in the dark.
Watch it, Lieutenant, she told herself, surprised at her sudden breathlessness. She was a new widow. She couldn’t let herself react to the first interesting man she’d met since Brian’s death. And he did look appealing, she had to admit, in the frightening way a free-roaming black panther looked alluring. What had happened to give him that tough, predatory look? she wondered.
Starting toward him, she forced herself to remember her plan to trap him into telling another lie. Derek Archer was probably a con artist out to swindle her out of her inheritance. No matter how attractive he was, the sooner she found out what he was up to, the better.
He came up to her with a half smile.
“Mrs. Wade?” He extended his hand.
Susan recognized the smooth baritone voice she’d heard on the telephone. “Yes, I’m Susan Wade.” She took his hand. It was surprisingly rough for an insurance agent. His square jaw was thrust forward, as if he expected a confrontation.
Almost without realizing it, she checked for a wedding band. He wore none. She was irritated with herself for feeling relieved.
“Thanks for coming, Mrs. Wade.” His voice, deep and sensual, seemed years younger than when she’d heard it on the phone.
He stared frankly into her eyes. When her gaze didn’t waver, he cleared his throat and glanced away.
“Excuse me for staring,” he said. “When I was in the army, I never ran into any lieutenants as attractive as you.”
Susan didn’t let herself get distracted by his compliment, despite an unexpected sense of warmth coursing through her. Salesmen were good at buttering people up. If he was working some kind of con on her, this was how he’d start.
“When were you in the army, Mr. Archer?” Her words were quick and sharp. She hoped to catch him off guard.
He took her arm, urging her toward the dining room. “After I graduated from college, I put in my six years to pay off my ROTC commitment.”
His reply was so glib, Susan suspected he’d prepared an answer to fit into whatever swindle he was planning. Not until they arrived at the table did she realize that he’d never answered her question.
ARCHER EYED SUSAN WADE, seated opposite him in the Riverfront Hotel’s Crown Room. After his months on the run, he was good at sizing people up without their knowledge.
Studying Susan, he decided a picture of her he’d clipped from the local paper didn’t do her justice. Instead of looking merely healthy and sturdy, the way she did in the newspaper, she glowed with a kind of inner vitality. Maybe it was the combination of tanned skin, golden hair and brown eyes that gave her such an earthy, vibrant quality. And, close up, she wasn’t what he’d call sturdy, not in the usual sense. Rather, his experienced eye detected a firm, well-rounded figure beneath the confines of her uniform.
Watching her, an unexpected surge of pure desire washed over him. He wanted to do more than have a meal with this woman, he realized to his chagrin. He wanted to unloosen the hair at the back of her neck so it streamed down her bare back. And he wanted to hold her tight against his naked chest while he was doing it.
Archer recognized his feelings for what they were: simple, unadulterated lust. As he studied his menu, he told himself to back off. For his plan to work, he had to keep his distance from this woman. But he couldn’t help stealing another glance, only to find her brown eyes staring back at him. She glanced down, but not before Archer caught what he thought was a gleam of interest. To his dismay, this time his body responded. Heat surged through him, tightening his muscles.
Damn. He’d have to watch his step. The last thing he wanted right now was an unwelcome attraction to Brian Wade’s widow, something that would only interfere with his need to get even with the men who’d betrayed him.
“Tell me about this policy you say my husband took out,” she said. “How much is it for?”
Her voice was low and musical, more appealing than it sounded on the phone. But her question made her appear mercenary, like he’d expect a husband-killer to sound. Yes, she might have done it, he decided, eyeing her tempting mouth with its full lower lip. Incredibly, his suspicion made her seem even more attractive, perhaps because it gave them something in common. They were quite a pair: the convicted killer and the grieving widow who might have murdered her husband. For a moment he let himself picture the two of them locked in a lusty embrace, his hands warm on her full breasts.
“It’s an accidental death or dismemberment policy for fifty thousand dollars,” he said, reluctantly letting the fantasy go. He hadn’t had a woman in months and knew the feelings were normal. But why at such an inappropriate time?
He handed her the packet of insurance papers he’d had printed, and she leafed through them.
“Industrial Indemnity doesn’t sound like the name of an insurance company that handles this type of policy,” she commented, without looking up from the page in front of her. Her lashes, several shades darker than her gold-blond hair, shadowed her high cheekbones.
He shrugged. “Our company’s been in business for more than sixty years. We started out with heavy industries where accidents were a big problem. Then, twenty years ago, we began accepting individuals. Your husband said he wanted a sound accident policy that would cover him in war or other violence connected with the military service. Industrial Indemnity is one of the few companies to offer that type of coverage.”
She skimmed through the policy. “Yes, I see the limits here in paragraph 4B.”
The waiter appeared. Susan ordered a cup of tea instead of a cocktail. Too bad. Archer had hoped to loosen her up with a few drinks.
“My husband was murdered, you know,” she said after their beverages had been served and they’d given the waiter their lunch orders. As she spoke, lines appeared on her smooth forehead, giving her a vulnerable look that made him doubt his suspicion. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure she’d killed her husband.
“Yes, I know,” he returned. “I checked to find out how he died right after I talked to you.”
She eyed him quizzically. “Then you must have gone to the newspaper office right after you called from the hotel this morning. The libary’s not open that early.”
Archer almost said yes, he’d gotten the details of Wade’s death from the Chronicle files. But something in the expectant way she was sitting, leaning toward him with her back straight and her beautiful brown eyes slightly narrowed, alerted him. Did she have a friend on the Chronicle staff ready to deny he’d been there?
He shook his head. “No, I had our research people in San Francisco look into your husband’s death.”
“And you called them from the hotel this morning?” Her musical voice held a rasp of excitement.
He adopted a tone of irascible patience. “Yes, of course. Where else would I call from?”
When Archer saw the look of triumph on her face, he knew he’d made a mistake. But what was it?
HE’D BETTER HAVE a darn good explanation, Susan thought, watching the play of emotions on his rugged, square-cut face. Why did he have to look so darn sexy? From the swath of dark curly hair falling on his forehead, to his thick brows and firm chin, he
