Con artist Victoria Denton is finally caught by private investigator Trevor Sloane who is determined she face the music for a previous swindle. Upon arrival in Granite Springs, Colorado, they find the victim dead with Vicky’s brother, and sometime accomplice, the main suspect.
Vicky and Trevor team up to find the real killer. Could it be the victim’s desperate for money brother-in-law? Or the drug and alcohol addicted nephew? Is the ex-convict gardener the culprit? Or is it someone a lot closer to the action?
Another murder ups the ante, and the two of them are next on the killer’s hit list. They must solve the crime before becoming statistics. During the investigation, the cautious Vicky and untrusting Trevor fall hard for each other. Can she convince him she’s a new person? Can he overlook her past to find the happiness he’s sought for years? And will they live long enough to find the answer?
“I can’t believe I came back. I must be going senile,” she muttered.
“I think you have a conscience.”
“I think I’m a sap.” Vicky closed her eyes, weariness stamped on her face.
A slow heat burned in the pit of his stomach, radiating outward until engulfing his body. His breath quickened, and before he stopped to think, strode toward her. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her upright into his arms. Trevor didn’t hesitate, but covered her lips with his.
The burning sensations exploded into a full blown fire. Her lips parted, and he tasted the sweetness of her tongue. His heart hammered in his ears. He tightened his arms when she moaned deep in her throat. His hand slipped beneath her sweater to caress her breast. Even through her bra, he felt the erect nipple.
Her arms snaked around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. When she let her head fall back exposing her white throat, he took advantage of the opportunity to nibble the delicate tendon to her collarbone.
She gasped, and while the temptation to throw her on the sofa was strong, he was also cognizant of where they were and of Halston just down the hall. He backed away.
Vicky stared with glazed eyes, trembling from head to foot. He wanted her—bad—but it was the wrong place and certainly the wrong time.
He ran his thumb down the line of her jaw, and then kissed her chin.
“Go to bed, Vicky. We’ll talk tomorrow.”