Holy shit. I’m going to die. Right here, right now.

As Kelsey dragged herself out of bed the next morning, just walking was a chore. Angi had been right. Sven had located muscles she didn’t even know she had and then beaten the crap out of them. When she told him what level she usually worked out at, he bypassed the beginner stuff and went straight to the hardcore moves.

She would never laugh at that dumb apparatus again.

Kelsey suffered through work that day, finding it hard even to get out of the car, which Angi thought was hilarious. Four ibuprofen in the afternoon cut the pain considerably, though, and by the time she arrived at her apartment building later, she was actually walking upright.

Before going upstairs, Kelsey stopped to pick up her mail and saw Gloria DeVita doing the same. She still wore her uniform from her job as a desk clerk at the Pomeroy Hotel, a small, worn-around-the-edges establishment that catered to people who needed to stay in the city but couldn’t afford so much as a broom closet in the higher priced hotels. She was a small, fragile-looking woman with worry lines around her eyes and mouth that made her look older than her thirty-three years. Her long, dark hair was swept away from her face and held with a barrette at the crown of her head, but several strands had worked their way loose to fall limply along her cheeks.

“Hi, Kelsey,” Gloria said with a small smile. “Thanks for the gifts from Jamaica. Sofia and Rosa were thrilled.”

“You’re welcome.”

Gloria pulled envelopes from her mailbox with a heavy sigh.

“Tough day?” Kelsey asked.

“It’s always the same. People complain.”

“Yeah, I get a few complaints, too,” Kelsey said.

“But you arrest people. All I do is give them a room for the night.” She shook her head. "I'd do anything to get a different job. One that pays more."

Kelsey sneaked a glance to see that most of Gloria’s mail looked like bills. One was from a hospital. She was probably still paying off the expenses from Ricky’s birth.

“My cousin in Texas is going to school to be a dental assistant,” Gloria said. “That pays pretty good. But where would I get the time or the money for something like that?"

That was a very good question. If not for the rent-controlled apartment in their building Gloria once shared with her mother, she could never afford to live as nicely as she did. But even with that, she was right up to her neck in debt. Money for college on her salary would be completely out of the question.

Kelsey grabbed her mail, and they both shoved envelopes into their purses as they got on the elevator.

“So,” Kelsey said. “How’s it going with you and Eduardo?”

Gloria smiled. “Good."

Kelsey wasn’t necessarily buying that. Did Gloria even know what a good relationship was? Clearly she'd thought her relationships with her missing-in-action baby daddies were good, too, and look how those had turned out. She only hoped Eduardo wasn't going to be number three.

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“I guess maybe…four months now?”

"Do the kids like him?" Kelsey said offhandedly.

"Rosa does, but I don't know what's wrong with Sofia. Eduardo has been very nice to her, but she barely talks to him. Maybe it's just a teenager thing. I don't know."

Kelsey felt a glimmer of apprehension. Maybe where Eduardo was concerned, Sofia’s eyes were open wider than her mother's. When she'd been Sofia's age and her mother had brought a man home, it hadn’t taken her more than thirty seconds to size him up and decide he was worthless. Sofia clearly had the same instincts.

"Maybe," Kelsey said, even though she didn't believe it. "Teenagers can be tough to deal with."

“I don’t understand it,” Gloria said. “Sofia gets angry every time he comes around.”

Of course she did. After seeing two baby daddies come and go, one of whom was her own father, along with a parade of Gloria's questionable boyfriends, how could she not?

"Eduardo is helping me out,” Gloria said. "I didn't have the money for my power bill this month, and he helped me pay it. I told him I couldn't take his money, but he insisted."

“What did you say his job is at the hotel again?”

“He’s a maintenance man. He wants to get a better job, but he’s like me, I guess,” she said on a sigh. “No time or money.”

Exactly. No money, but he was paying her power bill? Where had that cash come from?

Then a weary smile crossed Gloria’s lips. “But I know that someday things will be better for both of us, you know?”

This drove Kelsey crazy. Gloria was like so many other women who were wowed by flash and cash, only to realize later there was more going on with a man than met the eye. Inevitably, those men were both controlling and volatile, and eventually bad things happened. Gloria had already hooked up with two men who fit that description. What were the chances she’d broken the pattern and found Mr. Right this time?

The elevator lurched its way to the fifth floor. They got off and walked down the hall, and Gloria stuck her key in her door.

"Gloria?" Kelsey said.

She turned around. "What?"

The words were on the tip of Kelsey's tongue. Stop messing around with questionable men and concentrate on raising your children!

"Say hi to the kids for me," she said instead, and Gloria gave her a smile and went into her apartment. As the door closed, Kelsey let out a sigh of frustration. If she ever saw solid evidence that Eduardo really was bad for Gloria and the kids, she wouldn't think twice about telling her she was making a big mistake. The trouble was that the woman probably wouldn't listen. Kelsey had learned from an early age that some people were destined to make the same mistakes over and over, and there wasn't a damned thing anyone could do about it.

She headed down the hall toward her apartment, her muscles still aching from last night's Pilates experience. She intended to take a hot shower, fall onto her sofa, and watch a couple of episodes of CSI she'd recorded last week. But as she drew closer, she was surprised to see something leaning against her door. It looked like an automatic weapon. Or it would have looked like one, if only it hadn’t been bright orange and made of plastic. She looked left and right, wondering where it had come from.

Then all at once she heard a door open behind her, and something cold and wet gushed onto her back. Gasping with surprise, she whipped around to see Brett standing in the doorway of his apartment. He held a toy gun just like the one leaning against her door. A water gun?

No. More like a water cannon.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shouted.

He pulled the trigger again, blasting water all over the front of her shirt. With a gasp of surprise, she held her arms out, staring down at her dripping shirt. She looked up again and glared at him.

“Will you stop it?”

He squirted her again.

“Brett!”

He grinned. “This is like shooting fish in a barrel. Only I’m shooting a cop in a hallway.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Don’t like it? Then I’d suggest you defend yourself.”

“You do not want to mess with me!” Kelsey growled. “I will take you out!”

“Big talk, Morrison. Let’s see some action.”

Kelsey spun around and grabbed the weapon. But by the time she turned back and took aim, Brett had run into his apartment. She had a moment's thought about her aching muscles, but she shoved it to the back of her mind. She had a mission, and she was damned well going to accomplish it.

She dashed across the hall, through his open door, and flung her shoulder bag down, looking left and right. All at once he popped up from behind his sofa and nailed her right in the face. She sputtered and swiped away the water.

Enough is enough. This is war!

She aimed and shot, but he ducked back behind the sofa, taking only a glancing hit to the shoulder with the rest of the water slamming into the window behind him. For a moment she felt bad about soaking his apartment, but hey. Who had started this stupid game? If it ended up drenched from floor to ceiling, so be it.

She retreated and crawled into his kitchen. Then she crept to the corner and peered into the living room. When he poked his head around the side of the sofa, she pulled the trigger, but he dodged the spray. Water shot past the sofa and splatted on the wall behind him. She took cover in the kitchen again, only to hear footsteps on his hardwood floor. She looked into the living room just in time to see him duck into his bedroom.

She smiled wickedly. Bad move, Hollister. Now you’re trapped.

She tiptoed to his bedroom door, flattening her back against the wall outside it, her weapon pointed toward the ceiling. He actually thought he stood a chance against her? She was the best shot in her precinct, with hair-trigger reflexes and a superior spatial skills that allowed her to move fluidly through any active crime scene and take out the bad guys.

And that meant Brett was toast.

“Hollister! Give up now! You don’t stand a chance!”

“I’ll never give up! You’ll have to come get me!”

He shouldn’t have opened his mouth. The echo of his voice told her he was in the bathroom. If he was trapped before, he was in a straitjacket now.

She whipped around the doorway and raced into the bedroom, intending to storm the bathroom and finish him off. But as she circled around his bed, her knee smacked into something, and pain rocketed through her leg.

“Ow! Crap!”

She let go of the toy gun and it clattered to the floor. Brett flew out of the bathroom, dropped his gun, and hurried over. She leaned over with her hands on her thighs, then stood up again and walked in a circled, gritting her teeth. The platform bed. She’d banged her knee on the corner of his platform bed.

So much for her superior spatial skills.

“Damn, that hurt!” she muttered.

“Stop. Let me look.”

“No,” she said, her teeth still gritted. “It's okay.”

“Sit down.”

“No. I said it’s okay.”

“Will you sit?”

She went to the foot of the bed, turned around, and sat down. Or she tried to. The ibuprofen had apparently worn off, and as she lowered herself, her abs felt as if they were on fire.

“Ow, ow, OW!” she muttered as she collapsed the final few inches onto the bed.

“Does it hurt that bad?” Brett said.

“Yes! I mean, no. Not my knee. Well, yes, my knee. But my abs. Damn.”

“Abs?”

“Pilates last night. God.”

“I hear that can be brutal.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. Why do you look for ways to torture yourself?”

“I like to work out.”

“Yeah, I can tell you’re loving it right about now.”

Actually, no, she wasn't. But no pain, no gain, right? Except for her knee. That was pain with no gain whatsoever. Her kneecap had to be turning ten shades of black and blue. Brett knelt in front of her and examined the wound from all sides. Then he did the last thing on earth she expected.

He leaned in and kissed it.

“All better?” he whispered.

Kelsey just sat there, stunned. Was all what better? Oh, yeah. Her body-maiming collision with his bed that was going to result in the bruise of the century on her knee, also known as the Place He'd Just Kissed.

This was surreal. Brett was on his knees at her feet, looking up at her expectantly. He leaned in and kissed the spot again. Then moved up her bare thigh an inch. Another kiss. Another inch. Another kiss. She shuddered with embarrassment. Pleasure. Embarrassment and pleasure. Then he rose, took her face gently in his hands, and kissed her.

“How are we doing now?” he whispered against her lips.

We? Well, she didn’t know about him, but she was feeling pretty damned hot. Then his lips were on hers again, giving her a deep, delicious kiss he clearly meant as a prelude to a whole lot more. Then he eased her down to her back on the bed and slid his hand beneath her shirt. "Shall I give those abs a kiss, too?"

Kelsey jerked herself back to a sitting position, almost smacking Brett in the face. As he leaned away with surprised, she held up her palms. “Wait! Just wait a minute!”

“What?”

“I have to think about this.”

“Uh…what is there to think about?”

“God, Brett! That’s just like you. Do you have to just jump right into everything?"

"No, I believe we already jumped in last night. Tonight we’ll just be swimming around.” He reached for her, but she shuddered away.

He sat back on his heels. “What?”

“Sit down. Right there.” She pointed to the bed beside her.

“Why?”

“Will you just do it?”

With a heavy sigh, he rose and sat next to her, thigh to thigh.

“Too close.”

He rolled his eyes and moved over until there was a good six inches between them. “So this is how you’re going to think about it?”

“Yes. With you over there.”

“Okay. Let’s hear it. What are you thinking?”

What was she thinking? That Brett was nuts? Oh, yeah. That just sitting next to him made her body temperature shoot into the stratosphere? You bet. And then there was him managing Gianelli’s and maybe even buying in. That had to be the most disorienting thing of all. That thing she did not understand. That thing that made her wonder what was behind that brilliant smile and crazy personality, and she wasn’t taking one more step into this situation until she found out.

“I heard a rumor about you today,” she said.

Brett’s eyes grew wide with trepidation. “Now, wait a minute. For the record, no matter what you hear, I did not swim in the fountain at City Hall."

She blinked. "You swam in the fountain at City Hall?"

"No! I told you I did not. Did not."

"Forget that. I’m talking about the rumor where you’re going to be running Gianelli’s.”

Brett drew back with surprise. “How did you know that? Nobody is supposed to know.”

“Paul told Angi, and Angi told me.”

Brett frowned. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“So it’s true?”

“Yeah. Jerry’s opening another restaurant, and he's promoting me to general manager. But I’d appreciate it if you kept that under your hat, even though Paul clearly hasn’t."

“I also heard you might be buying an equity stake in the company.”

“I’m working on it. Jerry’s starting to see the advantages of having a partner. It’ll free up some of his capital to make sure the new restaurant is a success. I’ve always wanted to get into the restaurant business, so I thought it would be a good investment.”

Kelsey was stunned. This was not the Brett she knew. Or, more to the point, the Brett she thought she knew.

"I’ve been saving up for years for the right opportunity," Brett said. "Now that I've finished my Master’s degree, a stake in Gianelli’s might be just the ticket. With luck, Jerry will go for it.”

Kelsey drew back. “Wait a minute. Back up. Master’s degree?”

“Sure. If I wanted to run a restaurant, a Master’s in Hotel and Restaurant Management seemed like the obvious degree to have. I need more than just my business undergrad.”

Kelsey felt like the biggest fool alive. Not for one moment had she thought he was anything other than a bartender, a good-time guy, all fun and games, a man who lived life for today and that was about it. But this…this…

“What’s the matter?” Brett asked.

“Nothing. I just…” Just what? Underestimated him in a way that positively boggled the mind?

“So you think it’s a bad move to buy into Gianelli’s?” Brett said. “If you saw the profit and loss statement, you wouldn’t say that.”

“No,” she muttered. “Of course not. Gianelli’s is obviously a gold mine. I just thought…”

A smile spread slowly across Brett’s lips. “You thought I was just a pretty face.”

“No! Of course not.”

“Oh, yeah. You thought I'd be slinging drinks the rest of my life. You thought I was an irresistible babe magnet without a brain in my head. How does it feel to have those assumptions smashed to smithereens?"

She screwed up her face. “Babe magnet? Who even says that anymore?”

Brett grinned. “Babe magnets?”

“How does it feel to have an ego the size of Wyoming?”

“Hey, all this was your assumption, not mine.”

“Oh, all right,” she muttered. “But to be fair, you never did anything to make me think anything else.”

“It's not my job to manage your expectations.”

She glared at him. “Why didn't you tell me you had a brain?”

“Because brains are boring. I wanted you to love me for my body.”

Wrong. Brains were not boring. And when you put them inside a man who looked like Brett—okay, so she had a little bit of love going on for his body, too.

“Don’t worry,” Brett said, still smiling. “I'm sure you can keep up with my vast intelligence. Boomer does.”

“I imagine Boomer has a hard time finding his own food bowl.”

“And Einstein forgot to wear socks. Doesn't mean he wasn't a genius.”

And you probably are, Kelsey thought, feeling dumber by the moment.

A calculating look came over Brett’s face. “You know, I’m thinking this intelligence thing might have some merit. It certainly seems to have gotten your attention.” He eased closer to her and stared deeply into her eyes. “Hey, babe,” he murmured, in a voice so hot it could fry an egg. “E equals…MC…squared.”

“Oh, please.”

He raised an eyebrow seductively. “Man first appeared on earth during the Cenozoic era, but fire wasn’t discovered until…” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The Neolithic era.”

Kelsey shook her head.

He traced his finger along her arm. “An irrational number," he murmured, "is any real number that can’t be expressed as a ratio a/b where a and b are integers and b is not zero."

“Brett—“

“No! Don’t stop me, baby! I want to spell for you. Antidisestablishmentarianism. A-n-t-i-d-i-s--”

“Brett!”

"Please—one more?"

Oh, hell. What was the point of protesting? She was going to get it whether she wanted it or not.

"Did you know twenty-three percent of all photocopier malfunctions are caused by people sitting on them and photocopying their asses?"

She looked at him dumbly. "And you were probably one of them."

"I will neither confirm nor deny that."

“All that math stuff. How were you able to just say all that?”

“That was from junior high. I had a Nazi for a math teacher. You wouldn’t believe the things I committed to memory.”

Kelsey shook her head with disbelief.

“Hey, I’m just an average guy with a little bit of education. The only reason it seems like a big deal to you is because it’s a big step up from the moron you thought I was.”

“I didn’t think you were a moron!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. Whatever. You stay here with Boomer and derive a new law of physics. I think I’ll go home and watch Wheel of Fortune.”

“Ah. Wheel of Fortune. It’s all about the A’s and E’s. They make up eight-point-five and eleven percent of the English language, respectively. Chances are if you pick them first—“

“Hey! Any grandma who watches Wheel of Fortune knows how to buy a vowel!”

Brett laughed, and Kelsey glared at him. “The water gun thing. It was nothing but a ploy to get me into your apartment, wasn’t it?”

“See? You are a smart girl.”

“You’re shameless,” she muttered. “And I’m drenched.”

“You’re in luck," he said, his gaze drifting down to her breasts. "I happen to love women in wet T-shirts.”

“Stop staring. I feel like I'm in one of those Girls Gone Wild videos."

"No. A wet T-shirt doesn't do it. You have to flash your boobs."

She rolled her eyes. "That's it. I'm out of here."

But before she could stand, Brett curled his hand around her breast and squeezed it gently, kissing her neck at the same time. Shudders of pure pleasure raced down her spine.

"The water guns," she said, her eyes drifting closed. "Don't you ever do anything like that again."

"Okay. How about I do this instead?"

He slid his hand beneath her shirt. With an expert flick of his fingers, he unfastened her bra. He cradled her breasts in his palms, teasing his thumbs across her nipples. It felt so good she almost forgot just how wrong it was.

“Wait. Stop.” She put her hands against his chest, breathing hard. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Not again.”

“Oh, yes, we should.”

“Brett—”

“If this is so wrong, then why can't we keep our hands off each other?”

She had no answer for that. None at all. Then again, her brain wasn’t working properly, so how could she be expected to think rationally?

Before she knew what was happening, Brett had shoved her shirt off over her head, taking her bra with it. He tossed her clothes aside, whipped off his T-shirt, then looked back at her, his gaze falling to her breasts. A look of sheer awe came over his face. “Holy shit.”

“Stop ogling.”

“Nope. If a woman gets naked in my apartment, she gives up the right not to be ogled.”

“But you got me naked.”

“Now you’re splitting hairs.”

In no time at all, he’d taken off the rest of his clothes. Then he kept his promise and kissed her abs up one side and down the other, every touch of his lips fanning the flames that were building inside her. She felt hot and wet between her legs, and when he touched her there, it felt so intense and intimate that she almost sprang up off the bed. Instead, she closed her eyes and reveled in it, knowing she was probably going to regret this but finding it really hard to give a damn.

Then he stretched out beside her and kissed her for what seemed like hours. Just when she’d start to become aware that she was naked in bed with him and maybe she shouldn’t be, she’d feel his fingers fluttering here, his lips touching her there, distracting her until she stopped thinking and just gave in to the feeling. And when he finally grabbed a condom, she was so ready for him that the instant he had it on, she tried to pull him on top of her.

“No, babe,” he murmured. “Like this.”

He rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him. She slid over him until he filled her completely, and she let out a gasp because it felt so good. He took her breasts in his hands, squeezing and caressing them, and the feeling was so intense that she couldn’t keep from moving, from rising and falling on him, creating the kind of heat and friction that made her want to scream out loud with the pleasure of it. He dropped his hands to her hips, urging her faster, harder, and it was so good that she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her nerves felt like they were on fire, scorching her from the inside out. Lust had won out over common sense, but she still wanted it to go on forever. She felt the sensations building slowly, then faster, faster, faster…oh, God…

“That’s good, baby,” he murmured, his voice infused with heat and hunger. “So good…”

Just those few words made the wild, shuddering pulses begin. She clutched his shoulders and dropped her head, then threw it back as she trembled and gasped with ecstasy. Seconds later, his fingers dug into her hips and he arched up off the bed, groaning with pleasure, a sound that almost made her come all over again.

A moment later, he fell back against the bed, breathing hard, still holding her, still inside her. Then he took a long, deep breath and slid his hands across her breasts to either side of her neck, pulling her down for a long, delicious kiss. When she finally fell to the bed beside him, he rolled over and placed his palm on her belly, still breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on his gorgeous face. She knew she had to be sweating, too, only she wasn’t one of those people like Brett who could perspire gracefully, which meant she undoubtedly looked as if she’d run a marathon on a hot, humid day.

It always started with that kind of thought. I bet I look ugly as hell. But now, as her pulse began to slow and her senses return, that feeling morphed into the self‑consciousness that always came when she realized she was lying with a man she didn’t know nearly well enough to be naked with, a man who had just seen her moaning and gasping and acting just a little bit out of control. And just like the other night, she was overcome with the feeling that if she didn’t leave, the embarrassment would grow, the self‑recrimination would start, and she’d be trapped there, naked and vulnerable and feeling like a fool.

“I know you’re thinking of leaving,” Brett said, still a little out of breath.

She whipped around. “What?”

He turned to stare at her. “You want to leave, but I wouldn’t advise it."

Kelsey’s heart skipped with apprehension. “Why not?”

“Because if you try to get out of this bed, I’m throwing your clothes out the window.”

She made a scoffing noise. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Bet you never thought I'd squirt you with a water gun, either.”

Okay. He had a point there.

“You’re a cop,” Brett said. “I thought you’d be better with a gun.”

“Hey! I had you trapped in the bathroom. If I hadn’t hit my knee, I’d have taken you out.”

“You had me trapped?” He laughed. “It was an ambush. If you’d made it all the way to the bathroom, we would have had sex in the shower.”

“No way. I never would have surrendered.”

“Wanna bet?”

“God, you’re arrogant.”

“So when you’re on the job and you’re in hot pursuit of a suspect and you bang your knee, what do you do? Say, ‘Hey, dude. Can you point that gun somewhere else for a minute while I pull myself together?’ Got news, Kelsey. A felon probably won’t drop his gun and kiss your boo-boo.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re lucky I’m not armed for real right now, or I’d—aaargh!”

Kelsey felt something warm and wet on her shoulder. She whipped around, shocked to come nose‑to‑nose with Boomer’s gigantic happy dog face. She let out a little yelp of surprise, then put her hand on her chest to calm her racing heart.

“Oh, yuk,” Kelsey said, wiggling a little to wipe her shoulder on the sheet. “He licked me again.”

“That’s because he has good taste.” Brett smiled. “FYI--that’s a pun.”

“Has he been there all this time?”

“Yep. Boomer has voyeuristic tendencies. He loves to watch me brush my teeth, too.”

Kelsey shook her head. “You have to do something about that dog. And before you even say it, I do not care what he thinks about me.”

Brett laughed softly, then slid his arm beneath Kelsey’s pillow and pulled her up next to him. Suddenly she heard a noise. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Brett said, his voice slurred with satisfaction.

“I hear a noise in your living room.”

He kissed her shoulder. “No noise.”

“Yes, noise!”

She reached for the sheet and yanked it over her. A few seconds later, Edwin appeared at the bedroom doorway. He wore plaid Bermuda shorts and a tank top, and his hand was stuck in a can of mixed nuts. Kelsey gasped and pulled the sheet all the way up to her neck. Brett shot up to a sitting position.

“Edwin!” he shouted. “What are you doing here?”

“Your apartment door was standing open. This is New York. That’s kinda dumb. You could get ripped off or murdered or something.”

“Get out of here!”

He shoved another handful of nuts into his mouth.

“Twenty bucks,” Brett said. “Now, go!”

Edwin finally turned around and walked out of the room.

“And shut the door behind you!” Brett shouted. Then he turned to Kelsey with a sheepish look. “I guess we forgot to close the door. You know. In the heat of battle and all.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Mortified, she threw back the covers. Her body hurt everywhere from the Pilates experience, but she ignored the pain and sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Brett asked.

"I have to work tomorrow."

"I'll set an alarm."

"I haven't taken out my trash."

"It’ll keep."

"I sleep better in my own bed."

"So you're saying it's not me, it's you?"

Kelsey hated this. She wanted to be like other women who thought sex and its aftermath were no big deal, but she wasn't. She felt so damned awkward that she wanted—needed—to get out of there.

"Are you really going to let Edwin get to you?" Brett asked.

"This has nothing to do with him."

As she rose to look for her clothes, Brett shook his head sadly. “I didn’t want to have to do this."

He got up, snagged her bra and panties from behind the bed, and then found her T‑shirt and jeans. Just when she thought he was going to hand them to her, he went to the window.

“Brett? What are you doing?”

Stuffing her clothes under his arm, he raised the sash.

“Brett?”

Then he flung them out the window.