the place to cause a scene.”
A wry smile curled up one corner of his mouth. “You call this a scene? I just want to talk to you.”
“Not here,” she insisted.
“Then where? I’m free all day,” he said.
“I’d rather not talk about it at all,” she told him. “We both know it was a huge mistake. So let’s just forget it ever happened.”
“Not an option.” He leaned forward, planting both hands on her desk, a flash of fire in his brown eyes. “Some guy walked into my life and pretended he was me. Now I want to know why and, like it or not, you’re my only connection to him.”
He was so close she could see flecks of gold in his brown eyes and the tiny scar near the corner of his mouth. The same mouth that had tasted her lips. Her breasts. The tender skin inside her thighs. For a moment, Josie found it hard to breathe. “The Adam Delaney that I know would never do anything like that.”
“Prove it.”
She stood up, ready to do battle. This man seemed to bring out the passion in her—a reaction she didn’t like one bit. “I don’t have to prove anything to you!”
“Then I guess you leave me with no option but to go to the police.”
“The police,” she echoed, certain she’d heard him wrong.
He gave a slow nod. “I’d rather not, because they’re going to want to know every detail about what happened between us. How you broke into my apartment in the middle of the night…”
“I had a key,” she protested.
“How you took all your clothes off before climbing into my bed,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “How you even brought a condom with you…”
“All right,” she cried, cutting him off, “I’ll meet with you. Just tell me where and when.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost noon. Why don’t we meet for lunch at Spagli’s on Bannock Street? That’s not too far from here.”
Josie had no appetite, but better to get it over with as soon as possible. “Fine. I’ll see you there.”
He smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Her fists clenched as she watched him leave. How dare he threaten to expose the most embarrassing moment of her life. She hated the fact that he had that kind of power over her—and hated even more that he seemed to enjoy it.
Josie had been tempted to go the police herself when he’d claimed he was Adam Delaney. The only thing that had stopped her was the very reason he’d cited. She’d be forced to tell them everything about the night she’d spent in his arms and she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Besides, she wanted to talk to Adam first. Her Adam. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this mess. Something she had yet to find in her research. She had yet to find her boyfriend, too, and that bothered her.
Josie sat back down at her desk, hating the way that her life was spinning out of control, just like it had when her father had been arrested. Only she’d been a child then, and now she was an adult. Perfectly capable of handling this or any other situation.
She took a deep breath, then another, aware of the quiet whispers of the staff at the front desk. How much had they overheard? Josie had never raised her voice at work before, even when dealing with the most irritating of library patrons. She had always prided herself on her self-control.
Now this man who called himself Adam Delaney had made her lose that control. Not once, but twice. The first time had been Saturday night, when she’d come completely undone in his arms. Then today, when he’d threatened to expose their illicit night together.
Josie didn’t intend to let it happen again.
3
ADAM SAT AT A CORNER table in Spagli’s, wondering which woman would show up—his dream girl or that hermetically sealed dragon at the library. He almost hadn’t recognized her. She’d contained her wild side beneath a tidy hairstyle and a shapeless suit. Her attitude had undergone a radical change, too.
Which was fine with him. He didn’t need to complicate this mess by lusting after his impostor’s girlfriend. A woman by the name of Josephine Sinclair, according to the nameplate he’d seen on her desk.
Adam leaned back in his chair, oblivious to the diners around him. He’d never made love to a woman named Josephine before. Hell, he’d never met a woman like Josephine before, prickly on the outside, but peel off those layers and there was a warm and willing woman underneath.
Not that he intended to do any more peeling. At least not until he knew all the facts. It was entirely possible that Josephine was in on this scam. Maybe that night in his bed had been a setup. He’d volunteered enough hours at the legal-aid office in college to make him consider the situation from every angle.
Yet, he couldn’t deny the horrified shock he’d seen on her face Sunday morning. Or the words she’d uttered that had hurt him more than he wanted to admit. There’s been a horrible mistake.
Adam didn’t believe in mistakes. His philosophy was that every day was an adventure and damn the consequences. Making love to Josephine Sinclair had been one of the most thrilling adventures he’d had in a very long time.
Too bad she didn’t see it that way.
When she arrived at the restaurant, Adam reminded himself that she might not be as innocent as she appeared. He watched her walk toward the table, trying to assess her the same way he used to look over accused felons who came to legal aid looking for assistance. Most of them had been guilty of their crimes, but a few could pull off the innocent act.
Josephine Sinclair had it down pat. She walked briskly toward him with her head held high, a flush of indignation on her cheeks. She clutched a gray leather purse in her hand that matched her gray suit. He decided he liked her much better wearing nothing at all.
His gaze fell to the sway of her hips and those long legs beneath her gray skirt. The same legs that had wrapped around him Saturday night, flexing against his hips and thighs as she rode him. His groin tightened at the memory, making it somewhat uncomfortable for him to stand up to meet her.
“Right on time,” he said, leaning over to pull out her chair.
“Let’s just get this over with.” She sat down, pushing away the menu in front of her.
Despite her impatience, Adam intended to take his time—just like he’d done Saturday night. “Shall we order a glass of wine first?”
She met his gaze, those beautiful green eyes filled with both intelligence and alarm. “Look, Mr.…Delaney, I don’t know what you want from me, but I don’t consider this meeting a social occasion.”
“Adam,” he said evenly.
She blinked. “What?”
“I want you to call me Adam.” He waved away
