Navajo Justice. Aimee Thurlo

don’t think I’m going to be taking orders from now on. Next time I’ll wear a wet suit and do whatever I please, anyway.”

      “I think I’d enjoy seeing you in a wet suit.” His slow, languorous grin made her tingle in all the wrong places.

      She threw a pillow at him. “So far you’ve been gallant—a knight in leather armor. Don’t ruin it for me.”

      He laughed. “I’m no romance hero.”

      “How would you know? Have you ever read a romance novel?” she countered smoothly.

      “Nope. You busted me there,” he said. “Well, I better go get what I need.”

      It took another half hour of work before the back door was secure. Laura helped, and nailed some of the pieces in place herself.

      “For someone who works with fantasies and fiction, you’re very helpful in the real world,” Burke commented.

      “I’ve had to be. My mother was sick most of my life and I had to take care of both of us. Money was scarce for us back then, so I learned to do a little bit of everything. Now that I own this house, that’s come in handy. I’m starting to collect some tools, and I don’t always have to call in a plumber or a handyman when I need something done.”

      Finished, Burke looked through the rear window at the garden, a place he’d run through only a short time ago without paying much attention to anything except a fleeing criminal. Just beyond the glow of the porch light, moonlight spilled over multicolored tulips and other spring flowers. A stone walkway, bordered by white flowers, glittered with specks of silver and led to the central flower bed. It astounded him that anyone could create something that dazzling in a place where the soil was basically nothing more than sand. “I’ve never met a romance author,” he said quietly, then glanced back at her. “But it actually suits my image of you.”

      Laura watched him carefully, trying to figure out what he’d meant. From his tone of voice, she was almost certain it was a compliment. But experience warned her that men often confused a romance author with a fluffette, and she wouldn’t have taken kindly to being seen in that light.

      Before she could ask him, he gestured to the wooden kitchen chairs that had survived intact, and sat across from her. “Laura, there’s something I need to explain. I’m not associated with the police. I’m a private investigator. I work for Gray Wolf Investigations.”

      She’d heard of the firm. It was a prestigious one, often mentioned in the newspaper in association with VIP cases, or with crimes they’d solved that the police had been unable to close.

      “With people breaking in and threatening you, you’ve obviously got a serious problem,” Burke continued. “With your permission, I’d like to look into this situation for you. It won’t require you hiring the agency. I’ll do it on my own time.”

      “No, I can’t accept that. I have my own financial resources. Let me hire you instead.”

      “I’ll tell you what. Let me do some preliminary work. That’s free of charge, and after that, we can talk.”

      Laura shook her head. “I know you’re giving me a chance to keep it informal and just between us, but I’m not comfortable with that. It’s a very generous offer, mind you, but the fact is I know absolutely nothing about you. I’m not even sure of your name—is Burke your surname, or, as my godmother would say, your given name?”

      “My name is Burke Silentman.”

      “I understand from living next door to the reservation, so to speak, that the Navajo people don’t like their proper names used. Do you have a nickname?”

      He smiled, pleased that she’d extended him that courtesy. “Burke is an Anglo name. I got used to having people use it when I served in the military, so it doesn’t bother me. But many of us, like me, also have secret names we never divulge. We believe that to know someone’s secret name is to have power over that person.”

      “All right. Then Burke it is.”

      “I’m very good at what I do for a living, Laura, and, from what I can see, you need help, the kind the local police can’t provide. Let me at least find out what you’re up against.”

      “Okay,” she said, blinking against the light through heavy-lidded eyes.

      “But right now you’re tired, and so am I. The house is secure. What do you say we go back to my home and call it a night?” He stood, and Wolf was instantly by his side.

      She nodded. “That’s a great idea. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

      As the three of them walked down the sidewalk to his place, Burke stayed close beside her on the street side. Although they weren’t even touching, she was acutely aware of everything about him. Moonlight spilled over him, accentuating the sculpted angles of his face. He spoke of in-consequential things, but his voice held her captivated. It was a rich, deep baritone, tailor-made for dark, midnight promises.

      Annoyed with the turn her thoughts had taken, she focused on the present. Burke was, simply put, a complication in her life—one she just didn’t need. She’d use his professional expertise and pay him and, in that way, make it clear that although she’d accepted his hospitality, she wasn’t interested in a personal relationship.

      When they entered Burke’s home, the place was silent. Careful not to wake Elena, Laura started down the hall, following Burke, who was going to get some extra blankets from the linen closet. As she reached her room, Laura crouched down to pet Wolf, who’d followed her. “Are you sleeping with me tonight?” she asked softly.

      Burke actually choked when he heard the question. His head snapped around quickly, then he saw her speaking to the dog.

      Laura saw the look on his face and realized what had happened, but before she could comment, he focused his attention on the dog.

      “Wolf, come!” he ordered, and Wolf complied instantly.

      “I wouldn’t have minded if he’d slept at the foot of the bed,” Laura said.

      “No way. He’ll sleep on his blanket in the hall and guard all of us.”

      “All right.” Laura took the blankets Burke offered her, entered the room and shut the door behind her. This room—this entire house—was Burke’s domain. She could feel him here in the furnishings he’d chosen, and in the dark, rich colors that contrasted with the light walls and ceiling. Even the very air she breathed held his unmistakable mark, making her senses come alive.

      She sat down on the edge of the bed and gathered her thoughts. This just wouldn’t do. The attraction between them was too strong and too dangerous to indulge, even a little bit.

      Burke had walked into her life and, unless she was careful, would turn her entire world upside down.

      She sighed softly. Fate had conspired against her, and instinct told her that nothing would ever be quite the same again.

      USING THE PHONE in the den, Burke called in and made his report. Handler didn’t like to be kept waiting. Burke had spoken to him when he’d gone to retrieve the wood for Laura’s back door, and asked for a trace on the license number and vehicle the intruder had used to escape. At the time, he’d promised to call back within a half hour in case Handler had tracked it down. But Burke hadn’t been able to do so until now.

      “Handler” was the code name for the owner of the agency. His identity was shrouded in secrecy, and though Burke was the most senior operative and supervised the other investigators, he’d never learned who Handler was. For what he’d been told were security reasons, Handler’s identity remained a secret, even from him.

      “So she’s with you now?” Handler asked, verifying what Burke had reported.

      “Yes, Laura Santos is here and safe for now,” he answered. Remembering the softness of her lips and the way her body had melted into his, safe was probably not the word he should have used.