Free Into the Night by Janelle Denison

advantage of being cloaked in anonymity. She hadn’t given Nathan any personal information for a reason. She hadn’t checked his name on the dating scorecard as a match, and that, at least, would help her make a clean break with him.
    Wanting to avoid any morning-after awkwardness, she knew she had to slip out in the dark of night while he was sleeping. Quietly and carefully, she edged off the bed. She stepped into her underwear, picked up her shoes from the floor, and gave him one last look to tuck away for future dreams and fantasies.
    He was snoring softly, the endearing sound making her smile. The sheet was tangled around his waist, and she memorized what she could see of his hard, muscular body, the stubble on his jaw, and the roguishly long hair that had felt like silk between her fingers. Undoubtedly, he was a gorgeous, masculine work of art she was going to miss more than she cared to admit.
    Swallowing the regrets rising within her before they threatened to overwhelm her, she tiptoed out of the bedroom and made her way down the hall to the living room. She was grateful the lamp next to the couch was still on, which kept her fumbling-around to a minimum. Finding her dress in a heap on the floor, she quickly put it on, then made her way to the table in the foyer where she’d left her purse.
    She absolutely hated leaving like a thief in the night, without a good-bye or an explanation, and that thought had her reaching into her handbag for a pen and the small notepad she kept with her. Tearing off a clean sheet of paper, she wrote, Nathan, thank you for an amazing night. I had a great time. Nicole. Then she placed the note beneath his car keys, where he was certain to see it at some point tomorrow.
    She grabbed the strap of her purse, but just as she turned away, the bottom of the bag brushed across a file folder on the edge of the table and knocked it to the floor. The contents spilled out, and she whispered a curse beneath her breath at her clumsiness as she knelt down to retrieve the papers and photographs now strewn across the ground.
    She picked up a picture of a pretty, young blond girl and what appeared to be an investigative report. At first, she gave the summary an indifferent glance, but a familiar name caught her attention and made her pause and take a second, more careful look.
    Preston Sloane .
    She knew she ought to stuff the items back into the folder without another glance, but as a journalist she had a curiosity streak a mile wide. What she’d discovered made her question Nathan’s connection to a man surrounded by controversy when it came to his private life.
    Unable to ignore what she’d inadvertently found, her reporter instincts kicked in, overriding the twinge of guilt pricking her conscience. She didn’t have time to sit there and read through all the notes and reports at her leisure without the risk of him catching her, so she did the next best thing. Pushing aside the little voice in her head telling her she was straddling a fine ethical line, she pulled her BlackBerry from her purse and took close-up pictures of the contents of the file to peruse later. Within minutes she had everything back in its place and was quietly slipping out the front door.
    On the drive home, she mulled over what she’d discovered, her mind spinning with her own thoughts on Preston Sloane. Once she arrived at her apartment, she headed straight for her bedroom, closed the door, and began uploading the pictures she’d taken to her laptop. She changed into her favorite pair of short PJs, crawled into bed, and began reading the information she’d copied from Nathan’s file.
    In her opinion, and from what she knew and had heard as a reporter, Preston Sloane was as sleazy as they came. He reminded her way too much of her own experience in college, when her English professor, nearly twenty years her senior, had taken advantage of her youth.
    She was barely eighteen, a freshman, and Mark Reeves’s flirtation and