Like No One Else. Maureen Smith

to believe she’d worked through all her issues during the four years she’d been away from home, she knew she still had a ways to go. Her outburst of a few minutes ago was proof of that.

      Suddenly aware of Paulo’s finger still resting against her lips, Tommie jerked her head back. “Thanks for the psychoanalysis, Dr. Sanchez,” she quipped with an aloofness she didn’t feel. “Be sure to send me your bill.”

      Paulo gave her a small, knowing smile that told her he saw right through her act. As she watched, he reached out and lightly trailed a fingertip down her cheek. Her flesh tingled. Her pulse quickened.

      Striving to ignore her body’s reaction to his touch, she glared at him. “You really have a problem keeping your hands to yourself, don’t you, Detective?” she demanded. But her voice was too breathless, too husky with awareness to convincingly deliver the reprimand.

      Paulo’s gaze darkened. He shifted closer, subtly trapping her between the counter and his body.

      Her heart thudded. She found herself staring at the sensual curve of his lips and wondering, not for the first time, how they would feel against hers, how they would taste.

      As Paulo slowly lowered his dark head toward hers, her lips parted.

      A cell phone jangled loudly, startling them both.

      Frowning at the interruption, Paulo dug the phone out of his back pocket and flipped it open. “Sanchez.”

      Turning away, Tommie inhaled a shaky breath, thinking of how dangerously close she had come to letting Paulo kiss her.

      Letting? her conscience mocked. You were practically begging him to kiss you!

      Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Paulo’s expression turn grim as he listened into the phone. “I’ll be right there,” he muttered before snapping it shut and shoving it back into his pocket.

      Tommie arched a brow. “Duty calls?”

      “Yeah.” There was a trace of regret in his voice. He held her gaze for a long moment, then turned away.

      She watched as he strode around the breakfast counter to retrieve his leather jacket from the back of the bar stool he’d been sitting on. “Well, thanks for stopping by,” she said briskly. “As you can see I’m just fine, so you don’t have to check up on me anymore.”

      Paulo sent her a wry look as he shrugged into his jacket. “Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me never to darken your doorstep again?”

      Tommie couldn’t help grinning. “You said it, not me.” Grabbing her keys off the countertop, she said, “I’ll walk you downstairs. I have to lock up the building anyway.”

      As she followed him down the old stairwell, their footsteps echoed hollowly in the enclosed space, bouncing off the bare brick walls and bounding up to the skylight roof. During the daytime the stairway was flooded with natural light and warmth. At night it seemed cold and cavernous, dimly illuminated with recessed lighting that needed replacing. Getting her dance studio finished had ranked higher on Tommie’s list of priorities than having a well-lit stairwell.

      As if he’d intercepted her thoughts, Paulo, frowning at the ceiling, advised, “You should probably get those bulbs replaced soon.”

      “I know. It’s a wiring issue, so I have to call an electrician. It’s on my to-do list, along with installing a locker room for my students and getting the intercom system fixed.”

      Paulo nodded. “I’m surprised this entire building wasn’t converted into lofts. Those are really popular in this area.”

      “That’s what the previous owner intended to do when he first bought the warehouse. He wanted to divide it into four cozy lofts. He only got as far as completing the first unit before he ran into some zoning issues and abandoned the project altogether. Once the housing market crashed, the building’s odd location—not quite in the theater or warehouse district—made it difficult for him to resell without taking a huge profit loss.” Which he eventually did anyway when he sold the property to Tommie way below market value.

      “I guess you came along at the right time,” Paulo observed.

      “Most definitely,” Tommie agreed. “This building was a steal. I was able to kill two birds with one stone—I found a place to live and a place for my business.”

      “What’s the square footage?”

      “Five thousand. A bit small by warehouse standards, but more than enough to suit my needs. I would have killed for this kind of space back in New York.”

      They had reached the landing. To their right, the studio sat dark and empty.

      As Tommie followed Paulo to the main door, she said, “Seriously, though. The next time my sister asks you to check up on me, feel free to let her know you’re a busy detective with better things to do with your time than babysitting grown women.”

      Paulo stopped at the door and turned back to her. “The only problem with that,” he murmured, his eyes roaming across her face, “is that your sister never asked me to check up on you.” He paused for a moment, letting that sink in before adding, “Thanks for dinner. I’ll be seeing you around.”

      Tommie locked the door behind him and leaned against it, her pulse drumming as his parting words echoed through her mind. I’ll be seeing you around.

      Good Lord. The man could make even the most innocuous statement sound like a seductive promise. What had he meant by that? Surely he didn’t intend to show up there again, after she’d specifically told him not to?

      And what about the other thing he’d said? Did he really expect Tommie to believe that her sister hadn’t put him up to visiting her?

      She frowned.

      Only one way to find out.

      Chapter 2

      As Paulo emerged from Tommie Purnell’s building that evening and climbed into an unmarked police cruiser, his mind wasn’t on the crime scene he’d been summoned to a few minutes ago. Instead his thoughts were dominated by the woman he’d just left behind.

      Tommie Purnell was as stunningly beautiful as he remembered, with flawless brown skin, long dark hair streaked with honey, sultry dark eyes, high cheekbones, and full, lush lips. She also happened to be sexier than any woman had a right to be—five foot eight inches of voluptuous curves poured into the body of a centerfold. A walking wet dream.

      From the moment Paulo met her four years ago, he’d been ensnared by the sensuality she exuded like powerful pheromones. Everything about her, from her smoky voice to the way she moved, was primitively erotic. Dangerous.

      Every unmarried man at the wedding, and even some of the hitched ones, had wanted to fuck her. None more so than Paulo. He’d had the privilege of escorting Tommie down the aisle and holding her in his arms as they’d danced together at the reception. And he’d been the envy of every bachelor gathered in the crowd when he’d caught the garter belt, giving him the perfect excuse to run his hands up Tommie’s shapely thigh, to feel the hot silk of her skin. When he looked into her glittering eyes, he’d known that beneath her haughty facade, she had wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. But no matter how sexy she was, and no matter how powerful the attraction between them, Paulo’s gut instincts had warned him that Tommie Purnell was trouble with a capital T. And considering his track record with women, which included a brief, disastrous marriage that had ended in divorce and an affair that had resulted in unspeakable tragedy, the last thing Paulo needed in his life was to become involved with a temptress like Tommie.

      Since her arrival in town seven months ago, he’d purposely kept his distance. He knew that seeing her again would only remind him of how much he wanted her, and how completely wrong she was for him. Besides, he hadn’t come to Houston looking for romance. He’d come here in search of a fresh start, to get his life back on track.

      If only he could have stuck to his guns and stayed the