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      Chapter Eight Continued

      “Hal Stuart and Maxwell Brown?” Sherri grimaced. “You know, if I get caught giving you their credit reports, I could expect a little mercy from most people, but not those two. Firing wouldn’t be enough to satisfy them. They would want blood. What could they possibly have to do with finding out who you are?”

      Martin Smith felt a twinge of guilt at misleading her but didn’t correct her. “I don’t know. It’s just a hunch.”

      “For a man who didn’t want to go out with me even once, you’re asking a lot.”

      More guilt. “It wasn’t you. I didn’t want to go out with anyone. There was just so much going on—”

      “It’s okay. I’m over it.” She fell silent, and he didn’t speak, didn’t disturb her in any way. It couldn’t be an easy decision for her. Taking a risk for someone important to you was one thing. Doing it for someone who barely qualified as an acquaintance was, as she’d said, asking a lot.

      After a while, she clasped her hands together. “I’ve liked you from the beginning, Martin. You’ve made the best of a bad situation, and you haven’t asked for help or handouts from anyone. I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for you, having no clue who you are. If you can promise me that no one will know about these—at least, no one besides Juliet…”

      “You have my word.”

      She returned to the desk, typed a series of commands into the computer, then, only moments later, presented him with the two reports. He folded them to fit into his hip pocket. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this. If there’s ever anything I can do…”

      She smiled sweetly, a little sadly. “Oh, the answers I could have come up with to an offer like that four months ago. Good luck.”

      “Thanks, Sherri. Thanks a lot.” He left the office and headed for the police department a few blocks over. Through the window in her office, he saw Juliet Crandall facing the computer. Her hair was pulled back at her nape and tied with a ribbon, and she was wearing his favorite of her dresses, the watercolor he had watched her button that first night at her house. He had helped her put it on this morning, had fulfilled one of his fantasies by buttoning the long row of small buttons himself, gliding his fingers over her skin, straying far from the task to caress and tease. Considering how easily he was aroused, she was lucky she’d gotten out of the house before noon.

      He exchanged greetings with Stone, Jack and a few of the uniformed officers before going to her office. By the time he got there, the chair was empty, the computer unattended. She was sitting on the floor in front of the file cabinets, a thick file open in her lap, her head bent over the papers. He closed the door quietly, bent and pressed a kiss to her exposed neck.

      The smile she gave him was sweet and a bit timid. She’d lain naked with him all last night without the least reticence, but today, fully clothed and in the businesslike confines of her office, she was shy. “Hi. Have a seat.”

      He ignored the chair and sat on the floor near her. “Want to have lunch?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he offered another option. “Want to go home and make mad love? Or would you rather go over Hal Stuart’s credit report?”

      “You have it?” One moment her face was alive with interest. The next she looked as if she had serious reservations. “You’re not having lunch with her? Why? Because you’re seeing her tonight?”

      “Why, darlin’, it sounds almost as if you’re jealous. Good.” She still waited for an answer, so he gave it. “No lunch, no dinner. She gave me the reports free and clear.”

      “You must have been very good.”

      “I think I was. I think maybe I was a con artist. I was definitely a liar. Telling Sherri the truth felt awfully good, as if I hadn’t done it much in the past.” He considered that a moment, then gave her a nudge. “So…what would you like to do? Lunch, sex or work?”

      She gave him a look that made

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