Unleashed

But worry was all Jessie had left. As she looked around the store, she wondered how she’d be able to keep her partnership here if Wade had a right to half her income. None of this was cheap, and she was plum out of credit. She’d already extended herself to the hilt to pay rent in the city, and she knew as well as anyone that Hollywood trends left as fast as they came. She’d needed this windfall to get ahead and create a nest egg so she could reinvent herself once Beane Bags became yesterday’s news.

If Wade was entitled to half of it—

She gritted her teeth and shoved away the thought. Brushing a black felt hat with an added dose of swiftness, she considered all the things she’d do before she let that happen.

She’d burn her inventory and declare bankruptcy before she let Wade Griggs take another dime from her. And come Monday, she’d get in touch with the lawyer who would confirm her divorce and put all her worries at ease.

That would leave her only with the insurmountable task of trying to recover her and Georgia’s most sacred keepsake.

That familiar nausea broke through the anger and settled back in her stomach. They’d filled out a police report this morning, but even the patrolman who answered the call told them the chance of recovering their things was all but none. Wade had come in from out of state, and only if he were stupid enough to try to pawn the items anywhere near San Francisco would they have the slimmest opportunity to getting anything back.

She needed to know where he’d gone. She needed to somehow trace his steps since yesterday evening. In short, she needed one of those elusive miracles she never seemed to come across.

Or maybe a hero.

And as if that thought had been a summons, she looked up to catch the ring of the door and the sight of the one man who might qualify for the job.

Inspector Rick Marshall.

Straightening her stance, she felt a little flip in her chest at the vision of the only good thing that had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours. And oh, had he been good. Right now, she’d give anything to be in his bed, his hard body and her soft moves creating a symphony of orgasmic delight. It jumped her pulse just thinking about it as he snaked through the displays toward her.

Silhouetted against the sharp sunlight, he looked broader and more muscular than he had the night before, his calm, measured steps expressing that familiar, cool confidence that had attracted her at the bar. He wore a dark suit jacket in spite of the August heat. Coupled with the polarized Ray-Bans, he looked like Secret Service, or maybe FBI, that slick, dark hair, sharp, pointed nose and rigid jaw polishing off what should be the poster child for sexy, steel-bodied law enforcement.

She wondered if he had a weapon holstered under one arm. Something big and dangerous, like a shiny .44 Magnum or a dark, steely Glock.

The thought ramped up her heartbeat. She’d always had a thing for a man in uniform, and though her gut still hung heavy with worry, her mouth curved in a hopeful smile. Maybe Rick had caught wind of the police report they’d filed and had come to see if she was okay. Or maybe their encounter last night had him coming back for seconds. Either option would be a ray of sunshine on this bleary day.

“Well, if it isn’t SFPD’s finest,” she quipped, marveling over those firm set lips and the perpetual furrow in his brow. He looked so serious, like a man on a mission, and she wondered which playful move might soften those hard lines into a smile.

She had a few in her arsenal—a couple already proven successful.

But as he drew closer and pulled off his shades, she saw the ire in his eyes. He wasn’t as pleased to see her as she was him, and she quickly surmised that in her panic last night, she probably should have stopped to leave a quick note. He clearly wasn’t happy, and when he stopped to loom ominously over her, she flattened her smile and cleared her throat.

“Look, Sheriff, about last night—”

“I’m not a sheriff,” he said, hardly moving his lips.

Oh, yeah. He was angry, all right, and the cause of her quick pulse shifted from lust to annoyance.

For criminy sakes, he’d made it clear right from the start. Last night was a one-time thing. Two ships passing in the night. No expectations, no hard feelings. So the fact that he’d tracked her down simply because she hadn’t kissed him goodbye seemed pretty absurd.

“Fine, Inspector Marshall, then,” she said, gripping a hand to her hip and jutting up her chin.

She silently huffed. Oh, she so did not need this, nor did she feel obligated to explain. But having her fill of problems for one day, she offered an apology anyway.

“Look, I’m sorry for ducking out on you like that. I—”

“I just want my car back.”

His teeth were clenched tight. Those damning blue eyes bore holes through her thoughts and his words tripped her back a step.

“What?”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Tell me where I can find my car and we’ll forget the whole thing happened, Ms. Beane.” Then glancing sideways toward Georgia, he added, “Or should I say, Mrs. Griggs.”

Jessie’s jaw dropped and Georgia stepped up to her side.

“She’s not Mrs. Griggs,” Georgia defended.

He flashed her friend a cool stare. “No? I’ve got a number of aliases to choose from. How about Sugar Jessica Hawley? Jessica Griggs? Or my favorite, Sugar Beane?”

Jessie gaped. “You looked me up?”

“I pulled your prints from my bedpost.”

Heat ran up her cheeks, only half of it from the memory of how those prints ended up on his bedpost. But as this scene began to sink in, she chose to focus on the half that came from being royally ticked off.

“How dare you!”

Georgia wedged a shoulder between Jessie and Rick, stepping in as Jessie’s protector as she’d been doing for the past decade. “Do you run rap sheets on all the women you sleep with?”

“Only the ones who steal my car.”

Jessie pushed in front of Georgia, nearly toppling over Candace’s display of felt and feather hats, to press her nose close to Rick’s chest.

He was taller than she’d recalled, too, but she hadn’t let things like that intimidate her yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then let me refresh your memory.” His frown deepened and those stormy eyes turned dark as rain clouds. “My car was stolen, and the last woman I saw it with has a long list of criminal charges starting with grand theft auto and conspiracy to commit fraud.”

“Every one of those charges against me was dropped.”

“Maybe the Colbrook County police need to reopen their files.”

Jessie gasped, not knowing whether to spit or cry. Ever since she rolled out of this man’s bed twelve hours ago her life had gone from top of the hill to bottomless hell, and it seemed to be sinking farther. It was bad enough she was about to lose everything she’d worked hard for over the last year, now she was being accused of a crime?

Then a dark sense of familiarity washed through her, shoving her from a state of shock into the reality of the situation.

Oh, she’d been here before. She’d stood right in front of the law and had the same accusations thrown at her almost two years ago. Back then, she’d been ignorant and stupid, her innocence working against her and costing her everything she had.

She was smarter now.

This whole scene had Wade Griggs written all over it, and having charted these waters before, she knew exactly which mistakes she would not repeat.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she threw her shoulders back and stood firm. “If you’re accusing me of a crime, I demand to see a lawyer.”

“Yeah,” Georgia echoed, but their partner, Swan, didn’t seem to be thrilled with the idea of a fight.