Under Wraps. Joanne Rock

close she could feel the warmth of him through the thin silk of her robe. He sat forward in his seat, his sculpted shoulders leaning toward her as if he debated offering comfort. A worn gray Henley shirt stretched over the taut muscles of his arms, the sleeves shoved up to his elbows past a heavy silver watch that rested on one wrist. Wavy dark hair brushed his collar; his jaw was bristly with a five-o’clock shadow.

      She wondered what it would feel like against her skin. And damn it, why did she care? It had to be because she’d spent the past weeks thinking about Jake the Carpenter in a romantic way, building him up to be someone he wasn’t based purely on attractiveness. A stupid habit, that. Hadn’t she been burned oh so recently by a guy who was all flash and no substance?

      Although comparing Alec to Jake was sort of like weighing a cheap copy of a famous painting against the original. One was nice to look at. The other took your breath away it was so freaking magnificent.

      “When I installed the camera, I had no idea you would make yourself so comfortable in your office space. How many people work in their pajamas? Um, legally, anyway.”

      He said it without a trace of a smile, but she could swear she saw a glint of amusement in his flinty gaze.

      Defensiveness steeled her spine.

      “I thought I was alone so I refuse to be embarrassed.” Could she help it if she’d gotten in the habit of peeling off a layer as soon as she flipped the Closed sign on the business?

      It had been a damn difficult year between losing her job, losing her savings due to her ex’s crappy financial management and finding out the ex himself was the kind of superficial jerk who only cared about her worth as his personal sugar moma.

      Oh, and that was all before she found out she’d also been under suspicion for embezzlement.

      “You definitely don’t have any reason to be embarrassed.” He cracked a smile that time—the barest hint of a grin that revealed an unexpected dimple. “I thought your dance moves were great.”

      In different circumstances, she would have been totally charmed.

      But flirting with the P.I. who’d surely seen her mostly naked and who, by the way, hadn’t fully crossed her off his suspect list, didn’t strike her as a particularly wise move.

      “Thanks. But on that note, maybe I should let you take the camera and get back to your investigation.” She stood, feeling awkward and too aware of him.

      “I appreciate that.” He stood, too, topping her by several inches and filling her vision with more than his fair share of studliness. “I’d hate to lose expensive equipment to a sledgehammer.”

      He didn’t move, however. At least not right away.

      Her heartbeat quickened.

      “Jake.” Saying his name aloud felt foreign and familiar at the same time. She’d thought about him often enough since their first meeting.

      Strange that all the while he’d been feeding her daydreams, she might have been playing a role in his, too. The thought stirred desire so palpable it made her breath catch.

      “Yes?” He’d been waiting. Watching.

      Still not moving.

      “Who else has seen those surveillance tapes?” She had to know. Because while she might be able to write off Jake’s eyes following her in her most private moments, she didn’t think she could handle knowing her former employer had been reviewing the footage.

      “No one but me has seen the actual footage. I just pulled off a few stills to show some of your transactions in progress. I would never compromise your privacy any more than absolutely necessary.”

      She nodded, believing him.

      “Thank you for that, at least.” Warmth swirled through her, although why she should feel so comforted that he would keep her amateur stripteases to himself, she wasn’t quite sure. “Do you need any tools to remove the camera? I have a screwdriver somewhere.”

      Turning, she moved to retrieve it.

      “Marnie, wait.” His hand clamped lightly around her shoulder and she froze. Not that he was holding her in place. Far from it. She could have easily kept on walking.

      But it was the first time that he’d touched her for real and not just in passing—or in fantasies. The contact made her mouth turn dry and her legs felt a little shaky.

      “What is it?” Her words were breathless.

      She hoped he would interpret that as nervousness from finding out she’d been suspected of a major felony and under surveillance all in one evening. And honestly, that was part of it.

      His hand slid away now that he had her attention, but the memory of it continued to warm her shoulder like a phantom touch.

      “Would you consider answering a few questions about your work with Premiere Properties?”

      “Of course.” She resisted the urge to fan herself. Obviously, if she was so desperate for male companionship that she would continue to think about someone who had spied on her in an, er, romantic way, she needed to get out more often.

      “I’ve eliminated a lot of people.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and emerged with a paper. “My focus has narrowed to people involved with this place.”

      He handed her the folded sticky note with a half-dozen luxury resorts listed, along with highly placed individuals within those properties. Although a handful of names were still legible, only one resort wasn’t crossed out.

      “The Marquis.” She knew the property well. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

      Returning the paper to him, she took a step back in every way possible. He might as well have indicated a nest of rattlesnakes.

      “Why do you say that?” He frowned, looking at the paper again.

      “You haven’t done much homework for a guy who’s been on the case for two months, have you?” She thought about pouring herself another sip or two of champagne, then figured she’d be better off just finding the damn screwdriver so he could take his camera and go.

      She slid out from behind the coffee table to hunt through her desk.

      “On the contrary, I’ve worked my ass off. White-collar crimes like this can be filtered through so many different accounts electronically that it makes it damn difficult to trace.” He followed her to the desk, sidestepping a few items on the floor from when she’d cleared the shelves in a frightened fury. “After hiring a forensic accountant, I spent most of my time investigating you since, on first look, the money appeared to have been leaking wherever you traveled last year.”

      Her frantic culling through pens and paperclips paused.

      “You think someone wanted it to look like I was responsible?” A new fear gripped her, superceding her outrage at being secretly videotaped.

      “Yes. And when you opened this business, I wondered if you’d just found a new way to skim money from the same properties you worked with at Premiere since you continued to book trips to a lot of the same resorts.”

      “Because they’re great destinations and I know them inside and out.”

      “Including the Marquis?”

      Slamming the door shut with her knee, she rubbed her temple where a stress headache wanted to take root.

      “No. That one isn’t really—” Sighing, she began again. “It’s a unique place. Well off the beaten path just outside of scenic Saratoga, New York. Strictly for adults.”

      “It didn’t come up in my early searches, but I just figured it was one of those high-end places that doesn’t advertise.”

      “It is.” Just thinking about the things she’d seen there the last time she visited made heat crawl up her cheeks and take up residence.