Joanne Rock - Up Close and Personal

The whole situation sounded ludicrous, all the more so because he’d let himself touch her. Taste her. Want her in spite of everything.

“So help me, if you had dared to make any false accusations in front of my hard-earned clients, I would have sued your sorry ass for everything you’re worth.” She stomped across the floor to retrieve his white jacket and tossed it at him. “In fact, why don’t you give me the name of your company and your supervisor and I’ll make sure that person knows how close you came to landing your company in court tonight.”

A thread of unease tickled his instincts. Either she was a hell of an actress, or he’d wronged her in a big way.

“I saw you on the surveillance tape from my father’s dealership.” He spoke more to himself than to her, going over the evidence in his mind.

But what had he really seen? A black-and-white tape of a woman who looked like Jessica from a foot or two above eye level. A woman with her body. Her hair. And of course, her car.

Ah, shit. All at once it occurred to him that after his preliminary viewing of the tape, he’d handed the case over to his new assistant investigator to do the legwork. Rocco had wanted to move on it quickly and he’d been tied up with other business. Could the other investigator have overlooked something obvious?

“I’m waiting.” She had retrieved the pad of hotel stationery from a small desk and stood with pen poised above it.

Frustration hummed like a deerfly around his head at the possibility that someone at his company hadn’t triple-checked their paperwork. In the Navy, his buddies had always backed him up, but in the outside world, good backup wasn’t a given. Yet another aspect of how life as a civilian sucked.

“I need to check the VIN number on your vehicle.” He set his jacket back down on the chaise, knowing he wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw some proof of Jessica’s alleged fraud for himself.

“Excuse me?” The glare she sent him would have withered a lesser man. “I’m the one entitled to information here and I’ll be damned if I let you wiggle your way out of it.”

Okay, he resented the image of himself wiggling. After all, he hadn’t hurt her—he’d kissed her, for Chrissake.

“I work for myself. I’m the company. Sue me.” He removed a business card from his wallet and slapped it on the minibar. “Now I’m going to check out the VIN on the Escalade and see if you have a legitimate beef before we take this discussion any further.”

He had an extra set of keys in his pocket. He didn’t need her permission to check out a vehicle he was here to take into custody anyway.

Unless, of course, it was a different vehicle.

Anger flared hot inside him as he opened the door into the hall. He’d been overwhelmed with new cases this past week and he’d given a higher priority to firming up new accounts than taking care of detail work on recoveries in process.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jessica had set down her pen and paper before following him into the quiet corridor. “You’re not touching my vehicle without my permission.”

“You can sue me for that, too. First I’m going to find out if there’s been some kind of mistake and we’ve got the wrong vehicle.”

He’d owe her one monster of an apology if that was the case. Except he’d seen the security tape of her buying the car. It had looked just like her, damn it. Same killer body. Same sexy-as-hell red hair. Even the same mannerisms, right down to a little habit she had of spinning her bracelet around her wrist.

“Of course you’re wrong.” She hastened her step, her sweetly endowed form jiggling enticingly with the effort.

Why the hell couldn’t he keep his eyes in his head around her?

He pushed the elevator button to go down to the main floor, intrigued in spite of himself at how quickly she’d transformed from a reserved professional to a hot-blooded lover and then to a spitting-mad, in-your-face, woman as tough as any debtor who’d ever followed his tow truck into the night while shaking a fist.

Now, she gave him a wary glance before stepping into the elevator with him. Folding her arms, she managed to cover only a small portion of her considerable personal assets.

“So what’s a vin and why didn’t you look at it before you attempted to humiliate a taxpaying entrepreneur struggling to make ends meet?”

“Vehicle Identification Number. It’s etched into the dashboard under the windshield of every vehicle made and each one’s unique. Like a Social Security number for cars.” The elevator door opened and he stepped off onto the main floor of the famous Victorian-era hotel. “And I didn’t try to humiliate you.”

It was just that he’d been stressed about his father for months. His dad had taken it to heart when Rocco got a medical discharge and he’d been trying to compensate for the letdown by starting a business that could help the old man. But maybe he’d been so focused on making it up to his father that he’d unwittingly hurt someone else.

The exit was mere steps away and he plowed through it, slowing only to hold the door for Jessica. As much as he hated to be wrong in life, this was one time when he sincerely hoped he’d screwed up. He didn’t want this woman to be a scam artist.

The attraction he’d felt for her had been strong. Immediate. Undeniable. To have those feelings for someone totally lacking in scruples…

Hell. He wouldn’t appreciate what that said about him.

“It’s over there.” Jessica pointed out the massive vehicle spit-shined to gleaming perfection before she smiled at a security guard striding through the parking lot. “And I’m only following you to gloat about this when you find out you’re wrong.”

Her high heels tapped a fast pace, making him realize she needed to take two steps to his one to keep up.

“If I’m wrong—” he dug the paperwork on the vehicle out of his wallet and unfolded it “—you’re going to have a whole world of new problems to worry about. You can forget about gloating.”

The tap, tap of her high heels slowed. Stopped.

“What do you mean?” Her perfume—no, the scent of her soap—rode the breeze off the ocean, winding around him as he compared the digits on the paper to the ones under the windshield.

They didn’t match.

He didn’t know whether to thank God or curse himself. No doubt a little of both was in order. Still, he hadn’t been kidding about this situation only getting more difficult for Jessica.

“I mean you’ve got a woman impersonating you and using your name on a car loan and who knows what else.” Though he hated for her sake that this had happened, he couldn’t help his relief that she wasn’t a scam artist.

“You still think there’s another vehicle with this number you have that’s somehow associated with my name?” The professional woman was back, her brow scrunched as she tried to make sense of the situation.

A situation she didn’t deserve to be in and one he would damn well help her resolve since he’d only added to her trouble.

“Yes. There’s another Escalade purchased under your name by someone who looks a hell of a lot like you and who’s obviously using all your credit information. I’d say you’ve been a victim of identity theft by somebody who knows you very, very well.”

“DAD?”

Rocco dropped into his bed late that night, exhausted but knowing he wouldn’t sleep until he’d told his father the news. Moonlight streamed over the bed. He’d never bothered to hang blinds, living out in the middle of nowhere had its advantages.

He just hoped his dad was having a good day and would remember what Rocco was talking about with the Escalade. The old man’s health had been slipping lately, but his doctor didn’t think it was Alzheimer’s. Yet. Still, Rocco noticed gaps in his father’s memory and he worried about doing any kind of work that would make him less accessible when his dad needed something. At least now, as his own boss, he had the freedom to drop everything and lend a hand at Easton Luxury Motor Cars or help his father out at home if he needed anything.