Some Kind of Hero

“What?”

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh.” She took a minute to absorb that tidbit of information. “Why are you in Mapleview?”

He hesitated.

“Are you going to evade, mislead or redirect this time?”

He smiled, and Riane felt her heart skip a beat.

“I’m thinking about how to answer without revealing any confidential information.”

She took a sip of wine, waiting.

“I’m looking for someone,” he said at last. “A potential witness to a case I’m working on.”

“Oh,” she said again. “Why couldn’t you tell me that the other night?”

His lips curved again and his eyes were dark, intense as they pinned her with a look that caused her blood to heat. “I wasn’t thinking about business when I was with you.”

It was a smooth response, and evasive. Again. She shook her head. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Joel Logan was none of her concern. As soon as he finished whatever business had brought him to town, he would be gone, out of her life forever. Except that she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that his business would somehow affect her.

“Why were you at the charity ball?”

His hesitation seemed answer enough.

“You’re looking for someone I know.”

“I’m following a lead,” he admitted.

“Is it someone who’s involved with my camp?” She sent up a silent but fervent prayer that the answer would be no. She couldn’t bear to think of anything negative impacting her camp and the children who so desperately needed it.

“It has nothing to do with your camp,” Joel assured her.

Riane wanted to believe him, but—

“I promise.” He interrupted her thoughts with his softly spoken vow. “I know I should have told you, but my interest in you seems to have taken precedence over the case I’m working on.”

“I thought your interest in me was solely as your tour guide.”

“I lied,” he said easily.

Riane lifted an eyebrow.

“Would you have agreed to spend tomorrow with me if I’d admitted I had designs on your body?”

“I can still change my mind.”

“You won’t. You’re not the type of woman who would consciously break a promise. Now you’ll just have to take your chances with me.”

“I thought it was a violation of your personal code to move in on a woman who is otherwise involved.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But you’ve convinced me that you and Stuart aren’t engaged.”

“Not officially.”

“Make up your mind, Riane.” He took a step closer, and she took an instinctive step back. It was only when she felt the heavy velvet curtains behind her that she realized she’d been retreating. She forced herself to stand her ground; she wouldn’t let him intimidate her.

“You can’t use your relationship as a shield when it suits your purpose,” Joel said, the low timbre of his voice sliding over her like a caress. “Are you engaged…or not?”

Her throat was dry, her heart pounding. Unconsciously she swept her tongue along her bottom lip to moisten it. His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered.

“No,” she admitted breathlessly.

He leaned closer, and when he spoke again she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “Then I don’t have to worry about violating my personal code, do I?”

She didn’t know what to say, how to extricate herself from the situation. She only knew that it was what she had to do. What she really wanted to do, however, was to breach the few scant inches that separated them and touch her lips to his. She wanted to—

“I have cheesecake,” Sophie said, returning with two dessert plates in hand and effectively cutting off Riane’s building fantasy in midstride. “And fresh strawberry sauce.”

Joel stepped back, and Riane exhaled slowly. She should be relieved by Sophie’s interruption, but she was unaccountably disappointed instead.

“Mr. Logan was just saying that he has to get back to his hotel,” Riane said.

“I’m sure I have time for cheesecake,” Joel countered.

Riane glared at him; Joel grinned.

And in that moment, Riane knew that he knew exactly how his almost-kiss had affected her, how much she’d wanted to experience the touch of his mouth against hers.

“Good,” Sophie said, apparently oblivious to the under-currents passing between Riane and Joel. “I’ll bring in coffee for you to have with your dessert.”

Riane couldn’t sleep, and she knew without a doubt that Joel Logan was responsible for her sudden bout of insomnia. Just as she knew it had been a mistake to invite him to come for dinner—even if it had been his suggestion rather than her own. It had been an even bigger mistake to agree to see him tomorrow.

She had so many other things she should be doing—obligations and responsibilities. She didn’t have time to play tour guide for some bored, out-of-town P.I. And she wasn’t sure she had the willpower to continue to resist the desire inside her.

With a groan of frustration, Riane pushed back the covers and commenced pacing the length of her bedroom. Pacing helped her to think, to get her thoughts in line and clear out her brain. But she knew, on some basic level, that it wasn’t her brain that was the problem. It was her heart.

She groaned again, annoyed with herself for such fanciful notions. Whatever was wrong with her had more to do with her hormones than her heart. Hormones that had been stirred by Joel Logan’s mere proximity and that continued to churn restlessly.

She sank down on the edge of her four-poster bed. Why was she so attracted to a man who was so obviously wrong for her? Was there something innately masochistic about her that she was destined to fall for men who could only break her heart?

She pushed herself to her feet again and resumed pacing. She didn’t believe in destiny, and she was not going to fall for Joel Logan. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him—what living, breathing, heterosexual woman wouldn’t be? But feeling an attraction and acting upon it were completely different things. And Riane had no intention of acting upon this insane attraction.

Besides, she was involved with Stuart. Stuart was a good man—solid, stable, dependable. After her disastrous relationship with Cameron Davis, that was all she wanted.

Then why, a nagging voice from deep in her subconscious wondered, was she feeling so unsettled? And why was she pacing the floor of her bedroom at 3:00 a.m.?