“You’re kidding.” She’d spent over thirty minutes on her hair, for some stupid reason desperate to impress this man, and now he wanted her to wear a cheap wig?
“No, I’m not.” He thrust the wig toward her. “I can’t have you going in there looking like that.”
“What do you mean? How do I look?” She took the wig, grimacing at the texture of the synthetic hair.
“You look like the woman we’re trying to find. If she really does work there, everyone is going to think you’re Ginger and our plan will backfire.”
His suggestion made total sense, yet she was still riled. Everything was always about Ginger. It had always been about Ginger, her entire life. Her twin had always overshadowed her.
She loved her sister but constantly competing with her since a young age had made her more than a little bitter.
With a sigh, Janelle dug into her purse, withdrawing a band to twist her hair into a ponytail. She tugged the wig on, pulling down the visor so she could check herself in the tiny lighted mirror.
The wig was terribly made and she had so much hair, it was tough to get it all tucked beneath it. “This sucks,” she couldn’t help but mutter as she shoved an errant strand under the fake, straight black hair.
“Here.” Blunt warm fingers grazed her cheek as he tucked another stray piece of hair beneath the wig. “That’s better.”
She sucked in a breath at his touch, her heart racing. Her gaze met his in the dim light. Her body was on fire and he’d touched her cheek. The idea of those long fingers searching her body made her want to burst into flames.
God, she was in over her head. And she wasn’t doing anything to stop it. Just looking at the man made her think of sweaty bodies tangled together. Not that she’d have sex with this guy, a policeman. Would she?
You’d get hurt. You always do. Who needs that?
Not her.
“Ready?”
His deep voice snapped her from her thoughts. Janelle nodded and they exited the car, heading toward the dark building that stood at the far end of the lot.
Another couple walked ahead of them, the man clad entirely in leather and the woman in a frothy concoction of white lace. Janelle couldn’t help but stare.
What kind of club was this anyway?
“Is this a private club?” she asked.
“No, but they don’t advertise. They don’t bother with a sign either. They’re very discreet. From what I understand, they get enough customers.”
“Does this place have a name?” She struggled to keep up with his long strides, her feet hindered yet again trying to dodge puddles in too-high heels. At least it stopped raining.
“Temptations.”
He kept walking, didn’t bother waiting for her, and she silently cursed him.
“Can’t you slow down?” She puffed out an irritated breath.
“Sorry, guess I’m eager to get in there.”
“Awfully eager to get to my sister, aren’t you?”
“I really want the man she works for,” he muttered.
“Why are you so intent on bringing down Billy Diaz? What did he ever do to you?”
He glanced at her, his eyes flaring with anger. “I can’t talk about it right now,” he said, his voice low. “Let’s get inside before it starts raining again.”
Looping his arm through hers, Nate slowed his pace as they walked up the steps that led to the double doors of the building. Her entire body tensed at having him so close and she released a slow breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.
She didn’t know how she was going to survive the night being with him. His tangy, masculine scent lingered in the air, on his skin, making her dizzy. His devastating good looks were hard not to notice. He’d probably turn a nun’s head.