Sinful Desire

Ryan couldn’t blame them. He was eager to end this workday and get on his phone to sort out his new evening plans at Aria. He said goodbye to the detective and left, returning to the blanket of heat outside, where he dropped his shades over his blue eyes and scanned for the Aston Martin. The car was still there, but the blonde was gone.

Damn. He wouldn’t have minded another chance to drink her in. She would be a balm after that conversation with the detective, which had stirred up too many memories and far too many buried emotions. The past was such a thorny son-of-a-bitch. Diving back to his younger years was not a favorite hobby of his. Those days were messy and dangerous, and he wished he could leave them behind him.

He’d never been able to, though. They had dug claws into him. Grown knotty roots inside his head and his heart.

All the more reason to focus on the things that would take his mind off his obsession with the past.

Like tonight, and the chance to see the sexy blonde again. As he walked down the steps, he wondered briefly what kind of business she had at the municipal offices. One thing he was fairly certain about—she probably wasn’t talking to homicide detectives about an eighteen-year-old case.

A case he’d love to know more about. What he wouldn’t give to know what was inside John Winston’s head.





Chapter Two


Sophie knocked twice on the glass window. John looked up and flashed her a brief smile. Such a hard worker. Always had been. Always would be. He’d be burning the midnight oil tonight, either here at the station or at home.

Her brother, at thirty-three, was two years older than her, and she hadn’t been surprised to find him bent over his desk, one hand pushed through his dark blond hair, the other flipping through some papers. Probably some case he was hell-bent on solving, since that pretty much described her brother’s single-minded mission in life.

He came to the door and let her in. She’d just finished her phone call with her friend Jenna. Well, that call had then morphed into another one with her ex-husband Holden, but she always loved chatting with him, so the pair of them had kept her occupied as she’d strolled outside, gabbing with some of her favorite people.

“Hey you,” John said, and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Hey you to you,” she said, her voice bright and bubbly because she was still in a fantastic mood thanks to Mr. Green Tie. She was hoping that handsome man—wait, make that devilishly handsome, because he’d had a wicked glint in those dark blue eyes—would pick up the trail of breadcrumbs she’d left behind. The way Mr. Green Tie had looked at her on the street…she’d never felt so deliciously naked while wearing clothes. A man like that, bold enough to walk right up and talk to her…he was exactly the kind of man who would show up tonight at Aria.

The kind of man she’d never experienced.

But wanted to.

Oh, how she wanted to know what a direct, confident, and forward man was like.

Anticipation knitted a path up her spine. She barely knew the guy, had uttered all of ten words to him, but Sophie thrived on moments like this. Moments that could unspool into decadent possibility. She had a feeling about him. A good feeling. A sexy feeling.

Okay, fine. She supposed it was entirely possible he could be a serial killer or an axe murderer.

But that was highly unlikely.

And it wasn’t as if she’d stupidly invited him to a deserted house at the end of an isolated road. She’d invited him to a ballroom event at Aria that cost a pretty penny for a ticket, where security would be top-notch because the attendee list had the sort of net worth that required it. Not that money was indicative of a man’s character or date-ability, but she’d been able to tell by the cut of his pants and the silk of his tie that he would be able to afford the ticket.

The ticket was a pre-screening. A show of faith in his interest. A sign that he’d jump through the first hoop to see her.

She crossed her fingers that he’d show.

“You’re in a good mood,” John said then grabbed her arm protectively. He tipped his head to the chatter and hum of the men at the desks behind her. “And get in here. Everyone is staring at you. Don’t you own a jacket?”

She laughed with her red-lipsticked mouth wide open, and shook her head. “It’s July. It’s close to a hundred degrees outside. Why on earth would I wear a jacket?”

“Why on earth do you insist on wearing a dress everywhere you go? It doesn’t even have sleeves,” he countered as he tugged her into his office and shut the door behind him.

“Thank heavens for the lack of sleeves.” Sophie raised her chin up high. “And you never know who you might meet. I certainly don’t want to be wearing a sweat suit when I meet the future love of my life.”

“Perish the thought,” he muttered.

Her eyes widened. “I might bump into Mr. Right anywhere.”