Free In Hot Pursuit by Joanne Rock Page B

out of her bed by morning.
    Because no matter how many hair-curling orgasms Josh Winger had the power to give her, Lexi wasn’t about to allow their relationship to turn into something personal.
    Handcuffs she could handle, but sharing her toothpaste was a risk she had no intention of taking.
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    J OSH WOKE to the soft whimper of a dog.
    He didn’t need to pry his eyes open to remember precisely where he was and why. Lexi’s perfume had scented all his dreams, while her wild hair had been his only blanket. But the cop in him had no choice but to investigate the canine problem.
    Sunlight had managed to permeate the blinds, providing him with his first glimpse of the bedroom he’dslept in—or rather, the apartment’s jungle headquarters.
    Tiger stripes decorated half the pillows on the chaise, while some sort of cheetah or leopard print covered the rest. Everything was faux fur or velvet, including the black lounger.
    A few feet away, a mammoth bed dominated the room, its pristine white linen coverings protected by a suspended tent of floor-length mosquito netting. Any wooden furniture was dark mahogany—the headboard, a bookshelf, a nightstand—and all of it showcased elaborate carvings.
    But the furniture and framed prints of exotic animals weren’t what held his attention. It was the walls covered with framed photos that accomplished that feat.
    There was silence from the whimpering dog for a few moments, while Josh let his eyes roam the pictures of Lexi in her charitable mode. Some photos were from glitzy events like last night’s fund-raiser; in each one Lexi was dressed to the nines. In a few, she had her arm slung around well-known actors and actresses; in others, she embraced pint-size kids sporting ball caps that only partially hid the effects of chemotherapy.
    There was obviously a lot more to this woman than he’d realized. More heart. More generosity. He touched a photo of Lexi riding on the back of someone’s wheelchair at the Special Olympics. Lexi tangoing with a woman bearing a shirt that read “I’m a Survivor.” Both women wore the pink ribbons that raised awareness for breast cancer.
    He still couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen Lexi somewhere before tonight. Maybe he’d been at one of these events? No. How could he ever have seen a woman like her and not remember?
    Josh was squinting to see the details of a photo showing Lexi in a soup kitchen wearing an oversize red T-shirt with a Christmas tree on it, when the sound of the canine whimper distracted him.
    He snuck a glance at Lexi, but she didn’t appear to hear. Last night’s dominatrix now had an innocent face, a mouth hanging half open in sleep, and a blanket of black hair covering a shapely naked body.
    When the whine came again, Josh remembered Lexi’s menagerie greeting them at the door last night. If that brood was still stuffed in the guest bedroom, they would definitely be crying by now.
    Wide awake now, Josh slid off the lounger and located his pants, all the while wondering what the protocol should be for the morning after a night of anonymous sex.
    Logic said he should just slip out the door. She was the one who’d wanted it to be impersonal, right?
    Josh slid into his pants and zipped up, then padded his way into the hallway. The other women he knew never minded him leaving without a big goodbye. But then, those women were as likely to be his beer-drinking buddies, sparring partners or weightlifting spotters.
    Those women couldn’t be more different from the femme fatale he’d spent the night with.
    Locating the front door in the living room, Josh oriented himself. Guessing the guest bedroom was theother closed door off the living area, he turned the knob.
    And found himself floored by a pack of wild dogs.
    â€œHey!” Flat on his back, he shouted at the horde of mutts in his scariest bad cop voice, but the canine crew didn’t