style="font-size:15px;"> Unerringly, his gaze shifted to the eight-by-ten picture of his father hanging on the wall in his office. In the candid photo, his dad was dressed in his police uniform and Cole was standing next to him, a beaming young teenager without a care in the world. That had been years before his father had been shot in the line of duty and Cole’s entire life and future had shifted in a way that he’d never, ever expected.
Cole’s strict work ethics had been borne out of sheer preservation—for him and his younger siblings. Yet despite the burden and duties he’d accepted as his own, he’d never resented the choices he’d made. He’d like to believe that the past had made him a stronger, better man—albeit one without as great a sex life as his carefree brother.
“If you’ll remember correctly, I was left with a family to support at the age of twenty-one,” he reminded Noah. “That didn’t exactly leave a whole lot of time for play.”
The mention of their father’s death sobered Noah and softened his features. “You did a damn fine job with me and Joelle. And you’ve spent the past ten years building this investigative firm into a reputable agency. Hell, we’re all gainfully employed because of you. So maybe it’s time you put a little fun and excitement into your life and enjoy whatever comes your way.”
Cole grinned wryly. “Is that your answer to everything?”
“Most things, yeah,” Noah admitted unabashedly. “The fun balances out the stress. Wanna place a bet here and now that I live longer than you?”
“Because of all that great sex you’re having?”
Noah’s grin broadened. “I’m telling you, Cole, you really ought to give it a shot—on a regular basis, that is.”
A frustrated breath eased out of Cole. “Do you think we can get past dissecting my sex life?”
Noah smirked. “You mean your nonexistent sex life.”
“Thank you for reminding me of that. Repeatedly.”
“Hey, us guys have to stick together. You’ve spent a whole lot of years looking out for me, so I’m trying to repay the favor.”
Cole shot his brother a pointed, direct look. “Can we get back to the original discussion?”
“Sure.” Noah sat up straighter in his chair, affecting a serious demeanor. “Let’s see, you need a woman and you think I can supply one for you. Is that it?”
Cole cringed when his secretary, Melodie Turner, walked through his open office door just in time to hear Noah’s outrageous comment. Her deep brown eyes grew wide with surprise, which quickly ebbed to curiosity as her gaze slid from Noah to Cole. She studied him with a look of feminine interest that made his skin prickle and the heat of awareness settle deep in his belly.
He shook off the subtle reaction and damned Noah for putting thoughts of sex into his head. Dressed in a conservative navy dress that covered her from neck to calves, and with her hair in a neat and tidy French braid, his prim and proper secretary was the last woman to inspire lustful thoughts. Or so he’d been trying to convince himself for the past few months.
She was pretty enough in a fresh, wholesome kind of way, but she wasn’t even close to being the type of woman he’d favored since graduating from college years ago. Melodie was too sweet, innocent, and nurturing for his tastes. A quintessential good girl who looked prime for the prerequisite 2.5 kids, dog and house in the burbs. After raising his brother and sister, he wasn’t in a hurry to repeat the process with kids of his own, if at all. Cole had no desire to be tied down. He liked his freedom—to come and go as he pleased, to stay as late as he wanted at the office—the only responsibilities being those he inflicted upon himself.
If his own personal credo wasn’t enough to give him a much needed jolt of reality, then there was the important fact that he’d hired Melodie two years ago as a favor. His efficient secretary was the only child and daughter of Richard Turner, who’d been his father’s sergeant and best friend, and had become Cole’s mentor after his dad’s death. The elder man had been grateful that his little girl had accepted the position at the Sommerses’ agency and was working for a man Turner highly respected and trusted.
Cole stamped that as a mantra in his brain, certain Richard wouldn’t appreciate knowing he’d entertained a fantasy or two of peeling off those buttoned-up dresses from his daughter’s body and finally getting an eyeful of the curves he suspected hid beneath the loose material. He’d often wondered if her breasts were as full and lush, and her legs as long and sleek, as he suspected. And did she wear serviceable cotton underwear, or lacy, silky lingerie that hinted at a softer, feminine side?
His brother cleared his throat, intruding on Cole’s private musings. He jerked his gaze back to Noah, who wore a goofy grin on his face.
Cole shifted in his seat, realized he was semi-aroused, and experienced a moment of disgust. What the hell had gotten into him? Christ, maybe he did need to get laid as his brother had suggested—especially since provocative thoughts of his secretary were beginning to distract him more and more lately.
He’d left his door open because his conversation with Noah wasn’t what he’d consider a private one. Melodie had been in his office plenty of times when he’d discussed a confidential case with his brother or Joelle. Her knowledge of his clients and cases was what made her such an exceptional, proficient secretary.
Keeping that in mind, he did his best to ignore her presence as she walked across the room to his oak cabinet to put away a client file and other paperwork. He figured she would become familiar with the Russell case quickly enough. As soon as he talked to Noah, he planned to hand over the contract and initial statement he’d taken from Elena Russell, so she could type up the report for him before he began the investigative process.
Inhaling a deep breath to clear his mind, he refocused on his brother. “Let me give you the details of the case from the beginning, so you quit jumping to wrong conclusions,” Cole said meaningfully. Leaning forward, he opened the file on his desk and scanned the information he’d jotted down earlier that morning. “My client, Elena Russell, owns a shop in Pacific Heights which deals primarily in selling antique jewelry and rare collectibles she’s acquired from collectors and estate sales.”
“Pacific Heights?” Noah interrupted, then followed that up with a long, low whistle. “That’s a ritzy part of town. What’s a rich girl like her doing hiring a middle-income agency like ours?” he joked.
Cole had asked Elena the same thing, albeit a bit more tactfully. “She wanted someone outside of her social set to make sure her request for investigative services was kept as private as possible.”
“Did you tell her that’s why we’re called private investigators?” Noah drawled with amusement.
Cole rolled his eyes. “I figure if she wants to throw her money our way, who am I to question her reasons?”
“Point taken. What’s the name of the shop?” Noah asked, his own P.I. instincts kicking into gear.
“Heritage Estate Sales. Considering where the business is located, Elena has built quite an elite, wealthy client base over the years and has earned a reputation for the quality of the antiques and collectibles she sells, and for being fair, reliable and honest…until now.”
“I take it someone is trying to besmirch her reputation?”
Cole
