Evan awoke to find Josie sprawled across him, her hair tickling his chin, her breathing even and deep. The covers had slipped off the bed, no doubt thrown there during one of their interludes during the night. Max was sprawled across the foot of the bed, resting his chin on Evan's ankle, his deep breathing sounding like a train with asthma.

He grinned and tightened his grip around Josie, his hands spanning her waist with ease. Her body was lithe, natural, and sexy as hell, as fiery as her attitude, as spunky as her mind.

No way could he ever go back to the conservative, boring, politically polished dolls he'd been dating since he'd first stepped into this world. They were boring. Predictable. Dull.

Unlike Josie. His little firecracker.

He frowned, even as he absently rubbed her lower back. Except she wasn't his. She was Buddy's. But she didn't want Buddy. So...wasn't that enough?

For a moment, Evan considered what it would be like to throw away his reservations and immerse himself in Josie. His life would never be the same, that was certain. No peace, no quiet, no unchallenged decisions. And her family. He'd have it all. Everything he'd ever wanted.

Except his own brother. He'd have to tell Buddy that he'd slept with the woman his brother loved. Damn.

Evan closed his eyes and rattled off a few choice curses in his head. If only he hadn't failed Buddy so many times already, maybe he wouldn't feel that he owed him now.

Or maybe he would. Buddy was his little brother, and he was responsible for him.

But what if he never found Buddy? What if he could get everything from Josie and the family who came with her? Instead of one brother, he'd have a horde. He grinned, thinking of his house overflowing with Josie's relatives.

"Evan?" Josie's voice was slurred with sleep, throaty and sexy. "What's wrong?"

He kissed her nose. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

She nodded and closed her eyes, snuggling closer against him.

He pulled her tighter, kissed the top of her head. Damn it. He didn't want to let her go. But he had no choice. "Are you free at ten on Monday morning?"

"Mmm."

"Josie." He kissed her hair again. "Are you free Monday at ten?"

"I'm unemployed and homeless. Not a lot of conflicting obligations," she mumbled. "Why?"

"We have an appointment with a private investigator who works for my lawyer's firm."

He felt her back muscles tense, but she didn't lift her head. "What's the meeting for?"

"I'm hiring him to find Buddy." He tensed himself, waiting for her response.

"Good. I miss my waffle iron." She snuggled deeper against him while disappointment smacked Evan.

Why was he disappointed? Did he really expect her to declare her desire to forego her money in hopes of having eternal happiness with Evan instead? He wouldn't have accepted it anyway. He and Josie had no future. "When we find Buddy, you and I—."

"Shut up, Evan."

Intending to continue his reminder, he looked down at Josie, with her face buried against his chest and her hair flung carelessly around her face, he couldn't find the willpower to finish. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the pillows.

He dreamed about the night he'd destroyed the last vestiges of his family.

* * *

Josie folded her arms, slung her foot over her knee and glared across the polished wooden desk at Miles Stephens, Attorney-at-Law, and his esteemed private investigator. Evan was sitting next to her, and it was all she could do to keep from jumping to her feet, lecturing them on the stupidity of men in general, grabbing Max and Zeus and starting a new life.

Maybe she could live in a shack in the Montana woods, go hunting with Max and Zeus and grow her own vegetables. No more worries about money or men or rent or vet school.

"Did Buddy say where he was going the last time you saw him?"

Josie narrowed her eyes at the spineless, smarmy investigator with his oo-la-la suit and comb-over. "What did you say your name was?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Oh, right. The secrecy thing. Just in case I got a hold of one of your case files and tracked down all the names in it and told them all to be on the lookout for you. Smart. I'm very untrustworthy in that manner."

Okay, so she was being a little hostile. It was excusable, given that she had fallen for Evan, only to have him thrust her back in the arms of his brother.

Oh, she knew why they were there in that greasy little office this morning. Not that the office actually was greasy, but how else could one describe the office of a private investigator? It went with the profession, and she would just ignore that it was actually a very plush, light office with pictures of the man's family.

Anyway, the reason Evan had dragged her to the cockroach infested office was to find Buddy so he could pretend Saturday night hadn't happened. It had absolutely nothing to do with finding her money.

Well, that was fine, wasn't it? She kept professing that she didn't want a relationship with him. But she sort of did want one, even though she didn't want to want one.

She groaned and rubbed her forehead. She was confusing herself so much she needed an overdose of chocolate.

Or maybe her headache was because Evan had been so distant since Saturday night. He'd been out of the house by the time she woke up in his bed, and it hadn't gotten any better as the day went on.

So, she was mad at him. Mad at herself for caring enough to be mad at him. Mad at Buddy. Mad at Tom for marrying her. Mad at her mother for giving birth to her.

Boy, she was feeling cheery today.

"So, Ms. Harper, do you have any idea where Buddy was headed?"

Forget Evan. She was going to help find Buddy and get him back, retrieve her money, and eradicate all Dorsetts from her life. "If I had any idea where he went, I would have gone after him instead of Evan."

Nice, Josie. Sound a little more belligerent.

"What was his last known address?"

"I don't know."

Smarmy Detective Comb-Over nodded and wrote something down in his stereotypical black notebook. "And how long did you date him?"

She squirmed. "I didn't date him. I went on a few dates with him."

"And where did he say he was going?"

"I told you already. I don't know." Was the man an utterly brainless fool? No, probably just trying to trap her into making a mistake...well, sorry for him, but she wasn't lying. "He took my car."

"Did you report it to the police?"

"Yes," she said for the fifth time that morning. "I reported everything. Ninety thousand in cash, my car and my waffle iron. Cops said it wasn't high on their priority list. Budget issues."

Smarmy Comb-over nodded and scrawled something else. Was he doodling or actually taking notes? Probably listing ways to make her run screaming from the room. He was amazingly close to success. "So, did he break up with you before he allegedly stole the car?"

"Allegedly? I'm not making this up!"

Evan set his hand on her arm. "Easy, Josie. He's just doing his job."

"He's an idiot," she snapped. "He's not trying to find Buddy. He's trying to expose me for being a liar." A cold feeling suddenly consumed her, and she stared at Evan. "Is this what today was really about? Is that what you asked him to do? Expose me?"

Evan had probably briefed Detective Smarmy ahead of time that Buddy would never steal anything from her. Of course, she knew he felt like that, but why did it feel like he'd torn out her gut and thrown it under the wheels of a tractor-trailer?

"Josie, don't be ridiculous," Evan said, meeting her gaze. "I just want to find Buddy. That's why we're here."

Hmm...he wasn't averting his eyes. Was he telling the truth, or simply a good liar? No wonder she'd sworn off men. She was an emotional disaster! One good romp and she set her heart out on a platter for him to dispose of however he pleased. What happened to Amazon Josie? Obviously, she fell off the high dive without a life preserver.

Smarmy Comb-over wrote something down. What was he writing? He was giving her the creeps.

Note to self: never go to counseling and have a psychiatrist write down stuff about her. Much too unsettling.

"If you weren't dating Buddy Dorsett, can you please detail the nature of your relationship with him?"

"Ah." Yes. This would be awkward. Discuss her relationship with three men present, two of whom were strangers and one of whom had been delightfully intimate with her body only thirty-six hours ago? "What do you want to know?"

"How long did you know him for?"

Oh, that was easy. "A few months."

"And you gave him access to your bank account?"

As if she'd be that stupid. "No, but he knew where I kept my checks. I didn't exactly treat him as a potential thief." Her mistake there, no doubt.

"And were you intimate with him?"

Evan choked, and Josie glared at him. "Did you ask him to ask me that? Because you could have just asked me yourself, and I would have told you. In fact, I think I've already told you."

Smarmy Comb-over rapped the desk with his bony knuckles. "Mr. Dorsett did not direct me in my questioning. This is standard, to determine the nature of your relationship with Buddy and expose any justification for strong emotions."

"You mean, did he break my heart and take off, so I'm making up the stuff about him stealing things so I can get him in trouble just because he hurt me? Is that what you mean?"

Evan shifted beside her, and she felt his hand move to the back of her chair. "I think that's enough."

Josie glared at him. "Enough? But he's..."

Evan shook his head. "Not you. Him."

"Oh." Evan telling Smarmy Comb-over to stuff it? There was just something about a tough man that made a girl's heart swoon. Not that she was the swooning type, of course. She was merely speaking hypothetically.

"We're here to track Buddy down, not pass judgments on either of them or their relationship." Evan's voice was quiet, but there was a steeliness that couldn't be missed. "He was in town recently. Find him." He hesitated, his thumb rubbing ever so gently against her shoulder. "And keep an eye out for Josie's car. Just in case he has it."

"And my waffle iron," she added. "And if he's spent my money, confiscate what he bought with it. Please."

Evan said nothing, but he didn't take his arm off the back of her chair. A subtle show of support. She wondered if he was even aware of the message he was sending.

She certainly was.

Smarmy Comb-over pursed his thin little lips. "And do you know his most recent address?"

She wondered if it would be rude to climb over the desk and punch Detective Smarmy Comb-over in the nose. A punch for every time he asked her a question she'd already answered. She smiled. Perhaps she should become a violent person. Might be cathartic. "I never went to his place. I have no idea where he lived." Or even if he had a place. Knowing Buddy, he was probably bumming from people he knew on rotating nights.

After another hour of repeated questions and her answers, which were apparently unsatisfactory, Detective Smarmy finally snapped his notebook shut. "I should have some information by the end of the week."

End of the week? Only five days left with Evan. She sighed, then smacked herself in the forehead. No! She wasn't getting involved with him!

She stood up, only to have Evan touch her arm, sending stupid sparks flying through her body and igniting her belly. "What do you want?" she snapped.

"Dinner tonight."

"No, thanks."

"With Dr. Black. It was the deal."

Josie grimaced. "That was before you and I had..."

He held up his hand. "I know what we did. That's not what tonight is about. Tonight is business. Part of the deal."

Oh, great. So he didn't even want to talk about it? Fine, she didn't have to either. Wasn't that what meaningless sex was all about anyway? Being able to walk away without rehashing it? "Fine. Dinner."

A fancy business dinner with Evan less than forty-eight hours after he'd taught her what it was like to truly relish her sexuality? Having to sit across from him and know she'd never feel that kind of passion again?

She couldn't wait.

What a brilliant start to the week. Obviously, she should go buy a truckload of lottery tickets. Not.