sides. Her father was certainly thorough.
Jessica slowed as she pulled into the driveway. Her gaze flittered to the house next door, then quickly back.
She shouldn’t be obvious. She’d act casual. Like a realtor.
Duh!
She turned the ignition off and climbed out of her car.
Her gaze strayed to the medium-size dent in the fender.
She bit her bottom lip. Her pride and joy . . . injured.
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Karen Kelley
Something about her car was bad luck for her father.
Some lady had pulled out in front of him and dinged the fender. The Mustang was going in the shop tomorrow.
As she hurried to the front door, her gaze was once more drawn toward the suspects’ house. It looked peaceful enough. A well-manicured front lawn. An almost-new red Lincoln in the driveway. Obviously, they weren’t hurting financially, but nowadays if you had a few credit cards, anyone could be upper-middle class. Or, in their case, if you were stealing from other people.
A boy of about twelve rode by on his bike, and she noticed a little girl sat on the porch down the street playing with a doll. Just a typical residential neighborhood.
Except for the criminals, of course.
She fumbled in her purse for the key. After casting one more look over her shoulder, she let herself inside. Marty and Angie should arrive at any time. Leaving the door open, she entered the foyer.
The house was nice, although the smallest one on the block. It wasn’t as spectacular as some of her company’s listings, but she liked the bold, straight lines. The two-bedroom was just right for a newlywed couple.
A short staircase led to the second floor. The mahogany banister gleamed. She knew from the specs there’d be a large master suite, a smaller bedroom, a bathroom upstairs, a half bath downstairs, and a small balcony on the upper floor.
She strolled to the empty living room, stopping in front of the fireplace. As she ran her fingers across the smooth surface of the mantel, she heard someone bound up the front steps and into the hall. Jessica turned, surprise stopping her smile from completely forming.
“Conor?”
“Jessica?”
She closed her eyes. Yom-da-da-da-da. When she opened her eyes, Conor was still there.
“I’m supposed to be meeting Marty and Angie. What TEMPERATURE’S RISING
67
are you doing here?” She willed her heart to slow its frantic beat as she drank in the sight of him. What was it about this man that tugged at her senses and irritated the hell out of her, all at the same time?
“Your father gave me the case. I’ll be posing as Angie’s husband. And you?”
She drew in a deep breath to steady her warring emotions and concentrated on getting this mess straight. “Dad thought it’d be more realistic if I showed the house.” Damn, her father scammed her again. He hadn’t told her that Conor was on the case. She’d assumed Marty and Angie would be posing as the married couple.
His game wouldn’t work. She’d show the house and be out in the blink of an eye. She wouldn’t let Conor rattle her this time. Yeah, right. The man had already rattled her just by walking in the front door.
Conor Richmond was the best thing she’d ever seen . . .
and she wanted him. Even though her brain was telling her to run away as fast as she could, her body responded like a sexually starved female on Viagra for women. But then, her gut instinct told her that he’d be a fantastic lover.
Would one night spent lying in his arms be so bad?
She certainly didn’t want to have any kind of relationship or anything remotely long-term.
No, she wouldn’t break her own vow not to get involved with a cop. Besides, he probably wasn’t interested in having sex with her. Hell, he’d practically run away after only one kiss.
Odd how that bothered her. Right now, his expression showed more irritation than anything else. She wondered why he was so disinterested.
Conor grimaced as he tried to rein in his emotions.
Jessica had taken him by surprise. His glance
Mandy M. Roth, Michelle M. Pillow