Temperature's Rising (2 page)

Grabbing her cell phone, she dropped her keys inside her purse and made herself comfortable on the seat, then punched in Troy’s number.

Nothing.

Dead.

Great. What was this—Friday the thirteenth? As she TEMPERATURE’S RISING

13

stood, she tossed the cell phone on the seat and slammed the door.

It only took her a couple of seconds to realize the door was locked and her keys were in her purse, which had slid to the floorboard when she sat down.

Take a deep breath
, she told herself. “Yom da-da-da-fucking-da!”

She strode back to the street front, trying to regain her composure with each step she took.
Think positive
.

Maybe John Bitters hadn’t arrived yet. He’d probably show up in a few minutes, they’d laugh about her absolutely horrendous day, she’d sell the property and make a big commission. She’d prove to her family she could do her job and do it well. She rubbed her fingers over the smooth surface of the button, twisting the other way as she sought composure, peace, and tranquility. Anything that would calm her freakin’ nerves!

Deep breaths. She inhaled, and coughed. No, bad idea.

Her throat was already getting scratchy and her eyes were watering from inhaling fumes.

Think about something peaceful. Like where she would vacation when she got her first big check. A cruise, maybe. In fact, her commission would probably be at least . . .

The imitation pearl button came loose in her hand.

Her gaze dropped to her white blouse and the amount of cleavage that showed. At the rate she was going, the damn cruise ship would blow up if she were aboard.

Her boobs were practically spilling out. She looked like a slut. Oh lord, she didn’t want to look like a slut.

When she’d gotten dressed this morning, she’d looked like a professional real estate agent: crisp, black skirt; a white blouse with little imitation pearl buttons; heels; and a tailored black jacket. She’d even combed her hair into a sleek twist. Damn, she’d looked good. And now her clothes were ripped and dirty.

14

Karen Kelley

The longer she stared at her reflection in the window, the worse it became. She finally dragged her gaze away, no longer able to look at her reflection, and walked back to the curb. No two ways about it, she looked like a slut.

If John Bitters did arrive, she’d be the last person he’d want to buy property from. He’d probably run away as fast . . .

A blue Oldsmobile pulled to the curb.

Oh, crap! Troy had told her that his brother drove a blue car. She thought he’d said Lincoln, though. Whatever. She scrubbed her hands across her watery eyes, brushed her hair behind her ears, and pasted a smile on her face. At least she hadn’t entirely blown the sale . . .

yet. He turned the engine off, opened his door, and stepped out.

Tall and dark. He fit the description she’d been given.

She smiled. Friendly, that’s how she wanted to appear.

Like they’d known each other for a while, rather than just meeting for the first time. Real Estate 101—Be their best friend.

“John?” She inwardly winced. She’d inhaled so many fumes that her voice was raspy. No time to worry about that now.
Shake it off. You’re a professional
. She walked closer, smile widening.

The man hesitated before he walked around the front of his car toward the sidewalk where she stood. Jessica gave him a quick once-over. Then went back for seconds.

Troy certainly hadn’t mentioned scrumptious, sexy, and downright delicious. Not that he would think of his brother like that.

Her gaze blazed a trail past wide shoulders and across a broad chest covered by a maroon polo shirt before her glance slid downward.

Liquid heat coursed through her veins. There was just something about a man who wore his jeans low on his hips. It was almost as if he were telling the world he TEMPERATURE’S RISING

15

didn’t really give a damn, and telling women he could fulfill their every desire.

His jeans pulled taut across nicely developed muscles as a booted foot stepped to the sidewalk. Drawing in a ragged breath, she forced her gaze back to his face, and the knowing look in his eyes.

Oops. Caught staring.

She mentally shrugged. As sexy as he was, he should be used to appreciative looks from women.

“How much?” His roughly textured words scraped across her skin, leaving a heated flush in its wake.

Her thighs trembled. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“We both know what I want.”

“Wouldn’t you like to see it first?” Did he turn a little red? She mentally shook her head. It was probably just the way the sun had hit his face.

He cleared his throat. “Why not get the trivial details out of the way? Then we can . . . concentrate on other things.”

His rich, southern drawl wrapped around her, causing a small earthquake inside her body. Three leisurely steps and he stood in front of her. Slowly, his gaze slid over her, lingering, touching, caressing.

At least six feet four inches of raw male magnetism invaded her space. She inhaled and caught the scent of his musky aftershave. Much nicer than car fumes.

Pull yourself together.
Business before pleasure. Yeah, right, at this rate she’d give him the damn property and take the payment out in trade. Okay, deep breath. Jeez, what brand of aftershave was that?
Pheromones for Men
?

She couldn’t think with him this close. Turning away, she walked a short distance down the sidewalk to clear her muddled brain.

Think about the property.

The building was nice. Not too large. Taxes were low.

16

Karen Kelley

Only single-story, but it would make a great travel agency, which is what Troy said his brother wanted.

White stone pillars gave the small, commercial building a more prestigious appearance. She bit her bottom lip.

Some of the ceiling tiles needed to be changed—water damage, but the owner had replaced the roof. A couple of the interior walls had rather large, gaping holes, though.

In fact, the inside of the building needed a major over-haul. Personally, she thought the asking price a little steep, but the facts remained: it was in a prime location, the Texas town was growing, and this district had the fastest rate of improvement.

Only one teensy-tiny problem.

The eyesore across the street. Triple X’s flashed on the marquee of what used to be an old movie theater. If that wasn’t bad enough, three scantily clad ladies had arrived a few minutes ago to stand on the corner. She grimaced.

That wasn’t good.

At least there were only three this evening. Two blondes, and she wasn’t positive, but the third hooker’s hair color looked deep purple. The one in question raised her hand and waved.

As unobtrusively as possible, Jessica motioned for them to leave. One cast her a grin and flashed a little leg.

Great. She could see her sale gurgling as it choked its way down the drain.

Oh lord, he was probably staring at them right now.

Maybe she could redirect his attention away from the
women of the night
, and focus it on the property once again.

She wheeled around.

His gaze riveted on her chest.

Well, her boobs practically thrown in his face had certainly drawn his attention.

Her hand automatically fluttered toward the next but-TEMPERATURE’S RISING

17

ton before she stopped the nervous habit from making her more exposed. She pointedly cleared her throat. He didn’t seem in any hurry to raise his head or appear a bit embarrassed at being caught staring.

“Two hundred,” she stated, ignoring the little flare of desire that swept through her, and concentrated on the matter at hand. She wanted this sale. And actually, two hundred thousand wasn’t a
bad
asking price for the land and building. She bit her bottom lip and waited for his reply.

Damn, he was cute. Why did he have to be such a distraction? Maybe they could get together after the deal was final. She inwardly smiled as naughty thoughts filled her head. She could easily picture them naked in bed, bodies pressed against each other. She sighed, wondering what he thought of her.

Conor Richmond thought the woman in front of him looked a little desperate. He wondered why she worked the streets. He figured her more for a high-priced call girl than a street hooker.

New in town, maybe? Like him?

Except she wanted to start a business. And the way she looked, it wouldn’t take her long to have a whole string of Johns begging for her favors and willing to shell out more than a couple of hundred dollars. If she cleaned up a little, that is, and bought some decent clothes. Her hose were ripped so bad she’d do better without them, and her skirt looked like she’d dug it out of the Salvation Army trash bin.

What had driven her to this way of life? Drugs? Her eyes were a little red-rimmed. She
could
be a user, although he didn’t see any track marks running up her arms.

But underneath the smudge of dirt on her face and the worn clothes, he saw a sensuous woman, and he had a 18

Karen Kelley

hell of a time keeping his gaze from straying. The amount of cleavage showing beckoned him to bury his face in her lush curves.

The view only got better. Her long, silky legs drew his attention even if her hose were shredded. They were the kind of legs made to wrap around a man. Pulling him deeper and deeper inside her hot body. Yeah, she was made for sex. The kind that got down and dirty.

A carload of boys driving by whistled and honked their horn. She looked momentarily distracted, then tossed a saucy grin in their direction as they laughed and sped down the street.

The smile transformed her face. Meant to pull an unsuspecting male into her web. He wasn’t immune to her charms any more than the next poor sucker would be. But he wasn’t her next customer, either. Sometimes he hated his job.

“Don’t you think two hundred’s a little steep?” he asked.

She wet her lips, her gaze returning to his. A temptress.

Conor inwardly groaned.

“Not for what you’ll get.”

The way she said the words, kind of husky, made him wish just for a few hours he could pretend he wasn’t a cop. Made him wish he hadn’t seen her standing on the sidewalk. And made him wish that for a moment he hadn’t thought she looked out of place and vulnerable.

Man, had he misjudged. She was a pro, all right. Her sultry eyes promised sinful delights. His gaze was drawn to her low-cut blouse when her hand moved toward the buttons . . . just as the gesture was meant to do.

His vision clouded as he remembered the way she’d walked down the sidewalk. Hell, how could he forget!

Hips swaying seductively, and the way she’d slowly turned back around so he could see what he’d be giving up if she chose to keep going. He’d burned all the way TEMPERATURE’S RISING

19

down to his boots. No, she knew exactly what she did to him.

“And what will I get for my money?” he asked, wanting her to spell it out.

Her eyes widened innocently. “Why, everything, of course.”

Sliding his hand into his pocket, he emerged with a roll of crisp, green bills. Thumbing them, he drew two out and handed them to her. She took the money—looking a little confused, he thought—but decided it was part of her act. He pocketed the rest.

“A down payment?” she asked, staring at the bills.

Figured. She knew she had him by the balls. Why not twist a little harder? Get as much of his cash as she could.

“Is that okay?” He stepped forward. So near, her scent washed over him, bathing him with erotic fantasies. She might look like she’d been sleeping in the streets, but she smelled oh-so-sweet. She raised her head. Her lips so close. So kissable. He ached to pull her into his arms and see if her mouth was as hot as it looked.

“I . . . suppose.”

Too bad.

In one swift motion, he reached behind him, drew the handcuffs from the leather case hooked to his belt, and snapped them shut over her wrists.

A damn shame he couldn’t have met her in another place. He had a gut feeling they would’ve been good together.

“Lady, you’re under arrest for solicitation.” Chapter 2

“What the hell are you doing?” Jessica demanded, glancing down at her wrists, handcuffed in front of her.

“I’m a cop . . . Officer Conor Richmond. You have the right to remain silent . . .”

Damn,
not
John, Troy’s brother. Oh hell, he’d probably thought she’d been looking for a
John
. She frowned. “I’m familiar with the Miranda Warning.”

“I just bet you are.” He finished it anyway.

Smart-ass
.

Her father had mentioned a new officer when she’d had lunch with him last Sunday. In fact, all he’d talked about was how he’d like them to meet. The name Conor Richmond sounded embarrassingly familiar.

He tugged her toward his car. The three women across the street started yelling obscenities and laughing. Great, an audience. Her brow creased. They might come in handy if she needed their help, though.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Buster.” She dug in her heels. “Just because you claim to be a cop, it doesn’t TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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make you one. You’re out of uniform, and I’ve never seen you before.” She wanted to see some identification.

He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a thin, brown wallet. Flipping it open, he flashed a badge and ID.

“Here’s your proof.”

She read the bold print under his picture. Officer Conor Richmond. The license looked legit. Okay, so this
was
the new man on the force.

When he looked at her, her pulse skipped a beat. She sighed deeply. His gaze strayed to her chest again. Her nipples tightened in response.

Too bad she’d sworn never to get involved with a cop.

If she didn’t want to be one, then she damn well didn’t want to have a relationship with one, either. But it might’ve been nice having him pressed against her. Feeling the ripple of each sinewy muscle beneath her hands as she explored his body.