bare feet pad their way across the parquet floor to Victor’s kitchen. The interloper’s generous curves clearly swayed beneath the bathrobe, highlighting the woman’s lack of undergarments.
Humiliation burned Amanda’s eyes then singed its way through the rest of her. If not for the sudden sensation of Mr. Necktie’s bracing touch at her back, she might have whipped her secret weapon across the room straight into the woman’s sashaying butt.
Her elevator companion leaned close to whisper in Amanda’s ear. “Maybe you should come back later.” He nudged her slightly, unaware her feet were frozen to the floor.
Amanda’s good-girl instincts might have won out. She might have turned and walked away from what would no doubt be an ugly scene if two-timing Victor hadn’t stepped into the hallway at that moment.
“Who is it, babe—” he started before halting in his equally barefoot tracks to gape at Amanda.
How could she have ever thought she might love this man? His precisely creased pants were fastened but his belt had not yet been buckled. A silk Armani shirt fluttered at his sides, unbuttoned to reveal a sprinkling of dark chest hair and an abdomen honed to perfection at a posh gym.
How ironic that this was the most she’d ever seen of his body.
Even when he was caught in an act that revealed the blemished nature of his soul, the man had the nerve to look like an airbrushed advertisement.
His betrayal slammed through her, reminding her that no matter how successful her designs became, she’d never truly fit in her father’s glamorous world. Once again, Amanda Matthews had been the outsider, only this time she hadn’t even been aware of it—until now.
Her inner fury sprung to life and effectively un-froze her from her shock. That had paralyzed her. Her feet flew in Victor’s direction. “You no-good, lying bastard—”
Blue Eyes slid in between her and her target. “Maybe we’d all better sit down here and sort this out.” He gripped Amanda by the shoulders, his unwavering gaze fixed on her alone.
Rage burned through her, seeking any target in her path, even an undeserving one. She spewed some of that hurt anger onto Mr. Necktie.
“Who the hell are you?” Amanda’s words mirrored Victor’s.
Blue Eyes withdrew a small leather case from his coat pocket and flashed a shiny badge in both of their directions. His eyes remained on Amanda, however. “Detective Duke Rawlins, NYPD, at your service.”
A cop?
She’d been fighting an attraction to a cop? Amanda’s anger ebbed just a little as a wave of fear took its place. In the background she heard Victor and his trollop both start talking at once, but all Amanda could think about was getting hauled off to jail. The detective had followed her into the building and right into Victor’s apartment. Obviously she had more trouble on her hands than a lying, cheating boyfriend.
Had she committed some violation of the indecent exposure code? Had that gust of wind revealed more than she’d realized? What if he frisked her? Or heaven forbid, searched her? A strip search wouldn’t play out well at all. She tugged her coat tie tighter.
And if she got booked as a common flasher… Amanda didn’t think she’d survive the embarrassment. Her father provided more than enough Matthews family gossip for the tabloids. Her recent accolades as an up-and-coming designer in her own right would be meaningless in light of such a scandal.
Detective Rawlins pointed toward the couch. His whole demeanor had changed. The cheeky grins from the elevator had vanished. He seemed utterly at ease taking command of the room. “Ladies, I’m going to need both of you to take a seat for questioning while I take care of Mr. Gallagher.”
Cindy harrumphed her way over to the couch, no longer flirting with Blue Eyes now that she knew his identity. The woman glared at Amanda, as if the morning’s events were somehow her fault. Amanda ignored her, too worried about how she would explain jail time to her father to let Victor’s other girlfriend rattle her. Amanda carefully seated herself in a wingback chair, making sure her coat remained plastered to her thighs.
Detective Rawlins walked around the living room, his gaze seeming to absorb every detail of Victor’s sparsely decorated apartment. “Vic, you’re already looking at three to ten for helping your drug importer friends. If you start talking to me about your business partners, maybe I won’t call the IRS about all your undeclared income.”
Relief poured through Amanda as the cop read Victor his rights and arrested him on a string of charges Amanda didn’t really understand. What was criminal facilitation anyway?
All she could think about was maybe she wouldn’t face flasher charges now.
Amanda whispered a quick prayer of thanksgiving that she wasn’t going to jail. All she had to do was keep her coat firmly cinched, answer the detective’s questions, and not allow his sexy smile to unnerve her again.
Then with any luck, she could limp out of here in her fuchsia heels and go back to her safe—but respectable—existence.
2
DUKE SAVED AMANDA Matthews for last.
Not because she looked like a fifties movie star in her pink shoes and Grace Kelly hairdo. He was too professional to base his work decisions on personal lust. Besides, he knew society types were out of his league.
Instead, Duke kept Amanda waiting past noon because of her infamous last name. He thought she could be the key to important information for his case and it might help loosen her lips to let her worry a bit.
The notion teased his sex-starved senses.
Poor choice of pImages**.
Duke looked around Victor Gallagher’s apartment in an attempt to pull himself together. His thoughts—and his eyes—had strayed to the curvaceous knockout seated primly in a leather wingback chair all morning. Now, he forced himself to run through a mental checklist of police procedure to be sure every facet of the search, questioning and arrest had unfolded according to regulation.
Duke’s partner had taken a rare sick day today, forcing Duke to be all the more thorough. The last thing he needed was for Gallagher to walk on some bogus technicality and blow this case for him.
Clyde Matthews’s fabric supplier would be the first of many arrests in the Garment District in the next few weeks if Duke’s case progressed as planned. Duke had worked for eight months gathering evidence of shady dealings in the fashion world, and starting today, he would reap the unique satisfaction of restoring justice in his backyard. Not only would he clean up the tenth precinct considerably, he would also be up for a promotion to Detective, First Grade.
Another bad guy behind bars. Another proverbial star on Duke’s chest. His granddad would be proud.
Only two uniformed officers remained on the scene collecting and labeling evidence from the search. Gallagher had been carted off nearly an hour ago, and Duke had just dismissed the gold-digging tart who’d been wearing the bathrobe.
He couldn’t put off questioning Amanda any longer.
She looked more vulnerable in person than in her file photo. Her fingers twisted white-knuckled
