Adam’s face appeared on the screen in her mind. She could almost feel his lips against hers. If his phone hadn’t disturbed them…well, they would have bounced Maddie and Da Vinci onto the floor.

She considered the situation for a minute, stopped stroking Lexi and rolled onto her other side. A person without friends or family shouldn’t leap like a fool into…into what? A one-night stand? No, not with Adam. A new relationship should be entered into with more caution. After all, she’d already proven how poorly she chose men.

She needed family and friends. When Miranda returned, Whitney planned to make up for all the time they’d lost, but her cousin might be so absorbed in her marriage that she wouldn’t need Whitney. All she could do was make the effort and see what happened.

As for friends, Trish Bowrather was the only person with whom she’d had much contact. She was friendly in a dominating sort of way. Still, they had a divorce and Golden retrievers in common.

In her mind’s eye, Whitney saw Trish’s impressive home and exclusive gallery. The woman might seem to have it all, but Whitney suspected Trish was lonely.

Whitney said out loud, “Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life.” True, it was a trite saying, but it fit her situation. She refused to live a “disconnected” life with only a dog to care about her.

ADAM ASKED HIMSELF WHY IN hell he was in a guardhouse at the gated development of Ocean Heights. For some reason the guard had simply up and left without even calling the command post. A resident had returned and found the post deserted. Somehow he’d futzed with the computer until he’d contacted HiTech. Butch had attempted to contact Tyler at home and on his cell, but couldn’t get a response. In desperation, he’d called Adam.

What Adam knew about running a guard post came down to opening the gate for residents, guests and service people. Over the phone, Butch had been able to walk him through the procedures. It was a little after four o’clock in the morning. He didn’t expect much traffic until seven, when the next guard came on duty. If HiTech was making so much money, the least they could do was have a backup guard on call. Tomorrow, he’d take up this and a lot more with Tyler. If backup had been available, Adam would be snuggled in bed with Whitney.

Okay, snuggled might not have been it. Hot, sweaty sex was what sprang to mind. He could almost feel her beneath him, feel himself driving into her soft, sweet body.

He wanted a woman; he needed a woman-in the worst way. Not just any woman, he realized. Nearly dying had changed his outlook on life.

Once he’d believed he had years and years ahead of him to find a woman, have a family. His father’s death-at a relatively early age-had been the harbinger of things to come. But he hadn’t heeded the warning: Life is too short. It had taken his own near-death experience for him to appreciate just how fragile life was. Uncle Calvin’s death sealed his impression.

“Get your mind off sex,” he muttered under his breath. As it was he was going to have blue balls for a week. He’d left Whitney’s with an erection like an iron pike. He didn’t need to sit at a guard post with another one.

He called Butch at the command post. “I need our pin number for Total Track.”

“Anything going on?” Butch asked with a note of curiosity in his voice.

“Nah. I’m bored. I want to check out a guy I met.”

Butch gave Adam the series of numbers and letters that would allow him to access the database of the private company used by many security firms and some of the smaller police departments. Total Track kept information from the DMV, utility companies, cable television services, as well as credit card reporting services. The system was used to determine an individual’s current address, place of work, credit status and a lot of other supposedly confidential information.

Total Track was very expensive but worth it to security companies trying to locate people. Before Adam had been forced to leave for Iraq, HiTech had been poised to go into the security business. But now it seemed to be nothing more than a guard service. He wondered why they were still paying for Total Track.

Once he was in the system, Adam typed, “Preston Block.” In the next breath up popped the standard information.

Address: 1297 Thurston Place Unit 4B

Place of Employment: Dr. Jox Fitness Center

Automobile: 1992 Camry (blue)

License: HWZ943

Adam scanned the guy’s credit history. One credit card. Block made the minimum payment on time each month and carried a balance that was roughly half his limit. Typical. Most people in America carried a hefty balance and paid the minimum each month.

His Bank of America checking account showed a balance of just under five hundred dollars. Block didn’t have a savings account. No surprise there. America had turned into a nation of debtors, not savers.

He scrolled down the screen. Holy shit! Preston Block had a sealed juvenile record. For what? In rare cases, a sealed juvenile record concealed a serious crime like rape or murder. Odds were against it. More likely Block had been convicted of petty theft or joyriding in a “borrowed” car.

He rocked back in the chair and stared at the screen. Block seemed to be a regular working stiff. Nothing unusual except he’d been jogging and came upon a lost Golden retriever.

So what was bothering Adam?

He logged out of Total Track and Googled “Preston Block.” The guy had a Web site. Interesting. Adam clicked on the Web site. Up came a picture of Block, appearing even more buff than he had tonight. He’d oiled his muscles like weight lifters did so the guy looked very impressive on the screen.

Block advertised his services as a personal trainer. “I’ll come to you or you come to me!”

What a guy. Adam clicked through a series of photographs showing Block working with clients at Dr. Jox Fitness Center. Most of Block’s clients seemed to be women who were so toned and pretty that it was hard to believe they needed a trainer. But that was only his opinion.

Adam got tired of looking at all the babes that Block made his living training. It was just making him think about Whitney’s sexy bod. He returned to the Ocean Heights screen and forced himself not to think about Whitney.

Like a chop to the back of his neck, it hit him. Now he knew what bothered him about Preston Block’s story. Okay, okay, what freak went jogging at nearly three-thirty in the morning? That had been the first clue.

But it wasn’t just that. There was a chink in Block’s story.

Adam had spent enough time on the streets of greater San Diego as a homicide detective to remember many of the businesses-particularly on the main thoroughfares.

There wasn’t any Stop ’N Go on Harborside. Why would Block lie about where he bought the leash?