Natalie was livid. She’d come all this way on a rec-ommendation from her brother. And this is what she got. Unkept. Unshaven. A definite lowlife, she decided. Even so, there was a dangerous element lurking in his dark eyes that made her shudder. Maybe this was the kind of man she needed to find Audrey. Nevertheless, when she got her hands on her brother, she was going to hurt him bad if this was another one of his silly jokes.

She eyed the man who sat at the table pouring an-other shot of Jack Black into a glass, tossing it down his throat like water and wondered what Justin had been thinking. It wasn’t like him to steer her wrong. But this! This poor excuse for a man was supposed to be a profes-sional private eye. Instead, he looked like something the cat thought about dragging in but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

Deliberately, Johnny reached for the pack of Marl-boros lying on the table. He’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to take another drag of the nasty things but this babe was stretching him to the limit. He took his time lighting his cigarette, studying her through the blue smoke he blew out as she planted her palms on the table where he sat. She was hissing like some bad-ass alley cat. He took a deep drag just to irritate her, his lungs welcoming the nicotine it had been deprived of.

He poured another Jack and downed it, lifting a brow in inquiry. Angry. Nervy. He wondered what other qualities dear Justin’s sister possessed.

Justin had been his salvation in the old days, rescu-ing him and putting him back on his feet. For that he was grateful. Knowing he no longer wanted to practice law, Johnny became a private detective as his career al-ternative.

And now this walking dream needed his services.

She grimaced in distaste at her bad humor. All she wanted was to get across the Kansas state line. And she had miles to go. She should’ve waited until she reached Wichita and hit I-135 north. From there it was a straight shot to I-70 that would take her to Colorado. But she’d been listening to music, not paying attention to where she was going and made a wrong turn somewhere. Then she’d become hopelessly lost. The town she’d just passed through wasn’t even on her map: Climax, Kan-sas. A really dumb place for a romance novelist to get caught.

Caught for what, she wasn’t sure. Definitely not speeding. She’d been driving slow as molasses in Janu-ary, trying to get her bearings. The lay of the land, her grandmother would say.

What law of this Podunk town could she have bro-ken? Going too slow, maybe? She wasn’t even in the city limits, if you could call this dusty old place a city, she thought snidely. She eyed the cop in her side mirror as he stepped out of his car, took note of her tag number and called it in.

Not bad on the eye. A body like his could be written into her next novel. Muscles bulged from his short-sleeved shirt. His broad chest strained the front buttons. And when he leaned through his window to get some-thing out of the car she got a good look at his firm back-side. It was too bad she couldn’t afford to spend any time in this town.

Better get this over with, old girl. Time’s a wastin’.

She opened the car door and stepped out into the heat of the day, a blast of hot air smacking her in the face. Massive heat waves rolled off the black asphalt, shimmering in the air like ghostly images. She covered her eyes with her right hand to shade them from the blinding sun. Her sunglasses weren’t doing the job. Her throat felt dry and raspy, making her wish for a cold bot-tle of water to slake her thirst.

She took a moment to study the area, taking note there was nothing but dust, rock and scrub brush. She brought her attention back to the man who was just an-other irritant in a long day and her body thrummed.

Lincoln Marsh stopped his forward movement, star-ing at the vision that stepped out of the car that had been driving along at a snail’s pace. His mouth went dry. Her hair was dark, short and curly. Impatience drifted across her face. A face with unbelievable features. Arched brows formed to perfection. Eyes, thickly lashed, a mys-terious shade of green. A short pert nose that he was sure could rise in disdain. Lips, luscious and shapely, beckoning him to walk right over and have a taste. And a come-hither body that had his own body flashing spasms of heat that matched the waves rolling off the pavement.

He placed both hands on his hips, taking a moment to clear away the images that had planted themselves in his brain. He was a police officer. There was no place in his line of work for this type of thing. Judging from the way she was dressed, she could be anyone, he thought tiredly, maybe even a hooker making her way to Nevada to ply her trade in the anything-goes city of Las Vegas. He knew he was being unfair, judging her simply be-cause he was irritated at the day he’d had and she was the closest person to take out his aggravation on.

He gave her one last thorough examination from head to toe.