably taking your life

in your hands being here.”

He tightened his arms around her. “I’ll be fine. But I have to run home. I have some

work details to take care of. Will you be here?”

She nodded against his chest. “I don’t dare give anyone a massage. It could get

them killed.”

He stood up and she swallowed hard at how cold that left her.
I’m already becoming too attached to him.
Knowing he still hadn’t fully forgiven her for her deception, she grasped his arm,

pulled him to her and kissed him. Not a tender, middle-of-the-road kiss, either. This

was a full-on, passion-to-the-nth-degree kiss that she hoped left him as off balance as it

had her. When they broke apart, she looked up into his pale eyes. She wished she could

read them better.

“I’ll see you later.” It was a statement of fact, not a question or a request. The

gravelly quality of his voice heated up her whole body.

“Okay.” Watching him leave, she wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into

with Ben. It felt like heavenly quicksand. If she didn’t grab on to something to haul

herself out real soon, she was going under.

Burning Touch

Chapter Five

Devon handed Ben a glass of lemonade then sat across from him at her patio table.

“I don’t think the police are even trying to find the killer.”

He swatted away a mosquito. Even in October, dusk meant bugs in Central Florida.

“I’m sure they’re working on it. Detective Underwood knows you didn’t kill those

men.”

“That’s not exactly what he said.” She jabbed a finger at him. “His words were

more like he knew I didn’t pull the trigger. But he thinks I’m involved. I could tell from

the questions he kept repeating. I feel like there’s something the cops are overlooking,

something that’s keeping them from moving on to another suspect. I wish I could

search the victims’ places. There has to be another connection besides me.” She worried

her bottom lip between her teeth and he nearly came undone.

Did she know how sexy he found the gesture? He’d tried to resist her earlier, but

her vulnerable side kept yanking him back. Well, that and her sexy body. He wished to

God he didn’t know about her deception.

No, that didn’t work. Not knowing ahead of time had made the shock of Stacy’s lies

so much more painful.

“You know, I noticed a ‘For Sale’ sign at Harvey Wallis’ house.” She narrowed her

gaze. “You have a real estate license, don’t you? And one of those keys that lets you into

the lockboxes people put on homes that are for sale.”

He didn’t like where she was going. “You want me to get you into his house? What

exactly are you hoping to find?”

She blinked a couple times. “I’ll know it when I see it. There must be something

there—a clue to why he was murdered, maybe something that will tie the victims

together.”

He shook his head. “This is a bad idea, Devon. You’re already facing one burglary

charge. And it’s not like the cops would miss a smoking gun.” Yet the more he thought

about it the more he realized she was right. The police didn’t appear to be focusing on

anyone but her and he couldn’t just sit by and watch them dig her grave. “I’ll go in and

look around. It’s too risky for you.” He didn’t say what he was really thinking—with

her out on bail, they’d arrest her for one misstep. And breaking in to a crime scene was

more than a misstep.

“No, Ben. I won’t involve you in this. I can’t ask you to take a chance like that.” She

let out a sigh. “Winter Park PD is a small department that probably investigates a few

murders a year. All they want is a warm body to lock up so they can stamp solved on

Wynter Daniels

their file and make the mayor and all his wealthy constituents happy. I sure don’t like

being that warm body. But I can’t let you sacrifice yourself.”

He sipped his drink, enjoyed the cool as it went down, quenching his thirst and

staving off the heat and humidity. “I think you’re underestimating me. You’re

assuming I’ll get caught.”

She lifted her eyes to his and he noticed they glistened. “I can’t tell you how much it

means to me that you’re willing to put your neck on the chopping block. If there were

any other way, I’d do this alone. Underwood wants nothing more than to find a way to

charge me with the murders. I need to find something that’ll point him in another

direction.” She wrapped her arms around her body. “God, my whole life is on the line

and I don’t even know what I’m looking for. But I’m sure they’re missing something.

They have to be.”

She had a point. “They’ve probably stopped all showings at Wallis’ house, or at

least they will Monday morning when whoever is in charge of that for the police

department contacts the listing agent. I’ll check the real estate website.”

“So as of today it’s probably still available to show?” Her triumphant smile made

him nervous. “And in theory I could get another agent to show it to me.”

“No you won’t. No one’s going in there with you but me. That’s final.”
“That’s final?” Her eyebrows shot higher.
Okay, maybe that had sounded heavy handed but he wasn’t going to stand by and

let her walk into a potentially dangerous situation all alone. Obviously he needed to

soften his approach. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to for you to go without me. Besides,

there’s probably crime scene tape up. No real estate agent in his or her right mind

would breach that. Except me of course. And only for you.”

Yeah, he definitely saw tears in her eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face, praying

he wouldn’t regret this. “Let’s go check the website.

She grinned. “You’re not as much of a rule follower as I thought.”
He’d surprised himself too. He didn’t normally take chances like this. What was

wrong with him? He was going to break in to a crime scene. God. They’d be lucky if

they didn’t both end up in jail. Or worse.

* * * * *

Devon had Ben park a block away from Harvey Wallis’ place. He had convinced

her they should wear all black so they wouldn’t be seen as easily, but now as they

strode down the residential street under the light of a nearly full moon, she had her

doubts. “We look like cat burglars,” she said as they crossed over to the industrial-

looking concrete house. “You have your realtor key, right?” She still felt badly about

asking him to use it to get them inside but this was her life they were talking about.

She’d find a way to pay him back.

Burning Touch

“Yes, I have it. The information on the computer said the box was inside an empty

flowerpot around the back of the building. I can’t believe no one thought of flagging the

listing to stop the showings. You’d think at least his real estate agent would have

thought about that.”

“Maybe they haven’t heard.” She pointed to the house as they approached. “Look

at this place, Ben. How many people would want to buy a house that looks like a bomb

shelter?”

“Good point. It’s pretty awful.”
They circled around to the back and found the lockbox right where Ben said they

would. He crouched to retrieve the key but stopped and glanced up at her. “You’re sure

you want to do this?”

Shards of guilt poked at her insides. “Look, Ben, I don’t want to get you in any

trouble or compromise your license. Maybe you should wait out here while I find

another way inside.”

He popped the metal box open and palmed the key. “Not on your life. If you go, I

go. We’ve already discussed this. The topic is closed.”

A thick lump stuck in her throat. She wanted to thank him, but she didn’t trust her

voice. They headed to the front door. Ben’s hand on the small of her back reassured her

he was completely on board. They ducked under the police line tape and Devon’s heart

started pounding.

Ben used the key to unlock the door and they hurried inside. “No lights,” he

reminded her as he pulled on a pair of leather gloves, which prompted her to put hers

on.

The place was quiet as a grave. A chill slithered up her spine when she thought

about a man being murdered there. Shrugging it off, she took the small flashlight Ben

had given her from her back pocket and shined it through the foyer. “That’s the living

room,” she whispered, although she had no idea why. “The master bedroom is down

that hall there. The other doors were closed when I was here but I think they’re

probably more bedrooms.”

Ben nodded. “Where do you want to look first?”
She tried to shake off the eerie feeling inside her, but it refused to leave. When Ben

took her hand, she immediately drew a relieved breath. He wouldn’t let anything

happen to them. “Let’s start with the living room.”

They walked though room after room, looking in closets and under furniture and in

drawers, but more than an hour into the search, Devon was growing more nervous.

And her hope was dwindling. She opened the door to the last bedroom but there was

hardly anything in it, only an old mattress on the floor. Her mood plummeted. “I don’t

get it. I just know there’s something we’re missing.”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.” He tilted his head back and trained

his flashlight on the ceiling. “What the hell is that?”

Wynter Daniels

She followed his gaze to a large hook anchored into the plaster. A thick silver ring

hung from it. “Maybe it was for one of those hanging chairs.” She opened the closet and

found a file cabinet. The drawers were all empty. She was about to shut the closet door

when she noticed a seam in the drywall rising from behind the metal cabinet. A chill

rolled over her skin. “Come here, Ben. Check this out.”

He helped her move the cabinet aside.
The seam was actually part of a large rectangle about five feet high and three feet

wide. She pushed a corner and the wall gave. All the air whooshed out of her lungs.

“Whoa. It’s a door.”

“Holy shit.” Ben grabbed her arm and dragged her back. “Let me.” He carefully

eased the panel open then shined his flashlight into the small space.

It couldn’t have been more than four feet wide and maybe six feet deep—a closet

really. Devon gasped when she saw the chains hanging on the wall, each with a single

handcuff attached at the end. A tall table in the back corner was piled with what looked

like leather clothing. “What is this place?”

Ben picked something up off the table and held it up for her to see. The leather

hood had several holes in it. He slipped it over his head.

“Okay, this guy was a weirdo. What else is there?” she asked, afraid to get any

closer. Every creepy movie she’d ever seen played in her head. As soon as the couple

went inside the secret room, the door slammed shut, locking them in. She took a step

backward so the panel couldn’t close.

Ben pulled off the mask then held up a short black coat. “Check this out. It’s a

straitjacket.” He set it back then pulled a basket out from under the table and started

rifling through it. “Oh, man. A whip, handcuffs, a flogger, vibrators, masks. There’s

even a harness for a swing. Probably explains the hook in the ceiling. This guy must

have raided a sex toy shop. I’m guessing he liked to tie up his partners.”

She picked up a wrinkled scrap of paper from the floor.
“What’s that?” Ben asked.
Pulling it open, she squinted to read it even under the bright illumination of her

flashlight. “Looks like a receipt. Doesn’t say what the item purchased was but it cost

twelve bucks.” Part of the business name was torn off but she could make out the rest.

“Andromeda’s Pla is all it says.” She glanced at Ben. “Sound familiar?”

Thankfully, he shook his head. “Let’s research it when we get home.”
She handed him the paper and he shoved it into his pocket.
“How much do you want to bet the police have no idea this stuff is here?” She

thought about phoning Underwood, but she could hardly tell him they’d been in the

victim’s house. She was in enough trouble as it was. “Maybe we can call in an

anonymous tip.”

“We have to let them know somehow. Let me do it. I’ll call from a payphone. If I

can find one.” He shoved everything into the box then pushed it under the table. “Let’s

Burning Touch

get out of here. We’ve already been in here too long. I think we’ve found what we were

looking for.”

“Definitely.” She helped him close the panel and move the file cabinet back to

where it had been. “Underwood would skin me alive if he caught me snooping here.”

After they’d locked the house and returned the key to the lockbox in the flowerpot,

they started down the walkway toward the street when a car pulled up in front of the

house. Uncomfortable heat raced through Devon’s body when Detective Underwood

got out.

“Miss Wise, what a coincidence.” He blocked her path and set his hands on his

waist. Even in the dark, she could see his mocking expression. And the holstered gun

under his suit jacket.

His gaze swept over them. “You two look like you’re up to no good. I sincerely

hope you haven’t trespassed at my crime scene. The only thing I hate more than being

lied to is having a witness—or suspect as the case may be—try to conduct her own

investigation. It’s a great way to get killed.”

Tension stabbed at her temples. She threw Ben a frightened glance.
Ben hooked her arm protectively and pulled her back a step. “I’m looking for

properties to purchase,” he told the detective. “Devon told me about this one so I

thought I’d have a look. I’m a real estate agent, by the way.”

Surprise flashed only for a moment in Underwood’s eyes. “A real estate agent. Did

you happen to see the yellow tape over the door?” He frowned and stooped his

shoulders almost imperceptibly.

Ben stood taller, met the officer’s stare. “Yes sir. But the property shows active and

available for showings on the real estate website. I figured you guys just neglected to

remove the tape or something.”

“Mm hmm. We always remove it, when we’re finished.”
“Sorry about that.” Ben glanced at Devon for a moment then back at the detective.

“Not sure if your guys found the playroom or not, but it’s an interesting feature. And

it’s not noted in the listing on the real estate website.”

Underwood squinted at him. “What the hell are you talking about? What

playroom?”

Ben folded his arms over his chest. “You access it from one of the bedroom closets.

It’s a treasure trove of S&M equipment.”

Detective Underwood’s lips moved but he didn’t say anything for several seconds.

Then he snatched his cell from his belt and hit a couple buttons. “Potter, get your ass

over to Wallis’ place.” He turned away from them and lowered his voice, but not

enough that they didn’t hear every word. “Your people missed something. Something

that could be fucking important. There’s some of that S&M shit here too. Yeah, I’ll be

here waiting.” He snapped the phone closed then practically snarled at Ben. “Get the

Wynter Daniels

hell out of here, you two. And next time you see police tape, heed the message and

don’t cross it.”

He didn’t have to tell Devon twice. Grabbing Ben’s sleeve, she skirted around

Underwood and pumped her legs as fast as they’d go. Heart hammering, she charged

up the street toward Ben’s car.

He walked behind her but didn’t seem in as much of a hurry. “Calm down.

Nothing happened.” He opened the passenger door for her.

Devon threw herself inside then leaned her head back against the seat and finally

felt some of the tension in her neck ease. “We are so freaking lucky.”

“Lucky?” He chuckled. “How about smart?”
She blew out a long breath and stared at him. “Okay, I’ll give you that. Smart. But

just in case he decides to come arrest me again, can we get something to eat so I don’t

have to deal with jail food?”

He set a hand on her thigh and squeezed. “You bet. In fact, I made something for

you today. I’m no Wolfgang Puck, but it looks pretty good. But you’re not going to jail.

I plan to personally make sure of that.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat. No guy had ever said or done such

thoughtful things for her. “I’m sorry I let you down, Ben. Not being forthright with

Underwood about how I got in to the house and all.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He dropped her gaze and her heart fell. “I

want to trust you, Devon, I really do.”

Did that mean he did or he didn’t? When he lifted his arm and gestured for her to

scoot closer, she allowed herself a small measure of relief. Shoving away her lingering

doubts, she slid across the seat, into his warmth. He wrapped his arm over her

shoulders, pulling her against his side. She inhaled his scent—pure male—and desire

curled through her. “You cooked for me, huh? That’s so nice.”

He shrugged off her comment. “It’s nothing.”
But it was something—something special. She concentrated on banishing the fear

that accompanied the sweet rush of heat. This was the part where she usually jumped

ship. Only she didn’t want to this time. Nor did she care to dwell on her feelings for

Ben. Not now with everything else she had going on.

She shifted her thoughts to the case. “Did you happen to catch what Underwood

said when he was on the phone?”

He nodded. “About there being S&M items here too.”
“Exactly. So they must have found more of the same at the other men’s homes.

There has to be a connection.” She ran all the details through her head. All three men

lived alone, all within the same age range and apparently into the same kind of kinky

sex.

“You okay?” he asked after a few minutes.
She pasted on a smile. “Yeah. Still frazzled from that run-in with Underwood.”

Burning Touch

He steered onto their street and parked in his garage. Turning toward her, he

draped his arm over the back of the seat and gave her a reassuring smile. “Let’s not

think about that now. It’s over. I have to heat up the casserole. How about a glass of

wine in the meantime?”

She let him help her out of the car. “That sounds perfect.” But nothing was over

with Detective Underwood. He still didn’t have a suspect, which left her holding the

proverbial bag.

They entered his kitchen through the garage. Her own kitchen was a catchall for

papers, mail, all kinds of stuff that didn’t really belong anywhere else. This room was

beyond orderly. Then he showed her through a completely empty dining room, a

sparsely furnished living room and family room. His scent hung in the air all through

the house but the lack of décor left the home with a cold, sterile feel as if Ben didn’t

want to commit to it. But then, none of this was permanent for him. She shrugged off

the lonely chill, shoved all thoughts of him leaving from her mind.

“That was the nickel tour,” he said as they returned to where they’d started. “A

dime will get you upstairs.” He grinned suggestively at her.

A jolt of erotic energy arced between them. Devon couldn’t decide which hunger

felt more urgent—the need to eat or the yearning to make love with Ben.

He put the tofu parmigiana casserole in the oven then poured them each a glass of

chardonnay.

Devon glanced around the large room. Dark-green granite counters set off the

maple cabinets and hardwood floor. Celery-colored pendant lights hung over the center

island, giving the room a warm glow. If he’d picked everything out, he had good taste.

“This is very upscale, Ben. Did you do it yourself?”

“Mostly. I always remodel the kitchen of a house before I move in. Everything else

can wait.” He tapped his glass to hers. “To proving your innocence.”

She had to smile. “I’ll definitely drink to that.” A few sips of wine warmed her from

the inside out and softened the rough edges the past two days had carved. She studied

Ben, dressed all in black. God, he was handsome. “You remind me more of a mime than

a cat burglar. Or maybe like Johnny Cash.”

“Want me to sing A Boy Named Sue?” He waggled his eyebrows and stepped closer,

backing her against the island. “Or should I be a mime and communicate with my

hands?”

White-hot awareness hummed through her. “Silence is nice sometimes.” She set her

glass down beside his then hooked her arms around his neck.

Ben lifted her onto the counter. He skimmed his lips along her jaw, ran a gentle

finger around the shell of her ear. A quiver of longing rolled over her skin. He took her

face between his hands and brushed his lips over hers, slow, soft and utterly sexy.

Shutting her eyes, she let all thought float out of her mind, leaving only the pleasure of

his kiss.

Wynter Daniels

Her breasts grew heavy with need, the tips hard and aching for his touch. The man

had the ability to turn her into a puddle of hormones. He tangled his fingers through

her hair and forced her head back far enough so he could kiss her throat. Sweet, lush

sensations swirled inside her.

He dotted her skin with licks and nibbled then bit at her peaked nipple through her

T-shirt. Oh God. She wanted him so badly, yearned to be naked with him again, skin to

skin. Did he need this as much as she? Something about him lit up the dark corners

inside her.

She leaned back away from him and yanked her shirt over her head, an invitation

for him to touch and explore her. He grinned appreciatively at her black bra then

proceeded to lower the straps off her shoulders and peel away the cups. Staring at her

naked flesh, he licked his lips as if he were about to partake in a forbidden delight.

The breeze from the ceiling fan cooled her skin but not for long. Ben’s gaze induced

a rush of desire that drove her temperature through the roof. He palmed one breast and

she fed him the other. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, completely lost in

bliss. Her feelings were quickly morphing from just lust to like to like a lot. It was

happening too fast yet she couldn’t bring herself to rein in her emotions. Nor did she

relish how much she was leaning on Ben, something she rarely did with anyone.

Ben’s wickedly skilled mouth did unspeakably erotic things to her—licking and

nipping and sucking. Heat pooled between her legs, slicked her sex. She squirmed on

the hard surface to dissipate the burning need he inspired, but nothing would cool her

lust but the feel of his hard cock sliding into her.

When she was sure she couldn’t take another moment of his delicious torture, he

switched to her other breast. She bit back a sigh but when he continued tormenting her

with delight, she moaned. If he didn’t make love to her soon she’d burst into flames,

incinerate right there on his cold granite countertop.

She unsnapped her pants, lowered the zipper to let him know she craved more.

Immediately.

His strong hand gripped her wrist, stopping her from undressing any more. One

thing she’d learned about Ben was that he refused to be rushed when it came to sex. All

the pleading and begging in the world didn’t shake his resolve one bit. He savored

every erotic moment like a connoisseur sampling a rare delicacy.

But the craving overwhelmed her. She rocked her hips, desperate for release.

Instead, Ben backed away. “Let me shut off the oven. We have enough of a fire going

here. We don’t need any more heat.”

Devon took advantage of his momentary distraction to hop down from the counter

and strip off her pants. Then she unhooked her tangled bra and took it off.

When Ben turned around and saw her standing there in only her panties, he pinned

her with a hungry stare. “I didn’t say you could get down or undress, did I?” He

stalked toward her, wearing a playful scowl. “Now you’ll have to be punished.”

Burning Touch

She half giggled, half screamed and ran around to the other side of the island. But

she was too slow. Catching her, he lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder. She

kicked and laughed as he carried her through the house and up the stairs. What exactly

did he have in mind for punishment? She’d always fantasized about such things but

she’d never trusted a man enough to voice those fantasies. Anticipation flooded her

veins.

Once he got her into his room he dropped her onto his bed and she bounced on the

mattress. She tried to roll away.

“Oh no you don’t.” He sat on the edge of the bed then dragged her over his lap,

holding her facedown. “You’ve been a bad girl, Devon. I think you need a spanking.”

She stopped laughing long enough to make a show of fighting him but in truth, she

trusted that whatever he had planned, he wouldn’t hurt her. Quite the contrary. A jolt

of lust raced through her system.

Smoothing a hand over her backside, he sneaked a finger inside the elastic of her

panties, pulled it taut then let it snap back against her skin. It only stung a little, but she

yelped anyway. He yanked her underwear aside to give her a quick slap.

Still didn’t hurt, but she let out an indignant gasp anyway. “Abuse,” she cried out

then chuckled as she got up on all fours and crawled off him.

He went after her, the two of them chasing over the bed like a couple of punch-

drunk teenagers. Hampered by her panties, which were wound around her upper

thighs, she gave up after a minute and let him catch her.

Grabbing her by the waist from behind, he stilled her, hovered over her. His hands

roamed up over her rib cage to cup both her breasts and thumb the tight peaks. She bit

her lip as she savored the tingling sensations from his touch. He kissed her back, her

neck and shoulders. The hard bulge of his erection pressed insistently against her

backside, rubbing along the seam of her ass.

A demanding pulse settled between her thighs as he rolled her nipples between his

rough fingertips. Pleasure ribboned through her. When was the last time she’d had so

much fun with a guy? She couldn’t remember feeling so at ease with any other man.

When he moved his hands away, she mourned the loss until she realized his other

plans for her. He sat back on his haunches and stroked a finger, painfully slowly

between her legs, back and forth. Her sex twitched as she anticipated him filling her,

stroking inside her.

When he slid a finger through her damp folds, she nearly came off the bed. His

intuitive touch set off delicious sparks that shot straight to her center. He pressed his

thumb against her clit and gently rubbed. Oh God, she was so close to tumbling into

oblivion. The intensity of the feeling had her mesmerized. She rocked on her hands and

knees, barely able to keep from begging him to fuck her.

He leaned over her and kissed the back of her neck, his hot breath fanning around

her ear. She shivered at the sensation.

Wynter Daniels

“You’re soaking wet, Devon. I think you’re enjoying this a little. Tell me how much

you like it.” His voice was a seductive rumble she couldn’t resist.

“I love it,” she managed between clenched teeth. She’d never done anything so

naughty. A mix of desire and shame trickled through her.

“That’s what I thought.” He stroked her cleft, rubbed her into a quivering frenzy.

She gasped at the onslaught of heightened delight. Rocking against him, she

surrendered to the bliss. Her eyes shuttered as she rode the free fall of her orgasm. She

clawed at the covers. Wave after wave of ecstasy racked her body. Ben continued

stroking her, milking every last bit of pleasure from her flesh.

When the deluge started to subside, he pushed two fingers inside her. She reacted

like a lit firecracker, bucking and gyrating like mad. The man knew right where to

touch her, how to ignite sparks of pleasure inside her, more intense than she’d ever

known.

Breathless, she lowered her head to the mattress, didn’t even care that her rear end

was sticking up in the air. She took everything Ben gave her as if she was a wild animal

in heat.

He replaced his fingers with his tongue, setting her off again. His long, slow swipes

singed her most sensitive parts. He stopped for a moment and she whimpered for more.

Glancing over her shoulder, she watched him expertly sheathe himself. Her sex

clenched, throbbed for relief. She leaned on her forearms, anticipating the feel of him

filling her. Ben dug his fingers into her waist then pushed the tip of his erection into

her.

More. Oh God, she needed more. She rocked back, taking him deeper, heard his hiss

of satisfaction.

He pulled her against him and started thrusting. Her intimate muscles stretched to

accommodate him. The torrid friction drove her crazy with ecstasy. She arched against

his driving strokes, greedy for more and he gave it to her. Sexual energy pulsed

through her, rhythmic and addicting as an ancient chant.

Ben churned his hips into her, filling her so perfectly. Tides of pleasure swamped

her senses, consumed every part of her. He withdrew, rolled her onto her back and

hovered over her. “One time when we made love I hated that I didn’t see your face

when you came. I don’t intend to miss that ever again.”

Her throat was too thick with emotion—emotion she wished she didn’t feel. But

there was no denying it. Shoving the feelings away, she concentrated on the physical

sensations, which immediately dominated her brain as well as her body.

Ben quickly pulled her panties the rest of the way off then brushed his lips over

Devon’s, eager to taste her desire. Her moss-colored eyes held that dreamy haze they

always did shortly before she climaxed. He used his knee to push her legs wider then

slid inside her again. Heaven.

Burning Touch

Her lips parted on a sigh. She clenched around him in welcome and need coiled

fiercely through him. Each stroke drew him closer and closer to release, but he held

back, hanging on to his control by a thread.

Devon wound her arms through his, curled her fingernails into biceps as if she

couldn’t get close enough. The bite only heightened his desire. He rode her relentlessly,

kissed her neck, her jawline and her lips. “You always taste so sweet. Like you bathed

in honey.”

Her lazy smile was so warm it reached all the way to her eyes. His chest tightened.

He shouldn’t care so much, not with them being so new, so precarious. And he couldn’t

allow himself to overlook that she’d been dishonest. But could he bring himself to walk

away? He hated the thought of not seeing her, not making love to her. Couldn’t think

about it now, not with so much molten lust pumping through his bloodstream.

Devon’s eyes glazed over. Her breath caught and she screamed out his name. She

arched and twisted and moaned beneath him.

After watching her climax unfold, he allowed himself to quit holding back. Hot,

liquid pressure built inside him until he couldn’t refrain another second. He teetered on

the brink a moment before he exploded in unbridled release. Spearing into her over and

over, he lost himself in the delirious ecstasy.

A few last blissful thrusts, then he captured Devon’s mouth, kissed her with

everything he had. When his orgasm had passed, he held her close against his body. For

a relationship he’d convinced himself was nothing but physical, it sure felt like more.

But those nagging doubts wouldn’t stop clawing at his mind. She’d been dishonest

with a cop so what would stop her from lying to him?

A vision of Stacy filled his head, the last person he wanted to think about now. Yet

he couldn’t banish the image of her painting on her makeup and pushing all those

bangle bracelets she wore onto her wrists.

“I’m meeting the girls,” she’d said.
How many times had he believed her? How many times had she really gone to

meet a lover? He’d wanted to buy her explanations so much. Enough that he’d

smothered his nagging doubts until he’d caught her and she couldn’t deny the truth

any longer.

Forcing the unpleasant thought away, he moved a fraction of an inch back, put a

little space between Devon and him. He prayed she was as innocent as she professed.

She had to be. If his instincts had let him down as they had before, he could be sleeping

with a murderer.

* * * * *

Devon woke with her body molded to Ben’s. She’d only dozed, so she knew it

hadn’t been long. Easing off him, she managed to extricate herself without waking him.

Wynter Daniels

She flashed on their exploits and felt her pulse spike. Staring at his nude form made her

yearn to wake him for another go-round.

No. Getting too attached to Ben was a bad idea. She reined in her emotions and

forced her gaze away. Didn’t help douse the brewing passion inside her, though.

He’d saved her ass earlier with the detective—which wasn’t the first time he’d come

to her rescue. Bailing her out of jail and arranging for her to meet with his lawyer friend

were both huge deals. Not to mention that he’d risked his real estate license by letting

her into Wallis’ house.

Although her protective instincts kept prodding her to end the relationship before

she fell for Ben, the thought of walking away frightened her nearly as much as the

notion of not walking away. But her gut told her he would never purposely hurt her.

Nor could she hurt him.

Because I care.
A luxury she’d never allowed herself with a man. Shaking off the thought, she

searched the moonlit room for her panties and found them sticking out from under the

bed. Her stomach growled loudly as she pulled them up her legs.

“Hey.” Ben’s sleepy voice instantly turned her mood velvet. “Where you going?”

His gaze lingered on her breasts before sliding up to her face.

“I’m starving. Plus, all my clothes are in your kitchen.” She curtsied. “Hence the

nakedness.”

He turned on a lamp then skimmed his eyes slowly over her body again. “I like you

naked. It’s your best look.”

She spared him a grin as she studied his muscular torso and shoulders. “After I find

my clothes, I plan to delve in to that casserole of tofu parmigiana.”

He sat up and scratched his head. “About that, Devon—”
“No worries,” she said, cutting him off. “I know vegetarian cooking is new for you.

You’ve probably never even eaten tofu before. Am I right?”

“Yeah, you are.” He climbed out of bed and Devon couldn’t help ogling his

amazing legs as he pulled on a pair of silky-looking navy boxers.

Her body always felt so good, so complete every time after they’d made love, yet all

she wanted to do after was hop back into the sack with him. She’d never before felt

such a compulsion to jump a guy’s bones over and over.

It occurred to her that for the first time in forever she wanted to be with a man—

with him, even if they didn’t have sex. She enjoyed his company, loved the way she felt

when he was with her. And she wanted to be part of his life.

He’ll hurt me, even if he doesn’t mean to.
“I’m going downstairs to get dressed,” she told him.
“If you must.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

Burning Touch

She found her way through the dark house, back to the kitchen, then slipped on her

clothes. Opening the oven, she breathed in the cheesy aromas. The casserole was still

hot. She grabbed a dishtowel to pick it up then set it on the counter. Next she went on a

search for plates and silverware. Most of the drawers and cabinets were empty. Ben had

stashed nearly everything in two drawers and one cabinet.

She stopped what she was doing and really looked at the beautiful, nearly empty

kitchen. It hit her that Ben spent his life moving from house to house, never getting too

settled or attached. Did he also do that in his relationships? Maybe they were more alike

than she’d realized.

She didn’t want him to move on. Never before had she been so tempted to take a

chance, to see what could be between them. But letting her feelings run rampant was

foolish. He’d be leaving soon and if she allowed herself to care anymore she’d be

destroyed. Only she couldn’t bring herself to walk away while she could still get out

with most of her heart.

“How’s the casserole taste?” Ben came in wearing shorts that showed off his long

legs and a T-shirt that hugged his chest and shoulders in all the right places.

Just being near him gave her that pleasant achy feeling low in her abdomen. God, it

hadn’t even been an hour since they’d made love yet her nipples hardened at the sight

of him. “I-I haven’t served it up yet. Want some?”

“Sure.”
She busied herself preparing two plates.
“I have to tell you something, Devon.” That crease formed on his forehead, the one

she kept seeing every time he was worried about something. Was he going to end

things with her now? Sadness crept into her heart. She’d been so sure he was going to

forgive her for her dishonesty with Detective Underwood. Facing him, she held her

breath, waiting for the ax to fall.

“I’ve got to be honest with you. I didn’t make this casserole.” He swiped his hand

over his face. “I ordered it from the vegetarian place on Park Avenue. I wanted to

impress you. I can’t do much more in the kitchen than boil water. And call for takeout.

Sorry to let you down.”

Hand on her chest, she started laughing. Relief washed over her life a summer

rainstorm.

“What’s so funny?” He leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms.
She stared into his eyes and stilled. “Kind of ironic, your little fib. Don’t you think?

I seem to remember you saying something like, ‘a lie is a lie’. Does that sound familiar?”

After a second he pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. “Yeah, it does.

But I lied to impress you.” He opened his eyes and she thought she saw a spark of

humor there.

Wynter Daniels

She eliminated the distance between them. “And I lied because I was flustered and

frazzled and…scared. People lie all the time for a million reasons, some of them valid,

some not so much. I don’t think anyone is a hundred percent truthful day in, day out.”

Thankfully, he pulled her into an embrace. “You’re right. I was hurt by someone’s

dishonesty. It’s kind of a hot-button thing for me.”

“Kind of?”
His laugh vibrated through her and Devon knew if he hadn’t forgiven her already,

he would soon. She carried plates of the casserole to the island while Ben refreshed their

wineglasses.

Climbing onto a stool, she forked a bite. Hungry as she was, the food tasted like

heaven. “Delicious, Ben. Thanks.”

He shrugged. “Thanks to Garden of Delights Café.” He ate a piece and nodded.

“It’s good.”

“So what do you think about checking out the other victims’ house?”
His eyes widened as he nearly choked. After a few coughs, he seemed to have

recovered. “Are you serious? You heard what Underwood said. If he arrests you again,

they might not let you out on bail. Particularly if he adds charges.” He set his fork

down. “Besides, we already know what the cops found there. Underwood practically

handed us that information on a silver platter.”

“True.” But she had every intention of continuing her investigation, with or without

Ben, although she hoped he’d be onboard when she came up with the next phase of the

plan.

By the time they’d finished eating it was after midnight.
“I’m going home,” Devon said as she picked up their plates from the island.
He rubbed his eyes and stood. “There’s still a killer on the loose. Either sleep here or

let me come to your place.”

She didn’t want him to think of her as an obligation. “Look, I’m sure Chuck is

home. The man would lay his life on the line for me. Plus, I have cats to take care of,

litter boxes to change. You don’t want to be anywhere near that, trust me. And I refuse

to allow this thing to stop me from living my life.”

“All right. But promise me you’ll call if Chuck leaves.” He took the dishes from her.
She held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
He insisted on walking her home, which was fine with her. Made her feel like he

really did care. As soon as the whole murder thing was solved and sewed up, maybe

they’d have a shot at… Then she remembered. He wouldn’t be sticking around long

enough for them to figure out if they could have a real relationship. Unless she could

change his mind about leaving, give him a reason to stay. The notion was terrifying but

she realized she wanted to try with Ben, which totally knocked her off balance. Maybe

with his help she could get over her aversion to long-term boyfriends.

Burning Touch

But first, she had to prove she wasn’t involved in those murders. Best way to do

that was to hand the police the real murderer. She prayed that person didn’t get to her

first.

Wynter Daniels

Chapter Six

Devon turned on the coffeemaker late Sunday morning then headed out to the

driveway to retrieve the newspaper. But the sight of a gorgeous brunette in a short skirt

climbing Ben’s porch stopped her in her tracks. Her pulse kicked up a notch.

Backing behind a rosebush, Devon watched the woman dig in her purse a minute

before unlocking Ben’s front door. Then she marched right inside. Who was she and

why did she have a key to his place? Could she be his ex-wife? Maybe he had a too-cozy

relationship with his ex. Or maybe he wasn’t really divorced at all. Her chest tightened.

What the hell is wrong with me?
Jealousy was so not her game. She’d never cared before what the men in her life did

when they weren’t with her. Hell, she never hung around long enough to allow

something like jealousy to take root. Yet she couldn’t take her eyes off Ben’s door. She

might miss something.

Scuttling across the driveway separating their houses, she tried to see into the

windows on the side wall. Damn curtains blocked her view. She glanced around to

make sure no one was watching her. Last thing she needed was for the neighbors to

think she was a Peeping Tom. With the coast clear, she rounded the building to the

front of the house and stood on her tiptoes, peering inside. The room looked mostly

empty but for a leather sofa and a television. She didn’t dare climb the porch to get a

better look.

Maybe Ben and the woman were in a bedroom. A hard lump settled in the pit of her

stomach. For God’s sake. He’d just made love to her hours earlier. Could he be that

horny—and that insensitive?

To hell with it. She hurried back to her house and stormed inside. Dropping the

newspaper on the counter, she drew a calming breath. Her mother had always said idle

hands are the devil’s workshop.

Do something to keep busy. Something outside.
She found her gardening gloves and her tool bucket. Charging back outside, she

headed to her front yard to weed her impatiens. At least that gave her something to do.

And from her vantage point, Ben’s porch was in clear view.

After nearly an hour in the midday heat she was drenched in sweat and her yard

was completely devoid of weeds. Still no signs of life next door.

What the hell are they doing in there?
Finally the door opened. The brunette stepped onto the porch followed by Ben—

who wore nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist. His hair was wet and

combed back. Devon imagined his clean, piney scent, the feel of his skin. Her heart

Burning Touch

caught in her throat when the woman wrapped her arms around Ben’s middle and

pulled him close, hugging herself to his bare chest.

Devon stifled the urge to make some sort of commotion so they’d break apart.
I shouldn’t care.
Of course he could have someone else. They had no commitment, no agreement of

exclusivity. So why did it bother her so much? Probably because the woman was so

damn gorgeous.

Bitch.
Only she knew she’d still be fuming even if the other woman resembled a pit bull.

She wanted Ben all to herself.

Yanking off her gloves, she threw them into the gardening bucket. She refused to sit

there and watch Ben kiss that woman. Head high, she marched up her driveway, not

even sparing the couple next door a glance.

She found Chuck in the kitchen, fixing one of his mile-high sandwiches. How he

could eat all that fat-laden meat, cheese and mayonnaise and stay so slim, she’d never

know.

He eyed her. “You okay? What’s with the red face and that nasty frown? I didn’t

leave the hose running again, did I?”

She rubbed her temples. “No. I’m getting a headache.” Pacing the floor, she tried to

think of a snarky way to let Ben know she’d seen him with that woman.

“This is more than a headache. It’s me, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He grabbed her

arm and dragged her to a stop. “Talk to me, Devon.”

Shaking him off, she heaved a deep breath. “Ben is over there with some tall beauty

queen. She let herself in with her own damn key and like an hour later they walked out

together. And he was wearing nothing but a freaking towel.”

Chuck held a fist to his mouth as he stared at her.
“What?” she demanded.
“Oh my God. It’s happening.” He shook his head. “You’re totally falling for him.

Don’t deny it.”

She stepped backward and caught herself against the edge of the counter. “That’s

ridiculous. I think he’s got a hell of a lot of nerve to flaunt some floozy after he and

I…you know, just last night. He plays Mr. Protective with me then he goes and screws

whoever she is.” Good thing she found out now, though. What if she’d foolishly let

herself fall for him and then he cheated on her?

He abandoned me just like all the others.
She should have known, should have listened to her instincts.
“How do you know there’s anything going on between them?” He poured himself

a cup of coffee.

Wynter Daniels

“Oh come on, Chuck. The bitch has her own key to his new house. And he was

nearly naked when he walked her out. They’re probably still on the porch making out

in front of God and the neighbors.” Tears stung the back of her eyes but she refused to

give in to cry over any man. “At least he could have waited until tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes, love. You have it bad.” He pursed his lips, staring at her as if she were his

science project. “Before you crucify the guy, why don’t you call him and ask him who

the woman is. Better still, go over there and confront him.”

She balked at the idea. “I’m not his wife or his mother or even his girlfriend. What

right do I have to…” She stopped speaking when Chuck raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You are totally falling for him.”
Scoffing at his assessment, she stalked out of the room. “You don’t know what

you’re talking about,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m not you, who falls in love after

the first kiss. I’m not jealous. I’m merely…surprised at his callousness. That’s all.”

“Mm hmm.” He followed her into the living room. “Lie all you want, my friend,

but you don’t fool me for a second.” He checked his watch. “I have to get ready for my

date. Tony and I are going to see that new sci-fi movie. If you want to discuss your

jealousy issues or anything else, I’ll be upstairs.”

She waved him away. What the hell did he know? She could ignore Ben and his

beauty queen girlfriend. She had plenty to do to keep her mind occupied.

After a cup of coffee, she headed to the backyard to tend to her vegetables and

herbs. But as she watered pots of mint, parsley and basil, all she could think about was

the feel of Ben’s body moving over hers, the tender caress of his gaze. Touching her

fingers to the side of her face, she remembered the feel of his beard scratching her

cheek. She shivered as a rush of desire washed over her. But she couldn’t get bogged

down in that. She never should have allowed her feelings to run wild. This was exactly

why she didn’t stick with any guy for long. Ben had obviously moved on and so should

she. Why wait for the hammer to fall? He’d be leaving the state soon anyway.

She only wished she could purge those pesky flashes of memory and the flicker of

hope that she knew would take a very long time to snuff out.

* * * * *

Ben stuffed a bag of trash in the can on the side of his house. When he heard water

running next door, he strode across the driveway to Devon’s fence and glimpsed her in

her yard, wearing frayed Bermuda shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Her hair was tucked

into a big hat. She stood over a maze of green foliage, holding a tin watering can,

looking like an earthy goddess. An orange-and-white cat wound around her ankles. He

was amazed she didn’t trip as she sidestepped her way along the row of plants.

He remained perfectly still, silently observing her. She set the can down then lifted

the cat into her arms, held it like a baby. She nuzzled the animal’s fur and it tapped her

face with its paw in response. Her laugh was so sweet and warm, it did something to

Burning Touch

him—something unexpected. How could he have seriously thought she’d ever be able

to hurt anyone?

He yearned to have some of that tenderness directed at him. Despite Devon’s

frumpy outfit she still turned him on. A few golden wisps of curls stuck out from

beneath her floppy hat. He hoped for more than just sex from her but he didn’t want to

frighten her away. Tracking his gaze over her body, he recalled kissing and touching

every inch of her.

Damn, he was getting hard just watching her. He cleared his throat to alert her of

his presence. “Hey.”

Her green eyes turned dark and dangerous when they landed on him. What had he

done? Hopefully she was mad at someone else but she was definitely not happy.

She set the cat down and squared her shoulders. “What do you want?”
Nope. That anger was definitely directed at him. What the hell had changed in a

couple short hours? “I was wondering if you wanted to grab some lunch soon.”

She huffed loudly. “I thought you’d be busy with your girlfriend.”
Uh oh. What was she…then it hit him. She’d seen him with Abby. And she was

jealous. He held back a triumphant smile. She wouldn’t be jealous if she didn’t care. “I

don’t have a girlfriend.” Not yet, anyway.

“Really? Then who were you sucking face with on your front porch a little while

ago.” She took a few steps toward him and folded her arms across her chest. Good thing

the fence was between them or she might have smacked him, judging from her

aggressive body language.

He thought about setting her straight right off the bat, but why? Maybe thinking

there was another woman in his life would stoke her desire for him. “Did you see me

kiss someone, Devon? Besides you, I mean.”

Her nostrils flared. “I didn’t wait around for that. You were hugging her. Wearing

nothing but a towel, I might add.” Her try for a nonchalant shrug didn’t quite make the

mark. “Not that it’s any of my business. We have no strings, do we?”

“If you say so.” God, he loved the fire dancing in her eyes. And her peaches-and-

cream complexion, completely free of any of the war paint most women hid behind.

Although her cheeks were definitely turning more red than peach.

He could practically see the gears turning in her head. She was dying to know who

Abby was. And could he blame her? Abby was gorgeous for God’s sake. But the fact

that Devon was obviously jealous lit a flicker of hope that she wouldn’t end whatever

they were doing together. He wanted to keep her in his life, at least a while longer.

“I think your eyes have gotten even greener. Is that new contact lenses or…oh,

you’re jealous, aren’t you?” He grinned at her, unable to hide his amusement.

“I am not. I couldn’t care less who that woman was and what you have going on

with her.” God, her voice sounded shrill as a seagull’s screech. She picked up her

watering can. “Thank you for bailing me out of…” She looked left then right before

Wynter Daniels

continuing. “Jail,” she finished. “And for your protection. But I won’t require your

services anymore. I’ll be fine. I’ll leave a check in your mailbox tomorrow for the money

I owe you.”

Hell no. When she started to walk away, he opened the gate and entered the yard.
She stopped, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Where do you think you’re

going?”

He grasped her upper arms, pulled her against him, despite her halfhearted protest.

Desire pumped through him, fast and hot. He covered her lips with his, demanded

entry. When she opened to him, he felt her relax in his grip, submit.

The watering can fell to the ground and she softened against him, meeting his

tongue with a warm, wet welcome from hers. She let out a tiny moan but it was lost

between them as their tongues tasted and twisted and tangled together. Greedy for

more, he moved one hand to her back, slid it lower until he held her ass, pulled her

against the demanding bulge in his pants. When he was sure he’d kissed her senseless,

he broke the connection, captured her dazed stare. “You have no reason to be jealous.”

“I wasn’t—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Do you want to know who she is?”
Her shoulders dropped and she nodded as if she’d lost the game.
“Her name is Abby.” He combed his fingers through Devon’s hair, knocked the

silly hat off her head. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

Muscles around her jaw ticked. “She looks like a beauty queen.”
He tipped her chin up so she’d look into his eyes. “She’s my sister. Her computer’s

in the shop so I said she could use my desktop. She works for me so you’d better get

used to seeing her around. You’ll like her.”

She released a long breath. “Why didn’t you tell me any of that before?”
“Because you’re absolutely adorable when you’re pissed off at me. Beside, you said

you didn’t care.”

Bending to pick up her hat, she brushed dirt off it then set it on the bistro table.
He took her by her arm and led her to a double swing. “We need to talk.” Taking a

seat, he patted the cushion next to him.

One of her cats jumped up onto the swing and rubbed against him.
Devon eyed the animal. “Get down, Yin.”
Ben petted its silky fur. “I think he likes me.”
“She.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Yin’s a good judge of character.” Her

voice was so soft he barely heard her.

“Then I think you’re safe with me.” He picked up the feline and set her on the

ground. Then he gestured for her to take a seat next to him.

She hesitated a moment then thankfully she joined him.

Burning Touch

He threaded his fingers through hers. “I feel like you’re constantly trying to push

me away. Why is that? Why can’t we just let what happens happen without fighting it?”

She wouldn’t look at him.
“Devon?”
Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she fidgeted with a loose thread on her

shorts. “I don’t do relationships, Ben. I like to keep things short and sweet. Then no one

gets hurt. But it’s different with you. That terrifies me.”

He turned toward her, took her other hand in his. “Did a man hurt you? Is that

what I’m paying the price for now?”

Shaking her head, she sank lower in the seat. “I’ve never had a real relationship

with a man. Not one that lasted more than a couple weeks. This thing between you and

me is already way more…intense than anything I’ve been involved in.” She laughed

without mirth. “Pathetic for a twenty-five-year-old woman, huh? I can’t believe I’m

telling you this.”

He cupped her cheek. “Why are you so afraid to care?”
“Everyone I’ve ever cared about…left. Died. If I don’t get close to anyone then I’ll

never have to feel that kind of awful pain again.” Her eyes shimmered and his gut

clenched.

He pulled her to him, rubbed her back. “Who died, baby?”
“My folks. I wasn’t old enough to be on my own so I came here, to this house, to

live with my father’s aunt. She was my only living relative. We grew really close. I was

a sophomore in college when she passed away.” Her voice was shaky but she hadn’t

shed a tear.

“I’m so sorry.” No wonder she was afraid to care about anyone.
She sniffled, backed away. Her jaw was tight and the pulse at her temples fluttered.

“Thank you. It was a long time ago.”

Not so long that it wasn’t still affecting her, though. “Would you do me a favor?”
She tilted her head. “What?”
“Give me a chance.” He squeezed her hand when she didn’t respond. “Devon?”
She eased away, stood up and crossed the patio and folded her arms across her

chest. “Why should I? You’ll just move on after you finish your project next door.”

How could he argue with that? “That’s months from now. Can’t we let this be what

it is?”

Her halfhearted smile was unconvincing. “Sure we can.”
A lot could happen in a few months. Maybe he could tell his brother he needed

more time, maybe… He couldn’t think too far into the future. The idea of leaving here,

leaving her didn’t sit well, but something inside him froze up when he thought about

starting a real relationship with her. The pain of Stacy’s betrayal was still too fresh.

Opening himself up only to have the rug pulled out from under him was foolish. So

Wynter Daniels

why was he trying to get Devon to give them a chance? He wished he didn’t feel so

drawn to her.

“I don’t think the police are even trying to find the killer.”
He’d noticed she had a habit of abruptly changing the subject when she was

uncomfortable discussing a topic. He got up and crossed the patio so he stood right next

to her, close enough to pick up the scent of fresh-cut grass and herbs he remembered

from their first night together. “Maybe all the stuff we found yesterday will help them.

Detective Underwood knows you didn’t kill those men.”

She twirled a curl around her finger and her tongue slid across her lips. He could

think of lots of places he’d like her to lick.

But he shouldn’t be thinking about that. She had that look in her eyes, exactly like

she did the day before when she got him to take her to Harvey Wallis’ house.

“We found that secret room in no time after the cops had completely overlooked it.

How do I know they didn’t do the same shoddy job at Kendall Thorpe’s house and John

York’s?”

“Their houses aren’t on the market. And you’re not breaking in to them. Got it?” He

waited for her nod.

“Fine. But there must be…” Her eyes widened. “The paper. How could we have

forgotten?”

“What paper?”
“The receipt we found in Wallis’ secret room, remember? I gave it to you.”
He vaguely recalled stuffing it in his pocket. “Right.” And those pants were

probably somewhere around the spin cycle with the rest of the laundry he’d started

before he came outside. He wiped a hand over his chin. “About that paper…”

“What?”
God, he hated to let her down. “I forgot about it. And I’ve washed those pants.”
The disappointment in her eyes made his insides twist. “Oh, Ben, no.”
“Yup. But you read some of it. Some mythological figure’s name, right?” He racked

his brain to recall.

Her sharp intake of breath pulled his attention back to her. “Andromeda

something. I’m sure that was it.”

“Yeah. Andromeda’s p-l something.”
She gave him that beautiful smile and it was as if the sun had just come out and

brightened the entire world. “Let’s go look that up. Hopefully we can find something

out without breaking into another house.”

He followed her into her kitchen but the sinking feeling he’d gotten from her words

lingered.

Standing behind her, he watched her log on to a desktop computer in an alcove off

the kitchen set up as an office. Glancing around the space, he searched for clues into

Burning Touch

Devon’s life. A bulletin board over the computer was jammed full of assorted papers of

varying sizes, shapes and colors tacked up with hot pink pushpins—a schedule of yoga

classes, a list of produce one should buy organic, her massage therapist license.

Everything looked totally disorderly and cluttered, completely unpredictable—a lot like

Devon. Nothing screamed, I’m secretly a serial killer.

“Look. Here it is,” she said. “Andromeda’s Playground. It’s right in Orlando.”
He leaned closer to the screen and read aloud. “Fetish club and toy store.”
“And it’s only closed on Mondays. We can check it out tonight.”
His gut clenched. Devon was well on her way to packing almost as much drama

into their few days together as Stacy had exposed him to in two years of marriage.

“What is it exactly you have in mind, Detective?”

She entered the murder victim’s names one at a time on Google and searched for

photos. Wallis’ picture popped up on a brokerage firm’s website and she found

Thorpe’s on a social network. She found York’s picture in the newspaper article about

his murder. She printed out pictures of each man.

“According to their website, Andromeda’s Playground is the sort of place you go

dressed for the occasion.” Spinning around to face him, she slid her gaze over him. “Do

you have any black leather clothes?”

He held back a laugh. “Do you?”
“I don’t wear leather, part of my vegetarian credo. I bet Chuck still has his

Halloween costume from a couple years ago. He dressed like one of the Village People.

That would be perfect for you if it would fit.” She tracked her gaze over him. “Hmm.

He’s at least a size or two smaller than you. I think we’re going to have to make a trip to

that Halloween store near the mall.” She rose from the chair and started toward the

living room, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her against him.

“Hang on a sec. What exactly do you have in mind?”
She grinned up at him and his cock instantly responded to the feel of her body and

the scent of her skin.

Cupping her face between his hands, he kissed her lips and tasted coffee. “You

think you’re going to wander into this fetish club and they’re going to tell us something

that’ll help us figure out who murdered those men? This isn’t a game, Devon.”

“Wallis obviously went there, at least to shop for sex toys. And we have a pretty

good idea the others were into the lifestyle. Maybe one or all of them hung out there.

Hopefully we can get some information about them and the people they associated

with.” She slid her hands up his sides and around his back. “I know this isn’t a game.

I’m doing this to save my ass, Ben. I don’t even want to think about how bad the

consequences could be if the police don’t focus on anyone but me.”

He nodded, inwardly cringing at the desperation on her face and the idea of her

going back to jail. “Okay. We’ll do it.”

Wynter Daniels

* * * * *

Devon’s stomach fluttered when she climbed out of Ben’s SUV in the parking lot

behind Andromeda’s Playground. Although she’d seen people walking up and down

Orange Avenue in stranger outfits than hers, she wasn’t used to wearing such revealing

clothes in public. She yanked up the lace-edged top of her fake leather bustier but it still

revealed way more cleavage than she was comfortable with. Cleavage? Who was she

kidding? Glancing down at her chest, she saw breast overflow. Thankfully, the lot

wasn’t well lit and she guessed the club would be fairly dark as well.

Grasping the car door handle to steady herself in her new kitten heels, she caught

Ben ogling her. A quiver of awareness danced up her spine. “You like what you see?”

Waggling his eyebrows, he grinned. “What’s not to like?” His tight black pants

hugged every muscled inch of his long legs and although his faux leather vest wasn’t

something she’d have chosen for him under normal circumstances, she had to admit he

looked incredibly hot in it. The flogger and the handcuffs dangling from his belt loops

were the crowning jewels of his outfit.

She stepped closer and pressed her hands to his chest, felt the hard contours of his

pecs underneath. “I love your accessories.”

“Maybe you’d like to try them out later, hmm?” The rough timbre of his voice set

her on fire.

Stimulating as their flirtations were, the serious nature of their mission hung over

her like a shroud. “I guess we should go inside.” She drew a steadying breath.

He nodded and took her hand, tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Let’s go.”
“Yes, Master.” She winked at him then cracked a smile at his shocked expression.

“Hey, I’m just getting in character.”

He slapped her backside.
“Ouch!” Moving out of his reach, she pretended to bristle.
“Getting in character, remember?” He pulled open the door and they entered a

small, dimly lit anteroom.

A large man dressed in plain black pants and a matching polo approached them,

looked them over. “Evening, folks. It’s twenty per person.”

Devon stepped a little behind Ben, making sure she played her role convincingly.
Ben handed him the money and the man let them through a door into the club.
Nothing could have prepared Devon for what she saw inside. The place was

predictably dark as a dungeon and she recognized the music as an old Black Sabbath

song. A large metal cage sat at one end of the room with two scantily clad women

inside. A man wearing nothing but a black thong was bent over a bench, his hands

bound with rope. Another man dressed in all leather was whacking his rear end with a

paddle.

God, was that even legal to do in public?

Burning Touch

A woman strode past them pulling a leashed man behind her. The most amazing

thing was the sheer number of patrons. The room was packed. She had no idea so many

people participated in the fetish lifestyle.

Ben took her hand, led her to the bar and ordered a beer.
When the bartender walked away, she tugged on Ben’s arm. “Don’t I get a drink?”
Smirking, he shrugged. “You do when I’m ready to allow you one.”
She mentally smacked him but for authenticity, she merely bowed her head. “Yes,

Master.”

Leaning close to whisper in her ear, his breath fanned hot over her neck. She

quivered in response. “I’m starting to like this submission thing you’re doing. Think we

can keep that going after we leave?”

“Not a chance,” she said at his ear. Although the notion of being handcuffed did

sound appealing. “Well, we’ll talk about it later.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and grinned. “The store must be through there.” He

gestured toward a glass door marked Andromeda’s Toys. When the bartender returned

with a bottle of beer, Ben tipped his chin in that silent guy thank you. “You want

something?” he asked Devon.

She lowered her head submissively. “Yes, please. A wine cooler?”
The white-haired bartender shook his head. His skin was so fair and his eyes so

pale, she wondered if he were an albino.

“Bring her a rum and Coke,” Ben told him.
As soon as the bartender was out of earshot, Ben groaned. “Devon, nobody carries

wine coolers but supermarkets, certainly not places like this. You’ll just have to indulge

me and drink a big-girl cocktail.”

“But why’d you get me rum? That stuff does things to me, bad things.” The last

time she’d drank rum, she got drunker than she’d thought possible. She’d made a

complete fool of herself.

“One won’t hurt you.”
Perhaps he was right. Hopefully.
After Devon got her drink, she turned away from the bar and scanned the room in

search of anyone who fit the profile of the victims—middle-aged men in S&M garb.

And she found some, too many.

Ben crooked a finger at the bartender. When the man leaned closer, Ben handed

him a fifty. “You know a guy named Harvey? On the heavy side, late forties?”

Pocketing the bill, the man nodded. “Hate to break it to you, but Harvey’s dead.”
So the news was out. And apparently Harvey came here enough that they knew his

name. “No way.”

“Yup.”

Wynter Daniels

Ben scrubbed a hand over his face, feigning shock. “I just saw him last week. What

the hell happened?”

The bartender used a rag to wipe up a spill. “Murdered. Everyone here’s been

talking about it. His friend got whacked the same day.”

“Holy shit.” Ben’s heart raced. “I heard about that murder last week. Guy named

John. You know him? I wonder if the other murders are related to that one.”

He shrugged. “That’s what folks here are speculating.”
Bingo.
Excitement pounded through him. Unfortunately, another patron sat down and the

bartender headed over to help him.

Devon slammed her empty glass on the bar. “Want to dance?”
He took her hand and led her to a spot on the dance floor near the large cage. A

group of men stood outside the cage, watching two women gyrate suggestively inside.

Ben elbowed Devon and gestured for her to join him by the cage. He stepped

between two of the men watching the impromptu show in the cage. Leaning toward the

man to his right, he said, “Hear about the murders?”

The man—dressed in jeans and a leather jacket—nodded but made no comment.
Ben tried the man to his left. “You know those guys who were murdered?”
“Sure,” the man said. “Everybody here knew them, the regulars at least.”
He allowed himself a measure of relief that Devon wasn’t the only connection

between the victims. But the fact remained that she’d given all three of the men

massages before they were killed. He felt her behind him as she moved closer. “Maybe

some of the other regulars should be nervous, huh?” he said.

The man shook his head as he watched the women in the cage gyrate. “Doubt it. I

heard they all shared the same mistress.”

Ben’s pulse raced with excitement but he kept his expression neutral. “Is she here

tonight?”

The man whipped his head toward Ben and narrowed his gaze. “You a cop or

something?”

He laughed. “Hell no.”
“You’re asking a lot of questions that are none of your business.” He puffed his

chest out and faced Ben.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Ben shook his head. “You got me all wrong,

buddy. I’m just making conversation.” Last thing he wanted was to cause a commotion

or stand out from the crowd. Grabbing Devon’s arm, he backed away and slipped into

the crowd.

“What did he say?” Devon dragged him to a stop near the restrooms.
“We’ll talk. Let’s get another drink.” He led her back to the bar then held up two

fingers to the bartender.

Burning Touch

The man nodded and a minute later set their drinks in front of them.
Ben set down a twenty. He handed Devon her rum and Coke. She turned her stool

away from the bar. He wondered if she was watching someone in particular but the

place was too crowded for him to know.

After the bartender had served another customer, Ben motioned him over. The man

leaned closer and eyed Ben’s nearly full bottle of beer. “What can I get you?”

“I’m curious. Were the murder victims friends?”
The man said nothing. Ben took out a fifty and stealthily handed it to him.
“I never saw all three together, but I think they knew each other.” He shrugged. “I

don’t ask questions, I just pour.”

“Is their mistress here tonight?” Ben peeled off another bill and slid it to him.
The bartender’s pasty white hand moved to grab it almost too quick for Ben to see.

“You want to know about the lady they hung out with?”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Yeah. Pretty thing, huh? What’s her name

again?”

Devon took a big sip of her drink, apparently oblivious to the conversation.
The man shrugged. “I haven’t seen her for a while. I never spoke to her. She wasn’t

exactly friendly.”

“Nope, she’s not. Got to wonder if she’s involved in the murders, huh?”
The bartender just stared at him. Damn, he’d gone too far. Ben turned his back to

the bar when the man walked away. At least he’d learned they were definitely looking

for a woman.

Devon climbed off her stool then started swaying to the beat of the music, holding

her empty glass in her hand. “I don’t know why I thought rum was bad. It’s pretty

good. How about another?”

Jesus, had she downed that whole drink already? Shaking his head, he took her

glass, afraid she’d drop it. Skimming his eyes over her, he had to remind himself of

their mission. In the black corset with fishnet stockings and pointy pumps, she looked

good enough to eat. He’d have his way with her later. Leaning close to her ear, he

breathed in her scent. “All three men used to come here,” he whispered.

Her eyes widened. “Yeah? Cool.”
Could she really be so tipsy after only two drinks? Of course, she’d pounded this

one down at lightning speed. He didn’t trust her to be stealthy in her condition so he

decided to wait until later to share the rest of information he’d gleaned. “Sit,” he

ordered, directing her onto a barstool. Thankfully she complied.

When he turned around to pick up his beer, he noticed a short black man speaking

to the bartender at the other end of the bar. Both men were looking at him, the black

man nodding at whatever the bartender said. The two broke apart and the customer

took a seat next to Ben.

Wynter Daniels

“You looking for my mistress?” the man said.
Ben stiffened as he looked at him. “Excuse me?”
“Martin says you know my mistress.”
Ben didn’t say anything, hoping the man would elaborate.
“She won’t be happy that you’re asking questions about her.” The man stood up.

“Watch your back or you’ll find yourselves in the same position as the others.”

“Want to dance?” Devon asked, pulling his attention to her.
“Not now, baby. I’m on to something.” Turning the other direction, he saw the man

hurry out the door. Grabbing Devon’s arm, he helped her stand. “Time to go.”

“Already? Sheesh. They just put on a good song.”
He pulled her out to the parking lot in time to see the tail lights of a vehicle drive

off. “Shit. Get in the car.”

“What’s the hurry?” Devon strode toward Ben’s Land Rover as fast as she could in

her new shoes. Her head was buzzing and she could still hear the music spilling out of

the club. Swaying her hips to the beat, she shut her eyes. “I was having a good time.

Why did we have to—” Then she was airborne. Ben slung her over his shoulder as if he

were a caveman. Which appealed to her in a kinky sort of way.

He jerked open the door and practically threw her into his SUV. Climbing in after

her, he immediately started the engine and shifted the vehicle into gear. “Strap yourself

in, Devon.”

His serious tone cut through the haze in her head. She sat up and buckled the seat

belt around her. “What’s going on?”

Ben spun the wheel and took off out of the parking lot, squealing his tires as he did.

“The guy who just raced out of here knows something about the murders. Or at least a

woman he calls his mistress does. She was all three men’s mistress. He told me to watch

my back or we’d end up like the others.”

Suddenly more sober, she gripped the armrest. A jolt of fear shot through her. If

Ben was right, the man could lead him to the killer. “God, Ben. This could be it.”

He slowed his speed then pulled off the road at a convenience store. “It could have

been if I hadn’t lost the guy.”

Disappointment replaced her excitement. She squeezed his thigh. “That’s not your

fault. If I’d gotten to the car faster, maybe… At least we know we’re looking for a

woman, right? And maybe she had help.”

He leaned his head against the steering wheel. “Damn it. We were so close.”
“Don’t, Ben. We know a lot more than we did a few hours ago.” Sliding toward

him, she rubbed his shoulder. “Think we should go back to the club?”

He shook his head. “Not after running out of there like we did. We already gave

ourselves away.”

The sliver of hope inside her faded. He was right, though. Their cover was blown.

Burning Touch

Ben draped his arm over the back of the seat and faced her. “At least this wasn’t a

total loss. We got to dress up in costumes and…” He jingled the handcuffs attached to

his pants. “I bought these. And I plan to use them.”

The atmosphere between them was suddenly charged with electricity. She’d never

trusted a guy enough to let him handcuff her or tie her up but the idea had always

piqued her curiosity. And she did trust Ben. He’d proved again and again he was there

for her.

“What do you say?” He wound a finger around one of her curls then released it and

watched it spring back.

Heat crawled up her neck and face. She averted her gaze. “Sure.”
He took her chin between his fingers and lifted it so she had to look into his eyes.

“If you’re not comfortable doing this, we don’t have to.”

“I want to.” She tried to squash the kernel of embarrassment.
After a brief kiss, he put the car in drive and started toward home. After they exited

the interstate, Ben kept glancing in his mirror. Even in the darkness she could see his

jaw ticking and feel the tense vibes rolling off him.

“Something wrong?”
His brow furrowed. “Nope. Everything’s fine.”
What wasn’t he telling her? He turned onto a dark road and she could no longer see

his face clearly. A vehicle behind them gunned its engine and bright headlights flashed

in the rearview.

Ben gripped the steering wheel tightly and sat up straighter. “What the…”
They lurched forward as something smashed into the back of the SUV. Her seat belt

tightened and practically strangled her. Hot fear raced through her when she realized

the road was mostly deserted.

“Shit. Are you okay?” He didn’t look at her. Rather, his eyes darted back and forth

between the mirror and the windshield.

“Yeah.” But her heart tattooed an erratic beat. Gripping the armrest, she looked

over her shoulder and saw the headlights coming closer. “He’s going to hit us again,”

she yelled.

Ben turned the wheel and the other vehicle clipped the back of the Land Rover,

sending them into a tailspin. Devon hung on, pinned to the door as if she were in a

giant centrifuge. They came to rest on the opposite side of the street, narrowly missing a

parked car.

Brakes squealed then the other vehicle—a large pickup truck—sped off into the

night. Devon glimpsed Ben and drew a relieved breath that he seemed unhurt. “You’re

okay, right?”

He met her stare and she saw anger mixed with the relief in his expression. “Just

pissed. You?”

“I’m good.”

Wynter Daniels

“That confirmed it. Someone’s after you.” The worry in his eyes touched something

deep inside her. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until this bastard is caught.” He

handed her his phone. “Call the police.”

Her gut knotted. “I’m not sure we can trust the cops to help us rather than lay the

blame on us. Maybe even trump up some bogus charge to arrest me—or both of us.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, Devon.”
But the more she thought about, the more worried she grew that somehow

Underwood would blame this on her. “Detective Underwood will put me in jail again,

Ben. He’ll find a way.”

He nodded but he didn’t look convinced. “I won’t force you.”
Good. She hoped it was the right decision. Hopefully the real murderer would be

caught soon. But the police didn’t seem to be looking much beyond her. Ben couldn’t

protect her forever. If someone wanted her dead, sooner or later, they’d get her. The

thought sent a terrified chill snaking up her spine. They had to find out the identity of

the murderer. It was literally do or die.

Burning Touch

Chapter Seven

Ben closed the garage door before he got out of his SUV. No sense in taking any

more chances with Devon’s life if that bastard had somehow followed them. He circled

around the back of the car and clenched his jaw at the small dent on the left side of the

back bumper, a visceral reminder of how close they’d come to harm.

Important thing is Devon didn’t get hurt.
The Land Rover could be repaired. He opened the passenger door and gave Devon

a hand out. His chest tightened when he felt her tremble. Pulling her into his arms, he

kissed the top of her head. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She softened against him. “Thanks for saying that. Nice to know someone’s

watching my back. I haven’t had that for a long time.”

He led her through the door into the kitchen.
She hopped onto a barstool then toed off her shoes. “When I was a kid, I always

thought my dad would save me from anything. He was a big man, at least in my eyes.”

He dropped his keys on the counter. “You were close?”
“Until I hit the teenage years.” Her shoulders slumped. “I was an only child and my

parents were overprotective. I felt stifled. Now I wish I could go back and have a do-

over.” Her eyes misted.

A lump caught in his throat at the sadness etched on her face. He rubbed his hand

over her back, sensing she’d reject any stronger attempt to comfort her.

Sniffling, she glanced up at him and smiled. “I’m fine, really.”
He wished he could tell her it was okay to cry on his shoulder but he knew she’d

balk at the idea. Since when did he feel so fiercely protective of a woman he’d just met?

He’d grown so comfortable with her. His head started aching when he thought about

leaving.

He’d committed to his brother, though. Nathan had more work than he could

handle and the market in Scottsdale was leaps and bounds better than here. Even his

sister had agreed to join them. She’d already found a renter for her house. Their mother

lived in the Scottsdale area and according to Nathan, her health was starting to fail.

Nathan needed help with her. How could he let them all down? Not that Devon was

asking him to stay.

“Do you have anything to drink?” she asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Sure. Are you in an iced-tea mood, a beer mood or a scotch mood?” He retrieved a

glass from the cabinet. Hard liquor was the only thing that would calm his rattled

nerves.

Wynter Daniels

“Scotch, I think.”
He pulled out a second glass then poured them each two fingers. Handing her the

drink, he noticed that the dark cloud seemed to have lifted from her face.

She slid off her stool. “Our adventure wasn’t a total loss at least. We learned the

killer is probably a woman or someone connected to her. And she’s obviously

concerned by our snooping. If she’s nervous, maybe she’ll screw up and get herself

caught.” She tapped her glass to his. “Step one complete.”

He chuckled as he raised his drink to his lips. The whiskey burned so good. “I

didn’t get a good look at the pickup that hit us, or its driver. Did you?”

She shook her head. “Too dark, sorry. Do you think we should let Underwood

know what happened?”

He mulled that over a minute. “He’s bound to ask questions like where we were

and what we were doing there. And he made it clear when he found us at Wallis’ house

he wasn’t happy with our investigation.” He took another sip that burned a little less

than the first. “Your call. But he should know he’s probably looking for a woman.”

“That’s true. I’ll think about it. In a little while.” She stepped closer and yanked on

his belt. “Maybe we ought to get out of these clothes, just in case he comes by.”

“What a wonderful idea.” He circled his arm around her waist and desire instantly

filled him.

She ran her fingers over the bulge in his pants then looked up into his eyes. “You’re

already hard, hmm?”

“Baby, I stay hard all the time around you.” Scary thing was, it was the truth. She

turned him on more than any woman ever had. His eyes were drawn to her ample

cleavage showcased by her sexy outfit. Slipping a finger between her breasts, in and

out, he thought about what it would feel like to slide his cock through there. He felt a

quiver roll over Devon’s body, heard her breath catch.

A soft, metallic clink drew his attention down to his belt where Devon was

monkeying with the handcuffs. He backed away and moved his hands to his hips. His

balls ached with need as he studied her comely face. “You really want me to use these

handcuffs on you, don’t you?”

She didn’t answer but her eyes grew dark as sin. There was no mistaking the desire

he saw in the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the pink flush suffusing her fair

complexion.

The idea of having her totally at his mercy was incredibly hot. “Kiss me. And it had

better be the best damn kiss I’ve ever gotten.” He made no move toward her. Rather, he

waited for her to approach him.

She stepped tentatively, closing the space between them. He felt her heat before she

ever touched him. Her gaze was smoky, hypnotic.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he forced himself not to reach for her. He

wanted her to come to him, completely, without reservation. From the very beginning,

Burning Touch

he’d felt her pulling away from him, maintaining a certain safe emotional distance. So

this had to be all her. He needed to know how much she wanted him.

She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek, his forehead, his jaw,

again and again, peppering his face with whisper-soft kisses. Her warm breath

moistened his skin. Delicate fingers slid around his neck, combed through his hair.

His body buzzed with anticipation at the leisurely pace of her seduction. She

rubbed her body over his erection and he shut his eyes, drinking in all the erotic

sensations. Her floral scent surrounded him. The feel of her fingers on his scalp was

pure bliss. Then her lips met his. She traced the tip of her tongue along the seam of his

mouth.

He opened to her and she darted inside. She tasted sweet and hot he wanted to

devour her, but he let her lead. Nibbling, suckling and stroking, she explored his

mouth, stirred his libido until it boiled over.

He broke away from her then grabbed her wrists. Backing her against the wall, he

pinned her hands over her head. “You pass. That was definitely my hottest kiss ever.”

She gave him a seductive grin. “I wasn’t finished.” Hooking her hands behind his

neck, she pulled his head to hers, skimmed her cheek over his. Then she crushed her

lips to his and flicked her tongue along the side of his, mirroring things she’d done to

another part of his anatomy, things he hoped she’d do again.

Her breaths were ragged as he ground his cock against her. She moaned in

response, rocked her hips and pressed into him. “Oh God, Ben. Let’s go upstairs. I need

you inside me.”

“Yeah. Right now.” He released her then tipped his chin toward the doorway.

“Go.”

She walked in front of him, looking sexier than hell in that getup. Stopping at the

bottom of the stairs, she waited the second or two it took him to catch up. With one foot

resting on the first step, she fixed him with that sexy stare and he was destroyed.

He glanced at the balusters and an idea popped into his head. Reaching into his

pocket, he pulled out the handcuff key. “Come here.”

Tiny muscles around her jaw ticked. He wasn’t sure if she was excited or

apprehensive, but she did what he asked. He ran his finger up the front seam of her

corset then started unfastening each hook from the top to the bottom. The garment

hung open, exposing her ripe breasts to him. Damn, she was gorgeous. Her nipples

were pebbled and he yearned to devour them.

Just one taste. Palming her creamy skin, he swiped his tongue over the peaked

points, back and forth. She fisted her hands in his hair and yanked, gasped her pleasure.

He could spend hours on her beautiful breasts, but first he’d give her that fantasy

she’d hinted at, tether her so she’d be completely at his mercy.

His erection strained uncomfortably against his fly. Had he ever desired a woman

so badly? Every moment of the day? Even yesterday when he’d learned she’d been

Wynter Daniels

dishonest with the detective, he hadn’t been happy with her, but the attraction had

never waned.

“Sit there.” He pointed to the landing four steps up. When she complied, he opened

the cuffs then snapped one around her wrist. He moved to the side of the staircase and

mentally calculated the best spot to chain her. Clicking the other cuff shut over a

baluster, he met her gaze. “You’re sure this isn’t too much déjà vu for you?”

She crinkled her nose. “Thanks for reminding me.”
He inwardly cringed at his insensitivity as he returned to the stairs and climbed a

few steps. “Sorry.”

But she merely shrugged. “It’s okay. I didn’t have a hand free then.”
He lifted her chin with a finger so she looked into his eyes. “I may want you to use

that hand for…” He unsnapped his pants. “Something else.”

Devon quivered at the rough timbre of Ben’s voice. She watched him carefully

lower his zipper. His hard-on curved up along his belly. Passion rushed through her as

he backed her against the banister and took her mouth with a fierceness that dwarfed

all the times before.

He was standing two steps below her, his cock pressed against her thighs and she

yearned to rip off her stockings so she could feel his rigid flesh directly on her skin.

Reading her mind, Ben grabbed the elastic at the top of her panties and yanked them

and her stockings down.

He tossed away the tangled mass of lingerie then eased her back so she was sitting

on the landing and Ben’s erection was directly in front of her mouth. She wrapped her

fingers around his hard length and swiped her tongue over the head.

His sharp intake of breath assured her he liked what she was doing to him. But he

covered her hand with his. “You’re not in charge.”

Grasping her wrist, he brought it to join her other hand and locked it in. She had to

crouch on the landing to keep from straining her arms. But it was a small price to pay to

live out one of her fantasies. Ben moved behind her then suddenly he was tying

something over her eyes—her stockings, she realized. Her pulse raced. He was upping

the game and she liked it.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he said.
Her sex ached with longing. After she got on all fours, she heard him strip off his

clothes. One of the steps creaked then Ben was there, behind her. His hands skimmed

over her bare thighs, rubbing circles. He kissed her lower back and her hip.

Her breath caught when he palmed her breasts, massaged and shaped them in his

hands. A hot stab of pleasure coursed through her. He moved one hand lower to cup

her mound and she shuddered with need. Easing her backside toward him, she urged

him closer.

“Patience.” His breath gusted warm over her neck. He followed with a tender kiss

on her shoulder.

Burning Touch

Not being able to see rocketed her temperature through the roof. He released her

and she felt him shift behind her. Then nothing. She stilled, listened for any signs of

what he was doing. With no warning, he slid a finger along the juncture of her thighs.

Her quiver rattled the handcuffs, reminding her she was his erotic prisoner. He

stroked her clit, singeing her flesh. Little shock waves started in her center. She felt him

move closer, then he swiped his tongue along her folds and she nearly came off the

landing.

“Oh, Ben. God, that feels good.” The deluge was almost too much.
He pushed his tongue inside her, in and out, again and again. Tormented by the

torrid delight, she moaned. His long fingers replaced his tongue. She whimpered,

rocked against him, hungry for all he’d give. Teetering on the brink, she felt her center

automatically clench around him. Deep spasms of relief burst through her. Her whole

body convulsed with ecstasy.

Ben’s arm tightened around her waist as he fit his body to hers. He kissed his way

from her left shoulder across the back of her neck to her right shoulder. Before her

climax had fully receded, she felt Ben’s erection press at her entrance.

Then he pushed inside her, inch by heavenly inch and her body stretched to fit

around his cock. He filled her completely, perfectly. She rolled her hips and delighted at

his gasp. His fingers dug into her waist as he started thrusting.

She yanked on her tether, loving that she was completely at his mercy. The notion

excited her more than she’d dreamed. He stroked left and right, imparting sensations

she’d never felt before, never imagined.

His movements were slow and gentle at first. She savored every delicious moment.

He tightened his grasp on her skin and gradually increased his pace, bringing her back

toward the precipice of satisfaction.

“God, Devon, that’s so damn good.” His voice was a deep rumble, totally sexy,

perfectly male. He rode her harder, faster but she sensed his restraint in his hitched

breaths.

She arched against his driving thrusts and curled her fingers over the edge of the

landing. When he reached around her to rub her mound, another climax consumed her.

Waves of bliss rushed through her system and flooded her with sweet joy.

Ben’s strangled gasps heralded his orgasm, which came on the heels of hers. He

rutted her with a ferocious intensity, milking every last drop of pleasure from her. Then

he drooped over her, languishing in the embers of their desire. He kissed her back and a

shudder of delight rolled over her skin.

And fear.
She was starting to fall for him, something she’d never allowed herself to do. Ben’s

heartbeat pounded against her back as he hooked an arm around her, keeping her close.

He dotted her skin with lazy kisses that felt way too good. She tried to chase the doubt

from her mind. This could work, at least for a while.

Wynter Daniels

I’ll love him, grow attached to him and he’ll abandon me.
The fear won out. She wanted to put some space between them, take time to think

but she couldn’t just walk away. She was already in too deep.

“What’s wrong? I can feel the wheels turning in your head.” Ben’s voice was low

and filled with emotion as he untied the stocking from around her head.

God, he already knew her too well. “Nothing. I just…have a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Devon, we just made love on the staircase with you handcuffed and blindfolded.

Can you please keep your head here, on the moment? That doesn’t exactly boost the old

self-confidence.”

She couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry. It was wonderful, Ben. Better than

wonderful.”

He kissed her once more then shifted off her. “That’s more like it. You don’t want to

kick a guy when he’d got the key to your handcuffs.”

She watched him dig in his pants pocket for the key. After he released her, he

pressed his lips to the red marks on her wrists. “Doesn’t hurt, Ben. It’s fine.”

He met her stare and the tenderness in his eyes stole her breath. “It would kill me to

know anything I’d done hurt you.”

Her stomach fluttered. She looked away, unable to handle all the emotions warring

inside her.

“And don’t even think about leaving,” he said before she could make some excuse

to go. “I want you in my bed tonight. Obviously you’re not safe with a killer after you.”

How could she argue with that? She didn’t want to use him, though. The sooner she

could flush out the murderer, the sooner she’d be able to end this dangerous

relationship with Ben.

* * * * *

A high-pitched shriek woke Devon from a sound sleep. Alarm bucked through her

as she sat up in bed. Ben’s bed. Alone. Had she dreamed the noise?

When the door burst open she pulled the covers to her chin. A towheaded toddler

ran past the bed, screaming joyfully. Then he cowered between the night table and the

bed, quietly giggling.

Ben charged in after him and fixed Devon with an apologetic grin. “Where could

Tyler be? I could have sworn I saw him come in here.” He made a show of searching in

the closet, in the bathroom and under the bed.

Devon held perfectly still, too confused to move. Who was the boy? Ben’s son?

She’d never even considered the possibility that he could be a father. Nor did she have

a clue how she felt about that.

Tyler’s quiet laughs filled the air. Ben marched around the bed, swooped the boy

off the floor and lifted him high in the air, much to the child’s obvious delight.

Burning Touch

Lowering the toddler to his chest, he winked at Devon. “I’ll be right back. I think

someone is ready for breakfast.”

Someone?
“Um, aren’t you going to introduce us?” She tipped her chin toward the squirming

boy in his arms.

Ben flipped the child over then set him over his shoulders. Tyler drummed on the

top of Ben’s head. “Sorry about that. You’re right. Devon, this is my nephew, Tyler

Gaines.” Grabbing the kid’s hand, he waved it toward Devon.

His nephew. She blew out a relieved breath although she had no idea why she even

cared that the boy wasn’t his son. There was no possibility of a long, drawn-out

relationship with Ben leaving soon. She waved back. “Nice to meet you, Tyler.”

But the boy was way more interested in yanking on Ben’s hair than acknowledging

her.

“Okay, Tyler. Let’s go downstairs and feed you.” He bent over and let his nephew

fall into his arms. Then he slung him over his shoulder, much like he’d carried her to

the night before.

Memories of their hot sex instantly started her pulse racing. But this was hardly the

time for a repeat performance. The moment he shut the door, she glanced at the clock.

Oh God. She’d slept past ten. Her cats would be starved. She spied her clothes piled on

the floor. Was she supposed to tromp through Ben’s living room and over to her house

dressed in a bustier and fishnet stockings? In broad daylight? Thankfully, after

rummaging through his closet she found a T-shirt that hung to her mid-thighs.

Hopefully he wouldn’t mind that she’d looked through his things.

With her naughty outfit and shoes in her arms, she tiptoed downstairs and started

toward the front door. But hearing Ben making train noises from the kitchen, she

couldn’t resist a peek. She sneaked around a corner and caught him playing with the

child, feeding him something that looked like oatmeal. There was no denying that Ben

was crazy about him and the sentiment appeared to be mutual. He tousled Tyler’s

white-blond hair and wiped food from his chin.

Something deep inside Devon’s chest squeezed tightly. She shook her head,

denying she’d actually felt anything. Lots of men were good with kids. And why

should it matter? She never planned to go down that marriage-and-family road with

anyone. She eased back a few steps then hurried to the door.

After she got home, she took a long shower then headed downstairs for a dose of

caffeine. Chuck was in the kitchen, making a sandwich. “Three nights in a row with the

same guy, Devon?” He crooked an eyebrow. “Methinks this is getting serious.”

“You think wrong then.” She poured a cup of coffee then headed out to the patio

and sat at the table. “Someone tried to run us off the road last night. He’s worried about

me, that’s all.”

Chuck appeared in the doorway. “Holy cow, Devon. This sounds dangerous. You

think it’s the person who murdered your clients?” Worry tightened his mouth.

Wynter Daniels

“Who else? Well, we did a little snooping last night at a fetish club.” Ignoring

Chuck’s gasp, she continued. “Apparently all three victims had been there at least

enough times for the bartender to know who they were.” She relayed the rest of the

events as his eyes grew bigger and bigger.

“Maybe we should buy ourselves guns and take shooting lessons.” He closed the

distance between them and pulled her into a hug. “I don’t even want to think about

something happening to you, honey.”

When he released her, she sighed. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” She sipped

her coffee. “If you don’t have any appointments this morning I’d appreciate if you’d

hang around here. I was going to deliver that striped tabby I found last week to an

adoptive family but the lady emailed me and said she wanted to pick him up here.”

“That’s unusual. I can’t remember anyone ever coming here to get a cat before.” He

disappeared for a moment then returned with his sandwich and sat opposite her.

She shrugged. “I usually like to see the home but honestly I feel a little safer sticking

around here. The bastard who hit Ben’s car last night took off and didn’t follow us back

here. I doubt he knows where I live.”

He disappeared a moment then returned and sat at the table with his food. “Let’s

talk about something besides murders and danger. You look stressed out enough.” He

picked up his sandwich. “Oh, by the way, I checked your cat rescue site and there was a

five-thousand-dollar donation in the spay-and-neuter fund.”

Her jaw went slack. “That’s more than I’ve ever collected since you set up the

website. Was it from one person or a bunch?”

“Just one.” The email address was StaffordB at something dot com. Ring any bells?”
Ben. She forced back the golf ball-size lump in her throat. “Um, no.”
“Tell me about your new boyfriend. That must be going well. I saw you come in

wearing his T-shirt before. Is it love?”

She laughed louder than she’d intended. “Love? Never. Not this girl. Ben’s merely

sticking close for my protection. Besides, he’s leaving the state after he gets that house

renovated. I told you.”

“He’s hot and he didn’t throw you out when he found out about the whole murder

thing. For God’s sake, Devon, the man bailed you out of jail. I’d fall in love with

someone who did that for me. Plus he drives my dream car. The guy’s obviously

loaded. Have you seen what his houses sell for?”

She gasped. “Have you been researching him?”
“Hell yes. Did you really think I wouldn’t? Any man who catches your interest for

more than a day or two is cause for concern.” He took a huge bite of his sandwich.

She didn’t know whether to feel flattered or annoyed.
“Look, you don’t have a big brother, so just accept that I look out for you.”
Her heart lodged in her throat. She patted his arm, unable to speak for a moment.

Burning Touch

“Anyway, all his sales are public record. Most of his houses have gone for over a

million bucks. Some of them nearly two million. He’s got to be loaded. And I know, you

don’t do relationships, but honey, you need to do this one.” He ate the rest of his

sandwich in two bites.

She set her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “I don’t care about

that stuff, Chuck. Ben’s a great guy and he’ll make some woman very happy, but that

woman isn’t me.” She sipped her coffee, tried to block all the images of Ben and her

making love and of him with his adorable nephew. And now he’d given her a huge

donation for her cat rescue fund.

Regardless of how much she’d already come to care about him, it just couldn’t be. If

she let the relationship go on, her feelings would inevitably grow and they were already

pretty overwhelming. When he left the state, he’d be abandoning her and she couldn’t

bear the thought of how empty that would feel. Cutting things off now was going to

hurt, but she’d survive. Why wait until she was completely head over heels with the

guy?

“He’s taking me to see his lawyer friend this afternoon so we can get that ridiculous

burglary charge against me dropped. As soon as all this is wrapped up, I don’t plan to

see him anymore.” Just saying it aloud felt like a knife slicing through her, but it was

better this way. Ben would be better off with a woman he could have a future with. And

she’d go on. Somehow.

Ben’s gut tightened at Devon’s words. He stood at her fence, just out of sight of her

patio and although he couldn’t see her, he knew beyond a doubt she was talking about

him. He’d been so sure after yesterday and last night that she’d changed her mind and

didn’t want to end their relationship. Had he imagined all those great vibes from her?

A heavy weight settled on his chest. What an idiot he’d been to think he could win

her over. He’d even gotten past her dishonesty with the cops.

Head suddenly pounding, he strode back to his house and shut himself inside. He

wished his sister hadn’t picked Tyler up already. At least if he still had his nephew

there his mind would be too occupied to think about the hurt spiking through him.

Yeah, right.
As if he’d be able to concentrate on anything besides Devon. Since the night he’d

met her she’d occupied his head and even his dreams. God, she’d hijacked his libido.

Damn it. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to develop feelings for her so quickly. But

in a few short days, they’d been through so much together. For a guy who swore he

hated drama, he was now steeped in it thanks to Devon.

He paced the living room and combed his fingers through his hair. Would she wait

to break things off with him until after he’d brought her to see Scott, his lawyer buddy?

What a damn idiot I am.
How many women had to walk all over him before he stopped being a doormat?

He wished to God he didn’t care about her so much. Why couldn’t he look at her as

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some of the best sex of his life and nothing more? It shouldn’t matter to him what

happened to her, whether some deranged killer was after her. But it did.

He’d be a total jerk if he didn’t care. So what that she had issues. Everyone carried

emotional baggage. Although he had to admit, hers was particularly heavy. But why

the hell was he waiting around for her to cut him loose. He should go over there and

save her the trouble.

Yes, damn it. He refused to play a woman’s patsy ever again. He’d had enough of

that with Stacy. Sucking in a determined breath, he headed next door and rang her bell.

He pictured her face as he stood there waiting. Those sparkling green eyes, full lips and

that perfect porcelain skin. His resolve slipped but he quickly reined it in.

I have to do this.
Anyway, it was only a matter of time before she threw him over.
She opened the door and gave him that thousand-watt smile and his gut clenched.

“Hey.”

Just do it.
“Devon, we need to talk.” He squared his shoulders. God, she smelled like

wildflowers and her hair was damp golden ringlets. He swallowed hard against a rush

of desire.

Suddenly an eardrum-piercing sound rang out. He started to turn around to see

where it had come from when he felt a searing pain in his right forearm. Tires squealed

and a car engine gunned loudly. Glancing down, he saw blood.

What the hell?
“Ben!” Her voice was hoarse.
Something was wrong. She clutched the upper part of her left arm. Blood trickled

between her fingers and terror flooded his veins.

“I think I’ve been shot.”
Her words kicked him into action. He shoved her inside and slammed the door

closed.

Chuck charged down the stairs. “What the hell was that noise?” He looked at

Devon and gasped. “Oh my God.”

“Get down on the floor,” Ben ordered. He helped Devon sit. “Chuck, call 9-1-1. We

need an ambulance. And the police. Someone shot her.” He tore his shirt off and set it

aside to use to stop the bleeding. “Lie back, baby. I don’t want you to lose more blood.”

He eased her down as he tried to process what had happened. His heart was pounding

and a million thoughts raced through his mind but he had to keep a clear head.

“It hurts, Ben.” She started trembling.
The sheen of tears in her eyes ripped through him like a thousand daggers. He

searched for Chuck, found him on the bottom step putting his cell in his pocket. “Get a

couple pillows from the couch, but stay low, away from the windows.”

Burning Touch

“Got it. I’ll be right back, Devon. Hang on, honey.” Chuck immediately crawled

toward the living room.

Ben gently pressed his shirt to her wound to stop the bleeding. “You’re going to be

okay.” He kissed her forehead and felt her tremble. The moment Chuck returned, Ben

grabbed the pillows from him. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”

He nodded. “I’ll get it.”
“And a blanket or afghan,” he called after him. He propped her head up on one

pillow and carefully set her injured arm on the other, making sure it was above her

heart.

“Maybe Underwood will take me off his list of suspects now, huh?” Devon’s levity

didn’t fool him. He could see how much pain she was in. It was written all over her

face. She furrowed her brow when her gaze slid over his arm. “Ben, you’re bleeding.

They got you too.”

His injury couldn’t possibly be near as bad as hers. “I’ll be fine. Let’s concentrate on

you.”

Chuck came back and handed him the blanket and the small first-aid kit. Ben

covered Devon’s legs and torso with the colorful afghan. Sirens wailed in the distance.

He said a silent thank you as he pressed gauze pads to Devon’s wound then tied his

bloody shirt around it to keep pressure on it.

She winced. “Oh God, that hurts.”
If…when he found the son of a bitch who’d shot her he was going to kill the person

with his bare hands. He prayed the injury hadn’t caused any permanent damage to

Devon. If it did, he’d never forgive himself.

Wynter Daniels

Chapter Eight

“Devon.”
Someone touched her arm and Devon fought to open her eyes.
“Devon, can you hear me?”
Ben!
Her shoulder and her whole upper arm throbbed with pain. Her body felt heavy

and numb, her mouth was dry. She tried to peel her eyes open. They seemed glued shut

but she managed to blink. The sounds and sights of the emergency department brought

all the memories flooding back—the gunshot ripping through her shoulder, Ben taking

care of her, the ambulance ride.

Ben’s fingers threaded through hers. She held on tightly, comforted by his presence.

The worry on his face filled her with warmth. His eyes were tightly focused on her and

his lips pulled taut.

“How are you feeling, Miss Wise?”
That voice. She turned her head to the other side of the bed and swallowed back a

groan at the sight of Detective Underwood.

“Are you up to talking about what happened?” He rifled in his jacket pocket then

pulled out a small notepad and a pen.

“I’ve already told you everything,” Ben said with a razor-thin edge in his voice.
Underwood ignored Ben’s comment. “I understand you and Mr. Stafford went to a

fetish club and asked questions. I wish you’d have left that to us. Then you might not

have been shot. I thought I’d made myself clear on that subject.”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him, she glanced down at the huge bandage

covering her wound. Her left arm was swollen from the elbow up and the skin around

the bandage was yellow and purple like a fresh bruise.

Chuck pushed through the curtain and smiled at her. “Hey, sunshine.” He carried a

coffee cup but set it down on the floor then gave her a gentle hug.

Underwood nudged him out of the way. “Did you see the car the shooter was

driving, Miss Wise?”

She grasped for a memory, replayed the events but her brain was too foggy for

many details. “I did see something.”

All three men moved closer.
“There was a car parked across the street right before I was shot.” Then she

remembered that Ben’s arm had been bleeding. She gasped, looked at him. “They got

you too. Are you okay?”

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He showed her his bandaged forearm. “We match. Mine was more of a graze,

though. Yours went deeper, clear through you, actually. But the doctor says you’ll be

fine.”

Thank God he was okay. Guilt needled at her insides. She’d drawn him into this

mess and now he’d narrowly missed being seriously injured, or worse. “I’m so sorry,

Ben.”

“Miss Wise,” Underwood said too loudly. “Tell me about the car.”
Ben tightened his grip on her hand, giving her the strength to fight the haze from

the painkillers in her system.

“It was dark green. A sedan, I think. And it looked expensive. It had one of those

silver ornament things on the hood. I’m sorry, I’m not good with car makes.”

Underwood scribbled notes on his tablet. “That’s okay. We can show you photos of

various models when you’re up to it. Anything else you can tell us? Did you notice the

driver?”

She tried to conjure the image of the moments before she was shot but she drew a

blank. All she could think about was Ben standing at her door then that awful pain.

“Sorry. I don’t remember seeing anyone in the car.”

“That car might not have had anything to do with the attack.” He stopped writing

then slipped the pad into his pocket. “We got the bullet out of a wall at your house. It’s

a nine millimeter. A perfect match for the ones that killed all three men. We’ve sent it to

the ballistics lab in Orlando—which is backed up a couple weeks—but I’m confident

that all the bullets came from the same weapon.”

Although she knew it was the same person, hearing confirmation shook her. “Do

you at least believe me now that I’m not involved in this thing?”

Thankfully, he nodded. “I’ve had the charge against you dropped.”
Thank God. “What about that secret room we found with all the kinky equipment?”
He pursed his lips a moment, then met her stare. “I can’t say much about that but I

will tell you two things, confidentially.”

Ben leaned closer.
“The restraints we found in all instances were fitted for someone the size of each

victim.”

She glanced at Ben to see if he understood what that meant because she hadn’t a

clue.

“The victims played the submissive role,” Ben said.
The detective nodded. “We think we’re looking for a woman, one who likes to be in

charge. And from what Mr. Stafford told me about everything he learned at

Andromeda’s Playground, that fits.”

“So you’re saying a woman shot at me?” Devon asked him.

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He wouldn’t confirm that, but she gleaned that was what he suspected, which fit

with what she and Ben had concluded. “I’d advise you not to stay at your house until

the perpetrator is arrested. Do you have a friend who can take you in?” He glanced at

Chuck, then at Ben. “All three of you.”

She thought about her girlfriends, but didn’t want to risk involving Keisha or

Amanda. “Nowhere I can think of.”

“I have a house,” Ben said. “I’ll suspend the listing and we can all stay there as long

as we need.”

Underwood nodded once. “I’ll have an officer take you there when she’s released.

And I’ll make sure we have someone patrolling the neighborhood at all times.”

“I want to stop by my house and pick up a few things,” Devon said. “And what

about my cats? Can I at least take Yin and Yang to your place, Ben?”

“Of course.”
“Do you have a suspect?” Ben asked.
Underwood’s grim expression told her they didn’t. How long would this nightmare

go on?

* * * * *

Devon sat up front in the police car, mindful of her shoulder and the sling she’d

likely be sporting for at least a week. Thankfully, the pills they’d given her in the

hospital were keeping the pain at bay. Unfortunately, they were also keeping her head

in a fog.

“Hospitals give me the willies,” Chuck said as he got into the back.
“I’m glad to be leaving too, believe me.” Devon moved her bad arm out of the way

as Ben reached around her and strapped her seat belt. Then he pressed a kiss to her

forehead before shutting her door but he seemed distant.

The officer who was going to drive them home stood in front of the car, speaking to

Underwood.

“Too bad we can’t hear what they’re saying.” She tried to read their lips, but she’d

never been any good at that. “I wish they’d hurry up. I just want to get home.”

Ben settled into the backseat next to Chuck.
“Let’s be thankful you weren’t hurt more seriously.” Chuck shuddered. “I don’t

even want to think about how badly that could have gone. The killer could be anyone.”

Finally the officer slid behind the wheel. “Everyone ready to go?”
“Waiting on you.” She eyed all the buttons and switches around the dash.
Chuck voiced what she was thinking. “Can we turn on the siren?”
The cop chuckled. “Sorry, not this time.”

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“Detective Underwood said you all have an hour at your place to pack up what you

need.” The cop turned out of the hospital parking lot. “I sure hope you have a cage for

those cats.”

“I do,” she said. She’d have to use automatic feeders and water bowls for the strays.
“Good. Pack enough for a while. No telling when you’ll be back. Sometimes these

cases stretch on for a while.”

She wished that made her feel more secure.
Ben squeezed her good shoulder. “I’ll be staying with you every minute until the

murderer is behind bars.”

That knowledge did more than calm her nerves. She shouldn’t be thinking about

sex at a time like this but with Ben so near, her desire simmered close to the surface

every moment. The events of the past few days would have most guys running for

cover, but not Ben. He hadn’t abandoned her, at least not yet. She swallowed back a

rush of emotion.

They arrived at her house and the officer escorted them inside.
Devon climbed halfway up the stairs then had to stop to rest. “Wow. Didn’t realize

how out of it I was.”

Ben slipped a hand around her waist. “Let me help you.”
She leaned on him and was able to get upstairs. In her room, she found her suitcase

and Ben pulled it down from the high closet shelf. “Point out what you need.”

Sitting on her bed, she conceded. “Okay.” After he’d packed her things, he helped

her put Yin and Yang into carriers.

A loud bang outside made her gasp.
“That was only a car backfiring,” the officer told her.
The sooner they cleared out, the better. They waited while Ben packed up next

door.

When they arrived at Ben’s other house, she recognized it as the one where they’d

spent their first night together. Thankfully, it still had furniture inside.

Chuck left to go fill Devon’s prescription for painkillers after he’d dropped his

things in one of the bedrooms.

Meanwhile, Ben got her set up in the living room then brought in an older-model

television and plugged it in. But she had no intention of playing the invalid. She started

to get up but stopped at the stern expression on his face. “I have to take care of the cats.

And cancel my appointments for the week. There’s no way I can do any massages like

this.” She gestured to her injured shoulder.

He shook his head. “Later. Doctor says you’re to rest. Got it?” He handed her the

remote. “Cable’s been cut off but you should be able to pick up three or four stations.”

Deep inside she knew she couldn’t do much of anything, not as long as her head

was so fuzzy. She gave him a right-handed salute. “Yes sir.” Sleepy as she was, the sight

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of him in jeans and a tight T-shirt made her pulse spike. “Did I ever tell you what a hot

ass you have?” She giggled as she leaned her back against the throw pillows.

Ben rolled his eyes. “I’d be flattered if I wasn’t a hundred percent positive that

painkillers have taken over your brain.” He disappeared then she heard him opening

cabinets in the kitchen.

She turned on the TV and flipped through the few channels that came in clearly.

Ben returned with a plate of cheese and crackers and another with baby carrots and

blue cheese dressing. “I thought you might be hungry.” He set the food on the coffee

table then joined her on the couch.

“Thanks. Give me a minute to rest.” She shut her eyes a moment, giving in to the

sleepiness.

When she opened her eyes the room had darkened. Ben was nowhere in sight.

Trying to ignore the ache in her shoulder, she strode through the silent house. She

spotted him through the kitchen window, hose in hand, filling water bowls on the

screened patio for the cats. Ben squatted behind Yin and Yang, gently petting their

backs as they sniffed their new digs.

The scene reminded her of seeing Ben with his nephew. That same gentleness in

him she’d witnessed yesterday struck her again. Emotional thumbscrews deep inside

her squeezed tighter.

She couldn’t keep from staring at his long legs, his tight tush and broad shoulders.

When he turned a little, she glimpsed the bandage on his arm and shards of guilt poked

at her. She forced herself to relive the moments before and after they were shot,

grasping for details. Ben had shoved her inside, out of harm’s way. He’d probably

saved her life.

If only he wasn’t leaving the state soon, maybe they could have something together.

She wished she could bring herself to explore the possibilities, but what was the point?

He’d already told her his brother needed him in Arizona. Their mother was there too

and Ben said she was getting on in years. She could hardly ask him not to go be with his

family.

“My God.” Chuck’s voice broke through her thoughts.
She spun around to see him drop a pile of papers and file folders onto the table.

“Hey.”

He crossed the room to her, holding out a small white bag. “Your pills, my queen.

Getting past the cop outside was murder.” His hand flew to his mouth. “Pardon that

reference but he was like the Gestapo out there. Hello, I was with you guys at the

hospital and at our place. Am I that forgettable?”

Knowing the officer was vigilant in keeping people away helped soothe Devon’s

ragged nerves. “He’s just trying to make sure we stay safe.”

“Yeah, I know.” He slid into a seat at the small kitchen table. “Come.” He patted the

other chair.

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She sat beside him as he rifled through photographs. “What’s up?”
“I have work to do. I’m supposed to choose the best picture then submit it with the

wedding announcement to the newspapers. And not just around here, mind you. No.

Faith wants it in every paper within a thousand-mile radius.”

Devon smiled, glad to have something beside the murders and the killer to think

about. “Remind me which client this is.”

He rolled his eyes. “Demon bride from hell. Help me pick a photo. And please,

keep me away from any permanent markers or I might be tempted to draw moles on

her face or black out one of her teeth.”

She laughed as she took a few pictures from him and studied the couple. The gray-

haired man was obviously much older than the woman, an attractive blonde. She

looked to be in her late thirties or early forties. Hard to tell under all that war paint.

Something about the woman looked familiar but Devon couldn’t be sure. “She’s still a

bitch, huh?”

He shut his eyes and shuddered a breath. “You have no idea. Her latest thing is air-

conditioning the outdoors.”

She squinted at him. “Huh?”
“I know, sounds ridiculous, right? And it is.” He shook his head. “She wants me to

find portable air-conditioning units in case the weather’s too warm.”

That didn’t sound too unreasonable. “Might work inside a tent.”
He set his hand on her good arm. “No, honey. She’s adamant she doesn’t want a

tent. Completely open air.”

“Oh. I see your issue with that. What would contain the cool air?”
“Exactly. But she refuses to listen to me. ‘Make it happen,’ she says.”
She smiled at him. Discussing anything other than the murders and the fact that a

killer obviously had her sights set on her was a relief. “Thanks for distracting me. I’m so

glad you didn’t get hurt when I was shot.” She thought about Ben. “I only wish the

shooter had worse aim and hadn’t hit Ben or me.”

He held a hand over his heart. “You can’t imagine what it did to me to see you

lying there with blood all over you. And Ben is a freaking white knight. Let me tell you,

the man took charge. I don’t know how aware you were but he wouldn’t let anyone

even look at his wound until they got you to the hospital. Said he’d be fine and he

didn’t want to slow down your care.” He lowered his voice. “I know how you are about

relationships, but Dev, honey, this one’s a keeper.”

She glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of Ben putting away the hose.
No one had ever taken care of her like he was. Not since her parents had died. Even

Aunt Joan. She’d been big on teaching Devon to rely on herself and no one else. But Ben

was changing the game. She shifted the position of her sling. Her arm was beginning to

hurt more.

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“I know you don’t do dependent,” Chuck continued, drawing her back to the

moment. “But no one said you have to be dependent just because you fall in love.”

She swallowed hard at his words. “Love? My God, Chuck. I haven’t even known

him a week.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes you know right away.”
She gave him a playful slap on his wrist. “You think all your new flings are the one

right away.”

He pinned her with a serious stare. “We’re polar opposites that way, aren’t we? I

always try to convince myself it’s love at first sight and you deny you feel anything.

Ever.”

She winced at his characterization. “No I don’t. Not really.” But he was right. She’d

already lost the fight within herself when it came to Ben. She was starting to fall for the

guy whether she wanted to or not.

Ben entered through the French doors from the patio. He looked from Devon to

Chuck and back. “Hey.” Tapping his watch, he said, “Time for medicine.”

She started to get up but he shook his head and motioned her back down. “I’ll get

it. Stay there. Thought I’d fix us all some pasta for dinner. I brought all the makings for

my famous spaghetti with red sauce—a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce.”

Chuck gave her a wink the moment Ben turned his back. “I got a burger on the way

back from the drugstore, but you two enjoy. I’ll be upstairs.”

Ben returned with a glass of water and a pill. “Here you go.”
She swallowed the medicine then watched Ben take out pots and ingredients and

set them on the counter. Everything the man did was incredibly sexy. That was

probably the drugs messing with her mind. Still, she couldn’t keep her eyes off his legs,

long and roped with muscle, or his broad shoulders.

“Thanks for taking care of my cats,” she said. “I could do it if this medicine didn’t

make me so damn sleepy.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I don’t mind. They’re fine on the lanai.

Besides, you’re supposed to be resting.”

“What about you? Do I have to remind you that you were wounded too?” She

stared at the bandage on his arm and guilt constricted her throat.

“I didn’t have a bullet go clear though me. Ibuprofen is all I need for the pain.” He

filled a large pot with water.

Devon watched him make a salad until she felt her head lolling to the side. She

straightened, but it went right back. At least the pain had faded. She pushed herself up.

“I’m going to watch TV until that’s ready.” She stumbled into the wall.

Ben was at her side in a split second, supporting her. She sniffed his chest as he

helped her walk. He smelled so good, like pine trees and the outdoors.

“Watch where you’re going.”

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She looked down just in time to avoid the edge of the coffee table.
He eased her onto the couch. “Have you taken prescription painkillers before?”
“Nope. Never.” But the drugs had miraculously zapped the pain. And she was sure

she’d have no trouble falling asleep later. Her stomach started aching. She tried to

ignore it but the pain got worse.

“What’s wrong?”
She clutched her good arm around her middle. Nausea rolled inside her.
He rubbed a comforting hand over her back. “Devon?”
“Must be the pill. Sometimes medicine gives me a stomachache. I should have eaten

something with it. I need to lie down.” She was so sleepy.

Ben scooped her off the sofa and into his arms.
“What are you doing?” Her eyelids fluttered a few times then stayed shuttered a

long moment.

“You need to be in bed.” He started up the stairs with her, mindful to support her

injured shoulder.

“But I haven’t decided if I want to stay on the couch or in the bed.” She rested her

head against his chest and all he wanted to do was hold her forever.

Only that didn’t change anything. He’d overheard her saying she wanted to end

things with him. Sure, a lot had transpired since that moment, which seemed like days

ago, rather than only hours. But if he hadn’t convinced her to give him a chance after all

they’d been through together, he was wasting his time and his emotions here. He

refused to fall any deeper for her.

Her eyes were closed for good by the time he got her into the bedroom. He gently

laid her on the bed. She made some adorable sounds and he was pretty sure she was on

her way to la-la land.

To be safe, he closed the blinds. His stomach growled, but he didn’t want to leave

her to get a bite. Instead, he settled into an overstuffed chair. He didn’t trust himself in

the bed with her. The attraction was too powerful, nearly overwhelming. But he’d fight

it. As soon as she was safe, he’d get the hell out of her hair, just as she wanted.

* * * * *

Shards of pain in her shoulder woke Devon before sunrise. She used her right arm

to pull herself up. Ben was fast asleep in the chair.

Why not the bed?
Was he upset with her? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to jar her for fear of hurting her.

Shrugging off her questions, she headed downstairs to retrieve her medicine. She

glanced out the living room window and relaxed a little at the sight of the police car

across the street.

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After eating a few crackers and taking a pill, she returned to Ben’s room, closing the

door as softly as she could.

“I’m awake.”
She jumped at his voice.
He sat up in the chair. “How’s the shoulder?”
“It’ll be a lot better in a few minutes, after the painkiller starts working. Great

stuff.” She took a seat on the edge of the bed and wondered why he still hadn’t joined

her.

“So you’re not loopy yet, huh?”
“Perfectly sober. For the moment.” She adjusted her sling. “Why did you sleep in

the chair instead of the bed?”

He shrugged. “Who says I slept? Maybe I was up all night making sure you were

safe.”

Something about his demeanor let her know he was upset with her. Or perhaps it

was his tone, almost imperceptibly cooler. “Ben, what’s going on?”

He stood, crossed the floor to the window and opened the blinds, only a little.
“Please talk to me.” Her insides were churning. She prayed the thick brain fog that

always began a little while after she’d taken a pill would hold off a few minutes longer.

The discomfort from her shoulder was nothing compared to the pain of Ben being

angry with her. “Please.”

He turned to face her, his expression grim. “I heard what you said to Chuck, about

wanting to end things between us.”

“What? When did I…” Then she remembered. She’d been speaking to Chuck on the

back patio a little while before Ben had showed up. When Ben came to the door, just

prior to the gunshot, he said he wanted to talk to her. And he’d worn the same stony

face he did now. “But that was then. I didn’t mean it, not really.”

“You’ve been pulling away from the start, Devon.” He wouldn’t look at her. “You

told me this was only for now, remember?”

The sobering reality that she could lose him—not see him all the time, not make

love with him again—shattered her. Which was exactly why she’d striven to keep her

distance in every relationship. And she’d succeeded. Until now. He’d breached her

defenses and now that he’d captured her heart, she desperately wanted him to stay.

The hurt on his face ripped straight through her. “Things have changed since then,

Ben.”

“Since this morning?” He finally met her stare and those blue eyes cut deep.
How could she explain what she felt when she wasn’t sure? “I did say that but you

have to understand where I was coming from. I’ve lost everyone I ever cared about.

You know that.”

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He dropped her gaze and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know it’s a

convenient excuse for you to withhold your feelings.”

Ouch. “Maybe you’re right. I’ve never let anyone this close before, this quickly.” She

got up and eliminated the distance between them. Touching his uninjured arm, she felt

him stiffen and her hope plummeted. “I care about you, Ben. I think you feel something

for me too. If you didn’t you never would have done so much for me. Most guys would

have written me off by now as…a drama magnet.”

He looked at her and something dangerous flashed in his eyes. She backed away a

couple of inches even though she knew she was perfectly safe with him.

“I can’t do this, Devon.” He brushed past her, crossed the room and opened the

door. “I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if you need anything.”

No. She would not have him here out of pity. Clenching her teeth to keep from

crying, she stood taller. “Chuck and I can stay with one of my friends. Then you can get

back to your life.” She turned around so he couldn’t see the tears brimming in her eyes.

“Absolutely not. You’re staying here. Every time you move there’s chance the

person who shot at you might find you. No reason we can’t be under the same roof.”

He exhaled loudly. “I’m going to check on your cats.”

Then he was gone and she felt unbearably alone. The stairs creaked under his

weight. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding back the torrent of heartbreak. She wished

that dreamy haze from the painkillers would take over her brain already. Anything

would be better than the emptiness Ben had left in his wake.

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Chapter Nine

Ben lay on a mat in the spare bedroom, resting between sets of crunches. He’d

passed two hundred yet he still hadn’t met his goal of purging thoughts of Devon from

his head. A run would have helped, but the cop out front had asked him not to go.

According to the officer, Detective Underwood hadn’t ruled out the possibility that he

could be a target as well as Devon. They’d been holed up for more than two days and

he was running out of things to do to occupy himself. He needed to get back to the new

house to work on the renovation.

Not to mention that having Devon so close and not being able to touch her was

driving him crazy. Even when he managed to avoid being in the same room with her,

he still heard her voice. Somehow she’d marked everything in the house with her floral

scent. His mind filled in the rest of the pieces for him—the feel of her silky hair and her

smooth skin, the taste of her lips. He walked around with a hard-on 24/7 for God’s

sake. How had it come to this?

A week ago he never would have imagined that he’d be under police protection

because a murderer might be trying to kill him. In less than a week with Devon he’d

experienced so many things that surprised him. Like breaching a crime scene, bailing

her out of jail and being grazed by a bullet that was probably intended for her. And

he’d foolishly started falling for her.

Talk about drama.
He glanced toward the window when the room suddenly grew dark. It was only a

little past sunset yet the sky was almost black. A clap of thunder confirmed that an

approaching storm was to blame. It would be a perfect night to curl up with Devon in

front of a good movie.

Stop thinking about her.
When his cell rang, he gladly got up, thankful for an excuse to quit. The display

showed his brother’s name.

“Hey, Nathan. What’s up?” He reached for a towel from the chair and dried his

forehead and his neck. Turning on the overhead light, he peered into the hallway,

wondering where Devon was.

“How’s that house coming along?”
This whole thing had made him fall way behind schedule. “Slowly. I still have to

meet with the contractor to pick out the fixtures for both bathrooms. He’s starting the

painting next week then refinishing the wood floors and replacing the carpeting

throughout the house. Why?”

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“I’m dying here, bro. Business is breaking loose. I need you guys. Abby said she

could be here in a month, maybe less. What about you?”

He mentally ticked off all the projects he had left, how much time he’d need for

each, providing he was able to leave this makeshift safe house soon. “I can have the

place ready to list in six or seven weeks depending on my contractor’s schedule.” It was

faster than he’d planned, but putting thousands of miles between Devon and him and

the drama that surrounded her would help him get over her. The thought of never

seeing her again cut deep, though.

“That long, huh?” Nathan’s sigh filtered through the line.
He gripped his phone tighter. “What’s wrong?”
“We have an opportunity to buy fourteen houses from a mortgage company before

they go to public auction.”

He sucked in a breath. “Fourteen? We’ve never done more than five at once.” He

thought about renovating more than a dozen homes at the same time. It was a huge

undertaking his brother would never be able to handle alone. Hell, even if he and Abby

helped, it would still be a challenge.

“I know it’s a lot. But I’ve done the math. We could make more than three million in

profit. Which is why I’ve committed to buy all of them.”

“What?” His stomach instantly knotted with tension. They owned the company

together. If Nathan screwed up on the deal and they weren’t able to flip the homes in a

timely manner, a big hit like that could put them out of business.

“Look, I know I should have discussed it with you first, but they made me an offer I

couldn’t refuse. They had another investor chomping at the bit to get his hands on the

lot of them. I had no choice. I need you to come out when Abby does.”

“That’s only a month. How am I supposed to swing that?” Anger and frustration

swam inside him.

“I know you can get that place finished sooner, bro. What’s the problem? A girl?”
He instantly flashed on Devon’s face. Those damn freckles and that wild blonde

hair. “No. I just don’t like being backed into a corner. You should have discussed it

with—”

“Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry. It’ll make us a whole lot richer, though. All three of

us. I promise.”

But it could bankrupt the company if it didn’t work.
“So what do you say? Can I count on you?” The desperation in his brother’s voice

came through loud and clear.

“I’ll do my best to get out there as quickly as I can.” He hung up and scratched his

head. How was he supposed to oversee a renovation on a property miles away when he

was stuck here for God knew how long? He paced the floor.

Although it was only Devon who really needed the police protection they were all

living under. Hell, Chuck had been coming and going as he pleased since the first day.

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The only thing keeping Ben at the house was Devon. But he couldn’t bring himself to

leave her alone, even with the cop out front. What if something happened to her while

he was gone?

They needed to lean on Underwood to move the investigation along faster, get the

murderer locked up. The sooner he could get away from Devon the better. Being this

close to her was killing him. Once and for all, he needed to purge her from his life.

* * * * *

The ache in Devon’s shoulder was nearing her pain threshold. She glanced at the

clock. Almost eight o’clock. She’d gone the entire day with nothing but over-the-

counter medicine, but her wound hurt more at night. The drugs also kept her from

waking and fretting over Ben. Nursing a broken heart was a lot tougher with the object

of her affection so close by.

She turned off the television then got up off the sofa and headed into the kitchen for

a pill. Passing the nearly empty dining room, she did a double take. Chuck sat on the

floor with his back against the wall and his cell phone to his ear.

He waved at her. “Yes, Faith, I know.” He rolled his eyes and held an imaginary

gun to his head. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to make it to the printer’s with you.”

She continued to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.
Chuck’s distant voice echoed through the sparsely furnished house. “I don’t know

if I mentioned, but my best friend was shot. Like with a gun. No, she’s not dead, but

she’s convalescing.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be telling his clients about what had happened to her.

Underwood had asked them to keep it quiet until the investigation was over. She

popped a pill in her mouth then chased it down with the water.

“It’s been difficult. Now we’re holed up at her boyfriend’s place,” Chuck said. “Mm

hmm… Off New England Avenue about a block before the library.”

He definitely shouldn’t be telling anyone that. Devon started toward the dining

room but a bright flash of lightning immediately followed by a deafening crack of

thunder shook the house and stopped her in her tracks. Her heart pounded triple time.

Loud noises had never bothered her before. She hoped time would ease the fear.

“But you don’t need me at the fitting,” Chuck was saying. “The dress is stunning.

Fighting with the seamstress isn’t really part of my job.”

Sucking in a calming breath, she entered the dining room and made a T with her

hands.

Chuck raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me one moment, please, Faith.” He held his

palm over the phone. “Are you okay, Dev? You look pale.”

She nodded. “I don’t think you should say where we are. You never know.”
He pursed his lips. “You’re right, honey. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I won’t do that

again.”

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111

“Thanks.” She returned to the living room. Where was Ben? It was as if he’d been a

ghost for the past two days.

Chuck came in and fisted his hands at his sides. “That bitch is making me go to the

bridal shop. Now. You believe that?”

She shrugged. “Say no. Say you can’t.”
“You don’t know how she is. I have to go.” He shoved his hand into his pocket and

fished out his keys.

“The TV says there’s a nasty storm coming. Maybe you should wait until it passes.”
He checked his watch. “The sooner I go, the sooner I can be through with the

witch.”

“Be careful.” She watched him leave, hoped he’d be okay. But she envied that he

could come and go as he pleased. In truth, she was growing stir-crazy. And it was

worse since things between her and Ben were so uncomfortable now. She strode

through the downstairs, wishing Ben would join her, talk things out while they had the

place to themselves. But he’d been avoiding her—eating when she wasn’t around,

sleeping on the sofa.

Why hadn’t she argued with him when he ended their relationship? Maybe she

could have convinced him to give them another chance, yet she’d hardly put up any

resistance at all.

I let my stupid pride get in the way.
Even though they’d only known each other a short time, Ben had consistently

proven he was there for her. But she’d overheard him on the phone earlier and

surmised he was speaking to his brother in Arizona. He said he’d get out there soon.

Knowing Ben would be gone from her life in a short time opened that gaping wound

inside her that refused to heal.

She’d tried not to develop feelings for him yet the imminent loss hurt anyway.

She’d done a miserable job at keeping her emotional distance but even so, she’d known

him less than a week. So all her fussing about not getting involved with him hadn’t

protected her one bit.

Well, hell. She might as well jump in with both feet. As long as the loss was going to

ache, why not enjoy the time they had left? God, she’d been an idiot. She stalked back

and forth across the room. Was she foolishly leaping into the fire? She wanted to beg

him to forgive her and to convince him they should make the most of the rest of his

time here.

Perhaps she ought to think about this before she went to talk to him. Could this be

the meds talking? Sure, her head was beginning to fog a little, but maybe she was

seeing things more clearly than she ever had before. Something inside her told her she

had to let the idea settle, had to make sure this wasn’t a disastrous idea.

She headed to the kitchen and fixed herself a cup of tea. Her mother had always

said when you needed to think, tea was the perfect company.

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112

Sitting at the table with a steaming mug, she shoved Chuck’s pile of work papers

aside. On the top of the stack sat one of the photos of Chuck’s clients from hell.

The woman looked so familiar but not being able to place her bugged the heck out

of Devon. The blonde bob looked all wrong. She imagined the woman with darker hair,

a little longer. Chuck had mentioned her name but for the life of her she couldn’t recall

it.

She rifled through the pile of papers until she found the wedding announcement

Chuck had been composing, scanned it for the bride’s name.

“Faith Louise Gibson,” she read aloud.
I’ve heard that name.
A chill slivered up her spine. Why couldn’t she figure out why the woman’s face

and name were vaguely familiar? She stood up, walked the floor, grasping for

something just out of reach.

Another burst of thunder rattled the windows—and Devon’s nerves. Lightning lit

up the yard. Rain pelted the windows. Shuddering an uneasy breath, she prayed Chuck

had beaten the storm. She didn’t like the idea of him out in such dangerous weather.

But it was more than that making her nervous. Something didn’t feel right.

She returned to the table and looked at the photograph of Chuck’s clients. “Faith

Gibson,” she said aloud. She read through the wedding announcement. Nothing

jumped out at her to jar her memory but that uncomfortable feeling refused to go away.

Sinking into a chair, she sighed as she set her good elbow on the table. It bumped

something hard in Chuck’s stack of papers. She smiled when she realized it was his

laptop.

He valued his privacy, but hopefully he’d understand. She booted up the computer

then ran a search on Faith Gibson. Google returned lots of hits with mentions of the

couple’s engagement. Her hope dwindled with each link she opened. By the third page

she was about to give up. Instead, she clicked on the tab to view images that matched

her search criteria. As she scrolled through the pictures, she deflated even more.

Nothing was sparking a memory.

One of the photos featured a crowd of people at the launch party for a new

brokerage firm. Faith and her fiancé stood between the mayor of Winter Park and a

wealthy art patron whose name she recognized. But it was the two men standing

behind them who caught Devon’s attention. She leaned closer to the screen. One was

definitely Kendall Thorpe and the other was John York, whose gaze was trained upon

Faith Gibson.

Every hair on her body seemed to stand on end. Could it be a coincidence? She

doubted it was. Desperate to learn more about the woman, she continued searching the

images but didn’t find any others in which she recognized people.

She glanced toward the staircase wishing things were different between her and

Ben. After she phoned Underwood, she’d tell Ben about it. She punched in the

detective’s number then waited.

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113

“Underwood.” He sounded annoyed.
“Detective, it’s Devon Wise.”
Was that a sigh? “Yes, Miss Wise. What can I do for you?”
She tamped down the urge to mutter an indignant retort. This was important, after

all. “I found something I think you’ll be interested in.”

“Oh?”
“My roommate Chuck is a wedding planner. And he’s been working with this

bride-to-be who’s been driving him up a wall with outrageous demands. But he puts up

with it because her fiancé is really wealthy and well, that’s Chuck’s job, right?” Now her

heart was racing.

“Miss Wise, I hope there’s a point to this rambling dissertation.”
“Of course there is. You see I looked her up online, the bride. Faith Gibson is her

name. Anyway, I found a picture of her at this social thing. And right behind her were

Kendall Thorpe and John York.” She waited for him to digest the information.

“And?”
She frowned. Maybe she hadn’t explained it properly. “And I’ve been getting these

weird vibes about her. Which is why I ran the search in the first place. Don’t you find it

strange that two of the three men murdered are in a photograph with my roommate’s

client?” Damn. He didn’t seem as impressed as she’d hoped. “I’m a very intuitive

person, Detective. I inherited that from my mother. And I feel like there’s a connection.”

“Miss Wise, have you been drinking?”
Okay, now she was getting angry. “Of course not. I’m taking prescription

painkillers for my shoulder.” As soon as the words were out she knew he’d

misunderstand. “But I’m perfectly lucid.”

“Mm hmm. How about we talk about this in the morning?”
In the morning? She clenched her jaw. “Would you do me a favor, Detective? I’d

appreciate if you’d check out a woman named Faith Louise Gibson. Please.”

He huffed. “Fine. I’ll let you know if I find something.”
“Yeah, thanks.” She hung up, frustrated and more than a little pissed off. What if

her vibes were on target and Faith Gibson was involved in the murders? Her blood ran

cold when she remembered Chuck was headed to meet the woman. Sitting on the

couch, she pressed the auto-dial button for Chuck, praying he was okay.

Thankfully, he answered right away. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?”
“Are you with your client?”
“Not yet. The bridal shop is all the way in Deland. It’s poured the entire trip and

I’m still a good twenty minutes from there.”

“Good. Listen, I know this is going to sound a little crazy but I’ve been doing some

research on your client. Faith Gibson.”

“Why?”

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114

She hoped he’d give more credence to her bad feeling than Underwood did. “I told

you I thought her picture looked familiar. Well, that was bugging me so I did a search

online. I found a picture of her with two of the murder victims.”

“You’re kidding. How weird is that?”
“Well, I think it’s more than weird. I think there might be a connection.”
“You think Faith had something to do with the murders? Devon, I think those pain

pills have dragged you over the edge, honey. She’s a high-society person or at least she

will be after she gets married.”

Why wouldn’t anyone take her seriously? “Listen, Chuck, you could be in danger.”
“Please, honey.” The rest of his words broke up. Then the connection broke. She

tried him again but couldn’t get through.

Damn it. At least she’d been able to warn him. She threw her phone on the cushion.

Maybe it was the drugs. Ben would listen. He’d believe her.

Her stomach started aching. Nuts, she’d forgotten to eat something with her pill.

Standing, she wobbled a moment. She’d go speak to Ben in a minute. After the feeling

passed. She closed her eyes and waited for the nausea to ease.

* * * * *

Ben sat on the floor in his room, scrolling through his email on his cell. There were

several from his brother that included photos and descriptions of the houses Nathan

had committed to purchase. They all looked like they needed a lot of work. Nathan was

right about one thing, though. Their best chance of pulling this off was for Ben to get

out there as quickly as possible.

Leaving Devon.
A headache started at his temples. She’d made it clear that they had no future. As

long as she continued to allow her fears to rule her life, they had no chance of making it

work.

He thought about overhearing her conversation with Chuck right before the

shooting, her telling him how she planned to end their relationship. What would have

happened if all hell hadn’t broken loose when he’d showed up on her doorstep?

The image of her moments after she was shot forced its way into his head. He’d

been consumed with fear—not for himself, but for her. Why had she become so

important to him so quickly? She’d already found her way into his heart yet she’d been

searching for an out from the get-go. But when he’d finally confronted her about what

he’d overheard, she swore she hadn’t meant it. Why hadn’t he given her a chance to

argue her side?

Thunder rattled the house. The lights flickered a few times. He held his breath,

hoping they’d stay on. Although he’d brought along nearly everything they needed,

one thing he hadn’t counted on was a power outage. With that thought, the lights went

out.

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115

Shit!
He waited a few seconds, hoping the power would return. When it didn’t he went

to find Devon and Chuck. Carefully negotiating the stairs in the dark, he made it to the

first floor. A streak of lightning illuminated the living room, but no one was there.

“Devon? Chuck? Where are you guys?”

“In the kitchen.” Devon’s voice. And it sounded shaky.
Thankful for the lack of much furniture, he was able to get to her without crashing

into anything. He heard her opening drawers and cabinets, but he couldn’t make her

out in the dark. “Are you okay?”

“I accidentally took a pill on an empty stomach. Stupid, huh?”
He was the only one who’d been stupid—downright asinine not to have made an

effort to repair things between them. “Where’s Chuck?”

“He went to meet a client.”
“In this?” Lightning lit up the room and he glimpsed Devon—only for a moment—

standing near the sink.

“Yeah. That client he’s been complaining about insisted. I need to talk to you about

her. And the murders. I think they may be connected.” Another cabinet opened. “Don’t

you have any candles or a flashlight or something?”

“I didn’t bring any, sorry.” He contemplated a solution. “There may be something

in the garage, though.” He wanted to hear what she had to say about the murder case

but their more immediate concern had to be light.

“But it’s not even connected to the house. I hate for you to go outside in this mess.”
At least she seemed to still care about him, although knowing Devon, she wouldn’t

want anyone to have to go out in a storm. “I’m not thrilled about it either. Why don’t

you call the power company while I go look in the garage?”

“Okay. Be careful. Um…Ben?”
Another flash of lightning let him see her for a second. And in that instant, desire

stormed through him, hotter and more demanding than ever. “Yeah?”

“You think when you come back maybe we can talk? About a couple of things?”
Hope flickered to life inside him. He wanted her so much. “Sure. When I come

back.” Being here with her and not being able to touch her had been sheer torture. She’d

even invaded his dreams. “Wish me luck.”

“Be careful.”
He felt her eyes on him even though he couldn’t see her. His heart pounded.

“Always.” The instant he opened the French doors, Devon’s cats bolted through and

into the kitchen. Under the circumstances, he could hardly insist she continue to confine

them to the lanai.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll put them out after the storm.”

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116

He stepped outside, winced at the driving rain and the constant crack of thunder.

Steeling himself, he left the shelter of the screened patio and ran toward the single-car

garage. He reached it in seconds but the old wooden door was swollen and he had to

shove it with his shoulder before it gave.

The wind howled as if telling him he shouldn’t have ventured outside. He didn’t

dare shut the door. No sense in wrestling it open again. He shook off the rain and tried

to see around the dark space but it was hard to make out anything. Swiping at cobwebs,

he made his way to the far wall, which was lined with shelves he’d never bothered

exploring before.

Illuminated by the frequent lightning flashes, he spotted a few rusted tools and a

box of nails. Feeling his way along the narrow wood shelves, he jerked back when a

splinter of wood cut into his finger. “Son of a bitch.” He didn’t have enough light to see

what he was doing to pull it out so he ignored it and continued on his quest. But after a

few minutes, he hadn’t found anything except an old rusty lantern—and no oil for it

anywhere in sight.

Why hadn’t he thought to bring a flashlight with them to the house? They’d been in

such a rush with the cop waiting, though.

The cop.
Of course. Whatever officer was on shift out front would surely have a flashlight.

Maybe he’d let them borrow it under the circumstances. Why hadn’t he thought of that

before? But running all the way out to the street with lightning striking every few

seconds didn’t thrill him.

The moment he stepped through the door he felt something crash into the back of

his head. Pain splintered through him and the darkness sucked him in.

He tried to turn to see what had hit him but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. There

was someone behind him, he sensed the person’s presence. Oh God. He had to warn

Devon.

Another devastating blow and his world went black.

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117

Chapter Ten

Devon could kick herself for taking that pain pill. She needed a clear head to speak

to Ben so he’d believe she wasn’t off her rocker. But she had something else to tell him

too. She wanted to convince him to give them another shot. Yet the haze from the drugs

was already setting in. She went to the French doors, hoping to glimpse him coming

back, but all she could see in the frequent flashes was low tree limbs and bushes

sparring with the wind and rain.

Rubbing her injured arm, she shivered. Poor Ben would be soaked when he came

back. Rather than stand there and wait, she ought to fetch a towel so he could dry off

when he returned. He’d stashed all the linens in the closet in the master bathroom so

she carefully made her way to the staircase, sticking close to walls so she didn’t trip.

After she’d retrieved a big, fluffy bath towel, she returned to the main floor. She

thought she heard the French doors open but she couldn’t be sure over the noise of the

storm. “Ben? Did you find anything?”

One of the cats ran past her, which was probably what she’d heard. Something

made a scraping sound outside. A wave of fear rolled over her skin but she quickly

shook it off. It was storming for God’s sake. Probably just a branch rubbing against the

house. Or maybe her painkillers were messing with her head.

She froze at the menacing growl of a cat. Yin and Yang hardly ever did that. When

she heard a hiss, she was sure it was one of them and that frightened her since they

never hissed at each other, only at people. Both cats had always been excellent judges of

character. “Ben?” Her heart tattooed a crazy beat. She swallowed hard and clutched the

towel against her chest. “Hello?”

Footsteps came toward her then stopped. Eyes wide, she moved backward,

desperate to see but it was so dark. And her brain was getting fuzzier.

Someone was in the house with her. And it wasn’t Ben or Chuck. They wouldn’t

purposely scare her. Hot-cold shivers racked her body.

Oh God.
The cop! She had to get outside, grab his attention. But where was Ben? Had

something happened to him? Her terror ramped up a hundredfold. The towel slipped

out of her hands as she tried to sober up. Her head refused to cooperate, though.

“Who’s there?”

Feeling around for something to use as a weapon, she backed up. If she could pick

up an end table or a lamp, she could throw it at the intruder. But her left arm was still

weak. No. Her best bet was to get out. She prayed she could find the front door in the

dark.

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118

Suddenly a bright beam of light shone in her face, blinding her. She shielded her

eyes and stumbled into the wall.

“You should have minded your own business,” a woman’s voice said.
The murderer!
Cold terror rushed through her. She could hardly suck in a breath.
Think.
Swallowing back her panic, she tried to remember where she’d laid her phone. The

couch, not far from where she was. But she couldn’t see a thing with that light in her

eyes.

“Don’t move,” the woman said.
Her nausea returned with a vengeance. “Wh-what do you want?”
The woman laughed—the most evil sound she’d ever heard. “You know what I

want. This is all your fault. If you hadn’t gone and stuck your nose where it didn’t

belong you’d be safe and sound and so would your handsome boyfriend.”

Ben.
Oh God. Where was he? He should have been back by now. “What did you do to

Ben?”

Another cackle made the hair on the back of Devon’s neck stand on end. “Where is

he?” she shouted.

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Tears ran down her cheeks. Her whole body started trembling. What had

she done? This was all her fault and now that monster had killed Ben.

“You two shouldn’t have gotten into my business.” She lowered the flashlight a

little, enough that it no longer shone in Devon’s eyes.

The illumination allowed her to finally see the woman. She gasped. “I knew it.”

Clamping her mouth shut, she realized she shouldn’t have spoken. As long as Faith

thought Devon couldn’t identify her, she had a better shot of surviving the ordeal. Her

eyes landed on the gun in the woman’s right hand.

She’s going to kill me. Just like she killed those men. And Ben.
Why hadn’t she insisted on speaking with Ben before he went looking in the

garage? Then he might still be alive. Oh God. Could he really be gone? Her insides

churned with devastating regret and sadness.

The woman smiled and Devon realized she was completely crazy.
“You figured it out, didn’t you?” The woman shined the light on her own face.
Devon shook her head. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She stepped closer. “Sure you do. You have me to thank for those referrals. We took

a class together a few years ago. To renew our massage licenses. Remember now?” She

circled around Devon, forcing her to back against the wall.

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119

Of course. That was why Faith had looked so familiar. Why hadn’t she been able to

recall that? “I don’t remember.” All she could think about was Ben. What had she done

by getting him involved in this?

“After I was nice enough to refer several of my clients to you when I quit the

business, you went and snooped. Tsk, tsk, Devon.” She moved closer. “That’s biting the

hand that feeds you.”

She had to buy time. Maybe she could get the cop’s attention, somehow. Or find

something to hurl at Faith.

Keep her talking.
“Why did you kill those men?” She slid an inch or so to the left.
“None of your business.”
Devon grasped for a way to keep her talking. “You’re going to kill me anyway.

Don’t I at least get to know why you did it?”

“They got greedy,” she said. “No, they always were. All of them worked in the

world of finance—stockbrokers, money managers. All those people are born greedy.

Thought they could squeeze millions out of me when I found a wealthy man to marry.

John threatened to tell my fiancé about us. After I’d taken care of him, Harvey and

Kendall decided to take up the cause. I guess they thought there was safety in numbers,

if they tried to blackmail me together I couldn’t stop them.” She let out a bitter laugh.

“They were so weak. Loved being shackled and abused, every one of them. Not that I

didn’t enjoy hurting them.” She smiled. “They should have known better than to try to

screw with me.”

Devon didn’t give a damn about Faith’s twisted sexual liaisons. All she cared about

was Ben. Maybe Faith was lying about killing him. She prayed he was still alive,

somehow. She moved closer to the door.

“But they’re gone now and my secret would have stayed buried if it wasn’t for you

and your boyfriend meddling. Soon there won’t be anyone who can ruin me. As soon as

you’re gone. I’ve even taken care of Joe.” She lifted her gun and Devon held her breath.

Think.
“Joe? Who’s he?”
“He chased you and your boyfriend the other night after you left Andromeda’s

Playground. Joe knew too much. I had no choice with him. Everyone wants to destroy

what I have. They’re all jealous.”

“Not me.” She eased a couple more inches toward the foyer. “I never wanted to

hurt you, I promise. Neither did Ben.”

“Bullshit,” she shouted. “You’d tell Albert about how I like to hurt people, how I

get off on it. He’s way too conservative to understand anything like that. If he found me

out he’d cancel the wedding. I won’t let anything come between me and his millions.

My millions.”

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120

The woman was completely delusional. “I would never tell, Faith. I promise.” She

swallowed hard. Blood pounded in her ears so hard she could hardly hear anything

over the sound. “You can trust me.”

“Trust? I don’t trust anyone.” She grinned and took a step closer. “You think I don’t

know you’re trying to get to the door. You’re pinning your hopes on that cop parked on

the street. Sorry to disappoint you but he’s fast asleep. Even this noisy storm didn’t

rouse him. I walked right past him.”

Devon’s blood ran cold.
Faith shined the flashlight on her watch. “Time for talking is through. I have to go

meet Chuck. He’ll be my alibi. How ironic. I’m sorry, but you’ve run out of time. I can’t

have you ruining my plans.” She raised the gun so it pointed at Devon’s face.

Oh God, oh God. I have nothing to lose.
Sucking in a deep breath and gathering all her courage, she lunged for the door. An

ear-splitting shot rang out and pain tore through her.

* * * * *

Ben was freezing. And soaked. His body felt like a giant weight was resting on top

of it. He fisted his hand and touched muck—mud and soggy leaves. Thunder boomed

around him and the wind howled ominously. The rain pelted his skin like a spray of

pebbles. God, his head felt like it was going to explode.

He grasped to remember but everything was a dark blur. Pushing himself up to sit,

he grabbed onto the side of the garage. Dizziness enveloped him. He waited for it to

subside but after several seconds he realized the fogginess wasn’t going away.

Someone had hit him. Concentrating hard, he recalled searching the garage. He’d

gone outside with the intention of borrowing a flashlight from the cop out front. His

memory ended with the sharp blow to the back of his head. He touched his finger to the

spot and winced at the pain.

Someone knocked me out.
Shit! That someone might have gone after Devon. He thought about trying to get to

the officer but in his current state he could get to Devon way faster. Fighting the nausea,

he pulled himself up. He was seeing two of everything and his legs were shaky but he

trudged toward the house.

When he made it to the lanai, he tried to see inside but it was still too dark.

Reaching for the doorknob, he found it locked and gritted his teeth. He grabbed a patio

chair and swung it hard at the glass. One of the French doors shattered.

He sucked in a breath, trying to steady himself and ease the nausea. Didn’t matter

that he was dizzy or that his ears were ringing. Devon could be in trouble. He had to get

to her. “Devon!” he shouted into the house.

A blast of thunder exploded nearby. Or something else.
A gunshot.

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121

Gripping the broken doorframe, he hurried inside. “Devon?” Where the hell was

she?

Feeling his way past the kitchen counter, he listened but all he could hear was the

din of the storm. He used the wall as his guide to move through the kitchen then the

breakfast nook.

The faint glow of artificial light peeked out from around the corner. His heart

pounded double time. He held his breath and listened. Not exactly voices, but someone

was in there. “Devon?”

A few more steps and he saw a flashlight in the corner, its beam shining on the

wall. Devon was rolling around on the floor with someone.

The murderer.
He lunged for them, managed to grab a wrist.
Please let this be the killer’s arm.
As he dragged the person away, a blast split the air. An instantaneous flash was too

short-lived for him to see either Devon or her assailant.

Devon’s scream ripped through him like a razor-sharp dagger.
No!
Devon’s shoulder felt like it had been torn open. Pain gripped her—so intense she

could hardly breathe. But that was the least of her problems. She rolled away,

wondering what had just happened. No one made a sound. Had Faith been hit?

Suddenly someone pounded on the front door. Then it came crashing open. She

could barely make out the cop’s face, silhouetted in the doorway. The officer shined a

light on them and she saw Ben lying on his stomach, motionless.

Oh God, no.
“She has a gun,” she shouted at the cop. Ignoring her injured shoulder, she crawled

across the floor toward Ben. Faith lay beside him, perfectly still.

I hope you’re dead, bitch.
“Everyone freeze,” the officer ordered.
Devon made it to Ben, praying he was all right.
Please God. I’ll do anything. Just make him okay.
“Ben.” She crouched next to him, touched the side of his face. His skin was cold and

damp but he was breathing.

Faith moved, reared up and Devon saw the muzzle of the gun pointed at Ben’s

back. She flatted her body over his.

Please, no.
Another gunshot and she squeezed her eyes shut and braced for pain. But none

came. How could Faith have missed? Her mouth went dry and blood pounded in her

ears.

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Ben had to be okay. Why hadn’t she told him how much she cared? That she

wanted to try to make things work between them.

Her tears fell on his already wet shirt. She grasped fistfuls of the material and rolled

him onto his back.

Faith slumped against the couch. A gurgling sound escaped her lips.
The cop trained his light on Faith and Devon saw the red dot on her forehead. Her

eyes were open and blood trickled from her nose and mouth and dripped onto the sofa

cushion.

Devon bent over Ben and kissed his forehead softly. He touched her arm and she

cried out with relief. “Oh God, Ben. You’re alive. I thought…” She couldn’t voice it.

The flashlight beam found them, slid over them then back to Faith. Devon looked at

Ben’s face and noticed a smear of blood. Tracing the spot with her fingertip, she stilled.

Her gut twisted with worry. “You’re hurt.”

The officer came closer, touched Faith’s neck. “She’s dead. Either of you hurt?”
“Yes,” Devon said. “He is. Did she shoot you, Ben?” She couldn’t stop shaking.

Maybe once she knew for sure he was going to be okay.

“No.” He groaned as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. “She surprised me

when I left the garage. Hit the back of my head with something heavy. I think I blacked

out again.”

“Let me see.” She shifted so she could see the spot. His hair was matted with blood.

Tamping down a rush of nausea, she averted her gaze. “You could have a concussion.”

She glanced up at the cop. “He needs to go to the hospital.”

“I do not.” He eased away from her and she could see he was weak from the injury.
“Yes, you do.” She pinned him with a hard stare.
The cop came closer, pulled on a glove then lifted Faith’s gun off the floor. He

spoke into the radio clipped to the shoulder of his uniform. “Blue thirty-eight to

headquarters. Shots fired at 1126 New England Avenue. I need supervisors and an

ambulance. I’m ten-four.” A static-filled response came through that she couldn’t make

out.

Turning her attention back to Ben, she took his hand. “I’m so sorry all this has

happened to you. I feel awful that you were dragged into my mess.”

His smile was like a ray of much needed sunshine. “Your mess is right where I

want to be, Devon.” He pulled her against him and rubbed her back. “Tell me what

happened.”

She sighed then backed away, recalling the terror of the minutes before and after he

came into the house. “I heard something and I figured it was you. Faith came in the

back door, I think.”

“Faith?”
Nodding, she rubbed her sore shoulder. “She’s Chuck’s client, the one he’s been

complaining about. The one he went to go meet tonight. She used to be a massage

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123

therapist. Which is why all the victims came to call me. She must have known their

regular times, when to catch them off guard.” She shuddered as a chill rolled over her

skin. “I don’t know if it’s true but she said she killed another man. The one we chased

after we left the fetish club, the guy who tried to run us off the road.”

The approaching whine of sirens filled the air. She realized the storm had abated.

They were safe.

* * * * *

Devon helped Ben inside her house when they got home from the hospital, but she

had a feeling he wasn’t going to be an easy patient.

“I’m fine,” he insisted as he shook free of her.
“Doctor said you have to take it easy.” She fluffed a throw pillow on the couch and

motioned for him to sit.

Rolling his eyes, he complied. “It was only a bump on the head. Please don’t treat

me like I’m helpless. And do I have to I remind you that you got hurt too?”

Her shoulder wound had reopened when she and Faith had scuffled but the doctor

said it would be fine. “It’s not the same thing. You have a concussion, Ben.”

“The doctor told us the MRI was normal.” He sat on the sofa and folded his arms

across his chest.

Yeah, he was definitely going to be a challenge. But she wanted to take care of him,

partly to give back some of what he’d given her when she was injured and needed his

help. Partly because she’d accepted that she cared about him and that’s what people

who cared about each other did.

So much remained unsettled between them. They needed time to talk, alone.
Ben rubbed his forehead and exhaled loudly.
“Are you okay?” Worry knotted her stomach.
“I’m still trying to process everything that happened. That woman killed four

people, Devon.”

She nodded. “I know. And if she’d been successful, we’d have been numbers five

and six.” She shivered.

When the back door opened, Devon’s heart pounded. She knew it had to be Chuck

but the ordeal they’d been through had left her jumpy.

“Hellooooo,” Chuck shouted. “I come bearing two kitties that miss their mommy.”

He entered the living room and set both carriers on the floor.

Devon immediately crouched down to open the latches. Yin and Yang exited the

cages cautiously. Devon petted them both, glad to have things on the way back to

normal.

“Guess what?” Chuck asked.
Devon sat beside Ben on the sofa. “What?”

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124

“There’s another note on the door.”
She leaned her head back and groaned. “Are you serious?” She hadn’t cared for any

strays for days. What could be the problem now?

He nodded solemnly. “Right before I turned into the driveway I saw that old lady

who lives on the corner at our door. She looked like the cat that ate the canary when she

saw me. Pardon the expression. I couldn’t resist.”

She pictured the woman, a tiny silver-haired grandmother type who spent

countless hours tending to her yard. “I can’t believe it. She seemed so sweet.” She

hurried to the door, pulled it open and found the letter. Yanking it free, she tore the

envelope and took out the note. She returned to the living room and faced the men.

“Listen to this.

‘One of your cats defecated in my garden again. If this doesn’t stop I will be forced

to call the police.’

Can you see that poor woman trying to get the police to do something about that?”
“They’ll probably haul you back to jail.” Ben winked at her.
Chuck picked up the empty carriers. “She’s probably just lonely with nothing to

keep her occupied.” With that, he left the room.

Ben draped his arm over the back of the sofa. “So what now? Are you going to

confront her?”

She set her hands on her hips and her scent—unmistakably feminine—drifted to

him. He swallowed back a rush of desire, and regret.

“I have a plan.” She started from the room.
“Devon?”
She spun around and met his stare.
God, he missed her—touching her, tasting her, kissing her. It had been sheer torture

sharing a house with her for days and hardly even speaking to her. “Can we talk?” He

prayed she’d be willing to give them another chance.

Her expression softened. “I’d like that, Ben. But I want to take care of something

first. Give me a few minutes, okay?”

“Sure.” As he waited he heard cabinets open and shut, pots and pans clang. He

didn’t dare go see what she was doing. Instead, he flipped on the television but he paid

no attention to it. Instead, he mulled over what he’d say when she came back.

He couldn’t deny that he’d have to relocate to Arizona soon, at least for a while. But

it wasn’t as if they’d be on different planets. They’d only be a plane ride apart.

Delicious aromas of cinnamon and other spices he couldn’t pinpoint drifted in from

the kitchen. What was she up to? He shut off the TV then paced the floor. What if she

wanted no part of a long-distance relationship? Maybe he was fooling himself expecting

her to go along with this.

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125

She strode into the room and he had to smile at the streak of flour on her forehead.

“What?” she asked.

He closed the distance between them and wiped off the smudge. Meeting her stare,

he felt his pulse quicken. “What was so important in the kitchen?”

“I had to start a batch of cinnamon buns. I remembered that my mom had some

squabble with a neighbor when I was a kid. She baked cinnamon buns and brought

them to the woman’s house as a peace offering. Mom said no one would stay upset after

a single bite.” She shrugged. “I figure Chuck’s probably right. That elderly lady is

probably a lonely soul. Maybe she just needs a friend.”

His jaw went tight with emotion. “You’re quite an optimist, Devon. I like that. In

fact, I like you. A lot.”

“Me too.”
He touched his thumb to her bottom lip and heard her breath catch. “I know you’re

afraid to be hurt or abandoned and with good reason. You suffered painful losses early

in your life. But putting yourself out there, taking chances on people, that’s what life is

all about. You’re denying yourself so many wonderful experiences by closing yourself

off.”

She dropped his gaze.
He lifted her chin, forced her to look at him. “We have something special, Devon. In

a few short days we’ve been through a hell of a lot together and we’ve proved that we

make a great team. And not just in the bedroom.” He grinned at her and finally saw her

pretty smile. “You have to admit, we sizzle together in bed.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “I’ll give you that.”
“I was thinking we could see where this thing between us takes us.” He cupped her

neck, pulled her closer. “Arizona’s a beautiful state. I’d love to show you.”

“I’d like that.”
He blew out a relieved breath. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I did a lot of thinking after…after everything we went through.” She

squeezed her eyes shut. “I thought Faith had shot you, Ben. I didn’t know if you were

alive or dead and all I could think about was how we’d wasted the last two days we

had together.”

He grasped her good shoulder. “I had the same thought when I came to outside. I

knew whoever had knocked me out was going to hurt you too.” He shuddered at the

awful memory.

“Experiences like that have a way of putting things in perspective. I’ve been

thinking about my folks and I realized that I’ve done their memory a disservice.”

“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve always tried to protect myself from pain. I never gave anyone enough of

myself to hurt me.” Several emotions registered in her expression—pain, regret and

Wynter Daniels

126

hope. “They loved me. They wouldn’t have wanted me to shut myself off from…” Her

eyes sparkled as she met his gaze. “Love.”

He drew her against him and felt her mold her body to his. “I’m sure they wanted

you to take a bite out of life rather than sit on the sidelines.”

She centered a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. “You’re not up for

what you want to do.”

Laughing, he tried for his best indignant expression. “What do you take me for?”
Narrowing her gaze, she backed behind a chair. “You’re supposed to be resting.

The doctor tasked me with that objective and I plan to make sure you follow her

orders.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Now get on that sofa or I’ll have to handcuff you

to it.”

Desire pumped through him. He lifted an eyebrow. “You promise?”
When she set her hands on her hips and caught her lip between her teeth, he knew

he wasn’t getting any rest, at least for a while.

Burning Touch

127

Chapter Eleven

Three weeks later

“You’re sure this is okay with you?” Ben carried a box full of his things up the

rickety ladder to Devon’s attic.

She stared up at him, admiring the view of his rear end in his faded jeans. “For the

twentieth time, yes. It’s fine. I don’t go up there and I’m sure there’s plenty of room for

whatever you want to store.”

As he climbed down to get another carton, Devon’s mood plummeted. He’d be

leaving for Scottsdale in the morning. She’d wrestled with the familiar barbed wire

she’d always erected around her heart but this time, she didn’t put up any barriers. And

the strong emotions bombarding her were tough to deal with. But the fact that he was

storing some of his things at her house gave her some comfort that they did indeed

have a future together.

She held the collar of her T-shirt—actually his T-shirt that he’d given her—to her

nose. Although she’d washed it since he’d worn it, the fabric still bore his enticing scent.

She was going to miss that smell.

Ben folded the ladder up and shut the trap door. “What’s that frown about?” He

took her face in his hands and brushed his lips over hers. “I have my flight already

booked to come back. I’ll be staying here for five days. And I plan to spend most of that

time in your bed. You can wait six weeks to see me again, can’t you?”

“It’s going to be the longest six weeks of my life.” They’d been inseparable for a

month and she hated the idea of living so far apart. But she tried to scare up all her

bravado. “We’ll survive, right?”

He released her and stood up taller. “No, Devon. I won’t make it that long.” He

reached into his back pocket and produced a folded sheet of white paper. “Which is

why I’ve bought you a ticket to come out to Arizona in ten days.”

“Are you serious?” She snatched the sheet from his hand and read the emailed

ticket. Her cranky mood turned sunny. “It doesn’t say a return date.”

“Nope. Figured I’d leave that up to you.”
She shoved the paper in her pocket then hooked her hands around his neck. Ben

cupped her backside, crushed her against the hard bulge in his pants. “I think you’ll like

Arizona.”

“Yeah?”
“Mm hmm. And you know what? They have reciprocity for massage licensees from

other states.”

Wynter Daniels

128

“Really?” She narrowed her gaze on him. “Sounds like you’ve been doing your

homework.” And he wanted her to think about moving with him. He was doing

everything right, everything to ensure she didn’t feel abandoned. She’d known from

that very first night, he was a man she could fall hard for.

He slid his hands up to her waist. “Any ideas about how to spend our last night

together before I leave?”

Desire flared red-hot inside her. “I can think of a few things I’d like to do. But I’ll

leave that up to you.”

He gave her a scorching kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. Releasing her lips,

he moved his attention to her neck before pulling back. “I’d like to take a bath then have

a quiet dinner here. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”
He took her hand and led her into the bathroom. Dozens of tea lights flickered from

every corner of the room. Rose petals formed a path to the tub. A bottle of champagne

chilled in a silver bucket on the ledge beside two glass flutes.

Her jaw went slack. “How did you…when…?”
He touched a finger to her lips to still her. “Just enjoy it.”
“How could I not?” She had to smile at his smug grin.
He turned on the faucet then undressed her slowly, as if he were unwrapping a

precious art object. She’d never felt so cherished. After he’d peeled off her panties, she

was about to step into the tub when someone knocked on the front door.

They stood perfectly still a moment. Another knock.
Ben held up a finger. “You get into the tub. I’ll take care of whoever that is.”
“Thanks.” She slid into the water and waited, anticipating another night of bliss.
Ben returned and locked the bathroom door.
“Who was it?” She sat higher and watched him strip off his clothes, revealing the

ripped body that gave her so much pleasure.

“A couple of Chuck’s friends.” He joined her in the tub. “Champagne?”
“You bet.”
He popped the cork then filled two glasses and handed one to her. “To the perfect

evening.” Tapping his glass to hers, he threw her a wink.

She drank, never releasing his gaze.
A noise from downstairs made her breath catch. “What was that?”
Ben shrugged. “I told you. Chuck’s friends.”
Chuck had said he was spending the night at Tony’s place. “What do you mean? Is

he here?”

He sipped his champagne then licked his lips. “Nope. They’re caterers.”

Burning Touch

129

She studied his expression but he revealed nothing. “What have you got up your

sleeve?”

Finally he broke out in a smile. “I said I had a quiet dinner planned. I didn’t say

where it was coming from. They’re preparing a gourmet vegetarian feast as we speak.”

No wonder the man had already captured a piece of her heart. And finally, she was

ready to freely give the rest.

About the Author

Wynter Daniels is the multi-published naughty alter ego of contemporary romance

author Dara Edmondson. She lives in Florida with her husband of more than twenty

years and their two nearly grown children. They are all the slaves of two very

demanding cats.

Wynter enjoyed careers in marketing and the salon industry before her wicked

prose begged to be set free. She hopes you enjoy her steamy stories.

Wynter welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

address on her

author bio page

www.ellorascave.com

Tell Us What You Think

We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at

Comments@EllorasCave.com

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning

publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer ebooks or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC

on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you

breathless.

www.ellorascave.com

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