LITMIR.BIZ

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we come up with. They’re the primary law enforcement investigators in this case, and we agreed to share information with them.”

      “We should concentrate on the personality profiles the feds created on Julia and Miriam.” He indicated the file on his desk. “That should help us with the operation.”

      Talia picked up the folder, but she didn’t need to open it. The report had arrived yesterday, and by now she and Aaron had memorized it. “According to this,” she said, fingering the manila edge, “Miriam probably convinced Julia to hide out in Nevada so she could sneak off and gamble.”

      “Yes, but it also states that Julia would probably be wise to her mother’s tricks.” He took the file from her. “Why don’t we start with Gamblers Anonymous and see if Julia talked her mother into attending any meetings.”

      Talia sat forward in her chair. “I’ll get a list of GA locations in Nevada.”

      “I think we should focus on the open meetings, the ones family and friends can attend. I doubt Julia would trust Miriam to go alone. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and come across Miriam and Julia at a meeting. Or the hit man,” he added.

      “So this is it,” she said. “This is our cover. We can poke around without causing any suspicion. Of course there is a privacy policy.”

      “To protect the members? We’re not going to expose anyone’s secrets. Besides, you know how people love to talk. Privacy policy or not, someone will open up about Julia and Miriam if they’ve been there.”

      “Especially if the other participants trust us. One of us can pose as a gambler, and the other can be a family member.”

      “How about spouses?” he asked, snaring her gaze.

      “Spouses?” she parroted.

      “We can take on the role of a married couple.”

      Talia forced herself to breathe. “That’s not funny, Aaron.”

      The hunger in his eyes returned. “Do I look as though I’m kidding?”

      No, she thought. He looked as though he was capable of seducing her, of making her fall in love with him all over again.

      “I don’t want to be your wife. Not anymore,” she added, memories floating too close to the surface. In spite of his ultimatum claim, there was a time when marrying him had been her agenda, the very thing she’d wanted most.

      “That’s exactly why this cover will work. Our marriage can be in trouble.” The hunger got deeper, darker, much more intense. “We can use the chemistry between us. The heat. The anger.”

      He was right. Their cover would ring true. No one, not even the hit man—if they happened to cross his path—would believe otherwise. “Then you should be the gambler. The one who screwed up our marriage.”

      “Sure. Why not? I’m good at that.” Cynicism sharpened his voice. “Just ask Jeannie. She’ll tell you what a lousy husband I was.”

      “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” At this point, she was doing her damnedest to protect herself. Talia had grown up with a house full of men, with a blue-collar father and three testosterone-pumped brothers. She was used to fighting for her rights. But battling her way out of love was a whole other ball game. “I’d rather not think about what kind of husband you were.”

      “You better get used to my lousy disposition if you’re going to be my undercover wife.” He dragged his hand through his hair, pulling a loose strand off his forehead. Aaron had sexy hair, dark and straight and unyieldingly thick.

      She frowned at him. Everything about him was sexy, right down to the slashing cheekbones that boasted his heritage. Aaron was from two nations: White Mountain Apache and the Pechanga Band of Luiseño Indians.

      He frowned at her, too. “Speaking of marriage…has Thunder mentioned his upcoming wedding to you?”

      “Yes, but it’s still in the planning stages.” Her mind drifted back to Aaron’s wedding and the woman with whom he’d exchanged vows.

      Aaron continued to scowl. “I think Thunder is going to ask me to be his best man.”

      Talia steadied her voice. “I’m not surprised. I think Carrie is going to ask me to be her maid of honor.”

      “That means we’ll be paired up at the ceremony.”

      She squared her shoulders. “I can handle it.”

      “Can you, Tai?”

      She wanted to kick him. He used to call her Tai when they were in bed, when they were kissing and touching and making each other deliriously crazy. “Of course I can.”

      “What about Danny’s party?”

      “What about it?”

      “Can you handle that, too?” He reached into the top drawer of his desk and handed her an invitation with a cartoon character on it, announcing his son’s fifth birthday, with directions to his ex-wife’s house. “Or are you going to refuse to go?”

      Although Talia didn’t respond, she wondered if Aaron’s family would be there, if he was giving her the opportunity to meet them.

      She knew it shouldn’t matter after all this time.

      But it did. Somehow it did.

      The following morning, Talia stood at the chopping block counter in her kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. Except for her shoes, the high heels she favored, she was already dressed for the office.

      The doorbell sounded and she took the hot drink with her, expecting to see her mail carrier or someone equally nonintrusive.

      But she was wrong.

      She opened the door and came face-to-face with Aaron.

      He didn’t say a word. He just gave her an eye roaming once-over.

      Talia cursed the shoes she wasn’t wearing. At five-one, she was nearly a foot shorter than her former lover. It had never bothered her when they were in bed, when she was sprawled across his lap. But when he stood tall, towering over her with that lord-and-master expression, she fought the intimidation of him being her boss.

      “What are you doing here?” she asked.

      “Getting a jump on our day.” His lips tilted in a smart-aleck smile. “Would you prefer that I came by to jump your bones?”

      Yes, Talia thought. She wanted to have sex. She wanted to make him desperate for her, then kick him to the curb, where his hundred-thousand-dollar Porsche was parked. Between the success of SPEC and the financial strength of the Pechanga Band, Aaron was sitting pretty. He divided his time between a sprawling loft in the city and a costly house on tribal land. Not that she’d been privy to his Indian home. He’d never taken her there.

      “I should sue you for sexual harassment,” she said, finally commenting on his jump-her-bones remark.

      “And I should sue you for all of my hot-blooded memories.”

      “You pursued me, Aaron.”

      “And you enjoyed every minute of it.”

      Yes, she’d enjoyed being his lover. But she hadn’t enjoyed the longing, the hope, the horrible need to be his wife.

      “I could use some coffee,” he said.

      “Then get it yourself.”

      “Thanks, I will.” He swept past her, making himself comfortable in her cozy kitchen.

      Talia followed him. She lived in a two-bedroom house from the 1930s that she’d decorated with retro furniture. She rented it because of its vintage style. The sinks were pedestal, and the doorknobs were crystal.

      Chantilly Lace, her favorite Bengal, came into the kitchen and meowed at Aaron.

      “Hey,

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