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When he strode into the office, I jerked so hard in my chair that I knocked a towering pile of papers off my desk. The guy I was looking at was hands-down the sexiest man I’d ever seen. His dark as night hair highlighted intense blue eyes, and his scruffy facial hair accentuated a chiseled jaw that could have cut the thickest glass. Frozen in place, I continued to stare at him, my eyes drinking in a sleek, expensive suit and biceps that could have rivalled Hugh Jackman’s in
Wolverine
.

I’d seen a lot of high class clients since being hired a month ago as a receptionist at Max Weather’s Private Investigator Office on Fifth Avenue, but none of them had looked quite like this. He radiated confidence, wealth, and something else. Edge or danger, though I couldn’t really explain why.

“You seem to have dropped something.” He gave me a smile, but one unlike I’d ever seen. Something about it was sharp and suggestive, like he wasn’t talking about the papers at all. That’s when I realized my mouth was hanging open.

“Sorry.” I stood from my chair and dropped to my knees, nervously gathering the papers in my arms. My hands trembled as I picked up piece after piece, heat rushing into my cheeks. This was incredibly embarrassing. Not only had I made an idiot out of myself in front of a client but he was a particularly
hot
client. And even though I’d only just set eyes on the guy, every cell in my body yearned to impress him.

I stood with my arms wrapped around the papers, coming chest to chest with him. He stood only an inch away, so close my fingers grazed his. Heat sparked in my skin and travelled up my arm, sending my blush higher onto my cheeks.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I backed up, and he responded by taking a step closer to erase the distance I’d put between us. Gulping, I set the papers on the desk and met his eyes. They were sharp blue, like the morning sky on a cold winter’s day.

“What can I do for you?” I said in a breathy whisper.

He gave me a wide grin, and his eyes trailed down my blouse. It was a new outfit I’d picked up only yesterday after cashing my first paycheck. I’d barely had enough to cover the upcoming rent, but I’d been in desperate need of an outfit that looked semi-professional. The clothes had been pretty cheap, and the shirt didn’t fit my chest quite right—the buttons strained against the material.

“I’m in need of an investigator.” He continued to stare at my chest, and I fought the urge to reach forward and lift his chin to make him look into my eyes. But I didn’t, because a part of me didn’t want to look into his eyes again. There was something in them that left me feeling a little flustered. “This place was recommended to me. Now I see why.”

“Max is out to lunch,” I said, moving behind the desk and grabbing a notepad from the clutter. “You can wait here until he gets back, but I’m also happy to take your contact details. He can give you a call to schedule a meeting.”

The man’s lips quirked. “You don’t know who I am.”

I pressed down the front of my blouse before pretending to write something on the notepad, as if I knew exactly who he was. “Of course I do.”

He strode slowly around the desk to where I stood, and my entire body went rigid. Leaning over my shoulder, he glanced down at my blank notepad, and the scent of him filled my nose. Fresh aftershave and cigars and crisp laundry. It made my whole body yearn to shift toward him, but instead, I edged away, embarrassed that he’d caught me in my lie.

“Pierce Donovan.” He grabbed my elbow and twisted me sideways, and I gasped from surprise. “Tell me your name.”

We were so close. Too close. All I could think about was how near his lips were to my cheek. The sound of his voice filled my ears, a deep and husky tone that sent thrills through my body. I’d never been so overcome by desire for someone in my life, and I knew that’s what it was. This guy was so hot, I couldn’t think straight, and I was making an idiot out of myself in front of him. I hoped he wouldn’t tell my boss about my utter incompetence at even writing his damn name on a paper.

“Emma Berry,” I finally said.

“Write this down, Emma,” he said, wrapping his hand around my fingers where I held the pen poised above the paper. I tried to ignore his warm skin and his hot breath on my face, but it was almost impossible to concentrate with him so near. “I need Gloria Anderson followed. She should be meeting with a man this evening. I need some compromising photos of the two of them. It should be fairly straightforward.”

“Is she your wife?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Grimacing, I looked up at him, and that same smirk he’d worn during our entire exchange still donned his face.

“No, Emma,” he said. “She is most definitely not my wife.”

“Okay.” I jotted down the information while my mind began to wonder. Max Weathers tended to handle a lot of these types of cases, and it was probably why Pierce Donovan had come there in the first place. But I’d never heard of a man hiring an investigator to catch a woman’s infidelities who wasn’t his wife…I was dying to know what the deal was, but I knew I couldn’t ask. Max would kill me if I pried into the private lives of his clients. Especially a client like this, who was clearly made of money.

“Can I get your phone number so Max can call you with a quote for these services?” I asked.

“I don’t need a quote. I can afford whatever you charge.” Pierce smiled and took a step closer before dropping his voice so low that I could only hear him because his lips were brushing against my ear. “You’re hired.”

Chills swept through my body, and I swallowed hard. “Okay, great. I’ll let him know when he gets back.”

“You’ll follow her tonight,” he said. “I just want that to be clear.”

I frowned. “Max will need to confirm, but I’m sure it won’t be an issue.”

Pierce laughed, a low and rumbling sound that fit him as well as his suit did. “Max doesn’t need to confirm.
You
will be following her.”

“Me?” My eyes widened, and I took a step back. “I think you may have misunderstood. I’m not a private investigator. I’m just Max’s receptionist.”

“You’ll be working as my private investigator. You’re who I want on this case.”

My mouth dropped open, and then I clamped it shut. He couldn’t be serious. I’d never done any investigative work in my life. I’d only gotten the job because I’d majored in Criminal Law in college, and even then, all my boss wanted me to do was answer the phone.

“Max isn’t going to let—”

“You’re on the case.” He gave me a wicked smile that made my heart stutter in my chest. “It’s final.”

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