God, what was I going to tell my mom? Nothing, I decided in the next flash. Not yet. I shouldn't go to her without concrete proof. Otherwise, she might blow off everything I said. Make excuses for Jonathan and wallow in disbelief.

Like I had done for so many years. Like she had done before.

Jumping up, I raced to my kitchen and grabbed my phone book. Proof. Oh yeah, I'd get her proof. I looked up the address for both Nora and the salon. Just as I finished writing them down, my phone rang.

Caller ID showed Powell, Royce. I grabbed the phone and barked, "What?"

"I've decided whether or not you go with me, I'm not going to escort Gwen to any more events. I only want to go with you."

My skin tingled at the sound of that rich, husky promise. His words shouldn't matter, but they did. I might be an idiot (again), but I believed him (kind of). Dumb ass, my Tigress said. Was I just like my mom?

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No, sorry," I said, regret pounding through me. "I'm busy."

"Doing what? Working on my mother's party?"

"Actually, no. Now isn't a good time to talk. I'm on my way out."

"Where's your BlueJay? I programmed a meeting today and it should have been beeping all morning. You should be on your way to my office."

"Hmm, well, I haven't heard a thing." A knock sounded at my door. I pushed out a frustrated sigh, hating to end the conversation, but knowing I needed to, and walked into the living room. "I'll talk to you later. We need to discuss tomorrow's trip to Colorado and the fact that I still don't want to go." I hung up before he could utter a single protest and tossed the phone on my couch.

From the coffee table, I snatched up my keys and purse-I had yet to replace the stolen one, so I had to make do with this old, ugly white one. Right now I wore brown pants and a white top. Brown sandals, perfect for the two-mile walk ahead. My hair was in its usual twist. Hopefully I presented a completely unnoticeable and unmemorable package.

Without stopping to check who wanted to visit with me, I jerked open my door, ready to send whoever it was scurrying.

I stopped dead in my tracks instead.

Royce smiled down at me. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt. The material clung deliciously to his biceps and pecs, outlining every ridge and peak. I'd never seen him dressed so casually, and the sight made my mouth water. My nipples immediately took notice, jumping up to say, Hi, Royce. We love you and really want to introduce ourselves to you properly.

"I worked late last night, and I took the day off because I'd planned to meet with you today," he said, pocketing his cell. Still smiling-perhaps because he'd caught a glimpse of my naughty nipples-he said, "I'm going with you, wherever it is you're going in such a hurry."

I fought a shiver of anticipation. The thought of spending the day with him appealed to me in so many ways. I'd get to hear his voice, feel his warmth, even stare at him if I wanted. I'd also get a distraction that I, Detective Delacroix, couldn't afford.

"No, you're not." I scooted around him, doing my best not to touch him, and locked the door. Not sparing him a glance, I stalked toward the main lobby. I loved having a bottom-level apartment. No stairs or elevator for me, thank you.

"Where we going?" He was barely a step behind me.

As I pretended to ignore him, I felt the heat of him all the way to my bones. I stopped before going outside. The scent of sandalwood taunted and teased my nose. "You're not going to get rid of me," he said, before I could tell him to go away.

"Royce-"

"Naomi. I'm coming. End of conversation."

If I didn't invite him to come with me, I realized, he'd follow me and draw all kinds of unwanted attention my way. He was just too damn noticeable with that sexy, recognizable face of his. I'd rather deal with a distraction than the possibility of being spotted by my prey.

"Can you be sneaky, Royce? Can you blend into a crowd?"

"Yes," he answered, his forehead furrowed in confusion.

"Do you have a car with you?"

"Yes."

"Fine, you can come." Silver lining: I wouldn't have to walk, nor would I have to pay for a cab if I changed my mind about walking. I hated cabs, hated buses more, but I didn't yet have the money to fix my jalopy. "We're going to a salon on Main Street. Body Electric."

"The joy in your voice is making me feel all warm inside."

"Then my day is complete," I said with a sarcastic edge.

He snorted.

Lord, he was even sexy when he snorted. I felt myself melting, my bones liquefying in anticipation of a touch. Already my hands itched to explore him. Itched to touch his skin, itched to wrap around his-

"What are you having done at the salon? You're perfect just the way you are."

I tossed him a frown before pushing open the door. He was doing it again. Being sweet and irresistible, making me go disgustingly gooey inside. "Don't be nice to me, okay?" I'd already established I couldn't resist him physically, but I really needed to resist him emotionally. He made that extremely difficult with his devilish, charming personality.

"What?" He gave a choked little laugh. "Why?"

"Just because." Bright sunlight and sweltering heat hit me full force, and I was suddenly thankful he'd insisted on coming. I would have hated to spend more than a few seconds in this heat.

Beside me, bushes swayed together despite the fact that there was no wind. Odd. But then I spotted the shattered remains of my BlueJay, forgot about the ghost bushes, and steered Royce away, trying to direct his attention somewhere else. "Uh, to answer your first question, I'm not having anything done. I just want to look around. Where's your car?"

Without a word, he sauntered to a black stretch limo and opened the passenger door. Such wealth and luxury appeared odd in front of my modest apartment building, with its un-mowed, brittle grass and peeling stucco.

Royce waved me inside. "After you."

I remained in place, floundering in a puddle of shocked awe. "Are you trying to impress me? Because it's working."

"Actually," he said, a sheepish grin on his gorgeous face, "I just wanted my hands free."

Yippee, my nipples cried.

I hope he plays with us first, my thighs chimed in.

"Damn it!" I muttered. I had to get my thoughts under control. I might-might-believe him about Gwendolyn Summers, but I was on a mission to save my mom. Nothing else mattered at the moment, not even pleasure.

"What?" Royce asked, all innocence.

"You better keep those hands to yourself." I slid inside the car… and felt like all my troubles instantly melted away. Luxurious air-conditioning enveloped me. The seats were so plush and perfect I couldn't help but revel in their delicious decadence. Soft as clouds they were. I could have sunk into a coma of bliss.

Royce scooted inside until our shoulders brushed. A shiver rolled down my spine.

"Body Electric," he told the driver. Seconds later, the limo eased into motion. "Want to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked me. "You've got shadows under your eyes, and you're unusually pale."

I didn't want to talk about my cheating stepdad, so I said, "Did you see the article about me in the Tattler?"

"Well, yeah. I think everyone in Dallas saw it."

"They called me an alien. I should sue."

He uttered a short, booming laugh. "On what grounds?"

"I'm sure my attorney could think of something." My head lolled back on the pillow rest. "I'm surprised no one was waiting outside my apartment, snapping pictures of us as we walked out."

"They were."

I jerked upright and stared wide-eyed at him. "What!"

"There was a woman behind the bushes. She had a camera aimed right at us."

"And you didn't say anything? Argh. I can't believe this." I slapped his thigh. "You better do something. Pay her to give you the film or threaten to get her fired. Just do something. Anything! I do not need another hideous picture of me circulating. The last one nearly killed my mother."