UNAUTHORIZED PASSION
Jack Fury has been watching Celeste Fortune, waiting for the right moment to coincidentally meet herand save her. But he doesnt know the sexy Celeste is an impostor! Cassie Boudreaux has been impersonating her cousin and doesnt bargain on a protector like Jack or a killer in pursuit. Now shell need Celestes entire feminine arsenal to outsmart one man and seduce another.
INTIMATE KNOWLEDGE
Penelope Moon cant believe her eyes when she sees her coma-stricken fiancé, Simon Decker, on board a passing yacht. But this Simon isnt the accountant she fell in love with. This man is tougher, strongersexier. Soon shes drawn into a deadly conspiracy. But will her heart end up as collateral damage?
Unauthorized Passion & Intimate Knowledge
Amanda Stevens
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Contents
UNAUTHORIZED PASSION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
INTIMATE KNOWLEDGE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
UNAUTHORIZED PASSION
CHAPTER ONE
JACK FURY CONSIDERED Dumpster-diving a metaphor for lifeit could be unpredictable, messy and sometimes you just couldnt get the stink off no matter how hard you tried.
But he figured it was a necessary evil, kind of like sushi and cheap beer. You held your nose, dug in, and prayed to the real God that you wouldnt spend the rest of the night praying to the porcelain god.
Hed worshipped at that altar more times than he cared to remember, but considering the day hed hadno, make that yearpuking his guts out would be a fitting way to end it.
He stomped his feet in the rubber boots hed pulled on, then surveyed the area once more before taking the plunge. It was a quiet Thursday night. He could hear traffic a few blocks over on Main Street, but in the alley behind the exclusive Mirabelle Hotel in Houstons Museum District, not a creature stirred.
Unless, of course, you counted the mosquitoes and the giant flying cockroaches for which the Bayou City was famous. There were rats around, too, Jack suspected. Big, fat, urban-dwelling rodents that didnt skitter away at the sight of a human, but stared you right in the face and dared you, dared you, to enter their private domain.
Spraying himself down with heavy-duty insect repellent, he tossed the can back in his bag. Sweat trickled down his temples as he approached the dark blue trash bins. Even after dark, the temperature hovered around ninety and the humidity had a life of its own. There was no breeze to speak of, either. Some people considered August in Houston a little like hell on earth, but they were wrong. August in Houston was hell on earth to the third power. It was what the fiery depths of Hades only wished it could be.
This was Jacks city and he loved it.
The aroma wafting from the Dumpsters? Not so much. If there was anything hed learned from his nearly ten years as a Houston cop it was that rich peoples trash did, indeed, stink.
Smelled to high heaven, he thought as he bent over the first bin and began poking around with a stick. River Oaks, the Fourth Warddidnt matter. Garbage was garbage. He hadnt minded the task so much when hed still been a cop. Back then he would have happily crawled through a mountain of refuse to find evidence that would put away a killer or a clue that might help find a missing child. Thered been times when hed been so intent on the job at hand that he hadnt even noticed the smell.
Things were different now. Looking for receipts, letters, ticket stubs, anything that would give some rich techno geek the inside track on the hot babe hed set his sights on was not exactly fulfilling work. It was downright distasteful, in fact. Little more than legal stalking, and as he sorted through the trash, Jack asked himself once more if he was really that desperate.
Overdrawn bank account? Check.
Final eviction notice? Check.
Furniture sold, car repossessed, stereo and TV pawned? Check, check and check.
Yep, he was that desperate.
His laptop was the only thing of value he had left, and he wasnt about to put that in hock. Without a computer he wouldnt be able to track the progress of the Casanova case, but then, if he didnt come up with something soon, there wasnt going to be any progress. As far as HPD was concerned, the case was closed. A suspect had been tried, convicted and was now serving consecutive life sentences in Huntsville for the brutal slaying of five women.
Jack had been one of the first detectives assigned to the task force tracking Casanovaa slick psycho who seduced his victims before killing themand hed been on the scene when the arrest had gone down. At first, he was as ecstatic as everyone else, but then certain things had started to bother him. Not all the loose ends had been tied up by the arrest, and when word got out that he was still asking questions, hed been kicked off the force for conducting an unauthorized investigation.
Just like that. No suspension, no review board, nothing. After ten years, he was out. Even the union had refused to help him because politics was politics. The mayor had agreed to back the unions demands in exchange for the police departments support of his Houston First initiative, an aggressive campaign strategy to give the city a higher profile. With an Olympic site committee coming to town, a serial killer on the loose didnt exactly fit with the image His Honor wanted to project.
Besides, the terror had finally come to an end, things were returning to normal and no one at city hall or HPD headquarters wanted a rogue cop stirring up trouble. So Jack was out.
But he wasnt finished with Casanova. Not by a long shot. He had a score to settle with a killer, and if in the meantime his own survival depended on getting the goods on some spoiled Hollywood starlet, then so be it.
Her name is Celeste Fortune, his ex-partner, Max Tripp, had told him that first day when Jack had agreed to an interview. Max had left the police department five years earlier to open his own P.I. firm. He and Jack had eventually lost touch. Then out of the blue, Max had called shortly after Jack had been fired. Max swore it was a coincidence, but Jack suspected that his ex-partner was still wired into the department, which was another reason hed taken the job. If Max had contacts on the inside, Jack wanted them.
Hed also, by that time, spent so much of his own money on the Casanova investigation that hed pretty much run out of options. Still, as Max had described the nature of his business that day, Jack had grown more and more uneasy.
You want me to stalk this woman, hed said incredulously. Is that what Im hearing?
No, of course, not. Max slid his hand down his silk tie. Im not asking you to do anything illegal. Were a legitimate business concern here.
Yeah, well, sounds to me like youre walking a fine line, Jack muttered. So maybe youd better spell it all out just so theres no misunderstanding later on.
Max nodded. Fine. Ive nothing to hide. And Im willing to do whatever it takes to get you on board. Youre one of the best investigators Ive ever worked with. We need a man with your talents around here, and if you play your cards right, you could be looking at a partnership down the road. Think about it, Jack. No more ground beef dinners. No more ten-year-old sedans that leave you stranded on the Southwest Freeway during rush hour. Maxs critical gaze swept over him. Ill even give you an advance so you can get yourself some decent clothes and a good haircut.
Or pay his back rent. Designer duds, or a roof over his head? Tough call.
Max removed a folder from a drawer and placed it on top of the desk. As I told you earlier, we have a very elite and discriminating clientele. The man who comes to us is more often than not a self-made millionaire, usually in the high tech field. Hes in his thirties or forties, extremely intelligent, reasonably attractive and physically fit. He has all the accoutrements of wealth including investment portfolios, fast cars and beautiful homes in the most desirable locations. What he doesnt have is the perfect woman.
So who does? Jack wondered.
But hes seen her. He knows who she is. Max stood and walked over to the bar to pour himself a drink. He offered one to Jack, but he declined. Scotch on an empty stomach? Asking for trouble.
Max came back to the desk and sat down. Maybe he caught a glimpse of her getting into a cab. Or maybe their eyes met across a restaurant or their shoulders brushed on a crowded elevator. The point is, he knows shes the one. But so do dozens of other guys because this woman is something special. She has class, beauty, grace. Men flock to her in droves. Attractive, successful, very often wealthy men, not unlike our client. So how does he set himself apart from the rest? How does he get her to single him out from the crowd? Thats where we come in.
Max propped his feet on the desk and folded his hands behind his head. We lay the groundwork for him. We talk to her friends, family, co-workersanyone who can give us insight into her likes and dislikes. Her hopes and dreams. Her deepest, darkest secrets. We even look up old school chums and ex-boyfriendsall handled very discreetly, of course. We find out her favorite books, her favorite restaurant, the kind of music she listens to. Then, when we have everything we need, we design a coincidental meeting between her and the client. We arrange for them to be seated next to each other at an Astros gameor at the Wortham Center, depending on her tastes. We arm our client with the right information to arouse her interest, ignite that initial spark and thenthe rest is up to him. And nature.
Its dishonest, Jack said flatly. It may not be illegal, what youre doing, but it sure as hell aint ethical.
Max picked up his drink. Think of it this way. If these two are meant to be together, all were really doing is giving fate a little nudge. But if it doesnt work out, they go their separate ways. She never has to see him again. No harm, no foul.
But what if she does want to see him again? What if she falls for him? Jack argued. Hes selling her a bill of goods by pretending to be something hes not.
Are you telling me youve never pretended to be interested in something just to get a womans attention? Max gestured with his glass. Say you meet her in a bar. You get to talking. She mentions a movie she just saw and loved. You saw the same movie and hated it. But this womanshes hot, you know? Someone youd definitely like to hook up with. Do you admit youre not into chick flicks and risk turning her off, or do you lie and say you like any film with Tom Hanks just to keep the conversation going?
Jack scowled. Thats different.
Yes, it is, Max agreed. Because this woman you meet in the baryoure not looking for anything more serious than a good time. No commitment. Just a casual relationship. Maybe even just a one-night stand. But our client is looking for the woman of his dreams. Someone with whom he can share his lifeand his money, I might add. Given all that, some might say were doing the woman a favor.
Jack still wasnt convinced, but did he really have a choice here? Offers hadnt exactly come pouring in since hed gotten the boot from the police department. In the meantime, Casanova was still out there somewhere. Without funds, Jack had no way to find him and stop him before he killed again. And he would kill again. It was only a matter of time.
He ran his hand through his hair. Tell me more about the target.
With one finger, Max shoved the folder across the desk. Take a look for yourself. Theres a picture of her inside.
Reluctantly, Jack opened the folder and removed the eight-by-ten glossy. As he studied the photographobviously a professional headshotsomething prickled along his backbone. Not nerves or even a lingering distaste over what hed been reduced to. No, his reaction was purely visceral, a physical response to the womans blatant sexuality. She practically oozed sex, from her tousled blond hair to her heavy-lidded blue eyes and her full lips that were glossed and parted and looking as if they were made to