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He should have fast-forwarded past her seductive show…
Duke’s finger wavered over the forward button, urging him to do the honorable thing.
But just then Amanda’s on-screen image reached for her gown’s zipper. The blood pounded through his veins. The room’s temperature jumped at least ten degrees. Restless tension thrummed through him. Duke dropped the remote, gladly trading his eligibility for sainthood to watch that zipper slide south.
Inch by tantalizing inch her skin revealed itself to his avid stare. In his mind’s eye he inserted his hand over hers, his palm against her smooth, warm back. He could almost feel the warmth of Amanda beneath his fingers.
Finally the expanse of creamy-white flesh gave way to the shimmering silk and revealing lace of hot-pink lingerie that sent his jaw to the floor.
At that moment Duke knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d personally discovered the real Amanda Matthews.
Dear Reader,
Amanda Matthews doesn’t mean to give Duke Rawlins a private show, but when her steamy striptease video falls into the wrong man’s hands, she finds herself more exposed than she bargained for!
New York detective Duke Rawlins thinks he’s seen it all until Amanda Matthews blazes across his television screen in little more than a garter belt. Although Amanda swears she had no idea her boyfriend was a white-collar criminal, Duke is certain this uptown girl is hiding more than a penchant for naughty lingerie. He’s determined to stay close to her until he uncovers all her secrets.
If you like Silk, Lace & Videotape, you won’t want to miss my July 2002 Blaze, In Hot Pursuit. Duke’s partner, Josh, and Amanda’s best friend, Lexi, face off over a pair of handcuffs and end up very tied together. Visit me at www.JoanneRock.com to learn more about my future releases or to let me know what you think of my books. I’d love to hear from you!
Happy reading!
Joanne Rock
P.S. Don’t forget to check out the special Blaze Web site at www.tryblaze.com.
Silk, Lace & Videotape
Joanne Rock
MILLS & BOON
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To wise and wonderful Catherine Mann for reading this
book while she made yet another cross-country move.
Thank you, my friend!
And to Dean,
for always helping me to live by my own light.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
1
IN NEARLY TEN YEARS of stakeouts with the New York police force, Detective Duke Rawlins had never allowed anything to distract him from his job.
Too bad the file photo of knockout designer Amanda Matthews didn’t know that.
Duke stretched in the limited space offered by his police-issued, unmarked car. He smoothed his finger over the grainy black-and-white image stapled inside his latest case file. He needed to arrest Amanda’s drug-smuggling boyfriend this morning. Salivating over a Manhattan socialite with more mob connections than dinner invitations wasn’t about to get the job done.
Since when had Duke started going for the mob moll type anyway? No matter how long her family had been in the social register, Amanda Matthews’s father was a couturier to every mobster in the city. By the look of things, Amanda would follow right in Daddy’s footsteps.
Not that it mattered to Duke.
He slapped the file closed and tossed it across the bench seat. He’d definitely been pursuing Amanda’s boyfriend, Victor Gallagher, for too long.
So what if Amanda’s high cheekbones and pouting lips imparted a movie-star glamour Duke found damnably attractive? She would probably stroll out of Gallagher’s apartment any moment after a night of torrid sex. Maybe that little reality check would force Duke to get his mind back on his work—back on the promotion that Gallagher’s conviction would solidify.
He patted his gun and the pocket that held his badge, grateful he wasn’t the type of guy to get distracted on the job. Reaching for the car door handle, he prepared to face the key conviction in the Garment District’s drug smuggling ring. After today, Duke would gladly banish Amanda’s photo to a filing cabinet in the nether regions of the police station.
That is, if she wasn’t connected to her boyfriend’s crimes.
Duke started to step out into the late spring drizzle when a taxi pulled up to the apartment he’d been watching, the bright yellow cab a splash of color in a gray day. On instinct, Duke pulled his car door shut. From his angle across the street and down a few buildings, he had a view of both sides of the cab.
The newcomer was probably no one—just another artsy type who called this trendy area of the Lower West Side home.
