“These books need to be decoded, and you need your strength to do it.”
“So I can prove my aunt guilty of prostitution and lose my business in the process?” she asked.
Kayla might have been ambivalent about putting her dreams on hold for the sake of the business, but she refused to damage her aunt’s reputation to get her life back. Aunt Charlene had been the only person other than Catherine who understood Kayla and all her emotional insecurities—because she’d suffered much of them herself. Kayla had no intention of betraying her in the worst possible way.
“So we can exonerate her and save Charmed!’s reputation through you.” He glanced down at the first book she’d found with any discrepancy. “This dates back eight months. But Charmed! had been in business for a little over fifteen years.”
She nodded.
“Your aunt married your uncle a little under a year ago and took him in as a partner almost immediately.”
She didn’t question his knowledge. “Yes.” Kayla did the math. “The date on the first book coincides with Charles Bishop’s entry into the escort business.” She heard her voice rising in pitch. “Which gives him opportunity.”
“Do you have a reason to suspect the man of anything?”
She shook her head. “Nothing more than sweeping Aunt Charlene off her feet. But the names in these books began around the time he joined the business.”
“Which makes him an equal suspect.” Kane grasped her hand.
He obviously sought to reassure her, but tremors of awareness acted to arouse her instead. He had no right to be so distracting when so much was at stake. “You may have to face the fact that your aunt wasn’t an innocent victim,” he said.
She shook her head. “Not without concrete, irrefutable proof.” The kind of proof she intended to get. She didn’t want to believe her aunt’s husband had betrayed the
woman he claimed to love, but better her uncle be found guilty than her aunt. Kayla believed in Charlene.
Kane nodded. “Okay then. We have our work cut out for us.”
“We? Does that mean you believe me?”
“Yes.”
One little word with a wealth of meaning. She glanced at him for confirmation and found it in the warm blue of his eyes.
“Kayla…” He held his gaze steady with hers. “I believe your faith in your aunt is unshakeable unless we find out otherwise. But I have to reserve judgment until the facts are in.”
Kane the cop, Kayla thought. And that was okay. Because hidden in all that qualification was one unmistakable fact: he believed in her. No one other than Catherine or Aunt Charlene ever had.
She didn’t think. One minute she was standing beside him and the next she’d wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you.” She molded her body against his, trying to tell herself it was gratitude. She knew better.
His hands snaked around her waist. If he wanted to push her away, now was the moment, she thought. His grip tightened. The masculine groan and the unmistakable hardness pressing against her told her he wasn’t going anywhere, at least for now.
Another second’s thought and he might back off emotionally. Kayla recognized her one opportunity to reach inside Kane and make him hers. To do it, she’d have to dig deep inside herself, as well. Take the ultimate risk and defy every principle by which she’d lived so far. She took two steps back. With trembling hands, she reached for the hem of her shirt. She drew it over her head and tossed the garment onto the floor.
Chapter Seven
Kane took in the vision before him and tried to catch his breath.
Sunlight came in broken waves through the window blinds, bracketing Kayla’s incredible body in a blazing glow of light and warmth. She inhaled and her hands shook as she clasped them before her. “Aren’t you going to say something?” she asked softly. “Do…something?”
He was no saint. He never had been. Faced with Kayla’s offering, he couldn’t say no. Her body was too temmpting, her curves too full, her heart too big. He couldn’t turn her away.
“Kane?” Even as she asked, she was reaching upward, wrapping her arms around her shoulders to cover herself. From him.
He muttered a savage curse, grabbing her arms before she blocked his view, pulling her against his straining body. He held her hands against her sides and looked down at the gift he’d been given, if only for one more night.
He traced the black marks on her throat with his hands. “This never should have happened.”
“It’s not your—”