Her Detective's Secret Intent

She’d meant to shop for something to wear that night. Had glanced at some outfits as she breezed through the mall, but nothing had grabbed her.

Worried about shoes—mostly that she wasn’t sure she had any that wouldn’t make her look like a frumpy old mom—she tackled her own closet, rearranging, organizing, filling another bag of things to donate to The Lemonade Stand. What the women there couldn’t use, they could sell in their thrift shop.

And why the hell had she said that about dressing nicely?

Or—she cringed—used the word adult?

Why was she going at all?

With the beginnings of a panic attack tightening her chest, she walked out to find Ethan and conjured up another job for him. He could rearrange the cupboard so all the cereal labels faced out, and the boxed dinners were all stacked together.

But her son was sound asleep on the floor in front of the couch, his glasses skewed and pressed against the bridge of his nose.

She’d worn him out.

Too bad her energy crisis was stemming from nerves and wouldn’t give in to fatigue.

Back in her bedroom, she got practical. She had a dress, one she’d purchased to wear to a fund-raiser for The Lemonade Stand—a fancy wine tasting and auction put on by Hunter Rafferty’s company, A Time of Your Life. Hunter’s wife, Julie, was the sister of Colin Fairbanks, millionaire husband to Detective Chantel Harris of the High Risk Team. The event had been held the previous Christmas at the Fairbanks mansion, hosted by Julie and Chantel together, with wine from Tanner Malone’s local winery. Tanner’s then-fifteen-year-old sister Tatum had been a resident at The Lemonade Stand for a while.

Tatum, now twenty and going to college to study public relations with a plan to work for her brother’s growing winery, had organized a play night for the children of attendees in a different wing of the mansion, with popcorn and other treats, and a host of games for them all to play with prizes for everyone.

And the dress...

It was black, tight down to midthigh and then split on the sides to just above her knees. She’d still been on an extremely tight student’s budget when she’d purchased it, and it had been the only thing at the overrun store that had been classy enough for the event, in her size, and with a price tag that wouldn’t deprive her and Ethan of lunches for a week.

The top part of the low-cut dress consisted of satin shoulder straps. Had she been smaller-busted, there would’ve been no cleavage showing. That evening she’d worn a short red satin jacket she’d found on the clearance rack at the overrun store. It was Christmastime, so it looked as if she’d picked the perfect outfit for the occasion.

Tonight, mid-April, on a date...no way was she wearing the red jacket.

But she had a black sweater, short and a blend of Lycra and wool. She’d bought it to go with the crop top she’d worn for working out in college, but who had to know that?

Which brought her back to shoes. She’d never be able to dance in the high heels she’d settled for...

She tried them on, studying herself in shorts and a T-shirt in the full-length mirror attached to the back of her bedroom door. Too sexy. Definitely.

Walking back and forth in front of the mirror, forward and backward, turning to see herself from behind, she bit her lip.

Her calves looked...attractive.

But when she walked in those shoes, her hips swayed back and forth.

Tad might notice. In fact, he might like the whole ensemble. Might want to partake of...

She shook her head. Kicked off the shoes. She’d had an erotic dream with him as the star two nights before. Probably because although they’d talked about their attraction, about being together, he’d still never even kissed her.

And she wanted him to. Badly.

It was a matter of wanting what you didn’t have, she told herself.

Great way to get a woman to want you—lead her on and then do nothing.

Tad wasn’t the type of guy who’d lead a woman on, though. Or do nothing about it if he did.

Other than Wednesday out on the trail, when would he have had a chance to kiss her? Ethan was always with them.

What if he kissed her and she messed up kissing him back? It wasn’t like she’d ever had hot sex in her life. Or been all that good at kissing. Always too closed in on herself. Feeling like a loser because she’d let her father’s issues do that to her.

She’d never been a raving beauty. And when you felt ugly, it was hard to imagine someone else finding you desirable.